It’s 4:20 Somewhere

Posted by She Said

It is obvious I have been married to my beloved for a long time. I have clearly become Angry Susanne, counterpart to Angry Greg. The difference however is that Greg has chilled at work and people no longer distinguish him from the other Gregs at work by referring to him as “Angry Greg.” OK, yes they do, but it is done more in jest instead of well, the truth.

I need to follow suit and chill. It is obvious I have been, ahem, angry lately. Angry at stupid white men trying to take women back 100 years and to discriminate against people “other” than them. OK, damn! There I go again.

Breath.

So, OK. I promise to try and talk about fun and light things and keep my political ramblings to a minimum. Not completely stop, but minimize. I’ll try. Pinky promise. Hey, how about every time I bring it up, we do shots!? We’ll call the drinking game Angry Susanne!

So here I go trying to be light. And funny. It’s a little story about how technology can bite you in the ass…

Greg and I have parental controls on our Netflix account to keep the kids from watching things we don’t want them to see. It works perfectly! Well, until it doesn’t because you forgot to turn them back on after a grown up night of TV.

The kids have been watching this Japanese anime cartoon through Netflix, and where I don’t actually sit and watch shows with them, I do listen to them, keenly from the other room. I kept asking Braedyn what the rating was on the show, and he kept rolling his eyes at me and informing me it was TV-PG. Now, I didn’t think TV-PG shows were allowed with our settings, but I figured Greg set it, so he must be ok with it. What I heard wasn’t terrible, just a little surprising with its occasional “damn” and “what the hell?”. But there were princesses! and classical music! and well, I let it go.

Then last night Greg and Braedyn were watching something together and some guy was trapped in a car.

Braedyn: <calmly> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: What?

Braedyn: <again, calmly and truly inquisitive> Why don’t they just break the damn window?

Greg: You know, bud, damn is not a word you should use. It is a swear word.

Braedyn: What? I didn’t call anybody it.

It’s true. Good point. If you are going to swear in this house, you damn well better know where it goes in the f#cking sentence. It’s just good parenting.

An Open Letter to Chick-Fil-A

Posted by She Said
It is with heartfelt enthusiasm that I write to you today. You see, I need to get a few things off of my chest, and how better than with the written word to completely express the way you have made me feel over the last week?

When the news hit of your open financial support of organizations that oppose gay marriage, I felt anger, gut-wrenching anger. And it’s not like I even inadvertently supported you in your lofty goal of inequality because we don’t even have a Chick-Fil-A around here! No pennies of mine went to such a blatantly intolerant and hateful goal! Nonetheless, the anger I felt was palpable. Why be so cruel as to spend millions on stopping love? And don’t quote any biblical source for your reasoning, because I think that is a lot of blather anyway. Frankly, your “divine” book serves as nothing more than a scapegoat for your hate and intolerance, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

People on both sides of the equality debate were up on arms about your announcement! When Thomas Menino, the mayor of Boston, urged you to stay out of his city, honestly I was thrilled at first! Hooray for a loud, public voice standing up to your message of hate and intolerance by denying you access to the city! But then I realized that was not the answer. I used to work in public access television and had to educate everyone, even those with messages of hate, on how to create television shows. I did it out of a reverence for free speech. So, where I appreciate the sentiment of Menino’s letter, I do not approve of denying your rights. So see, I am truly the bigger person here because I will stand up for your right to try and deny others theirs. I know you don’t see it like this, but come on, let’s call a spade a spade. You can open up a franchise in my city even, but I vow to you today that I will never support your goal of inequality. I will never drop a dime on your fast food. I will never will take my children to your establishment, and I will openly and honestly explain to them why.

Lastly, when the blogosphere and Facebook exploded with those who oppose you and support you, your message had another unforeseen affect on me. I am originally from Texas, so you can probably correctly guess that I have some kin that proudly ate up your intolerance sold in the form of a chicken sandwich on your Chick-Fil-A appreciation day. Oh, they boasted about it on Facebook! All that did was show me what I suspected already, that they support you in your mission to prevent people from being equal. So, thanks for that. You outed the intolerance in my family. I had to go and hide some of my own family on Facebook so that the spikes in my blood pressure wouldn’t put me in the hospital! You may think I am joking, but I am not. I desperately want my family to embrace equality, to fight for it even! But instead your “appreciation day” put the proverbial nail in the coffin of my dream of a family fighting for justice.

Some say this whole thing is blown out of proportion and is stupid at its best. So, why am I writing this letter? Years from now I want it to be publically known, to my children especially, that I was on the right side of history on this. I don’t ever want them to look back and think I didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. They will have seen their mother stand up for equality for all. I will continue to do so by exercising my right to not spend my money in your establishment and through my vote.

Regards,
Susanne

Backpack? Check. Teeth Brushed? Check.

Posted by She Said

Emily started Kindergarten this week, and she has loved it. She loves the special cubby where her new Hello Kitty backpack goes. She loves her teacher, adoringly known among the parents as “The Kindergartener Whisperer”. And boy, does Emily love the special playground that is just for Kindergarteners.

Even with this excitement for school, getting ready in the morning and out the door has not become any easier on me. Any particular chore in the morning makes me sound like a broken record:

Me: Emily, Braedyn, get your shoes on please. It’s time to go. <me running around collecting backpacks>

Me: Emily. Braedyn. Time to go. Please get your shoes on. <me brushing my own teeth>

Me: It’s time to go!! Get your shoes on! <me making sure lunch and snacks are appropriately packed>

Me: Emily! Braedyn! Get your shoes on! NOW! <me watching my children blow bubbles in the backyard WITHOUT SHOES>

Me: GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON! GET YOUR SHOES ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <me spinning my head, pulling out my hair, and foaming at the mouth>

Good times.

So, once we are at school, Emily picks out the “Kindergarten only” swing with the least amount of bird poop on it, sits, and begs me to push her. I oblige, knowing the time will come when the pumping of legs will render me useless in this task. There I am, lovingly pushing my daughter on the swing on her second day of Kindergarten, and I start to run through the checklist in my head, hoping that I remembered everything in the mad dash out the door.

Backpack? Check.

Teeth brushed? Check.

Snack packed? Check.

Hair done? Check.

I continue to push Emily. She is happy. I am happy. And then as her dress flows up in the breeze…

Underwear on? Oh. Dear. God. Say. It. Isn’t. So. CRAP.

That’s right. My daughter went to school in a dress. Commando.

