Birth of the "One-Store" Rule

So it was after our Costco stop (the second of three stops on our grocery shopping spree) that I lost control of my patience with Ella last Sunday.  It’s not that she was throwing tantrums in the aisles or running away from me as I tried to shop or just not using her “listening ears,” a term that we use a lot and that makes me giggle inside every time I hear it... listening ears… I don’t even know why I think it’s funny, really.

It’s just that she’s 4… almost.

The Minnie Cart

Poor thing.  I didn’t yell, but I was clearly frustrated.  We had just arrived at our car, me pushing the gigantic Costco cart (with our six items in it, really) and Ella pushing her tiny, pink “Minnie” shopping cart (with nothing in it, prime for bouncing around uncontrollably on the pavement as she pushed it without much focus).  My frustration had been building; and at that moment by the car, I had no more room to hold in even an ounce of frustration when she declared, standing by the rear door on the driver’s side (Cal’s side), “I want to get in the car by Cal’s seat.”

She had successfully done this after our first stop at Trader Joe’s, adding only 30 seconds to our trip.  But it irked me even then, which I managed to keep to myself.

“THAT’S IT, Ella!  The NEXT time Mommy has to go to MORE THAN ONE store, she needs to do it ALONE,” I told her, completely in the third person.  Maybe the use of third person is my subconscious way of delivering some bad news without making it seem like it’s actually coming from “me,” her nice, patient, loving mother.  But then I switched to first person, entirely from that aforementioned nice, patient, loving mother, “If I ONLY have to go to ONE store, you can go with me; but if it’s MORE than ONE store, you’ll have to stay with Daddy.  It just takes TOO LONG with you.  IT SHOULDN’T TAKE THIS LONG!” And I may have finished it with an exasperated “UUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!”

Yes, the “one-store” rule was born, completely unplanned off the cuff, on Sunday.

I don’t know how much she heard.  She just watched me rant, which I managed to deliver over the course of watching her buckle herself in (she insisted), my hands wanting to jump in and help her as she did so.  I even continued the rant as I threw the few grocery items we had into the back of the car and climbed into the driver’s seat to peel out of our parking spot, repeating that it was just taking too long with her along and it shouldn’t take that long.  I even added to the rule that the Minnie cart would HAVE to stay at home when we go to the ONE store, which I’ve since retracted because that’s just too cute and tolerable if used at one, and ONLY ONE, store.  Ask the people at Trader Joe’s – they think it’s adorable.

Looking back, she was pretty well behaved by comparison to other shopping trips and, really, just in comparison to practically everything we do.  She was just so stinkin’ slow, which she comes by honestly with those short legs.  But does she need to get so distracted by people and what they’re doing or what they look like?  Surely, that doesn’t help her speed.  And why can’t she just trust me that she won’t be interested in a specific sample stand?  We had to go against cart traffic to stop at the chewable adult vitamin stand else risk a meltdown which may not even have happened but has happened often enough that it’s always in the back of my mind as a risk to consider avoiding in the current situation. 

And that Minnie cart?  Again, it’s cute… initially.  Then it becomes a source of tension, either due to the negative effect it has on her speed or because it was made for Minnie-sized items and doesn’t even fit a loaf of bread.  We need to be strategic with what we actually put in there.  Ella doesn’t do strategy or practicality.  Ella does whatever her urge tells her to do in the moment.

And I get that she has a small bladder and is not quite able to put any forethought into the possibility she might have to go potty during our trip despite our best efforts to teach her to do so by insisting she go potty – whatever she can squeeze out – before we leave.  But, really?  When we’re in line to pay for our six items we had just spent the past hour retrieving from the giant, packed, sample-filled store?  This is when she declares for the first time that she has to go NOW?

“I’M GOING TO GO POTTY IN MY PANTS!” she screamed and proceeded to do her have-to-go-potty dance, complete with sticking her hand between her legs presumably to hold it in and a pained expression on her face.  We were next in line to pay, and I was not leaving that line.  After a couple of failed diversion attempts, I simply insisted she hold it, that we were next to pay for our stuff and that we’ll head to the potty (pointing at it) right after that.  She did hold it, and we did make it to the bathroom before her prediction came true.

And don’t even get me started on the stress of watching Ella use a public bathroom – that’s a blog post entirely on its own.

Yes, hindsight told me we should have gone home after our first stop at Trader Joe’s which involved many of the same Ella-accompanying-me factors as Costco did, just on a smaller scale.  There were a lot of people to maneuver around with her Minnie cart.  There were samples.  There were plenty of things to distract her from just moving forward.  And, of course, there was entering the car on the side where Cal’s booster seat is and crawling across.  Instead of a potty stop, we had the pressure of picking the line with the cashier who would think to give her a sheet of stickers – I picked the lady with a pony tail, which turned out to be a good choice but one that almost didn’t come through for us.  I think it was Ella standing at the end of the checkout counter staring at her after we had paid and our groceries were bagged that triggered her to say, “Does she want some stickers?” Why she asked me and not Ella, I’m not sure.  “Yes,” I responded and then reminded Ella to say thank you, which she did.

