maydecnc

This morning my husband, political junkie that he is, replayed a portion of last night’s Presidential debate for me to help illustrate why McCain is a less-than-optimal choice for President. You can see for yourself the kind of language McCain stoops to using in a national forum. How hypocritical, coming from a man who is member of a political party that touts “family values” as one of their main selling points. And, do we really want someone with a hair-trigger temper like this to have his finger on the nuclear (noo-CLEE-uhr) button?

I would not want a child to see this for two reasons. Language obviously is the primary reason, but his outburst prompts the question: what is he teaching our children about self-control when he uses language like this in a national forum?

This presidential election is the most important one in my 35 years on this planet. I hope that the electorate weighs all the facts and makes an informed decision in the polling booth on November 4. If you need information about voter registration, please see the Election Assistance Commission web site .

I wish I had more time and energy to dream up ways to reuse items that come in to our house, especially the pesky containers and/or packaging that surround the desired item. We live in a municipality that mandates recycling, so we have already diverted some solid waste from the landfill, but I am sure we can improve. The best idea I’ve come up with on my own so far is to make an ice pack out of a sturdy zipper bag that previously held animal crackers. It’s not glamorous, but it gets the job done, and my daughter doesn’t mind looking at it.

Because I work for a living and don’t have time to be that creative, I have several feeds in my Yahoo! Mail feed list that deal with creativity as it relates to reduce-reuse-recycle. One of these days I’ll get around to adding the list to this blog. In the meantime, please check out TipNut’s Ketchup Bottle As Pancake Batter Dispenser.

I think the basic concept is good; however, I think I’d much rather use one of those squeezeable jelly bottles rather than a ketchup bottle. You know how difficult it can be to get tomato stains off plastic, and sometimes plastic traps the odor of whatever it held last. Just imagine: ketchup-scented (or worse, ketchup-flavored!) pancakes! I’d much rather have strawberry jam-scented pancakes. I also don’t know how well this concept would perform with pancake add-ins such as blueberries or chopped apples (two of my family’s favorites). The add-ins would have to be very finely chopped in order to fit through the hole in the lid.

If you have any suggestions for a better pancake batter conveyance, please feel free to post a comment!

Disruption has such a negative connotation, doesn’t it? I’m not even sure the word is applicable in the context in which I heard it yesterday. First, the backstory…

About two weeks ago my mother-in-law phoned to ask if it would be okay for her to come to our house for a few days to visit. (She uses calling cards, so I never know by the caller ID who it might be.) An acquaintance offered to give her a ride from the retirement community where she lives to the metro area where we live, about a 4 hour drive one-way. She asked so nicely - it was impossible to say no. And, this is my child’s only paternal grandmother, after all. So, I said, “Sure, that sounds great!”

Well, I’ll spare the description of the visit. It always starts well but deteriorates rapidly. Yesterday we took her to meet the acquaintance so that she could start the journey back to the artsy-fartsy mountain city where she lives. With online directions printed and in hand, we wandered around the college town trying to find the address, and my husband was about to lose it. I could feel his blood pressure rising, and I certainly heard it as he used a mild expletive (thankfully, our daughter was asleep in her seat.). As we pulled into the driveway, I said, “Next time, we’re meeting at a shopping center; we are not doing this again!” My mother-in-law smirked, “I’m sorry to be such a disruption!”

Now, I would never have said that, but now that I think about it, it is true. This woman disrupted our normally peaceful Sunday morning, the one morning a week we have as a family to enjoy time together goofing off. Were it not for her horrible, me-first attitude, I never would even silently agree that she is a disruption. Whenever she visits, we are subjected to a litany of complaints, ranging from her health and diseased eyesight to her loneliness. What she doesn’t realize is that if she complained less, relatives would gladly visit more often (or host her more often), and then she wouldn’t be so lonely. SIGH!

Okay, I really want to know: how do you keep the family car clean when you have a toddler in the family?