I let out a mumbled, yet loud, “ohmygodwhatamIgoingtodo?” intermingled with a gasp of epic magnitude. Thankfully, my friend, Emma, came to the rescue. Her oldest of three is in Emily’s class, but the poor middle child, who is only about a year younger than Emily, had her “knickers” taken from her and given to Emily for the day. Crisis averted.

We always knew that Emily had a soft spot in her heart for the Playa, so I blame myself for not double checking her “knicker” status. Trust me, it’s now at the top of my daily checklist.

Imaginary Things

Posted by He Said

It has been a long time since I blogged and my fingers and brain are feeling rusty from the lack of it, so bear with me.  With all that has been going on, we are just finally getting settled.  Our new house is shaping up, a change in my job is settling and I am getting back into an old groove of game development and our kids are getting settled in their new routines with soccer and scool.

Now it’s not that I haven’t had the time to blog, or stories to blog about, its just a matter of lack of motivation.  So this is me trying to point the canoe upstream and start paddling towards a goal.  Not just one, but several.  Blog more, eat less, exercise more, brush teeth less, or something like that.  So forgive me if the story sways or the grammar is poor or, well, I forget an apostrophe or two.

She Said has been prodding me (I can’t call it nagging because she has been WAAAAY to gentle for me to call it nagging) for me to blog.  I have a short story to tell, but I have to warn you.  If your religious sensibilities are easily jarred, then you should just stop reading now.  I can say right here, that means every member of my immediate family should just click here, and not look back. This should scare the rest of you off.  This post is about my lack of religion…run…run away NOW!  The rest of you heathens can stay.

A few days before our move the kids and I were home vegging and I let them watch Santa Buddies.  Back off.  I don’t judge you, don’t you DARE judge me.

Wait, I can sense that some of you that shouldn’t be reading this are still here.  Seriously…some of you should just leave now, you have been warned.

Out of the blue Braedyn looks over at me and says “Daddy, some people believe in god, but I don’t.”  WHAM, it was like a 2x4 hit me out of nowhere.  Kind of like when She Said asks if she can go shopping.  I mean, it NEVER happens.

My five year old just hit me with sentence I waited until I was 17 to throw at my parents, and that I can tell you didn’t go well.

I think I was more confused as to how to handle this than if he had asked “Daddy, why does my penis get hard?”  But I pulled myself together quickly and responded as best I could.  You see I may not believe in god and frankly I think we can all agree that as a general rule parents EXPECT their children will believe (or not believe as the case may be) along the same lines as their parents, BUT I also want my children to make their own decisions and especially be respectful of other peoples beliefs. To. A. Point!  To steal a phrase She Said uses a lot.  You are free to believe in your religion.  Just don’t get any on me.

So I responded as best I could. I explained that while we may not believe in a god, that many people do.

Sounding good so far, right?

I continued on that his uncles, aunts, grandma, niece and nephew and the rest of our family all believe and that we should respect that.

Then things went downhill and I took the easy way out.

So to make life easier for all of us we just don’t talk about god with our family, ok?

Yeah, I never said I was going to get the Best Atheist Parenting Award.  Lets just avoid talking about it shall we?  You see, it’s impossible to win the religion argument when logic is completely removed from the discussion.  So I figure lets just not argue about it.  And let me tell you, I am logical.  My family used to call me Spock.  Thank FSM that one didn’t stick or I would have been labeled a geek for the rest of my life. Wait, CRAP, that happened anyway.

Braedyn seemed to understand.  He stared at the ceiling for a moment as if contemplating the depth of my Carl Sagan like insight and then responded.

“But I believe in Santa Claus.”

Me too Braedyn, me too. 

The Hatching of Evel Knievel 1 and Evel Knievel 2

Posted by She Said

My children believe every living thing – puppies, people – start from that miraculous birthing place. No, I’m not talking about THAT warm and comfy place. I am, of course, talking about… the egg. Endless hours have been spent playing “puppy” where Emily hatches out of an egg and is, amazingly, a pup that can instantly perform all sorts of tricks, like roll over, play dead, and paint. If only Charmin could play this game as well. I’d have our bathroom finally painted.

Yesterday, I am happy to report, in Thing 1 and Thing 2 fashion, Greg and I hatched Evel Knievel 1 and Evel Knievel 2. On a whim, we checked a cool, local iPhone app called Dibbs, that lists everything going on in our area. We found a kite festival up at Squaw Valley and decided to check it out. Only problem we had was after our hour and a half drive up there, we discovered this “free” event required a $60+ ride up the mountain in a gondola to get to it. Lucky for us, there was another “free” event at the bottom of the mountain with some events we thought the kids would enjoy. So, we gave them a choice – go up the mountain and watch professionals fly kites, or stay at the bottom of the hill and get to try out some gnarly, adrenaline-pumping rides.

And then my little adrenaline junkies hatched. I couldn’t be more proud and thrilled for Evel Knievel 1 and Evel Knievel 2.

Emily went first on the zip line:

Then it was Braedyn’s turn:

But Emily will definitely have to wait until she gains some weight to improve her mad gymnastic skills:

The Power of the Dollar (Store)

Posted by She Said

Emily’s first day of preschool was awesome! She was self-confident and ready to go. Here’s proof:

Her second day? I got a call about 2 hours into her day to let me know that she “just wasn’t herself.” Translation: she was lying on a rug and wanted to be left alone. The culprit? A 102° fever for two days. OK, I need to get this straight. THREE months of me begging her to get off of the subway floors in China and her not complying didn’t get her sick, but ONE day in preschool does?

Her third and fourth days? All of her previous self-confidence was channeled into her spookishly strong little body to fight us taking her to school. She decided one day of school was enough for her. Thank you very much. Been there, done that.

Me: <holding up an outfit> Em, let’s get dressed for school.

Emily: <taking on a fighting stance> Oh, you go ahead and try. My Kung Fu is stronger than yours.

And to be honest, she was right. It took both Greg and me to get her dressed and keep her dressed. She is seriously freakishly strong.

As she screamed going out the door, Greg flashed me this look that said, “I can’t believe I am stuck with the job of dropping her off at school. YOU. OWE. ME.” And the bite marks on his shoulder were proof that him having that job was SO the right choice for me.

Last night as Greg was threatening divorce if I didn’t take her to school in the morning, I had a moment of absolute brilliance.

Me: Emily, if you go to school all three times this week without fighting us, I will take you to the dollar store and you can pick out ANYTHING you want.

