Curious Leo

Leo’s friend John has been curious for awhile. This was a funny exchange I had with him a few weeks ago at his house:

 

John, pointing to the scar on my forehead, “Do you have a boo boo?”

Me: “Yes.”

John: “Where is your Band-aid?”

Me: “Well, I did have a Band-aid but I don’t need it anymore.”

John: “Where is your Band-aid?”

Me: “It’s not bleeding so I don’t need a Band-aid.”

John: “Where is your Band-aid?”

Me: “Oh, you really want to know where it is! It’s in the trash can.”

John: “Where is the trash can?”

Me: “At my house.”

John: “Where is your house?”

Me: “Right down the street.”

John: “Where?”

Me: “If you look out the window, it’s that way.”

John: “I don’t see your house.”

 

The whole thing was funny and also made me realize that Leo isn’t really all that curious. He would have just accepted my first answer about not needing a Band-aid. Leo overheard me telling the story a few days later and I guess felt inadequate about his own lack of curiosity because ever since, he tries to re-enact the exchange I had with John.

 

Leo: “Mommy, where is your Band-aid?”

Me: “In the trash can.”

Leo, giggling: “Where is your house?!”

 

But then, a couple of weeks ago, Leo started asking questions on his own. Now he’s like an interrogator.

 

Leo: “I want to eat eggs!”

Me: “We’re all out of eggs.”

Leo: “Why?”

Me: “We ate them all.”

Leo: “Why?”

Me: “Well, we were hungry and we ate the eggs so I’m going to go to the store to buy more today.”

Leo: “Why are you going to the store?”

Me: “Because we’re out of food.”

Leo: “Why are we out of food?”

Then I found myself going into this whole monologue about how we buy food, eat it and then go buy some more. It was quite fascinating!

 

Leo also repeats the the last part of everything we say in the form of a question.

“Leo, we’re going to church.”

“We’re going to church?”

“Leo, please don’t take off your diaper and pee pee on the floor.”

“Don’t take off your diaper and pee pee on the floor?”

Sometimes his questions are more vague like, “It isn’t?” “We’re not?” and “We shouldn’t?”

But the point is, he now ends a lot of sentences with question marks. He ends a lot of sentences with question marks?

 

I don’t have any pictures to illustrate this story so I’ll just leave you with a few snow week ones:

 

Leo with his hat hair:

 

John, Etienne and Leo eating pizza on a snowy night

Leo and Frank n the snow

Writinggal Reports

Consumer Reports is great if you need reviews on tangible products. But what if you want the scoop on customer service? That’s when you come to Writinggal Reports. I don’t know if it’s me (approaching my mid-30s and getting crotchety) or them (retail and service workers just sucking in general) but I have become a customer service stickler. Here, I give you a sample of the good and the oh, so, very bad:

Buy Buy Baby: ***** (That’s five out of five for customer service) This is a new entry into the baby gear market, currently dominated by Babies R Us. Buy Buy Baby, by the way, is owned by another BBB great—Bed, Bath and Beyond. At Babies R Us, the customer service is hit or miss. Sometimes they’re helpful, sometimes they’re not. And in these types of stores you really need help, especially if you’re wandering around with a registry.

At Buy Buy Baby, it’s almost comical how much they help you. When I printed out the registry list, one employee told me, “This yellow paper is like the Bible. If someone sees you holding it, they’re going to ask to help you.” And baby, did they ever! In every single department, an employee asked if I needed help. Sometimes I did and I was glad for their expertise. When I went to check out, the guy behind the register noticed I had gotten the wrong registry item and ran back to get the right one for me!

So now I’m saying, “Bye Bye” (or “Buy Buy”) to Babies R Us.

Kroger: * I get it, Kroger. You want to hire people who may not be able to get jobs elsewhere. That’s very noble of you. The thing is, sometimes I can’t tell who legitimately has a learning/communication/interaction issue and who is just an idiot. Take this lady who was bagging my groceries the other day. I handed her all my bags, including the insulated one. I told her, “Don’t feel like you have to put the cold stuff in that bag. You can just put anything in any bag cause I’m just going right home.” Her response? NOTHING. She didn’t respond at all. So I said, “You know what I mean? I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to bother separating out the cold stuff.” Again, NOTHING. “Ya know what I mean?” I asked one more time. “Yes, ma’am,” she finally said. Then I look like the b*t%h because it’s like I was trying to get her to say “Yes, ma’am.” I just wanted SOME response. I mean, how can you not say anything? Not even “uh-huh.” I was trying to save her some trouble! And as we know, that’s not my first bad experience with Kroger.