Had the cashier not offered her the stickers, I would have had to have asked… which, we don’t need any more stickers (we have plenty at home)… but Ella now associates Trader Joe’s with getting stickers and to not get some might have been catastrophic.

While hindsight told me we should have gone home after our first stop, it did not tell me to go home after our second.  Practical to a fault, I still needed to get a couple of things from Jewel and didn’t want to go home only to have to head right out again.  So I told Ella that she could go with me (she actually still wanted to) BUT only on these conditions: 1) she’d have to sit in the cart when we were at Jewel, and 2) NO MINNIE CART.  She accepted the terms and actually executed on them without complaint, an unusual feat for Ella, which I also consider a feat for Mommy… I mean, me.   It remains to be seen, however, if I’ll execute on our new one-store rule.

No Nay Never!

I'm not sure why it happened, but all of a sudden I find myself singing a line from the Irish tune, "Wild Rover" practically every time my answer to a Leatherkid question is "No."

"Mommy, can I have a treat?"  Ella might ask shortly after eating one bite of her lunch.

"NO...NAY... NEVER!  NO NAY NEVER NO MORE!" I respond.

"Mommy, can I watch another episode of Chima?" Cal might ask after having already watched an episode of Chima and four episodes of Wild Kratts.

"NO... NAY... NEVER!  NO NAY NEVER NO MORE!"

It's kind of fun.  Not that I enjoy saying, "No."  But saying it as "NO... NAY... NEVER" makes it easier and sometimes elicits a smile or smirk out of the receiving Leatherkid.  Other times it muffles the backlash I might get -- the word "No" barely leaves my lips and the receiving Leatherkid is already whining and asking, "whyyYYYYY?"  I can barely hear it because I'm still singing, "... NAY NEVER!  NO NAY NEVER NO MORE!"

And now, the Leatherkids are singing it, too, at random times during the day.  More often than not, it goes like this, "no nay never no nay never no nay never!"

The other day, Ella threw a twist into it, "no nay never no nay never yes nay never!"  She snuck a "yes" in there.  Made me laugh.  She doesn't know how funny she is.

Martin Luther Chima Day

Cal has certainly gone through his share of phases of interests the past six years.  Some, like soccer and running, were short-lived.  Others, like drawing and writing, stuck around long enough that we thought it could be a passion but not long enough to prove that it was.  One, Dinosaurs, you can count on -- Cal's got numerous books about dinosaurs, reads them regularly and periodically adds to both his collection of books and his dinosaur knowledge.  You really can't go wrong with dinosaurs when it comes to Cal.

And then there's Lego Chima. From out of nowhere came Chima and Cal's passion for it.  He loves it.  I spent the better part of today, Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, absorbing and deflecting Cal's requests to watch an episode (or 10) of Chima... to watch YouTube videos of hands assembling Chima sets and those same hands showing off the fighting capabilities of each set in a battle between them... to just go to the store to buy a set (I can't remember the name) because it's "only $9.99" (to which I responded at least once that we would not be spending $10 on another set knowing full well he'd be correcting me that it wasn't $10, it was $9.99 -- we're working on rounding up now).

Part of our morning was spent buying him a new pair of Crocs; and, I'm not kidding, doing so involved a Google Search first to see if they make Chima Crocs.  If you're wondering, they don't.

Later in the day, after I decided he had exhausted all of his computer and TV privileges, I asked him if he wanted to play a game with me, like one of the matching games we have in the "toy room."  He responded that he had a better idea, and then proceeded to invite me to some kind of game that involved his Chima lego sets and a die (I never did understand the game and, frankly, doubt he could repeat it).

Here are the Chima Lego sets that Cal and I would have been playing with had I taken him up on his invitation (he sat down with me so I could type as he named them all... he even corrected my spelling of some of these names):

• Maula's Ice Mammoth Stomper
• Flying Fire Phoenix Temple
• Vardy's Ice Vulture Glider
• Laval's Lion Legend Beast
• Sparratus' Spider Stalker
• Lavertus' Twin Blade
• Razar's Speedor
• Gorzan's Speedor
• Icebite's Claw Driller

And at the top of his wish list right now is Sir Fangar's Ice Fortress.  He was saving up his birthday money to buy that and had maybe another $10 to go before he weakened and decided to buy a less-expensive set (the Claw Driller) on New Year's Day.  He's got the bug.  He regularly reads (probably more appropriately looks at) the instruction booklets for his Chima sets before bedtime, on car trips or when he just needs to kill a little time.  He can even name all of the characters -- the leads, the supporting and the really obscure (I won't even try to provide examples of this).

