Sweet Potato Boy
Happy Birthday, little man! I can’t believe you’re three already!
He’s pictured here playing with some of his new toys. But my favorite gift that was given to the Potato today?
We went out to dinner at a local kid-friendly restaurant. On the way out, the hostess offered both of the kids a balloon for the road. We were walking home, me with the Potato on my shoulders (giving him, as he would say, “a piggybank”) when a tree caught his balloon and ripped it out of his hand. Bye balloon.
Before he even had time to cry, his big sister offered him hers. Then I was the one who was nearly crying.
who is the goddess of air travel, and why does she hate me so?
I’m going to bitch about my mom. If you’re not into it, you can skip this one.
Yeah, so our vacation was fine (four days with my mom and stepfather! thank god they have a pool!). The trip home, however, was from hell. I’d like to find the corporate bean-counter from *letter after T* *letter after R* Air who approved delaying our flight for three and a half hours, because let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like sitting in the airport with your kids for five hours, and then arriving home at midnight. Big fun, I’m telling you. Especially the part where they both start crying simultaneously, about two hours after their bedtimes.
Fortunately, the Orlando airport is basically a mall built inside an airport, so despite the financial damage, the actual airport time wasn’t that bad. Unfortunately, the flight was full of tired kids who had just come off a week at Disney. Let’s just say, mine weren’t the only ones crying.
Originally, I was planning to make this trip with just the kids and me, because landisdad was supposed to have to work. Happily, he was able to come with us, to help manage that horror. Unhappily, he was able to come because he’s been laid off.
Spending the time with my mom is good for the kids, but tension-causing for me. My mom and I have very different parenting styles, and my constant conversation with the Bee in particular drives my mom crazy. (“Why don’t you just tell her what you want her to do? Why do you have to explain it?”) At one point, I had to say to the Girl of One Million Questions, “look, Bee, politics and religion are two things that we can fight about in this family, and it’s just not a good idea for us to talk about those things with them.”
In two weeks time, we’re headed on the road again to visit my MIL. This trip is car-based only, so there’s that going for it. It might just be too many grandmas in one month, though. And no pool, this time.
Blog for Workers’ Rights
We’re all going on a mini-vacation this weekend, so I won’t be blogging for the next couple of days. Before I go, I’m issuing a Labor Day blogging challenge to all my friends (and friends-not-yet-met) in the blogosphere. I was inspired by last year’s Blog Against Racism Day.
It’s just about a month away from Labor Day weekend, when most of us will gather around our barbecues for the summer’s last hoorah.
This year, in addition to toasting a few weiners (soy, turkey, or plain ol’-fashioned beef), why not toast an old employer, too?
Tell a story on your blog about the meaning of Labor Day to you. Maybe it’s about your gratitude that your kids don’t have to go to work, but get to go to school. Maybe it’s about the fact that, at least in theory, you work a 40-hour work week. Maybe it’s about the time you tried to organize a union, or a day you spent on strike. Maybe it’s a bad boss story, or a time you got cheated out of something you worked hard for. Maybe it’s something I’m not imagining–just tell a story about work and power.
Whatever it is, post about it on Labor Day weekend, and send me the link. I’ll keep a running list of all the holiday weekend’s posts as I get them, as well as posting on this topic myself.
I know, more teeth
Lately, the Bee has adopted one of the less-attractive habits of Violet Beauregarde, and has been ‘saving’ her chewed gum to chew again, particularly around meals. I haven’t yet seen her sticking a slightly-chewed piece of gum behind her ear to save it for later, but I feel like we’re only days away from that. It’s pretty revolting.
Tonight, after she brushed her teeth, I caught her chewing gum again. I guess this is what happens when you don’t use minty toothpaste–I find it hard to imagine chewing bubblegum right after I’ve brushed my teeth.
Sometimes, I feel like I spend so much time keeping my children a) alive and b) fed and clean that I just don’t have time to socialize them too. This isn’t one of those situations that I’ve read about in any parenting books. Maybe we’ll just read the book again.
Bumblebee Sweet Potato 