Delta Airlines: ***** When we had all the snow in Atlanta last week I called Delta to see if I could move my flight to the next day. The automated voice told me that there would be a long wait, and if I preferred, I could punch in my number and they would call me back. They even gave me a time: 12-18 minutes. Brilliant! I hung up, went about my business and they called me back within that time. It saved me the trouble of being attached to a phone and getting angry as every minute ticked by. To make matters better, the girl on the phone had a brain and was so helpful. She moved my flight, found seats for Frank, Leo and me to all sit together, and didn’t charge me a thing!

Target: * I’m in the dairy section today and THREE target employees were stocking food as I maneuvered around them in my quest for pimento cheese. I kept thinking one of them would ask if I needed help finding anything. They didn’t. So I asked one of them. She then turned to one of the other stockers and asked him if he knew where the pimento cheese was. He then turned to the third and asked her. She looked for a second and then picked up a block of pepper jack. “No, that’s not pimento cheese,” I said. “I would think it would be right here,” I said and went over to another area of dairy to look, thinking at least one would follow to help me. They didn’t. I said, “Um, well that’s okay,” and they just kept on stocking. Then I said really enthusiastically (and sarcastically), “Thanks so much for all your help!!” They couldn’t have been less helpful unless they didn’t respond at all like the Kroger Krazy. A few weeks ago I had a weird cashier at Target who suddenly said, “I HATE YOU!” while scanning my items. Startled, I said, “Huh?” and then realized she was talking across me to another cashier. What an odd time to have that discussion. Throughout my checkout process, she never offered any pleasantries like, “Hi, how are you doing? Did you find everything okay?” And when I was picking up my bag to go she still didn’t say anything so I said to her, “Thanks! I WILL have a nice day!!”

 

There you have it. The first round of Writinggal Reports. I’ll continue to serve the public, shopping and judging retail and service workers. And don’t worry, this won’t take away from me being a watch dog for the healthcare industry. They’re still on my radar too. Nobody is safe from Writinggal Reports.

A Bigger House Party

If you didn’t see my blog from yesterday read that first.

These pictures were taken on Day 3 of “snowpocalypse.” (We’re now on Day 4.) Since we’re trapped in our neighborhood we’re glad we at least have fun friends to play with. Leo’s buddies braved the ice and snow (some walking uphill in treacherous conditions) to come play. While we had plenty of toys for them to play with and lots of room for them to run around, they chose to hide out in Leo’s “house.” In fact, the first thing John said when he walked in was, “I want to go in the pantry!” This time we gave them flashlights. I was grateful they used them just to shine a light in the house and didn’t beat each other with them. Although I was a little embarrassed when they shined their lights on the crumbs in Leo’s house.

 

House party host Leo with Bianca, Etienne and John:

Bianca says, “I love being trapped in the house with all the boys!”

“Come into my house”

Leo has invented this new game called “Come into my house.” His house is our pantry. He just learned to open doors (a little late with that skill) so he thinks it’s exciting to go in there, close the door and then come out, yelling, “HELLO!!” That would be great if he just wanted to go in and out of the pantry, however, he prefers for someone to come in there with him. “Come into my house,” he says as he drags me by my sleeve. Then I must go in and sit on the stack of paper towels while Leo keeps saying, “It’s dark in here.”

Luckily, John came over yesterday and Leo took HIM into the house. I still played along though:

 

The Ottoman Empire

Who was the genius who thought of turning regular old space hogger ottomans into storage devices? It’s brilliant. Every time I look at this “toy box” in Leo’s playroom I think, “That is one of the best purchases I’ve ever made.” Now allow me to blog the praises of the storage ottoman:

It looks sleek, classy.

It works in any room.

It’s versatile: a toy box, a holder of bed linens, a coffee table, a place to rest your feet.

It was cheap but it doesn’t look cheap.

It holds stuff.