Emily: <starting to cry> But I don’t WANT to go to school.

Me: Well, you are going. And you can fight us if you want, OR you can be good about it and get to go to the <dramatic pause> Dollar Store <said with some serious flare and excitement>.

This morning there was a gigantic welling of tears in her eyes, and she gave me extra hugs and kisses as Greg drove her off to school. The lesson learned? The mighty Dollar Store is stronger than her Kung Fu.

When Sarcasm Goes Bad. Very, Very Bad.

Posted by She Said

Emily, who is now a whopping four years old, has two favorite words. “I” and “know”. She loves to say them every chance she gets.

Me: Emily, it is time to brush your teeth.

Emily: I know!

********

Me: Emily, please go wash your hands before dinner.

Emily: I know!

********

Me: Emily, did you know that the full version of the Reimann Hypothesis is still not proven to this day?

Emily: I know!

Yeah, her knowing everything has prompted Greg and me to follow up her “I know” with a “Yes, because you know EVERYTHING, Emily.”

Apparently, four is not the age where sarcasm works. I know this because of the following conversation I had with her in the car yesterday:

Me: Emily, you have school again tomorrow. Are you excited?

Emily: I know! I know everything, remember!?

Me: Ah. OK. <realizing maybe we need to have a talk about the joy of learning new things WE DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW> Emily, you know what? It is fun to learn and discover new things!

Emily: But I know everything!

Me: What’s two squared?

Emily: <long pause> One… Two… Three… Four…

Me: <long pause waiting for her to keep counting> <Dammit! Why didn’t I ask her what 18 squared was!!!???> Um…. <sigh>   OK. What is the name of our country’s first president?

Emily: I don’t know.

Me: See, you don’t know everything. And it is ok! It’s ok!

Emily: But I know everything, Mommy!

Me: Then who was our country’s first president?

Emily: <bursting into tears> Buuuut, I <sob, sob> know everything.

Me: Would you like to…

Emily: <sob>

Me: Emily, would you like to know his name?

Emily: <sob>

Me: It’s ok to not know everything, Emily. Just look at your Daddy. He’s ok and happy.

Emily: <sob>

So, lesson learned. Sarcasm and four year olds are not a good match.

Hidden Children in the City, errr, I Mean Children in The Forbidden City

Posted by She Said

Last weekend was a three-day holiday here in China. After visiting Fragrant Hills on Friday, Google, The Bird’s Nest, and The Water Cube on Saturday, and a full day of shopping on Sunday, what better way to end the holiday weekend than visit a place everyone else in China was visiting at the same time?

(The line to get tickets.)

That’s right. We decided to go to the Forbidden City. This palatial estate was built roughly 600 years ago and spans almost 8 million square feet.

(picture courtesy of Wikipedia)

We were very fortunate to have Greg’s coworker, Jun, and her mother, May, join us for the day. We started by visiting the Tiananmen Gate, which is the primary building in the above picture. Behind the gate is the Forbidden City. In front of the gate is Tiananmen Square. This cost an additional 15 yuan ($2.25) for the adults, and the children were free. Score! There was just one catch. No bags whatsoever were allowed. Thank goodness I bought capris the day before on my shopping spree that had cargo pockets to hold all of our passports and my wallet. We then checked our bags into a place that seemed completely disorganized and confusing and was completely swarmed with people trying to do the same thing.

To get up to the top of the Gate, we first had to go through a security check. Males and females were separated into different lines. For once, the men’s line was longer than the women’s line. Kind of refreshing actually.

Emily, Jun, May, and I were simply waived through the security “check”, and then we waited for Greg and Braedyn to get through their long line. When they did get through, Greg’s bright red cheeks were very telling. Apparently he was not simply waived through, but was felt up and patted down quite thoroughly. He looked back at the security check, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d swear he was looking for a way to get back in line for another round of that little extra somethin’-somethin’.

I’m sure this next part might get old hearing about, but this is our blog, so you just have to suck it up. Much of our day was spent being asked (or gestured) to take pictures of our kids or being asked if they could pose with them and have their pictures taken. Much of Emily’s day was spent clamoring away from random touches and from numerous cheek and hair strokes. It was also spent running away from, and I do mean literally running away from, strangers’ camera lenses. And because it was a holiday weekend, we were told many visitors that day were from other areas of China, not just Beijing. Translation: Emily and Braedyn were even more of an anomaly to those from outside of Beijing.

This next picture taken at the top of the Tiananmen Gate by Greg really sums up Emily’s experience:

After having a temper tantrum about not wanting to have her picture taken again, she ran off, screaming. Those of you who have had the pleasure of hearing her eardrum-piercing, glass-shattering screams can imagine that it did in fact NOT help with diverting attention AWAY from her. In fact, quite the opposite happened. Although everyone is giving the wild child space during her tantrum, all eyes and camera lenses are on her, including the one on the tripod. And I thought the tantrum pictures at The Great Wall were good.

Emily kept asking, “Daddy, can I be on your elbows?”, meaning she wanted to ride on Greg’s shoulders. He pleaded with her to just walk because her being on his shoulders just made them a beacon. She didn’t care, she was out of reach from random touches.

The attention to the kids became so bad that at one point we hid behind a tree while we had a snack and waited for Jun to graciously tackle the long lines to get our tickets into the rest of the Forbidden City.

Our anonymity did not last long, however, and we had to start moving. Movement is the best defense we have learned. And it’s not like the police would be any help if we needed it.

 
Once inside, the magnitude of the buildings truly became apparent.

(Jun and her mother, May)

The details at every turn were intricate and remarkable.

 
And the colors were glorious. I can only imagine how it must have felt to be there during its heyday.

My favorite part of the Forbidden City had to be the imperial gardens. Braedyn and I quickly swooped in and had our picture taken in the very spot emperors had their wedding pictures taken.

The grounds were meticulously cared for. OK, let me clarify that. The foliage was meticulously cared for. Trust me, there is a difference. We particularly enjoyed the old trees, which appeared to be almost as old as Greg.

After making our way from one end of the Forbidden City to the other, we called it a day and bid Jun and May farewell. We decided to poke around that area of town a little longer, and I am happy we did. Greg was trying to find a specific restaurant he had heard of, but instead we found a magnificent little park with a river running through it that fed into the Forbidden City.

  
A beautiful ending to a jam-packed weekend. Next time we do this, I need to know just one thing. Anyone know where Michael Jackson got those stylish veils for his kids to wear out in public? If you do, please order me two.

