Doodle

  • Frank and cents

    Last night Caroline informed me she’d like to make a little video about Christmas. It seems that she had some important information she needed to share.

    Some Christmas Facts from Big Mama on Vimeo.

    Just a few things:

    1. When she says she “has a little one” in her class, she’s referring to a friend who is actually only about an inch shorter and doesn’t really just come up to Caroline’s midsection.

    2. “My, my, my”? Am I raising my great aunt Maddie?

    3. I love that Christmas movies have ” a little bit of a lesson in them”. Who says television isn’t educational?

    4. The apparel of the wise men is so crucial to the miracle of Christmas. I’m glad she knows that information because it makes up for the fact that she just made up some stuff about the tree symbolizing the hay in the manger.

    5. I don’t know that my accent has ever been stronger than when I say the word “bank” at the end of the video.

    I guess if I had any sense, I’d know it isn’t a three syllable word.

  • Makes your eyes light up and your tummy say howdy

    On Friday, the first grade at Caroline’s school had their very own Thanksgiving Feast. This is not to be confused with the feast they had in the cafeteria earlier in the week that involved very tough turkey and nary any sort of cutting utensil to be found.

    The feast on Friday was just for the first graders and each class was asked to contribute various things. I’m the homeroom mom (I know. I can’t even believe it myself. Rumor has it I actually have to come up with some crafts for them to do at the Christmas party.) so I sent out an email to the parents in the class with a list of items we’d need for the feast.

    Fortunately, we have really great parents and they quickly volunteered for everything we needed with the exception of pies. My co-homeroom mom and I agreed that we’d just take care of the pies so, when I picked up Caroline from school earlier in the week, I asked her what kind of pies she’d like me to make for the Thanksgiving Feast and she informed me that she’d like a cherry pie and a shoofly pie.

    I’d only heard of a shoofly pie thanks to the musical stylings of the late Dinah Shore, but when I told Caroline I wasn’t sure how to make a shoofly pie she told me to “go look it up on the google”. I informed her that when I was her age the only way I could have found out how to make a shoofly pie would have involved something called an “Encyclopedia” because we didn’t have computers or “the google”. She said, “Yeah, but they didn’t even have electricity when you were little”.

    I think she has the 1970’s confused with an episode of Little House on the Prairie.

    Ultimately, I did indeed find a recipe for shoofly pie using Google, but decided that I didn’t have the time nor the inclination to make two homemade pies for a first grade Thanksgiving feast that was going to consist of some turkey roll-ups, chex party mix, and carrots with ranch dressing. So I went to Central Market and bought a chocolate cream pie from the bakery and this.

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    The night before the feast, I pulled it out of the freezer and began to open the box. Caroline walked in, noticed what I was doing and exclaimed, “Oh! So that’s how you make a homemade cherry pie!”

    And I replied, “Yes. Yes it is.”

    I just thought y’all might want my recipe.

    Disclaimer: Dinah Shore never sang a song about Mrs. Callender’s frozen pies. But I think she totally would have if she’d ever tried one.

  • Rodentia powered by Duracell

    About two months ago, Gulley and I were talking on the phone making plans for our annual Christmas shopping weekend when she asked, “Is Caroline going to want a Zhu Zhu Pet for Christmas?”

    “She hasn’t mentioned it. Why?”

    “Well, I’ve heard it’s going to be the hot toy this season. You might want to go ahead and get one if you think she might want one.”

    And then I think I may have made some comment about kids in America needing to spend more time outside and not becoming consumed by fake hamsters made in China because I like to make bold, sweeping generalizations about topics that will come back to haunt me.

    Fast forward to two weeks ago when I was looking through the Sunday ads at Mimi and Bops’ house. Caroline climbed into my lap, pointed to the front page of the Walmart circular featuring a prominent picture of the Zhu Zhu Pets milling about in their little plastic hamster house and said, “That is the NUMBER ONE THING I want from Santa this year! The NUMBER ONE THING!”

    Dang.

    I headed to Walmart the next morning fully expecting to purchase a Zhu Zhu Pet and all the faux hamster accoutrements. In fact, I even threw out a breezy Twitter update that said, “On my way to buy a Zhu Zhu Pet because everyone knows a battery-powered hamster is better than a real one.” Imagine my surprise when I perused the toy aisles at Walmart only to discover that there was nary a stitch of any sort of Zhu Zhu Pet merchandise to be found.