It hides stuff.

 

Look at all the toys it holds!

I also really like the smaller, square ones that I see in catalogues. As they say in the descriptions, they’re not only good for storage, but they could also be used for extra seating. (Maybe that would pass for seating in a NYC apartment but down here people prefer seats with backs. Still, it’s nice to have in a pinch.) Look at all those cute little storage ottomans!

 

 

And you’ll notice that they even have the awesome extra feature of a tray—a tray! Is there anything these things aren’t good for? Storage, seating, putting your feet up and now holding your cocktail?

I’m really fascinated by anything that can hold/hide stuff. We have this stool in our half bath that has storage and I put Clorox wipes in it. Just today, when I was in the bathroom and wanted to do a quick cleaning and opened the stool to get out the wipes, I thought, “That is one of the best purchases I’ve ever made.”

Oops, sorry toy storage ottoman. Love you too!

You spin me right round

Leo has developed a love of spinning. I’m not talking about the cycle class that I teach or spinning music like a DJ. I mean he just spins in circles. I think this started with all the fun we had on the tea cups at Disney World.

 

Now he just spins in circles around the living room. I keep telling him that he is going to make himself sick so whenever he spins he says, “I’m getting sick like John!” I didn’t capture that on video because when the camera comes out, all he can say is “CHEESE!”

 

 

 

Changing direction

 

 

Cheese!

Snow Buds

It was a Christmas Miracle—snow in Atlanta for the first time in like, 100-something years. The next day Leo and John’s daddies ran out and bought sleds. Leo and John had so much fun, they can’t wait to use them next time this happens, in another 100-something years.

 

 

Puking up Christmas

 

You know that feeling when you’re really hungry and you can’t imagine being full? You’re waiting for your food at a restaurant and you think, “I’m going to eat every bite of it and then, if I’m still hungry, which I’m sure I will be, I’ll ask my dining companions if they plan to finish their food. If they won’t let me have any, I’ll order more food. I’ll just eat and eat and I’ll never be full!”

And then you start to eat and you think, “This is awesome! But I’m still hungry. I’ll keep eating.” And you eat and eat and finally, you’re full.

Then you realized you ate too much. You’re so full that you want to puke. You look at your empty plate in disgust. “How could I have ever been hungry? I’m so full! I can’t even look at another potato. Don’t even say the word potato, please. I can’t believe I was so hungry! I’ll never eat again!”

Do you ever feel that way?

That is exactly how I feel about Christmas.

Right after Halloween, I thought, “Oh, goodie! It’s almost time for Christmas! There’s Christmas stuff in the stores. When will the easy listening station start playing all-Christmas-all-the-time?”

By Thanksgiving I was super hungry for Christmas. I wanted to get out the decorations before but I held myself back. This year I don’t think we decorated until December 1st. “Oh, I wish Christmas was longer!” I thought. “I’m not going to be ready to take down the decorations January 1st.”

Oh, but I was. I couldn’t get that garland, tree and nativity scene out of here fast enough. We packed it up today and I thought, “Ew, Christmas. How could I ever have been excited about it? I’m ready to get back to what the church calls ‘ordinary time.’” Of course, after we packed it up we keep finding Christmas-ish things. “Yuck! I can’t even look at that glass gingerbread house. Makes me want to puke!”

I’m so grateful the easy listening station went back to ordinary music too.

I did see Valentine’s Day stuff in the store today. So once I puke up Christmas, I’ll be hungry for big hearts filled with assorted mystery candies.

Panic at the Pizzeria

Last night Frank and I went to this pizza place that has lots of buzz around it, Antico Pizza Napoletana. Apparently it used to be just a simple place for take-out but soon people started just hanging out and eating their pizza. So the owner set up a few tables—one where you just stand around and then a few more in the kitchen.

When we walked in we were immediately confused. Do we stand in this line or that one? How do we know what pizza to order when it’s all in Italian? And were we supposed to bring our own booze?

We ended up ordering the lasagna pizza because that was an Italian word we knew. When we figured out that you can’t get booze, Frank took off down the street to get a tall boy. Classy.

While Frank was on his beer run, I waited in a line in the kitchen/eating area for our pizza. It was so crowded that patrons were forced to sit with strangers. The rest of us all stood in a line, drooling at others’ pizza and their coveted table spots.