They Better Love Me for This When They Grow Up

Posted by She Said

Today I took the kids to an enormous mall (seriously it HAS to rival Mall of America) that has one whole floor dedicated to all things kids.

• Children’s clothing stores. Check.
• Toy stores. Check.
• Arcade. Check.
• McDonald’s ice cream cones. Check.
• Stage for kid’s shows. Check.
• Place to fish for goldfish. Check.
• Art area. Check.
• Circus style trampoline thingy. Check.
• Place to dig for dinosaur bones. Check.
• Ball pit. Check.

And today,

• Lady with microphone that won’t get out of Emily and Braedyn’s faces. Check.

In order to get to this mall, we have to take a taxi. The two times we have gone, getting there has been no problem at all. I show the driver the map of the mall, the driver nods, and then I struggle to keep my two children, two children without any kind of seatbelt restraints mind you, from keeping their hands and feet inside the ride at all times.

Getting home, well, that’s a whole other can of worms. The business card for the apartment/hotel we are in has a map on the back. A map that is COMPLETELY WORTHLESS. The first time getting home from this mall, I had to call one of Greg’s coworkers to direct the driver to our place. Today, we all hopped into the back of the taxi, and I handed the card to the driver. He looked at it intently and then shook his head no and pointed to the door. We hauled ourselves out of the back seat and hailed a different taxi. This time the driver looked at the card and then back at me, looked at the card again, and then shook his head. Of course, he also said something to me in Chinese. That helped. So, this time I pointed to the subway stop on the map that is closest to our house. He nodded, and we climbed in to the back seat. Each kid wants a window seat, so I am left sitting between them with a very clear view of our near-death experiences drive home. He took us to a subway station, not the one near our house that I pointed to on the map, but hey it was doable and we got home.

Anyway, back to the mall. First stop, circus style trampoline thingy. I was surprised that Emily wanted to try this and Braedyn didn’t. Of course, as soon as she was strapped in, he insisted on having his turn too.

Emily’s turn was shortened because she is so light, the guy working the circus trampoline thingy had to keep pulling the straps around her waist down. You know, kind of like a sling shot to make her fling up into the air. Let’s just say she wasn’t a fan and her turn was rather short at her own insistence.

Then came the excavation. The rather painful (for me) excavation. Braedyn saw a big sandy pit surrounded by glass cabinets displaying dinosaur bones. He was so excited to do a “real dig for bones” that I pulled out my handy iPhone and pulled up the phrase, “How much is this?” The guy held up 10 fingers. 10 yuan each? Hooray. Let’s do it. So I nodded for the kids to start digging:

And they dug.

And they dug.

And dug.

And dug.

And then the real mission started. Digging for the exact understanding of how this little mall attraction worked. Were they actually digging for the bones that were displayed in the cabinet? Did they even hide anything in that sand? Was I suppose to buy something first and have them put it in the sand for the kids to find? Where were they hiding the Candid Camera?

Sadly, my iPhone app does not have any of these as standard questions, so our “conversation” went something like this:

Me: <pointing at the dinosaur bone kits in the glass cabinet> Something in English? <pointing to the sand>

Him: <pointing to the cabinets> Something in Chinese.

Me: Uhhhhhhh……..

Him: Something else in Chinese. 

Me: Something in English. <desperately seeking for help on my iPhone app>

Him: Something in Chinese. <smile>

Me: Uhhhhhhh…… Due boo xia (phonetic Chinese for I’m sorry)

Him: Something in Chinese.

Then he ran off. I only hoped it was for some linguistic assistance. And then I saw the crowd of people watching us and the lovely spectacle that we had become.

As if riding a chariot led by two muscular white horses, a member of the property management team showed up with my mall attraction guy. Or should I say, a member of the property management team who also spoke English.

At this point, I felt really terrible for causing so much fuss. So far, I have been able to figure most things out using charade skills or my handy iPhone. This time was a total bust. The gentleman said hello and asked if he could be of assistance.

After I apologized profusely for creating such a scene, he explained that for 50 yuan each, the children could pick something out of the glass cabinets. I happily handed over my 100 yuan, the kids got their dinosaur bone puzzles, and I thanked him for his and the mall attraction guy’s kindness.

I still don’t know if they were actually supposed to find anything in the sand. I didn’t ask. I was just so happy to get the kids their dinosaur bones and hightail it out of there to the nearest place to order a drink.

Cappuccino for 10 yuan. Not quite what I had in mind, but it gave me enough energy for the next part of our outing – the hamster tunnel/zip line/slide/ball pit/lady with the mic part.

I bought the tickets for the kids to enter this play area, presumably to wear them out so much that putting them to bed by myself that night wouldn’t be an issue. Greg was going for his foot massage after work, and I was on my own. I wanted them TIRED.

And tired they were. Not necessarily from climbing up to the zip line or crawling through the hamster tunnels, but rather from running away from a woman who was intent on getting them to speak into her microphone. With music blaring loudly, she was teaching several children what I assumed to be traditional Chinese songs, accompanied by what I assumed to be traditional Chinese hand signals. That’s what she was doing until we walked in anyway. Once the kids stepped foot into the area, she stopped what she was doing and tried to get Braedyn and Emily to say their names into her mic. They were intent on the zip line and b-lined it there; so they were safe. For the moment.

The lady wanted to talk to them so badly, she followed them into the ball pit.

Emily bailed, so she cornered Braedyn.

The lady was very nice and enthusiastic, and I’m certain she thought the kids were having fun with her following them around. I can assure you though, they were not. The lady kept motioning for them to come out and dance with her. I called the kids over to me, and I smiled at them. Then through gritted teeth in a low voice so no one could hear me rock the group harmony going on, I said, “Get. Out. There. Now. Dance. One dance. Or I will take away your dinosaur bones.” I barely had the word bones hissed through my clenched teeth, and they were out there boogying.

I wasn’t trying to be mean to the kids by making them do something they didn’t want to do; I just figured she’d leave them alone if they did. Yeah, what the hell do I know.

Observations

Posted by She Said

Every day I am here there is something (or many somethings) that strikes me as memorable or different from anything I have seen or experienced before. For example, there was the Dell delivery guy on his bike with the little flatbed piled high with box upon box of Dell boxes. Now, whether or not it was Dell or *wink, wink* Dell, I couldn’t tell you. And if that weren’t interesting enough on its own, there was another guy catching a ride ON TOP OF THE BOXES. He was easily 15 feet up in the air. And no one wears helmets!

