Over the weekend, Benjamin asked us to pick up him some Twinkies for his lunches during the week. We don't usually keep stuff like that in the house because someone around here tends to eat it too quickly. Ahem. Girl Scout Cookies? I do not know of what you speak.
But J took pity on him, and picked up a box of Twinkies on Monday night at the grocery store. When he got home with them later that night, I was in a munchy mood, so J brought me one (my lazy ass didn't want to get off the couch). I tore it open and bit into it, expecting the cakey, creamy goodness that I remembered from childhood.
Wait.
What the hell? Is that ... banana? Did they put banana in my Twinkie? That's not possible. I would have never eaten a Twinkie when I was younger because I hated the flavor of banana. Still do, apparently.
So I did a little research. According to the all knowing interwebs (or Wikipedia, whichever you prefer), the original Twinkie flavor really was - banana. But soon after mass production started, there was a banana shortage, and the vanilla cream that I remember was subbed in. The Twinkie remained the same until sometime around 2007 or 2008, when the banana flavor was brought back as a sort of novelty Twinkie.
It's been a while since we've bought Twinkies. And right there on the package, it does say "Original Banana Flavor." Who knew that original meant "a really freaking long time before I was born?"
I ate another bite or two, but didn't care to finish it. I mean, really, banana???
This morning, I put one in Benjamin's lunch box, and told him to check out the special treat he was getting. He cracked open his lunch box before putting it in his backpack, and the look on his face? Sheer bliss. He was so damned excited about the Twinkie, he ran off down the hall to thank J for getting them.
Side note: apparently he forgot what they were called when he was saying 'thank you' and called it "the long creamy filled thing." Pretty good description.
In the meantime, Alyssa gazed at the Twinkie in Benjamin's lunch box, reached over and picked it up. She looked at me, and said, wonderingly, "What is it?"
I sort of felt like the meanest parent in the world. My almost 5 year old girl doesn't know what a Twinkie is. Total Parenting Fail. Must remedy that soon. With a REAL FREAKING TWINKIE.
Showing posts with label Parenting Fail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting Fail. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Rough Mornings
This morning was a rough morning at our house, and I did something I should probably feel badly about, but I don't.
Let me explain.
Both of our kiddos have alarm clocks that go off about 6:40. The girl's goes off about 90 seconds before the boy's, so she's usually down the stairs first. She's gotten into the habit of jumping up into bed with me and snuggling for a few minutes before we really start our day. It's been a very nice part of the morning.
The problem is, the boy is now wanting to get into bed to snuggle with us, too. This would be fine, except neither of them wants to be in the middle between J and I; both want to be between me and the edge of the bed.
If my girl knew how to take turns, it wouldn't be a big deal. We'd just rotate through each day; one day the boy is in the middle, the next day, the girl. But apparently 4.5 year olds are still going through those fun kinds of phases. And we are solidly in one right now. This phase involves: crying muchly over small things; only wanting her way; not wanting to take turns; not understanding that when I say no. And the whining. My god the whining.
So I'm already lacking a little in patience for her, which admittedly, I need to work on.
This morning, the girl's alarm goes off as usual. I was in the middle of a pretty deep sleep, and awaken to the sounds of doors slamming and feet pounding down the stairs. Oy.
The girl gets there first and immediately wants up on my side of the bed. I tell her that it's her brother's turn to be there, and she gets the middle. Consistent with the phase I mentioned above, I immediately get a "no." By now, the boy has made it downstairs and wants to snuggle, too. I try again to explain to the girl (as they are both pressed against the side of my bed, arguing) that it is not her turn; it is B's turn to be on the edge of the bed.
No dice.
At this point, both the girl and the boy attempt to climb up onto the bed, elbows, knees and heads banging together against them and me (as they are literally on top of me now). I think I might've tried one more time to get my point across, but it was lost in the cacophony. I was irritable at being woken up like this, and more pissed that they were ignoring me.
So I did what I do to the cat when I can't take it any more (because the cat usually occupies the space between me and the edge of the bed). Sudden body roll towards the edge of the bed while yanking up the covers = two kids OFF MY BED NOW AND ON THE FLOOR.
I was probably harsher than I needed to be, but I was more than a little tired of being ignored. The boy rebounded immediately, figured out that his presence was probably not needed or even welcome in our bedroom, and beat a hasty exit. He was completely fine the rest of the morning.
The girl? Not so much. She hit the ground and immediately started crying because her knee hurt. Every parent knows the difference in cries between "my knee really hurts" and "I'm not getting my way." This was the latter. I let J handle the aftermath, I was simply too pissed off about the situation to do anything else.
The morning actually ended fine. The girl eventually came out of her sobbing fit, the boy was fine, and they were happy kids going to school.
And now I'm torn as to whether I should feel badly for pitching them off the bed. Because really, they are old enough to know better. And old enough to learn the consequences when you don't do what you are asked or when you hurt other people. I'm sure there are better ways to get my point across, but for some reason, that was the only thing I could think of when I was still mostly asleep and getting pummeled at 6:40 am. Tomorrow is another day, right?
Let me explain.
