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Flying Frog
This is the difference between girls and boys. My girls ran away from the frog screaming. My son threw it 30 feet in the air like it was a baseball. After tossing it several times, he put it safely back in its home. Lucky froggy.
It’s a Potty Party
Is it that time again? Do I have any energy left after all these mommy years? Can’t I hire someone else to do it? With little success, I’m trying to psych myself up for potty training once again.
My 2-year-old is beginning to show the signs. She continually pulls at her diaper and informs me what I’ll find inside. This takes care of the guesswork for me. She also keeps taking her diaper off on her own to surprise us. I know I only reinforce this by shrieking every time. I then dart around the house in a frantic state searching for it.
Although I’m not anxious to start potty training, she recently asked me if she could go poop on the potty. None of my other children started with number two. I took this as good news – actually the best news I’d had in days (it’s amazing what makes me happy since I’ve become a mother).
While concentrating on her task, she was not successful in the first bathroom. So she asked to go try in another bathroom in our house. This was uncharted territory for me, but I thought, “why not?” We played musical bathrooms until, sure enough, she achieved success. This was the only time I was grateful I didn’t live in a mansion with 15 bathrooms.
Humbly I admit, my take charge 4-year-old actually started potty-training her sister before I did. She found pull-ups in the closet and put one on her little sister. When I questioned her, she said confidently, “Mommy, she needs these now.” They were from an unused package from her earlier potty-training days. Although I get rid of a lot of things, diapers are like gold. They continually go up in price and the boxes seem to get smaller – just like Girl Scout cookies.
I’ve always wondered if there was a faster way to get a child potty trained. Someone told me about a book by Teri Crane entitled “Potty-train Your Child in Just One Day.” I checked it out at the library, but the book was due before I even had time to open it. I decided it was a sign to not even attempt it. Why rush the process anyway? I’m not sure I have anything that earth shattering in the near future to make my child get this done within 24 hours.
After skimming a Web site about Dr. Phil supporting this “one day” idea, I was a little more intrigued. But as I continued to read, it sounded a little strange (although some people swear buy it). It said I’d have to buy a baby doll that wets, party hats and horns. I literally would have to throw a party for the doll after it peed on the potty. I quickly became uninterested. It even boasted about a child getting to call their superhero when they’re done to tell them about their heroic potty-training experience. I can just hear it now, “I poop, Superman. I poop like a big girl!” Now there’s a YouTube video that would make someone laugh.
For now, I think I’ll take my chances potty training the old-fashioned way. If it lasts longer than a few months, I may break down and check the book out again. Maybe I’ll call my favorite superhero, too, and brag about my mommy accomplishment. Do you think Mrs. Incredible would be impressed?
Courtesy of the Atchison Globe
Reluctant to Let Go
My teenage daughter has taken her first solo flight. Not exactly like Amelia Earhart, but enough to make me nervous.
Although I was reluctant to say yes to this spring break trip over the Easter holiday, I gave in. She began packing immediately upon approval from my husband and me.
Eager to see her grandparents and old friends in Arizona, she was ecstatic. Myself, on the other hand, fast-forwarded to visions of her in college traveling during family holidays instead of spending them with us. If this is any indication of how I will handle empty nest syndrome, I’m in trouble.
Practically running into the airport, we realized her luggage was still in the car. Oops. At least it wasn’t at home. What teenager could live without her flat iron and 82 hair products? She laughed at me and said it was already my third blonde moment of the day. Why does she count these? I just think we forgot her bag because subconsciously I didn’t want her to go.
I wasn’t the only one feeling this way. My 4-year-old, who happens to be a miniature version of her older sister, said she was going to miss her and cry when she was gone. I did notice a slight twinge from my teenager at these words. (Maybe they really do love each other.)
Not breaking family history, her flight was delayed. This proved in our favor and made me grateful for the first time about an airline delay. She was in a great mood showing no signs of teenage hormones, and I was clinging to every last second with her. No harm done.
Since the ticket agent issued me an escort pass, I was able to go to the gate with her and hold on a little while longer. We both experienced the hyped-about body scanner for the first time. This was not the big deal it was made out to be in the news. The only thing I did notice was that a male security attendant took over when it was our turn. Let’s hope that was a coincidence.