Well, ok, that’s not true. The McDonald’s and KFC delivery guys do, but they are the only ones I have seen.

Yes, you heard me correctly. McDonald’s and KFC deliver. Apparently they even have “select 1 for English” option when you call. We haven’t been desperate enough to do this. Well, not yet anyway.

People pile onto a single bicycle and ride down busy streets. Again, sans helmets. I know I must sound neurotic about safety, but if you saw the way the proverbial food chain works on the streets here, I doubt I would ever feel safe enough to ride a bike on them. Let alone without a helmet! The food chain looks like this:

1. Buses are at the top of the chain, being the biggest
2. Taxis
3. Cars
4. Electric bikes
5. Bicycles
6. Lastly us measly pedestrians (who have to watch out for all of the above)

Seriously you would never see me doing anything like this:

Also equally as memorable was the woman who bought the McDonald’s ice cream cone (which are very popular here) for her pug. I couldn’t stand the cuteness of it any longer, and I finally asked (via charades) if I could get a picture of him.

Greg has talked about the garbage men in a previous post. It is truly captivating to be walking down a busy street and see this:

And then there are the interesting potato chip flavors:

(We all know how much better those Mexican tomatoes are.)

Now, this next one is likely the same in large American cities, but the sheer busyness of the market where I get my groceries is astounding:

 

I think this picture finally captures what I have tried to explain in previous posts. And, umm,  I think it is safe to say it is easy to see in this picture why we stick out the way we do. Speaking of which, Greg and I have talked about how we both seem to want to gravitate toward other white folks when we see any. Well, those are my words. Greg said he wants to holler out, “Yo, CRACKER!”

This embarrasses me to no end. Granted, many of the white people we see wouldn’t understand what he is saying because they don’t speak English either. Nonetheless, this phrase of Greg’s has caused me to roll my eyes and hide in the closest noodle stand on more than one occasion. The worst part? Braedyn thinks it is funny to embarrass me and has therefore started hollering out, “Yo, cracker!”

Yeah, we’re not winning any parenting awards. OK, OK, Greg’s not.

Food Inc. Folks Would Brand Us for This, If They Were Into That

Posted by She Said

My children have eaten more McDonald’s here in the last three weeks than they have over the last three years in Reno. This makes me want to run screaming mad into the nearest Beijing intersection. However, with our Picky McPickerson kids, it seems the easiest thing to do to let them actually eat something before we go out to eat for something really yummy for me and Greg. Say, HOT POT! I know, I’m rolling my eyes at myself too. So there.

This Sunday was an exception to this utterly disgusting rule. After our big Silk Market day the day before, we decided to go poke around in Greg’s territory, Zhongguancun. He really wanted a 16 or 32 Gig USB key, and he wouldn’t take me up on his offer of staying home with the kids and letting him roam free. Instead he insisted that I be his negotiating beeeeaahtch. Well since I’ve been called far worse and since that’s a title I rather enjoy, we all headed out.

After picking up a $35-ish USB key for about $28 (not my best, but pretty good for the electronics market), we decided we were only a couple of floors away from one of our absolute favorites, Xiabu Xiabu - “fast food” hot pot. Sorry, kiddos, no McDonald’s here. Only this time we didn’t have any of our Chinese friends to help us through the completely Chinese speaking servers or the completely Chinese written menu. Well, language be damned! We needed our fix, so we headed up to the very full restaurant and took a number, securing our spot in line.

Um, a number. A number that would be spoken in Chinese. Oh, crap. Hurdle number one. Just as I was whipping out the Frommer’s book, the lady from whom we took the number, waved for us to come in. OH THANK GOD WE STICK OUT LIKE FOREIGNERS! Hurdle one, overcome thanks to being so different.

And just a tip for those of you who try and speak slower and more clearly when someone doesn’t understand the language you are speaking – IT DOESN’T WORK! It doesn’t matter how slowly you speak a word, if it is in CHINESE chances are high I am not going to understand it.

OK, hurdle number two. Ordering drinks. We offered to let the kids have a soda, and since we were conveniently sitting next to the fountain machine, Greg hopped up and pointed to the orange soda and held up two fingers. I chimed in with “bing”, which means ice, and adamantly shook my head from side to side with the hopes that I was communicating NO BING. Hey, I can at least attempt to stick to those stringent rules everyone warned us to adhere to prior to coming, including not using ice.

Then, thank goodness we have trigger fingers with our picture taking because we pulled up a picture of a beer that Greg had taken and again held up two fingers.

VICTORY. Two orange sodas without ice and two draft beers. CHA-CHING!

Hurdle three. Ordering the food. Again, we whipped out the pictures we took at our previous visits to Xiabu Xiabu, which allowed us to MOSTLY order what we wanted. We ended up with an extra pork dish:

  
This turned out to be bacon, so we were SO not complaining.

So, to recap, this is what the kids had:

And, this is part of what we had:

Please note, the ordering tool on the table (iPhone) and the kick ass sesame/peanut/cilantro sauce just ready for dipping.

Our only problem with our meal was we were a little TOO eager and showed a LOT of our pictures, making our meal far more than we could possibly eat. We need to learn how to show a little restraint when we go for hot pot or learn how to ask for a “take away” bag. Hey, one can dream!

And just for those of you who might be wondering what this cost us - including two beers, two sodas, an enormous piling of cilantro, and tons of meat and veggies – it totaled a whopping FIFTEEN bucks!

With all this ordering, Greg got himself all worked up in a crazed frenzy. I mean, why else would he have been working so hard to figure out what this said:

Greg: <looking at the sign> What does that say?
Me: <raising eyebrows> Seriously?
Greg: you-da-ix? WTF?
Me: Dude, we are on the wrong side of the glass.
Greg: <smacking forehead>

My Growling Might Land Me in Chinese Prison

Posted by She Said

My friend, Lindie, gave us a pocket-sized Frommer’s guide before we left for Beijing, which offers the following bit of advice about Chinese culture:

Never Get Angry in Public    The Chinese place a premium on group harmony, so foreigners should try to be polite and cope with frustrations privately.