You could see the guys making the pizza, throwing dough into the air and all. Every now and then one of them would come out with a couple of huge baking sheets with pizzas on them and scream out a number: “289!! 289!!”

My fear was that he would shout out my number and I would have nowhere to sit! I would be wandering around this crowded kitchen with a giant, hot baking sheet.

Luckily, Frank got back right before our number was called. When the guy started yelling, “294!! 294!” I panicked. “That’s us!” I told Frank. “But we have nowhere to sit!” I immediately starting scurrying around the room, looking for an empty spot. They were just cleaning off an area of one table so I quickly sat and gestured to Frank. A lady said, “You can’t sit here! It’s reserved!” This didn’t seem to me like the kind of place where you could reserve tables so I said, “Really? Reserved?” She said, “You have to have eight people.” I ran to another spot. “This is taken!” someone told me. I found Frank wandering around with the baking sheet and I told him, “I hate it!! I feel like the new kid at school and I’m in the cafeteria and I have no one to sit with!”

Luckily, I’ve never been the new kid but I’ve witnessed new kids come into my school and I’ve seen it in movies. If you were ever a new kid, my hat is off to you. That experience will give you some thick skin.

Finally, someone saw us heading their way with our baking sheet and since she didn’t have a pizza yet, she gave up her seat at this random little counter for us. I was grateful to have a place to sit although I wouldn’t have minded standing, as long as there was a place to set the pizza.

As I devoured the awesome lasagna pizza, Frank kept making nerdy business comments: “Their overhead must be so low! I bet their margins are through the roof!”

The pizza was so delicious we’ll have to go back. And next time will be better cause we’ll be the cool kids.

Disney Dude

We made the quick seven-plus hour drive down to Orlando to visit the Magic Kingdom—the first time for both Leo and myself. It was cold and rainy but that meant shorter lines and more rides for us! Leo did everything from riding Dumbo (sorry, no good pictures of that) to flying in a rocket ship. We even met up with our friends, the Claytons, so Leo had the opportunity to hang out with two older women, Avery and Gracie. We’ll never forget this trip because it’s where Leo came up with the name for his new sibling. Later when we say “We proudly announce the birth of Donald Duck Simcik” you’ll understand.

A Merry Majority

Have you noticed that it’s okay to say “Merry Christmas” while out in public these days? I also see Christmas trees in retail establishments and Santa out in full force. Even Disney World wasn’t afraid to Christmas it up.

There was a period from about 2005-2008 (totally just basing those years on a gut feeling) where you were shunned for saying “Merry Christmas.” We had to say “Happy Holidays.”

I’m pleased about this shift back to Merry Christmas, but not for the same reason that most pro-Christmas people are. You see, a lot of folks think we should say “Merry Christmas” because of things like “Jesus is our savior” or “The Christians are right and everyone else is wrong.”

My philosophy has nothing to do with whether Christianity is right or wrong or whether another religion is right or wrong. In fact, I think that is an invalid argument. Everyone will never agree on a religion and it’s pointless (and not even beneficial) to try to make people believe the same thing.

I simply think we should be able to say “Merry Christmas” because of the old “Majority Rules” theory. Over 80% of Americans are Christian, and most of them probably celebrate Christmas. So why should we go around saying “Happy Holidays” just so as not to offend less than 20% of the population?

And even if you happen to catch someone who does not celebrate Christmas, are they truly offended? Or do they just think they’re supposed to be? I mean, Christmas is a nice holiday. It’s about only good things. So someone telling you “Merry Christmas” is not putting a curse on you.

I think this also falls under the “When in Rome” principle. I mean, if I were in Mexico on Cinco de Mayo and someone said, “Happy Cinco de Mayo” I wouldn’t get all offended: “Hey, I’m American. I don’t celebrate Mexico’s independence from Spain. I celebrate America’s independence which is in a couple of months. It’s around the same time so you should say ‘Happy Independence Day’ to me instead.”

No, instead I’d say, “Happy Cinco de Mayo to you too! Let’s have a margarita!” I wouldn’t be offended. I’d think, “Most people here celebrate Cinco de Mayo.” And even if I didn’t want to join in the celebrations, I’d understand that the person wishing me a “Happy Cinco de Mayo” was just wishing me well.

