Our local Safeway just reopened this month. A year ago it was a ghetto store that was predictably empty. The old store was torn down and completely rebuilt with a new upscale feel. It's now packed. I wish they had left the damned thing alone.
There have been a few improvements I suppose; my favorite part of the store is its new underground parking. Most people park above ground, so it makes me feel like I've discovered some secret passageway into the store. Goose likes pushing the buttons on the elevator, so that's also a plus.
I went shopping today. I wasn't planning on going back to the store so soon; I try to limit my outings lately (see previous post). But I was beguiled by the lure of $1 boxes of Kix. Goose could live on Kix. What am I saying? Goose does live on Kix (with a side of yogurt).
Goose talked me into getting one of those new giant carts with a toddler car in front. This was taking a big risk. Last time I swore I would never let her talk me into one again (astounding resolve on my part, I know). Goose never has the patience to stay seated the entire time and I end up weaving a semi-truck through the produce trying to catch a wandering toddler without hitting any unsuspecting bystanders.
These carts seem to have been designed by childless and/or male engineers. They fit four children: two in the car/firetruck/police cruiser and two in the double-wide basket. If any poor soul is forced to shop with four children small enough to need a ride, they are going to need much more help than little steering wheels can provide. Also, the firetruck must have a certain amount of weight in the seat in order for the cart to drive "appropriately". Not having that weight (i.e. toddler jumping out) is like going from a cart with one bad wheel to one with only one good wheel.
I decided to experiment. If Goose (26 lbs) weighs enough to bring the front wheels down, perhaps putting Little E (21 lbs) - who is not capable of jumping out - in the car with her would be a good insurance policy. That is if they didn't poke one another's eyes out. After seeing Little E get buckled in, Goose was even more excited for the ride. I smiled - this just might work!
They were giggling by the time we reached the cereal aisle.
The Kix on sale was, of course, the smallest variety available. The thing is the big box of Kix isn't that big. I could probably eat the small box in one sitting. But then, I am nursing. I can't complain; heck they were a buck. But, it strikes me odd that as the grocery carts reach gargantuan proportions, the cereal boxes shrink.
I don't mind companies offering smaller package options. Perhaps some people prefer only having a small box of Kix on hand. That's their prerogative. What bothers me is that the boxes shrink while the prices stay they same. It's like a sneaky way to raise the price of a product. Girl Scout Cookies have been doing this for years. I'm just waiting for the year when I get a box of three Samoas.
The one I was most dismayed about today though was my Double-Stuffed Oreos. I bought two bags of Oreos today - one regular, one double-stuffed. I remember when the double-stuffed first came out, the cookies were enormous - the shortening and sugar filling never ended. The double-stuffed definitely contains more filling than the regular Oreos, but I swear that both have decreased in filling. Perhaps more appropriate names would be regular-stuffed and half-stuffed.
I guess I really should be too concerned -the box is the same size less filling means more cookies with which to bribe Goose to stay in that cart's firetruck.
Tetrakiss - Lab Monkey turned Monkey Wrangler
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Serenity Now; Insanity Later
I've been looking for a place of peace. Being nearly always surrounded by people, especially little demanding people, is incredibly draining for me. Don't get me wrong - I love my kids. I just can't stand them. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. With little or no reprieve.
My house lately has not been a haven of peace for me. Funny thing for a homebody to say. I keep a mental list of all the doing that needs doing and lately that list has been a little out of control. Sitting down and relaxing has been a source of anxiety lately as my mind starts reeling through the unending list of things I should be doing, unleashing a river of guilt. It's much easier to occupy myself, and kids, outside of the house, thereby at once being too busy to think about the undone stuff at home and avoiding the unpleasantness of smelly laundry and dishes.
The only problem is that dang car seat. Goose h-a-t-e-s her car seat. Well, that's not exactly true. She doesn't mind her car seat once she is in it. She hates getting into her car seat. Or maybe she just loves driving me crazy. That's probably a more accurate description of what is going on. In any case, it's a fight every time we get into the car. I've tried cajoling, I've tried bribing, I've tried forcing. (Bribing is the most effective, by the way. I now keep a box of cookies in the car.) Any parent of a two-year-old who has stood shivering in the rain with a screaming infant in the other car seat trying to wait out the display of control knows what I am talking about. The only thing that prevents the struggle at the buckle is staying in the house. I hate the process so much, I've started planning my outings by how many times we need to get in and out of the car. I have found I can handle no more than 3 "in"s.
Today I made a series of major mistakes. I was headed to a play date at a local Nature Center and I parked at the wrong building. Tactical error number 1. I had the kids out of the car for 15 minutes before I realized my error. We had to trek back through the parking lot (hold my hand or the cars will EAT you!), and waste a perfectly good "in". Only one more left.
The play date was enjoyable, but not what I would really call "in"-worthy. A mother at the nature center mentioned the nearby conservatory was worth a visit. Although I knew the kids were tired (can you say 5:30 am? Yes, I gave birth to roosters.), I decided to go visit rather than initiate another car ride on a subsequent date and by extension using additional "in"s. Tactical error number 2.