In other words, I shouldn’t have growled at the guy at the grocery store today. OK, it wasn’t one of my full-fledged growls, but it was enough of one that he looked at me and realized his infraction – cutting in front of me in line at the market today. And I’m not talking just ANY line. I’m talking a line that was so enormous, it was the mama of all things colossal line. Seriously, I was at least fifteen people back and there were at least five people behind me when I paused and looked at one of the cookie packs in the aisle. Yes, I was far enough back in the line to be half way down an aisle, and EVERY register had a line like this. Apparently, pause and look at something means you are STILL SHOPPING AND NOT IN LINE. When I saw him cut in front of me, my instincts kicked in. And I growled. Bad American, BAD! I showed frustration in public!

Then he looked at me, realized what he did, and kindly and quickly got behind me. With his THREE items. Looking at my cart, I realized it would have been the nice thing to do to let him stay in front of me, but my pantomiming for him to go ahead of me didn’t work, and he insisted on staying behind us. And then we waited, and waited, and waited for our turn at the counter. I tried to slyly take a picture to show how many people were there today, but I don’t think this even comes close to shows the intensity of just how busy it was:

As I stood in line there was another bit of advice in the Frommer’s guide that I remembered:

Never Accept Food, Drinks or Gifts without Refusing First    If someone offers you something in their home, no matter how eager you are to receive it, proper Chinese etiquette dictates that you not appear to greedy or eager. Politely refuse several times before grudgingly accepting.

So, in this scenario, I realized I didn’t offer enough times for him to go ahead of me in the colossal line. So, when there were only two more people ahead of me, I insisted with my mad charade skills that he go ahead of me again. This time he obliged. I figure he couldn’t be too angry for my infraction of not asking enough times until the Chinese etiquette light bulb clicked on, because I offered him front row seats to a major attraction – my kids.

I also snuck in a few pictures of the different fruits I have noticed here. Please don’t ask me what they are because the signs are all in Chinese (go figure):

  

Since we have been here, the kids have not been eating as healthy as I would like them to be. At home, I am always trying out recipes from Deceptively Delicious to sneak in healthy fruits and veggies into their meals. Here, trying to get them to eat healthy is a major challenge. A lot of the foods I have cooking here are too spicy for them or doesn’t “look” like what they normally eat and therefore refuse to even try it. As a consequence of this, they have been eating more than their fair share of $2 boxes of Kraft mac & cheese and McDonald’s. Trust me, this is not something I am proud of, but scoff at me if you must.

And let me tell you, this change in their diet is making me break Chinese harmony rules. The more crap they eat, the worse their behavior becomes. The worse their behavior becomes, the more frustrated in public I get. My eye rolling and finger snapping and jaw clenching and yelling and foot stomping is just not appropriate over here. So, I think I see more Chinese White Not Wine in my future.

Let’s just hope this phrase taught to me by Frommer’s under the Police Station section isn’t in my future:

Duìbùqǐ, wǒ yǒu méiyǒu zuò cuò le?

Translated: I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?

Hopefully rocking the harmony boat isn’t a criminal offense here. If so, anyone know a good lawyer?

Market Tales

I can see after our trip to the grocery store today that much of my education about Chinese culture and people will come from those aisles. I have learned a few things to help me out when it is just the kids and I going to the store. First, let them turn their minds to mush playing their iPods while I shop. They are sitting quietly in the cart, and I’m not worried about losing them among the sea of people. This gives me more time to stare blankly at the Chinese characters on the food packages. Second, I bought a backpack. This allows me to put their jackets in it while we are in the store, and some of the heavier items (like our Dynasty white GRAPE wine, can I hear a WOOT!) in it for the walk home.

At the store today, it was a tossup as to who got more stares, the kids or the kids’ iPods. I felt like such a privileged American with my TWO children, both with expensive toys. But, again, it was worth it for my peace of mind while I shopped. Those things are seriously better than Benedryl when it comes to chilling out my bundles of energy.

I’ve mentioned the attention Braedyn and Emily get from the locals, but I must spend a little more time explaining just how much and how often this attention gets directed their way. I feel like Angelina Jolie walking with her kids down a New York City street. OK, without the full lips. Or Brad Pitt. Or the commanding jaw line. Seriously though, I must be experiencing a little bit of what those stars feel like walking around. I bought ice cream for the kids yesterday and a group of people came in, sat down next to us and watched them eat, all the while chatting and smiling our way. The thing is, they didn’t order anything! The little blonde white kids were the attraction! Then today in the store, a woman said “hi” to us in English, followed by “how old?” as she pointed to the kids. Oh, did I ever want to stick her in my pocket to be my personal food translator, but instead we chatted through our limited shared vocabulary. Then she asked if she could have her pictures taken with Braedyn and Emily. Since she explained how to cook the rolls I was staring blankly at in the freezer section, I figured it was the least I could do. It’s a good thing we are only going to be here three months; any longer than that and this star status might go to their heads.

Napkins? Paper towels? These are words I need to learn in Chinese because I have scoured the aisles in the super market THREE times, spending extra time near the Kleenex and toilet paper, and I can NOT find them. We’ve noticed in restaurants, they will give one or two napkins even though there will be five or six of us. In America, the waiters see children, and they bring over a palette of them. The fact that I can’t find them in the store is even more puzzling than this newfangled Chinese math. Are we just messy Americans? Is it that it is considered wasteful?

The last few times I’ve gone to the market, I get home and realize I am missing something that I know I had in my cart. Where are my bananas? I even remember putting them on the conveyor belt. I bag my own groceries, so I figured I must have left them on the counter. Today I spent more time in the fruits and vegetables area. I have been a little nervous about buying any because of the safety issues with fresh foods, but as I dig my heels into the culture more and more, I figured I have to at least give the foods I can peel a shot. I found a beautiful avocado (hooray for good fats!), an enormous apple wrapped in a special bubble wrap to keep it from bruising, and several bananas. While checking out at the store, I kept a watchful eye on my precious fruits, making sure I didn’t leave them on the counter. Only this time they didn’t make it past the checker. She left them on the conveyor and gave me the universal no movement with her hands. Then she pointed to a sticker on a set of knives I bought (because I was tired of trying to cut cheese with a plastic knife).

Ding! <—the sound of the light bulb going off over my head.

Doh! Fruits and vegetables work the same way as the rice did for me the last time! You must have a worker weigh them and price them, or else? No apples for you! Braedyn was very sad about not getting his bubble wrapped apple, but I promised him I understood now and would be able to get them next time. Honestly, I was equally disappointed about not getting that perfectly ripe avocado.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Jacob skyping me when I got back from the market. Our conversation went like this:

Me: We just got back from the market!
Jacob: What did you get?
Me: Food for dinner.
Jacob: What are you having?
Me: Ham!... I think.