Once a set is put together, it pretty much stays together in the Leatherman house; and Cal plays with them carefully, understanding that they really are relatively fragile (not that they couldn't be put back together).  He once told Dan that he likes to watch Chima episodes so that he can "get ideas for how to play" with his sets.

I hate to admit it, but these things are pretty cool.  They have so much creative detail and function, like claws that when pinched send a bomb (marble) flying or like creepy spider legs that move up and down or like detachable animal ships to send into battle.

While it's not uncommon for me to use the time Cal's watching a Chima episode to catch up on some much needed sleep, I have watched my share of Chima episodes.  I think I've seen episode 38, Cal's favorite, five times.  And while I used to scoff at the whole idea that Lego cartoons even existed, I now find myself either amused by the creative reminders that these things are Legos or forgetting they're Legos altogether as I watch these shows.

That Cal's current passion (only rivaled by Dinosaurs) is for Lego Chima could not have been predicted and at the same time does not necessarily surprise me.  I'm neither pleased nor disappointed his passion is Lego Chima.  I'm just happy he has one, he has something about which he gets excited and really looks forward to doing.  I think Martin Luther King, Jr. would be happy about that, too.

Cool As The Other Side of the Pillow

Legendary ESPN sportscaster Stuart Scott passed away early a week ago Sunday, and I am sad.  Very sad.  As just a plain old everyday sports fan, I'm a lot sadder than I would have expected.  For a few days, I found myself crying about it.  I didn't know him personally.  We never exchanged even a single word.  He didn't even know of my existence.  But I knew of his.

Countless hours of my adult life -- my entire adult life -- were spent getting game results and interesting sports information from Stuart Scott on ESPN's Sports Center.  Yes, from a bar stool after a coed football, softball or volleyball game or from the comforts of my couch at home, I, oh, so often, got my sports scoop from Stuart Scott.  He had a fantastic knack for making an already interesting story (in my eyes) more interesting with high-quality catch phrases like "cool as the other side of the pillow" and "straight butt-ah" and exclamations like "boo-yah!" (or, as Rich Eisen clarified, is actually "boo-yow!").  He was a fixture for me -- I counted on him for information, and he always delivered it in a style that was fun and with the enthusiasm of any fan or player and not the relative stiffness of the typical sportscaster at the time.  And I didn't really even realize what he was doing to his profession.

Over the course of the last week, I sought out and listened to numerous former and current ESPN sportscasters share their stories of Stuart Scott and express their gratitude for what he did for them and their sorrow for having lost him.  As they shared, almost all did so with quivering voices and teary eyes. How lucky these sportscasters are to have known him, to have shared stories and experiences with him, to have been inspired by him.  I've heard him described as a real game-changer for the sportscasting world, particularly for black sports announcers -- I understand now that the catch-phrases he oftentimes used and his fan-like, oh-so-cool delivery of sports updates were not typical of sportscasters at the time.  And they all say the same thing -- no one was more genuine than Stuart Scott.  What I and the rest of the ESPN-watching world saw is apparently who he was.

In recent years, his appearances lessened given his somewhat public battle with cancer.  I checked in on him only every once in awhile to see how he was doing, mostly hoping I'd see him return, not that his colleagues weren't doing a good job but... well... because I wanted him to survive his battle with cancer, which I've learned that he actually did beat it twice.

With Stuart Scott's death, I am reminded of others closer to me but still distant who also died from cancer -- Jane Caliendo, a softball teammate back in the day... Summer Lynch, a co-worker's wife... Kelly Fithian Cloud, an early classmate and bandmate and teammate... Kelly Mason, a family friend.  Others.  All good people.  All people with kids.  Why these people were stricken and I wasn't, I don't know.  That they were stricken scares me because it could easily BE me.

I didn't used to be scared of getting terminally sick.  That I'm getting older and attending wakes for people my age surely contibutes to my being scared of it now.  Really, I mostly blame my being scared of getting sick on my kids.  It wasn’t until I had kids that I became really aware of my mortality.  It’s not that I ran around with reckless abandon prior to having kids.  I am far too risk averse for that.  It’s just that I ran around without worrying too much about my future and when and how it might all come to an end.  I took care of myself (admittedly with some lapses in good judgment), and I believed that as long as I stayed active, caught up on sleep when necessary, didn’t smoke and had a decent diet I’d naturally live for a long time, which I knew I wanted to do but couldn’t pinpoint an exact reason why.  It was a waste of time worrying about the “what ifs,” or the things outside of my control.  Decisions I made would mitigate the risk of some of them occurring, and the rest of it would happen whether I worried about them or not –- so, why worry?