It was a short walk, and once I got Goose headed in the right direction, it was fairly painless. The flowers were well worth the visit. I felt like I had walked into heaven. It was a beautiful English garden so very artfully done. The greenhouse windows seemed to magnify the sunshine and kept out what little bite there was left in the early Spring air. The smell of all the blooms was intoxicating. I imagined myself sitting on the bench with a notebook writing an inspired novel. If it hadn't been for the baby in my arms furiously sucking his thumb in an effort to soothe himself to sleep and the two-year old who was obviously winding up, I could have stayed for hours. As it was, we made two laps, a couple of stops at the drinking fountain for Goose, and then I announced our departure. This is when all hell broke loose.
"NO! You don't want to go," (My Goosey talks about herself in second person), "You just want to stay here with flowers."
"It's time to go, Goose. We need to go get some lunch. And you need a nap. And Little E needs a nap."
I made for her hand. Tactical Error number 3. You know, for having little legs, kids are fast. Granted I was carrying a 20 lb infant, but you would think that having twice to three times the stride of my daughter, I might be able to keep up with her a little better. Round and round we went.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"
Tears? I was surprised by the emotion she was exuding. I knew she wasn't as enamored with the scene as I was. I should be the one screaming about going home, right? After all, she was the one who was going to get a nap. My nap was still questionable.
I caught her, she pulled the civil disobedience limp body trick. I love that move. It's especially effective when I've got Little E in arms. After a few more incidents - a couple of asphalt face plants, an attempt to run the other way, and other parking lot hand-holding refusal, we made it to the car. Thanks to that box of cookies "in" number 3 wasn't as terrible as I was expecting. And I can still smell those flowers.
My house lately has not been a haven of peace for me. Funny thing for a homebody to say. I keep a mental list of all the doing that needs doing and lately that list has been a little out of control. Sitting down and relaxing has been a source of anxiety lately as my mind starts reeling through the unending list of things I should be doing, unleashing a river of guilt. It's much easier to occupy myself, and kids, outside of the house, thereby at once being too busy to think about the undone stuff at home and avoiding the unpleasantness of smelly laundry and dishes.
The only problem is that dang car seat. Goose h-a-t-e-s her car seat. Well, that's not exactly true. She doesn't mind her car seat once she is in it. She hates getting into her car seat. Or maybe she just loves driving me crazy. That's probably a more accurate description of what is going on. In any case, it's a fight every time we get into the car. I've tried cajoling, I've tried bribing, I've tried forcing. (Bribing is the most effective, by the way. I now keep a box of cookies in the car.) Any parent of a two-year-old who has stood shivering in the rain with a screaming infant in the other car seat trying to wait out the display of control knows what I am talking about. The only thing that prevents the struggle at the buckle is staying in the house. I hate the process so much, I've started planning my outings by how many times we need to get in and out of the car. I have found I can handle no more than 3 "in"s.
Today I made a series of major mistakes. I was headed to a play date at a local Nature Center and I parked at the wrong building. Tactical error number 1. I had the kids out of the car for 15 minutes before I realized my error. We had to trek back through the parking lot (hold my hand or the cars will EAT you!), and waste a perfectly good "in". Only one more left.
The play date was enjoyable, but not what I would really call "in"-worthy. A mother at the nature center mentioned the nearby conservatory was worth a visit. Although I knew the kids were tired (can you say 5:30 am? Yes, I gave birth to roosters.), I decided to go visit rather than initiate another car ride on a subsequent date and by extension using additional "in"s. Tactical error number 2.
It was a short walk, and once I got Goose headed in the right direction, it was fairly painless. The flowers were well worth the visit. I felt like I had walked into heaven. It was a beautiful English garden so very artfully done. The greenhouse windows seemed to magnify the sunshine and kept out what little bite there was left in the early Spring air. The smell of all the blooms was intoxicating. I imagined myself sitting on the bench with a notebook writing an inspired novel. If it hadn't been for the baby in my arms furiously sucking his thumb in an effort to soothe himself to sleep and the two-year old who was obviously winding up, I could have stayed for hours. As it was, we made two laps, a couple of stops at the drinking fountain for Goose, and then I announced our departure. This is when all hell broke loose.
"NO! You don't want to go," (My Goosey talks about herself in second person), "You just want to stay here with flowers."
"It's time to go, Goose. We need to go get some lunch. And you need a nap. And Little E needs a nap."
I made for her hand. Tactical Error number 3. You know, for having little legs, kids are fast. Granted I was carrying a 20 lb infant, but you would think that having twice to three times the stride of my daughter, I might be able to keep up with her a little better. Round and round we went.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"
Tears? I was surprised by the emotion she was exuding. I knew she wasn't as enamored with the scene as I was. I should be the one screaming about going home, right? After all, she was the one who was going to get a nap. My nap was still questionable.
I caught her, she pulled the civil disobedience limp body trick. I love that move. It's especially effective when I've got Little E in arms. After a few more incidents - a couple of asphalt face plants, an attempt to run the other way, and other parking lot hand-holding refusal, we made it to the car. Thanks to that box of cookies "in" number 3 wasn't as terrible as I was expecting. And I can still smell those flowers.
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