A Day to Remember

Today is a day to remember. Not so much because of what we did today, but because of the amazing response from our friends and family. We had to take Emily to the hospital this morning, EARLY this morning, to get a second set of ear tubes put in and to have her adenoids shaved back. Between Braedyn and Emily, this was the fifth surgery for ears/adenoids/tonsils we’ve been through. Although there is a familiarity with the process, it never gets easier seeing your child wheeled away for surgery. With leaving for our three-month trip to China in less than a week, I think it is relatively safe to say that stress was at an all-time high.

Our insurance recently changed, a result of which landed us at a different hospital this time. And let me tell you, the staff was fantastic. They were all so attentive and caring to Emily, who was holding her own, but to a trained mom’s eye could see she was a little unnerved by the whole process of getting checked in, getting her blood pressure taken, wearing a silly hospital gown, etc. She did great, actually, until the following exchange with one of the nurses:

Nurse: Emily, your mommy and daddy are going to spoil you today!
Emily: <dimply grin>
Nurse: <with much enthusiasm> Tell them, Emily, today is all about me. Say, today is all about ME!
Emily: <with some hesitation> Today is all about… her! <pointing to the nurse>

The laughter that burst from all of us at the adorable misstatement put Emily into tears. She is very sensitive to laughter and always, ALWAYS feel that it is directed AT her. After much cuddling from Mommy, she calmed down, just in time for another nurse to show up with the wagon, literally a child’s wagon, to wheel her to the operating room. She went in one direction, and we went in the other, toward the waiting room.

Simply stated, waiting SUCKS. Big time.

Once the surgery was successfully completed, Greg and I were brought back to the recovery area, where Emily was still out from the anesthesia. Only moments after our arrival, our little 28 pound princess turned into one helluva strong kick boxer. With unparalleled determination, she kept trying to rip out her IV, and any attempt to stop her resulted in her uttering a guttural growl, throwing a full-arm swing to your face, and angrily and powerfully kick at you. That shocking stage took about 20 agonizing minutes to get through. It’s surreal to watch your child in that state. Somewhere between sleep and alertness. Somewhere between sane and crazy.

After another hour and a half or so in the recovery room, we were sent home. Phew.

Upon our arrival home, we found out Braedyn had been the best big brother he could possibly be today. (So much so that even typing it is bringing tears of joy to my eyes. Proud Mama!) Every day at school that Braedyn is good and follows the class rules, he earns a “green card”. After earning 30 cards, he can turn them in for a prize. Today was the day for him to turn in 30 green cards, and let me tell you, the excitement from him about this is palpable. It is truly a treat for the kids to get to pick something out of the prize basket.

We left for the hospital this morning before Braedyn woke up, so we hadn’t yet seem him today. When we walked in, he was absolutely beaming and happy to see us. Then he handed Emily a present, a present that he used his 30 green cards to pick today. That’s right! He selflessly used his cards to get her a Strawberry Shortcake Frisbee. He made me and his Dad unbelievably proud today.

Another thoughtful friend dropped off a yummy coffee for me and coloring books and markers for Emily and Braedyn. Our loving friends and family have showered us with a deluge of good thoughts, whether on Facebook, the phone, or via email, and it has been so very appreciated. On a day like this, where your emotions are on overdrive and your energy is zapped, I was reminded of just how lucky we are.

Mommy trying to comfort a distressed and unhappy Emily.

Emily’s toe glowing from the pulse oximeter. 

Smearing Fat On Your Face and Endearing Cowboys

Two Christmases ago, I got a lovely facial cream that I use daily. It was purchased in Hungary during one of my in-law’s worldly excursions. I love it. Love it!! It makes my face feel luxuriously smooth, and living in a desert, that is seriously a very difficult feeling to achieve.

Oh and then Mr. Bubble Burster (aka my husband) shared one of his profound news stories with me. Check this out. So, now as I dig out the final remnants of this cream-of-the-gods (um, yes, I am still using it), I can’t help but wonder if I am smearing some human fat, fat melted off of bodies with candles, on my face. *shudder*

So, off of the yuck and onto the cool. If you have kids, you have to check out the preview of this awesome new website and show, Johnny Saddles. My kids really get a kick out if it, and its approach to educational topics is refreshing and straight forward. I guess I have a soft spot for the cowboy; I *am* from Texas after all. Just don’t hold that against me. I need all the love I can get after feeling like I have been moisturizing with Pedro. Not with Pedro. WITH Pedro.

Swiper NO SWIPING (stop yelling too)

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I have a broken volume control.  Not only does my volume knob go to 11, 11 is as loud as 15, and the volume knob is broken.

My issue with all the abuse I take regarding my facilities for volumetric speaking is that I am NOT LOUD.

I project.

Projecting is good.  Nobody ever leans into me and says “I couldn’t hear you, can you repeat that?”. 

I have taken a great deal of flak over the years from parents, girlfriends, and my wife over this.  The fact is I am blacklisted from libraries nationwide.  I could not even start to make this up.  I think everyone is just confused about the difference between being loud and projecting.

Now the kids are getting into the act.

Just this morning I was watching Dora the Explorer with my kids.  If you haven’t watched it before you need to be aware that the point is that when Dora speaks certain items you are SUPPOSED to YELL back at the TV. It’s intentional madness.

The fox tries to steal something and Dora yells “Swiper NO SWIPING” and all three of us yell  “Swiper NO SWIPING” (because you KNOW if you yell back loudly enough the TV character will stop whatever he is doing).

It appears insane, and I fit right in.  It takes no effort at all for me to talk loudly to the television.  Emily and I PROJECT at the TV regularly and usually without interuption during Dora, but this morning Braedyn let me have it.

Braedyn with furrowed brow: “DADDY, can you STOP?”

Me: “Why?”

Braedyn doing his best Elvis Presley crooked mouth: “Because I can’t hear it.  Your voice is too HUGE!”

Sure, you can hear me now.  Maybe next time when Dora yells “Swiper NO SWIPING” I should follow up with “CLEAN YOUR ROOM!” or “GET ME MY WINE!” although at 8am that’s probably not ok.