While waiting to board, we sat and talked and she actually turned off her cell phone. This was no small miracle and a gift to me. It also gave me time to review for the hundredth time all my motherly advice. This included, sit in an aisle seat in case you have to use the restroom. If a weirdo sits next to you, immediately get a flight attendant. (Her grandmother from Phoenix advised her to scream. I guess that would work, albeit a little extreme.) I told her to call me any time and I’d be on the first flight out. I also said to text me the second she landed so I could breathe again … and oh yeah, have a great time.
With magazines, homework and an iPod, she had plenty to keep her busy for the next three hours. I practically boarded the plane with her, hoping the airport staff wouldn’t notice the extra passenger. There was a dog on board anyway, and I’m sure he didn’t have a ticket.
As I waited for her plane to taxi down the runway, I pictured her laughing with friends, sunning by the pool and shopping with her grandmother. I pictured me sighing as I passed her empty bedroom every day. (Wow! I really am in trouble.) Maybe I should have five more children. Or maybe I should just enjoy the precious time I have with the five I already have.
Compliments of the Atchison Globe
Fear of Taxes
Most recently, my 2-year-old’s favorite thing to say is, “Ewww.” She says it with a long drawn-out ending and a crinkled expression on her face. This is exactly my feeling this time of year as well. I’m not talking about springtime; I’m talking about tax time.
Lately, I will sit down at my computer desk and do anything but my taxes. Suddenly reading e-mail, browsing Facebook and updating my blog have become urgent. Anyone need research done? I’m on it. My husband briefly mentioned he would like an attic ladder one day. Now I know how much they cost, where to buy one and who offers free shipping. I even know the dimensions of our attic opening (impressive, I know). I’ve also begun changing pictures around in the house and I’m thinking of redecorating my bathroom. Anything to avoid preparing taxes. I absolutely dread them.
Although finances are not my strong point, for some reason this responsibility falls under my domain in our household. My husband pretends to loathe this task more than I do. I like to remind him I never quite understood finances, accounting, or economics of any kind – macro or micro. My concern in college was, “Which one is easier?” I just wanted an “A.” I thought I’d never use the information later in life. What did any of it have to do with journalism? Big mistake.
I vaguely remember hearing a lecture in economics about supply and demand. I relate this to my large family today. I would like more money to supply my family with what we need and I demand the government give it to me. That’s my idea of supply and demand. Our country is trillions of dollars in debt. My solution – why not just print more money? Sounds like an easy fix to me. This would be why I’m not the president of the Federal Reserve.
As with everything, I blame my parents. Lack of financial skills may have skipped their generation, but it hit mine hard. My sister and I are at a total loss. She still doesn’t understand how she could be out of money when she has blank checks left. I’m a little farther ahead of the game there, but not much.
Nonetheless, I seem to continuously complain about taxes even though we do have an accountant (thank God someone’s an expert in this field). He does the hard part. All I have to do is make sure our records are up-to-date and keep track of receipts. I just plug in a few numbers, pray I give him the correct information, and hand it off.
The reason I’m deathly afraid of taxes is because of this big entity called the IRS. Once upon a time, one would think they wouldn’t care about a poor, starving, college student living off a pitiful salary. Not so. My mother used to do my taxes back then and she made a small mistake (emphasis on small). Surprise, I was audited. I can attest, it never feels good to get mail from the IRS when the document mentions the word “audit.” Needless to say, I found out the IRS did care about me and I owed them $200 for a $50 mistake.
So, once again, I’m praying no mistakes are made as I fill out 1099s and 1098s with a shaking hand, or any other form that makes little sense to me. I will continue to send questions via e-mail to my accountant, when I’m not looking for deals on attic ladders, of course.
Courtesy of the Atchison Globe
Phil Baniewicz: New MHMA President
This was an email sent out to all Benedictine College students, staff and alumni. I’m very proud of Phil and wanted to share his latest accomplishment with everyone.
Benedictine College has announced that Phil Baniewicz, vice president of college relations, has accepted the position of president of Maur Hill-Mount Academy. He will leave his position at the college at the end of March and will take on his new duties on April 1, 2010. Baniewicz also served as the executive director of the Cloud L. Cray Center for Entrepreneurship and taught classes in the School of Business. He joined the college in 2006.
“I look forward to taking the success we’ve enjoyed here at Benedictine College across town to Maur Hill-Mount Academy,” he said. “I kind of look at MHMA as a little brother and I hope to increase the amount of interaction between the college and the high school.”