Having Cal and Ella turned this worry-free world I live in upside down.  No disrespect to others in my family and, again, not that I was looking for a way out, but my kids gave me a reason to live for a long time... and now, a reason to worry that it might not work out that way, no matter how hard I try.

I make a conscious effort to not worry about it, "it" being the possibility of dying young.  When people like Stuart Scott pass away, it's tough not to worry.  When I feel the pains of aging, it's tough not to worry.  Sometimes when I even look at my young kids smiling back at me, an older mom, it's tough not to worry.  But I shake it with the words that I've said to my sister many times -- it's just a waste of energy worrying about the bad stuff, the worst-case scenario until you know that it's true because odds are it's not.  Why worry about it?  Just take care of yourself and see a doctor if you really think you need to.  I don't think Stuart Scott would promote such a worry-filled approach to one's life.

Stuart Scott's speech upon accepting the Jim Valvano award for perseverance earlier this year was phenomenal.  Three things will stay with me forever:

One, that he was there to deliver it.  He had just left the hospital having countless body failures and "tubes everywhere" and credited family, nurses and doctors for his surviving it.  You wouldn't know it by how good he looked and how well he carried himself.  I can't imagine the strength it took to be there.  That he was there just backs up what I've been hearing from all of these sportscasters.  He knew the honor that receiving that specific award was.  And I'm sure he knew that he'd have a stage to do more inspiring.  It worked.

Two, that he declared that his fight was really inspired by his kids.  He simply wanted to -- needed to -- be there for his kids.  I get that.  I feel that every day... every minute of every day, even when my Leatherkids are being bears and driving me nuts with their whining and abusing each other and incessant talking.

And three, this quote:  "You beat cancer by how you live your life, why you live it and the manner in which you live it."  I don't have cancer and hope that I never will.  But I think that this declaration applies to me as well -- I need to live my life with purpose and integrity simply because I still can.  It hasn't yet been taken away from me, like it was for Scott and many -- too many -- others without even a choice.  I think I'm a generally good and active person, but I have moments of weakness.  It's during those moments that I remind myself that I am still here, alive and presumably healthy and able to enjoy the coolness of the other side of the pillow.  And I get back on track.

Thank you Stuart Scott.  Thank you for all of the sports updates and stories you shared.  Thank you for what you did for your profession, one that is a part of my everyday life.  And thank you for inspiring me, even when I didn't think you were doing that.  Rest in peace.

Oh, What Fun... NOT!

It wasn’t uncommon to stumble out of bed any morning this past December and catch Cal singing “Have a holly, jolly Christmas…” as he put on his shoes for the day or to hear Ella singing “We WISH you a Merry Christmas, we WISH you a Merry Christmas…” at some point during the day.  I enjoyed every bit of it… well, almost every bit.  And just yesterday morning, I was reminded of why I say “almost.”

Having just left the holiday season (or, in our case, nearing the end of it as I haven’t yet taken down the Christmas decorations throughout the house), Christmas songs are still pretty fresh in the Leatherkids’ minds.  So when Ella was singing “Jingle Bells” as we got ready for work/school yesterday morning, it seemed pretty normal.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jinGLE all the way… oh, McFun, it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh… HEY!” she sang and then repeated.  Yes, "McFun" instead of "what fun."

And then Dan joined in, “Dashing through the snow… in a one-horse open sleigh... o’er the fields we go… LAUGHING all the way… HA HA HA!” he sang with Ella tagging along.

And as they started the next part, I cringed because I knew it was coming.  My family just butchers – yes, in my eyes, BUTCHERs – the next part, the part just before transitioning back to the “jingle bells” refrain.

“Bells on bobtails ring… making spirits bright…” I braced myself for what was next, “OH, what fun it is to…” and I don’t think they can even finish it correctly, with all of the words despite their best efforts because the whole rhythm of words to the music is off.  THERE’S NO “OH” IN THAT PART, LEATHERPEOPLE! 

Goodness.  Why can't they get that right?  I’ve done my share of correcting them – HIM, really, as I blame it completely on Dan – by singing along loudly during that part, “WHAT FUN it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight… OH,…”

I don’t know why I find it surprising.  He also butchers “Frosty the Snowman,” but I can almost understand that.  One, there are a lot of verses in that song, and the order of them is important – it’s not easy to keep them straight during the excitement of singing it.  Two, he comes by that one honestly – I’ve heard the entire Giblin (his mom’s side) family butcher it as well.  But “Jingle Bells”?  There’s really no excuse to butcher that one.

They say there are two things you can count on in your life – death and taxes.  Well, I have three – my family just can’t sing “Jingle Bells” correctly.  But I love them nonetheless.