On second thought…

Leave a Legacy of Tolerance and Kindness

The Marriage Bill is our generation’s chance to change society’s injustice. The late 1800’s saw the addition of the Fifteenth Amendment to the constitution, giving people of color the right to vote. The early 1900’s saw women finally get the right to vote with the addition of the Nineteenth Amendment. People need to stop the injustice and discrimination against same-sex marriage, and let their children, and their children’s children know that they were part of the change. Now. Seriously, our grandchildren’s grandchildren are going to look back at this time and wonder what the hell the big deal was.

When thinking back to the women’s suffrage movement or the civil rights movement, I believe that the people who were against it back then were a bunch of ignorant and racist jerks. I think the same type of sentiment will be held in the future for those against the marriage bill today. It’s time to stand up against this injustice and leave a legacy of tolerance, kindness, and acceptance to our children.

Senator Diane Savino really did a great job standing up for the Marriage Bill. She’s leaving a positive legacy. Shouldn’t you?

I Can’t See Your Eye for that Mouth of Yours

Braedyn’s 6th birthday proved to be an interesting roller coaster of ups and downs.

First, both Greg and I volunteered in his Kindergarten classroom, which he felt was quite a treat. BUT, he had a sub in his class, so he didn’t get all the usual birthday perks that his teacher usually provided birthday boys and girls. He took it in stride and enjoyed getting to hand out cookies to all the kids in the class as a way to celebrate his day. The best part about that was the cookies we brought turned all the kids’ lips and teeth black. It would have been chillingly zombie-like if it hadn’t been so dang cute.

Not really thinking, I had scheduled his 6-year wellness visit at the pediatrician’s on his birthday. Bad, mommy. Bad. However, the saving grace was he didn’t need any shots (not until the trip we’re all taking in a couple of weeks to get whatever it is we need for China). Greg suggested to Braedyn that “maybe Mommy will get you a treat after the doctor’s office.” Bad, daddy. Bad. Greg was thinking a little food treat, but Braedyn heard “treat” and instantly set his mind on a toy. And when I say “set his mind”, I mean the idea of a toy was like a snare catching a big, bad ass animal and not letting go. Since it was his birthday, I decided, against my better judgment, to take him to to a big, horrible, mega-store and let him pick out something less than $5.

Sigh.

Everything he wanted was of course more than $5, but I had drawn the line in the sand and I wasn’t wavering in my resolve. In fact, we talked about how he needed to find something that had a price starting with a 5 and then a period. It was a good life lesson, right? Well, I let him mull it over and look up and down the aisles… Look up and down the aisles and mull it over… *yawn* There was a complaint here and there about how he wanted things that were over $5, but I let them slide. It was his birthday after all. So, after an HOUR of this mulling and looking, I told him he had 5 minutes to decide. Tears. I calmly explained to him that this was supposed to be a small treat for being good at the doctor’s office and not a birthday present. I also explained to him that his aunts and uncles were looking for ideas of what to get him, so we could make a list of the toys he would like. With the 2 minute warning, I got screams. When I told him he had to pick, he told me I was mean because he wanted toys that were over $5.

*snap* <----- That would be the sound of the straw breaking the camel’s back.

I then told him CALMLY that we were leaving without anything, that he no longer was going to get a toy because his behavior was unacceptable. I’m certain people on the other side of the mega-square-foot store could hear the shriek that came from my son at that moment. Since I had already picked out a couple of other necessities from the evil, mega-corp, I still had go through the check out - with a tantruming 6 year old. I was wishing for a hot poker to the eye instead, but since I had no such luck, I had to endure. The woman ahead of us was telling the checker “that she’s never had any, and for that she was glad.” Kids. I’m sure she meant kids. Then another woman came up to me and put her arm around me and said, “You are doing a great job.” I’m fairly certain she meant that and wasn’t just being sarcastic. I think.

Since he still hadn’t let go of the $5 toy he grabbed when I told him time was up, I had to tell him we were not leaving the store with the toy. It was time to put it down. A young employee of the nefarious, mega-corp was trying to help me by telling Braedyn that if he left with the toy, the alarms would sound and he’d be arrested. Apparently that was enough for the iron grip to release. Then the employee offered him a piece of candy. I was thinking, “That’s nice. She must be handing out Halloween candy.” Um, that would be a no. Instead she pulled out an open bag of gummy worms that she obviously had during a recent break. Then I did a horrible thing. I let him have one. From an open bag. From a stranger. I guess in my desire to get the hell out of the store without another meltdown from my son, I said yes. Not an excuse, but still. It still makes me shudder to think of it now.

So things got back to normal after that. My obviously very tired son would not take a nap before we left for dinner at his favorite “lunch house”, Red Robin. What a treat that ended up being! No sarcasm here. Seriously! It was a blast! We happened to go on a night we never usually go on, and it was “Kids Night”. We had a magician doing tricks at our table that had the kids doing some serious jaw-dropping. Then there were the free ice cream sundaes and birthday song by the employees. And if that weren’t enough, there was an animal balloon maker wowing a slew of kids, mine included. The guy was absolutely amazing, and after my own balloon fiasco, I have an amazing amount of respect for his craft.

The most difficult thing that happened, for me anyway, was not the tantrum in the mega store, if you can believe it. It was a girl walking past us on our way to our car. She had a very large birthmark around her eye, and once I saw it I was nervous that Braedyn would say something. You know, since kids have that knack for pointing out things that seem different to them at some of the most awkward times. I glanced over to him just as his pointing finger was aiming, and as she walked passed us:

Braedyn: Hey, look at her eye!

The girl: Oh, THAT’s nice.

Me: He’s six. He doesn’t understand.

The girl: Fucking kid.

Me: I will explain it to him.

I am SO grateful the kids didn’t hear her swearing, and once in the car, we promptly had a discussion about birthmarks. We explained that it could hurt people’s feelings when you point out things that are different about them. We followed that up with a discussion that being different doesn’t make one bad or scary. We explained that we needed to be considerate of others’ feelings, so if they have a question about something they see that is different, they can always ask us. Of course, I’m saying this out of my mouth, but my head is thinking that I couldn’t see her eye for that ugly fucking mouth of hers. I understand it must be hard for her, and for that I am completely sympathetic. It’s just obvious that she either doesn’t have kids or has never been around any to see how they behave.

It was hurtful to me to hear someone say something so mean to my son. He wasn’t being mean; he didn’t do it to hurt her. When we had our talk with him, he said empathetically that he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. He has a big heart, and I am very proud of him – even with a crazy tantrum thrown in once in a while. Keeps my parenting skills on their proverbial toes.

It’s hard to believe this all happened in one day. It was a lot for me; I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to my beautiful six year old boy.