One of my daughter’s aunts had the “bright” idea (God bless her) of giving us something called a “Snack Trap“. This is nothing more than a plastic bowl with handles and a lid. The lid is perforated to the extent that the child can reach through the lid to retrieve the goodies stored therein. I’ve found that the lid is insufficient to prevent spills, particularly if she turns the bowl upside-down and shakes vigorously. It is absolutely useless for things like o-shaped oat cereal and rice puffs; they slide right through the perforations. Now that she is older, I feel comfortable putting fish-shaped cheese crackers in it, but the fish do escape from time to time.

My car is an absolute disaster, and I’m almost ready to invest in a wet-dry vac so that I can clean it up at home instead of going to the neighborhood car wash. (When do I have time to do that, anyways?)

It’s so unfair… why do I have to be left with a messy car when my husband’s always looks neat? Maybe I’m too indulgent? Maybe I should not give her snacks in the car, period? Please, your thoughts!

In all seriousness, I don’t understand the fascination my daughter has with making messes. One of her favorite things to do lately is to take whatever she is eating and rub it into her hair. What does one do in that situation? After the evening meal, I immediately put her into the bathtub in order to hose off the remnants of her dinner. I have hope that she will outgrow it; I have not seen an adult of even average intelligence do that in a “normal” situation. (Since this is supposed to be a “family life” blog, I will not go into what some adults might do with food in order to get their groove on.)

We’re in the mode of trying to be careful how to consume our resources - changing from incandescents to CFLs, turning off lights, changing aerators on bathroom fixtures, and so on - and it is a challenge to find ways to entertain our daughter that are not overly wasteful. One thing I noticed is that we get a ridiculous amount of catalogs in the mail, so I will be writing to various companies to request that our contact information be removed from their mailing lists. In the meantime, I found a way to make all the catalogs fun for her.

It’s called “paperwad basketball”.

No, I don’t let her play with dirty trashcans. That would be wrong. Instead, after a trip to the local fast food chicken sandwich establishment (not a Sunday trip, mind you… that would be fruitless!), we were left with one of those paper drink carriers. Instead of putting it immediately into the recycling bin, I thought it might have potential as a toy. So, it sat in her toy box (a plastic laundry basket) for a few days while I thought of a use for it.

As I was reading through a catalog one night, I had the idea. I ripped out pages of the catalog and wadded them up into balls. Since they are printed on glossy paper, they don’t leave ink all over the hands. Then, I placed the drink carrier some distance away from where I intended to sit. When the carrier was in place, I practiced my free throw shooting. When I missed a shot, I’d groan loudly in dismay. When I made one, I cheered for myself.

She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. I had never seen her get that worked up about throwing trash around, ever!

So, if you’re looking for cheap entertainment for your toddler, try paperwad basketball. And ham it up as much as you can. You might be surprised by your child’s reaction.

How many times do you check the adhesive label on your newly delivered pizza box to make sure it is, in fact, your pizza? Particularly before you sign that all-important credit card receipt? I thought so.

Busy people that we are, last night I ordered a pizza and Coke from an establishment that shall remain nameless. Okay, here’s a hint: old men like to play games with them, and some people like to set them up just to knock them down. My husband was on his way home to grab a bite and then go back to work, and our daughter and I had just come back from day care. (Never mind that, during the ride home, she spilled a tall, cool glass of water all over herself and had to be changed as soon as we arrived…) Anyway, usually this establishment does a wonderful job of not only delivering what we order, but also delivering it in a timely manner without several calls to the effect of, “Where are you?” Last night, something must have been in the air…

When the delivery arrived, my husband volunteered to sign for it since our daughter was screaming for me, so to quiet her down, I agreed. He signed, carried in the food and drink, and opened the box. “Why did you order pepperoni?”

(Of course it’s my fault, right?)

I replied, “I didn’t order pepperoni. Did you check the label to see if it was ours?”

Then, he examines the credit card receipt he signed. Of course it is not ours.

So, some poor schmuck in a nearby hotel got our tasty creation, and we were stuck with his because of the short time that my husband had to gobble down his dinner and head back out the door to work. Nice. The goal today? Go back to the delivery tracker page and complain, and hope my stomach settles.