Baniewicz’ duties will likely be split among several individuals at the college.
“He brought some new and innovative things to the college, including the increased use of video, the Tuesday Fly-By and the video information monitors around campus,” said Stephen D. Minnis, president of Benedictine College. “Our loss is certainly Maur Hill-Mount Academy’s gain.”
GPS Ginger
Ginger makes me so mad! How dare she give me the silent treatment. Doesn’t she know that’s completely passive-aggressive behavior? True friends don’t abandon you when you need them most. They talk it out, find a solution. They work things out together.
This new friendship started a few months ago. We just clicked. It was like we’d known each other all our lives. I had high hopes for this friendship. Looking back now, maybe I was too naive. She was always the smart one. The leader. I would follow her advice. At times I was skeptical, but she was always right. She never once let me down, until recently.
She actually tried to kill me. (This is not EVEN an exaggeration.) Everything is different now. Our relationship has drastically changed because who does that to a friend? Luckily, I was unharmed and managed to walk away unscathed. Even so, I have not received a single apology from Ginger. She shows absolutely no remorse. I guess she’s simply too proud to admit her shortcomings. This is how it happened.
Recently, Ginger was giving me directions. I was in a pinch and completely lost in a part of town I’d never driven in. Of course, she knew where I was and how long it would take to get there. She’s so good at that sort of thing. She’s always saved me a lot of time. Due to her expertise, I admit I started to depend on her a lot lately. (Okay, it’s actually borderline co-dependence, but at least I’m not too proud to admit my shortcomings.)
Unfortunately, this time Ginger completely led me astray. She was the clueless one and yet I think she was mocking me. Her directions stunk! Repeatedly she told me to turn left onto one-way streets. What was she thinking? Who drives down streets headed the wrong direction? (Well, I’m not counting the three times when I first moved here, or the time I was completely lost in downtown Phoenix.) Who was she, trying to kill?
Next, my funeral flashed before my eyes. Ginger remained aloof to this, completely self-absorbed. I ran a red light after she demanded I turn left. She could have said, “Turn left after stopping at the red light.” Instead, she deliberately risked my life. Halfway through the intersection, sheer panic seized me when I realized what I’d done. There was absolutely no turning back and things were rapidly falling apart.
After I made it through the intersection (and breathed again), I was outraged at this so-called friend. I began to tell her I didn’t even know her anymore. Who was this monster.
Ignoring my fury, she rifled off new directions, practically rolling her eyes when she did it. She told me to stay in the right lane. What? I couldn’t even get in the right lane. The road forked. Crap! What now? I had to improvise quickly. I admit this has never served me well while driving. My sense of direction has nothing to do with north, south, east or west. It’s more like, “Left? Right? Ugh, I think that building looks familiar.”
After going around the block in a somewhat manic state of mind, I managed to get in the right lane. I thought, bring it on, sister! I’m on to you. But all I heard was silence. Dead silence. Are you kidding me? How childish.
Not leaving me a whole lot of choices, I quickly decided to apologize (for what I don’t know). I told “G” she was the smartest computer/human being I’d ever met. I told her she would always be my friend and that I needed her. Still silent.
A little miffed at this point, I started to tell her if she didn’t say something soon I was going to chuck her out the window. Suddenly she snapped out of it and told me what to do next. After arriving safely, she announced, “You have reached your destination.” We both sighed in relief. She blinked on and off, winking at me with a smug expression on her face. What a sick sense of humor, Ginger. I wonder if I still have her receipt?
Compliments of the Atchison Globe
Grocery Budget Needs Tweaking
To get right to the point, my family eats a lot. I’m the one in the grocery store with the overflowing cart full of food. People often race me to the checkout because they don’t want to get stuck in line behind me. I hear comments like, “Wow! You must have a big family.” I usually just smile, avert my eyes, and dig my coupons out of my purse. After I pay, I then struggle to get two carts out of the grocery store. For some reason it never fits back into one. This strikes me as odd.
Trying to stick to a budget recently (this is a first), I announced to my children I was not replacing food the minute it was gone. Pure “deer-in-the-headlights” look from all of them. By their reactions, it was the equivalent of telling them they couldn’t watch TV for the rest of their lives. I firmly stated, “If you finish a bag of chips in two days, they’re gone. It’s that simple.”