Both of our kiddos have alarm clocks that go off about 6:40. The girl's goes off about 90 seconds before the boy's, so she's usually down the stairs first. She's gotten into the habit of jumping up into bed with me and snuggling for a few minutes before we really start our day. It's been a very nice part of the morning.
The problem is, the boy is now wanting to get into bed to snuggle with us, too. This would be fine, except neither of them wants to be in the middle between J and I; both want to be between me and the edge of the bed.
If my girl knew how to take turns, it wouldn't be a big deal. We'd just rotate through each day; one day the boy is in the middle, the next day, the girl. But apparently 4.5 year olds are still going through those fun kinds of phases. And we are solidly in one right now. This phase involves: crying muchly over small things; only wanting her way; not wanting to take turns; not understanding that when I say no. And the whining. My god the whining.
So I'm already lacking a little in patience for her, which admittedly, I need to work on.
This morning, the girl's alarm goes off as usual. I was in the middle of a pretty deep sleep, and awaken to the sounds of doors slamming and feet pounding down the stairs. Oy.
The girl gets there first and immediately wants up on my side of the bed. I tell her that it's her brother's turn to be there, and she gets the middle. Consistent with the phase I mentioned above, I immediately get a "no." By now, the boy has made it downstairs and wants to snuggle, too. I try again to explain to the girl (as they are both pressed against the side of my bed, arguing) that it is not her turn; it is B's turn to be on the edge of the bed.
No dice.
At this point, both the girl and the boy attempt to climb up onto the bed, elbows, knees and heads banging together against them and me (as they are literally on top of me now). I think I might've tried one more time to get my point across, but it was lost in the cacophony. I was irritable at being woken up like this, and more pissed that they were ignoring me.
So I did what I do to the cat when I can't take it any more (because the cat usually occupies the space between me and the edge of the bed). Sudden body roll towards the edge of the bed while yanking up the covers = two kids OFF MY BED NOW AND ON THE FLOOR.
I was probably harsher than I needed to be, but I was more than a little tired of being ignored. The boy rebounded immediately, figured out that his presence was probably not needed or even welcome in our bedroom, and beat a hasty exit. He was completely fine the rest of the morning.
The girl? Not so much. She hit the ground and immediately started crying because her knee hurt. Every parent knows the difference in cries between "my knee really hurts" and "I'm not getting my way." This was the latter. I let J handle the aftermath, I was simply too pissed off about the situation to do anything else.
The morning actually ended fine. The girl eventually came out of her sobbing fit, the boy was fine, and they were happy kids going to school.
And now I'm torn as to whether I should feel badly for pitching them off the bed. Because really, they are old enough to know better. And old enough to learn the consequences when you don't do what you are asked or when you hurt other people. I'm sure there are better ways to get my point across, but for some reason, that was the only thing I could think of when I was still mostly asleep and getting pummeled at 6:40 am. Tomorrow is another day, right?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Parenting Fail
J is out of town this week at a conference, so I'm flying solo with the kids. That's not exactly true, though; my parents live nearby and they help out a tremendous amount with the kiddos. In fact, my mom made dinner last night and the kiddos and I went over there to eat. After dinner, the boy stayed with my mom to do his homework reading for the night, and the girl and I made a trip to the grocery store. The weekend was so busy that I never had a chance to go, and we definitely needed some food in the house! We did the shopping thing, checked out, and I loaded the groceries into the car. My girl was in a great mood, playing around the cart, chattering, singing, when all of a sudden I hear this huge CRASH. I look down, and she's managed to pull the entire grocery cart over. On top of her. I think she was hanging on to the side of the cart that had the 12 pack of diet coke, and it made enough of an imbalance that over it went.
Of course there was the long drawn out moment of silence that happens just before the screaming. It was not a pretty sight, and I was honestly petrified at thinking how bad the damage could be. There were grocery bags and food everywhere, a screaming little girl, and an upended shopping cart. It was just not a good scene. I picked the cart up off of her, threw everything into the car (including her) and headed for my parents house where I could get her in some light, hoping she would calm down enough by then to let me figure out what hurt. She screamed the whole way there.
Once there, I was able to get her to calm down long enough to determine that the only thing in pain seemed to be her hand. More specifically, her right fingers. There was a small nick on her shin, but she didn't bump her head or hurt anything else - just her fingers. By the time I was able to look at them, one of the nails was already turning purple, but none of them appeared to be broken. WHEW. I sort of feel like I dodged a huge bullet on that one. I was most afraid that she'd knocked her head on the concrete, but that didn't happen. I guess if there was a good way to pull a shopping cart over on herself, she figured out what that was.
I'm not sure what I could have done differently. I can't watch my kiddos every single second of the day, nor would I want to. I refuse to be a helicopter (or hover) parent, but you just hate it when your kid gets hurt. We've been really lucky in that respect so far with both kiddos, and instinctively I know they are going to get hurt as they get older, probably more seriously than they have so far. It still sucks to know that and accept that it is just going to happen. This morning when she got up, one entire fingertip was purple, and I'm debating whether to take her in for an X-ray. I'm not sure what they can do if you fracture a finger tip, maybe just pain management, but that would be enough. I guess we'll play it by ear and see how it is a little later in the day. Here's to hoping the rest of my solo week goes better than last night...
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