    The same can be said of my visit to Target and three other local Walmarts. All I managed to come up with was a lone Zhu Zhu Pet exercise ball which I promptly snatched up even though I do not currently own a fake hamster that needs to get fake exercise. In the midst of my desperation, I turned to Amazon.com only to discover the travesty that is Zhu Zhu Pet price gouging. Those hamsters are being sold for upwards of $50.00 online and while I may be naive enough to pay $9.00 for a pizza at the Rollercade, I refuse to shell out $50.00 for what was originally an $8.00 hamster.

    So this past Monday, I went back to Walmart to see if some Zhu Zhu Pets had made their way into the store over the weekend. There were none to be found so I wandered over to a Walmart employee and asked in my most polite voice, “Ma’am? Do you know if you’ll be getting in any more Zhu Zhu Pets before Christmas?”

    “I don’t know. And even if we do I have no idea when they’ll get here or how many I’ll have.”

    Because I’ve always been told that you catch more flies with honey, I replied “Thank you so much! I can’t even imagine how crazy things are around here right now.”

    And with that, I caught her.

    “Honey, I’m going to tell you something because you’re a lot nicer than the last twenty people that asked me about those Zhu Zhu Pets. I put in an order on Friday and I should be gettin’ them in sometime next week but they’ll go fast. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else, I don’t know much about computers but we sell them for $8.00. Don’t go buyin’ one off of that google or yahoomail or whatever because they’re sellin’ them for $50.00 and, Honey, those things ain’t nothin’ but a battery-powered rat. If I saw that gray one in my house I’d stomp on it.”

    Preach, sister. PREACH.

    However, it’s the NUMBER ONE THING on my six-year-old’s Christmas list. I thanked her profusely for her time and her wisdom and then went on my Zhu Zhu-less way.

    On Tuesday afternoon I made Gulley go with me to another Walmart (the one where I’d found the exercise ball) to see if they might have any in stock. As we walked away empty-handed, Gulley said, “Well you could always just get a real hamster if you can’t find the Zhu Zhu.”

    I stopped short and made her look me in the eyes and vow that she would not let me stoop to that level of desperation. I said, “If it gets to be Christmas eve and I start talking crazy about going to PetSmart and buying a real hamster, YOU HAVE TO STOP ME.”

    Then as we were walking out the door of Walmart I was busy messing around with my iPhone. I’ll be the first to admit that I have become a little obsessed with it and all the apps that make life so much easier than it was in the olden days when I had no way of playing Frogger anywhere I went. Gulley glanced over at me and said, “Too bad your fancy iPhone has an app that will tell you when you’re about to start your period, but not one that’ll help you find a Zhu Zhu Pet.”

    I don’t know when I’ve ever laughed so hard inside a Walmart.

    Yesterday, I began to work on my ace in the hole strategy, otherwise known as calling Walmarts all over town trying to get insider information. P, who so far has been oblivious to this whole thing, walked in the back door in time to hear me on the phone saying, “Well, my first choice would probably be Mr. Squiggles, but at this point I’ll take Chunk or Num Nums or even Pipsqueek. I really don’t care.” I looked up from the phone to see my beloved husband looking at me with a mixture of pity and fear, so when I got off the phone I explained the seriousness of the situation and he gave me all the sympathy that any fake tragedy involving a fake hamster deserves.

    Gulley even went to Toys ‘R Us yesterday and asked them if they had any Zhu Zhu Pets and they just laughed at her. THEY LAUGHED. I believe that Toys ‘R Us and their employees make Santa Claus sad.

    Finally, in the ultimate act of desperation, I remembered Gulley’s words and searched my iPhone apps for Zhu Zhu Pets last night. And you know what? THERE IS A ZHU ZHU PETS APP.

    SO THERE!

    Unfortunately, it’s just a game where you can guide Mr. Squiggles, Chunk, Num Nums or Pipsqueek through a maze by moving the phone in different directions. I can’t help but feel that the app will be of small comfort to Caroline come Christmas day as I sit and explain that Santa couldn’t fit one more battery-powered rat on his sleigh, but if she’ll just wait until January we’ll finally see the day that Chunk will be able to work out in his new exercise ball.

    I smell the beginnings of a Christmas we’ll always remember.

    Which is still better than the smell of cedar shavings and real hamster.

    **Edited to add that many of you have pointed out that they are available online at Toys ‘R Us and it appears that way until you actually try to buy one and then it tells you they are OUT OF STOCK. Which brings me back to my point: Toys ‘R Us = Santa Claus sad

  • And there you are, a shooting star

    I have a confession to make and it involves a disco ball.

    IMG_7513

    See? I told you.