My son was mortified. My teenager asked if we were poor (she was completely serious). I explained I was tired of running to the store every few days. “It gets expensive,” I said. “Plus, when we’re only out of three things, I never come home with less than twenty.” (Apparently we all need a little more discipline.)
On the upside, I told them milk was the exception. Our toddler needs it and all seven of us drink it. We go through 4 gallons in less than a week (I know somewhere I’m making a dairy farmer very happy).
Even my father’s a little surprised by our milk consumption. He visited a few months ago and accompanied me during one of my many grocery store trips. He said, “Didn’t you just buy milk? (There were four more gallons in my cart.) I said, “Yep! I sure did.” I bet he’s glad he only had two kids, one of which never even drank it.
Since I’ve vowed to save money and make the food last longer, I tried grocery shopping at one of those warehouse stores. It didn’t seem to make a very big difference in my wallet. I also quickly realized I’d need a bigger house to store all the food. Where are you supposed to store four super-sized bottles of ketchup? Does a person really need 30 bags of microwave popcorn? And forget trying to keep four bunches of bananas from turning brown unless you live with apes.
With the exception of my six-month paper towel purchase, I don’t think warehouse stores really helped my grocery bill. Another downside, the John Tesh Radio Show shared some disturbing facts about shopping in bulk. Tesh quoted data that revealed, “People who tend to buy in bulk, tend to eat more.” So, are we fat now, too? Since learning this fact, warehouse shopping has come to a screeching halt.
I have to confess, I did like buying toilet paper in bulk. I still wouldn’t care if I had an entire closet full of Charmin. I hate running out. And talk about a necessity. On the contrary, I have a friend who has an entire closet full of beer. He’s in his late 80s. I’m pretty sure by that age you can buy anything you want in bulk. It’s all about priorities I guess.
In the meantime, I’m trying to stick to my grocery list and only go to the store when I’m not hungry. Don’t the experts advise these rules?
Even so, it’s not entirely working. Everyday, someone complains we’re out of something and they’re miserable. I’ve also reached my monthly quota and there’s still two weeks left in the month. What the? My plan definitely needs some tweaking. On the upside, I guess we’ll all look good come springtime and maybe someone will invite us over for dinner. I’ll bring the toilet paper!
Courtesy of the Atchison Globe
Small Town Burglar Scores Big
When my husband called out to me in his serious tone the other night, I knew something was up. I walked in the room to see our small town as the top story on the Kansas City news. I was so excited. As I listened, my mood drastically changed. Just when I had started to get a little lax about locking all my doors, Atchison became the lead story because of burglaries.
While searching to buy a home here four years ago, our realtor told me our town is so safe, people leave their keys in their car. Then I heard someone had their car stolen when they did this. Apparently word spread to the wrong people.
A neighbor also informed us they don’t even lock their doors. I thought that was very cool being from Phoenix. It’s extremely different there. More people equals more crime. A person would never leave their house unlocked unless they were trying to get their insurance company to replace all their stuff.
As a child, my parents put the fear of God in me. Their house is still like Fort Knox. Even visitors can’t get in. You even need a key to get out of their house. I’ve never understood that one. What if there’s a fire? Would they really have time to unlock a dead bolt? Wouldn’t the key melt from the heat of the flames?
Upon hearing the story of the burglar, I decided I better tell my children. This stirred various reactions. My son seemed a little excited, probably because he likes danger. I reminded him, he’s a little too nonchalant about locking a particular door. He didn’t seem to grasp the importance of my little safety speech. In a sarcastic, matter of fact voice, I said, “Fine. You’re room is the closest to that door anyway.” Then I walked away laughing under my breath.
My 9-year-old was concerned with what the burglar was stealing. When I mentioned flat screen TVs were included, she insisted that was ridiculous. She thought they were permanently hung on the wall. This might explain why she does flips, kart-wheels and other stunts involving air and high-speed, inches from our TV.
My 4-year-old immediately burst into tears. This surprised me because the girl is fearless. She was convinced the “bad guys” were coming to our house that night. I believe I had put the fear of God in her just like my parents. Am I my mother after all? A little fear would do my daughter some good. Despite our rule to not answer the door, she once handed me a package when I got out of the shower. She has since promised to never answer the door again. This lasted approximately one day. I continue to race her to the door anytime we have a visitor.
I felt bad for my teenager. Coincidentally, she had two babysitting jobs the following day and night. Although I don’t consider myself extremely brave, I told her if she heard any weird noises or got scared, to call me and I’d be over immediately. I expected a call within the first half hour. The girl has bionic hearing, unless of course I’m asking her to do her chores.
When she got home, she told me a friend had texted her with the news his neighbor had just been robbed. I thought she was kidding. She didn’t even call. I guess she’s more courageous than I thought.
To help catch the thief, the news reporter suggested calling the police if you saw anything out of the ordinary. I have to say, I’m not the best person to rely on for this. Once when I was in junior high, playing outside with a friend, we saw two men loading furniture into a van down the street. I innocently said to my friend, “Are they moving?” We shrugged it off and proceeded to play.
The next day we were summoned to the principal’s office. Turned out they weren’t moving. Oops. My friend and I were greeted by two police officers and told we were the only witnesses. Obviously I wasn’t much help. I highly recommend people not ask me to watch their house while they’re on vacation.
Now that the thief has been apprehended, we can all sleep soundly again. And a big “thank you” to our law enforcement for their long hours and hard work. Atchison is safe once again!
Courtesy of the Atchison Globe
My Texting Teen
When we decided to get our teenage daughter a cell phone last Christmas, it wasn’t because she insisted she was the only teenager on earth that didn’t have one. It also wasn’t because she tried to wear us down by begging for one since she was 10-years-old. My husband and I decided she was responsible enough now and we needed to know where she was for safety reasons. With our family stretching to three places at once on any given day, it became more of a need than want. Now it’s a whole lot easier to get a hold of her.
This makes me wonder what in the world our parents did to keep track of us, or better yet, us of them.
After dinosaurs and before great advancements in technology, I think people were able to just get away. Before cell phones and texting, my parents left the phone number to the movie theater with our sitter (isn’t that a recording?). I’m pretty sure they just wanted a few hours alone and didn’t want to answer questions like, “Can we finish the carton of ice cream?” They made it clear they only wanted to be contacted if our house was on fire (that does qualify as an emergency).
Nowadays, cell phones for teens are as common as peanut butter and jelly for a toddler. Even my parents use them and text on occasion. Still, they are eons away from reaching the number of texts their granddaughter is sending.
In the first month our daughter had her cell phone, she sent and received over 8,000 texts. Her current average is over 11,000 a month. My husband and I only average 400 texts a month combined (thank God we have unlimited texting). I’ve become accustomed to seeing the top of her head more than her face (I think her eyes are still hazel-green) because she’s always looking down at her phone watching her fingers burn up the keypad.
After a Google search to find the average number of texts teenagers send and receive, I discovered she was normal. A headline that popped up repeatedly read: “Teen Girl Sends 14,528 Text Messages in 1 Month.” The girl’s father ended up with a 440-page phone bill! That’s nothing. Atchison could have easily made the headlines. My daughter informed me her best friend’s first month tallied over 16,000 text messages. Good golly, what in the world did she have to say?
I’ve slowly begun to grasp this whole concept and send texts, too. It really forces a person to get to the point quickly. This is challenging for me and has to be for women in general simply because we use more words in a day then men.
I humbly admit, my daughter had to teach me how to text. I didn’t know my phone could guess the word I was trying to type before I even finished. How great is that! She also turned off the sound to my beeping keypad because it annoyed her (another option I didn’t know existed).
Even though I choose to spell out every word in it’s entirety, she prefers to use abbreviations. I think that fits her age better than mine. When I get cute abbreviations from my friends, I don’t always know what they mean. Luckily, I have a walking, talking, breathing dictionary to interpret for me.
With rules in place for cell phone use in our house, like turning it in at night and no texting during mealtimes, things are relatively peaceful in our household. When they aren’t, the first privilege to go is her phone. She’s actually said we gave it to her, just to take it away.
I have to admit, texting really is easier and quicker than leaving a voice mail. Before I can barely press send, my daughter has already responded. How in the world does she type that fast … I think her monthly texting average answers that question.
Courtesy of the Atchison Globe
(I’m happy to say, since this column was published, my teenager has greatly decreased the amount of texts she sends. Miracles do happen!)
Hope Quote
My favorite quote from my 4-year-old, Hope the other day….
“It worked. It worked. I read Abby two stories and she fell asleep. I’m a genius!”
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