    I realize the most realistic scenario to explain the presence of a disco ball in my life is that I’ve been spending my Tuesday afternoons filming a remake of Saturday Night Fever and all I can say to that is DON’T I WISH. The truth is we’ve been spending the lion’s share of our Tuesday afternoons at the Rollercade.

    I know.

    It all started this summer when Caroline was invited to a birthday party at the Rollercade and she fell deeply, madly in love with rollerskating. And, really, who can blame her? If rollerskating doesn’t have an irresistible pull on the heart of people everywhere, then how do you explain the Olivia Newton-John classic, Xanadu?

    I totally understand where she’s coming from, man, (Why am I talking like it’s 1976?) because once a girl discovers the feel of the wind blowing through her hair while she fast skates around the rink, it’s hard to stay away.

    After her initial introduction to skating, she immediately began to beg to go back again. Fortunately for her, one of her friend’s moms emailed me to let me know that Tuesdays are half-price day and that a group from school planned to start meeting there almost every week.

    So for the last month or so, we’ve spent several Tuesday afternoons skating. And yesterday was no different.

    Except that I really didn’t feel like going to the Rollercade. There are just those rare days when a girl isn’t in the mood for the flashing lights of a disco ball, Michael Jackson music blaring overhead and the smell of old skates. I call those days Tuesdays.

    But I’d promised we’d go and that she could bring a friend. So after school I brought the girls home for a quick snack, asked them sixteen times if they needed to go to the bathroom before we left, and then packed them in the car and headed to the rink to skate it out.

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    I decided I was going to forgo skating for the day and just watch them from a terribly uncomfortable bench on the side of the rink, but I told them to wave at me if they needed help. Just when Caroline got to the furthest point away from me, she began to wave. I walked over to see what the problem was and she informed me she needed to go to the bathroom. Apparently she didn’t hear any of the sixteen times I’d asked before we left the house.

    And here’s the worst thing about the Rollercade, there are no doors on the bathroom stalls. I don’t think I need to elaborate on all the ways that disturbs me. Bathrooms need doors. I have no doubt that would have been one of the ten commandments if the Israelites had public restrooms in the desert.

    Anyway, I escorted her to the restroom and then she fell on the way out and then she didn’t want to skate anymore unless I was going to skate too and so I paid the extra $2.50 to rent skates and put them on and then she decided she was fine and when could we order some nachos and she didn’t want me to skate anywhere near her and I could just free skate by myself.

    (Do you see how that run-on sentence just wore you out? That’s because I’m trying to do the same thing to your brain that the entire experience did to mine.)

    The good news is about that time the computer began to play Boogie Shoes by KC and The Sunshine Band. If you can be in a bad mood when KC and The Sunshine Band plays, well then my condolences. Maybe it will help if I tell you I did a tap dance routine to that very song when I was in fourth grade and wore a chocolate brown leotard with gold fringe, gold tap shoes, and an enormous gold headpiece. (Hello, 1979.) Needless to say, I was fierce.

    I told the girls they could eat pizza from the snackbar for dinner. When I placed my order for four slices of pizza, the girl behind the counter informed me they don’t sell pizza by the slice on weekdays and I’d need to order the whole pizza.

    “How much is that?”

    “Nine dollars.”

    “Sold. I’d like a pepperoni pizza, please.”

    And with that, she took my money, reached into a mini-freezer and pulled out a frozen HEB pepperoni pizza that I happen to know for a fact costs $2.50 at the store. If I could do the math I’d tell you the percentage of that mark up, but I can’t do the math so I’ll just say IT’S A LOT. Of course I also noticed that they charge $2.00 for a pickle which is criminal and also why I’ve decided to get into the concession stand business.

    Once the pizza was finally ready, she pulled it out of the oven and handed it to me without cutting it, so I asked in my nicest voice if she could please cut my $9.00 pizza into slices and she did, although she was a little surly about it. I really can’t blame her though. I’d be surly too if I had to wear a uniform that made me look like a referee. That’s why I never pursued a career with Footlocker. Well, that and my complete phobia regarding other people’s feet.

    And so with that, we sat down to a nutritious, healthy dinner that will cause moms everywhere to admire my parenting prowess.

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    The girls had a little bit more time to skate once they were finished eating and Caroline even managed to find a sweet twelve-year-old girl who helped her finally let go of the wall and begin to actually skate a little bit. And I’m telling you, this girl could skate. She even played the air drums while she zoomed around the rink which in the land of the Rollercade is the equivalent to being the queen.

    Just ask Olivia Newton-John.