I’m glad to see we’re not tip-toeing around the obvious anymore. So I guess there’s nothing else to say but “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Expanding again!

Coming in June: Leo’s baby brother or sister!

 

Kroger Krazies

A couple of years ago I gave you all an inside look into training day at the Kroger by my house. I mistakenly thought that the practice of hiring wacko grocery store workers was specific to this Kroger location. Now I know that not only are their “Kroger Krazies” at other locations, there are weirdos at other grocery stores too, like Publix. The whole thing reminds me of this exchange from the movie “Reality Bites.”

 

Lelaina’s Mom: Why don't you get a job at the BurgerRama? They'll hire you! My Lord, I saw on the TV - they had this little retarded boy working the register.

Lelaina: Because I'm not retarded, Mom. I was the valedictorian of my University!

Lelaina’s dad:  Well you don’t have to put that on your application.

 

I think these grocery stores have some sort of crazy quota to fill. Here is my latest encounter that took place at a Kroger about two miles away from my house:

I go to check out and the manager is my cashier. He engages me in what starts out to be a normal conversation about Christmas. He asks if Leo is excited, etc. He then starts telling me about some of the Christmas traditions in his family, how his kid really likes He-Man and how excited he was one year to get this He-Man toy. Blah blah blah, it’s a long story about how they surprised him. I guess I acted too interested because…

After I paid and all my bags were loaded and I was about to leave (impatient two-year-old in cart, mind you), the manager launches into another tale of Christmas past, this one about how one year they played a trick on the poor kid and got him a Pippy Longstocking doll for Christmas. Blah blah blah, I just stare at him in shock because 1). this just sounds cruel and 2). I can’t believe he’s still talking to me when I’m DONE checking out. That’s not how this relationship works! I am okay with cashier-customer small talk while I have to wait for you to ring up/bag my groceries. But I am not okay with having to listen to your stories beyond that. That’s a universal understanding, right?

Now the whole time this is going on there’s this deceptively-normal-looking bagger loading my groceries. But while I’m listening to the He-Man story, this bagger is muttering angrily to himself. He then looks up and offers to take my bags out to my car. Normally I would refuse but the problem was, he had loaded them into a new shopping cart and I had Leo in the original cart. So my choices were:

1. Remove two-year-old from cart and wrestle him into a new cart against his will

2. Let muttering psycho-path push the cart full of groceries out to the car.

I chose the latter which was a mistake. As we walk out to the car, the mutterer stops muttering and talks out loud to me: “Have you seen any good movies lately?” to which I reply no, hoping to end the conversation.

He then goes into a monologue about his hatred for Harry Potter: “To me, all it is is a cross between Lord of the Rings and The Brady Bunch! I’m serious! I tell my mom that all the time.” (He’s like 45, by the way, so I’m pretty sure he lives in the basement of his mom’s house.)

When he gets to the part about “And the author, she doesn’t even believe in Jesus!” I knew I should have chosen to wrestle Leo into the other cart. As he loads the groceries he goes back to angry muttering, this time I caught a few utterances of “Harry Potter” and “Jesus.” While talking to him was scary, listening to his maddening muttering was even scarier! I kind of can’t believe the too-long-storyteller manager even let him walk me out to my car.

I later talked to a friend who I had bumped into at that Kroger that day and asked if she knew muttering man. “Oh yes,” she said. “Don’t get him started about movies. He’s like Rain Man about them.” Hey, for the record, I didn’t start it!

And in other grocery-store-crazy updates, this one comes from a friend who had a run-in at Publix. Let this be a lesson to you: When they ask, “Did you find everything okay?” just say “YES.”

“Did you find everything okay?”
”Actually, I couldn’t find those pasta shells made by Ronzini.”
”Huh?”

“And I couldn’t find the Publix brand one either. I guess you’re all out. It’s no big deal. I’m just going to have to go to Kroger.”

“What were you looking for? Pasta?”

“Yes, those big pasta shells. It’s okay.”

“Pasta?”

“Yes, but you were out. I’ll just go somewhere else.”

“What was the brand you were looking for?”

“Nevermind. They weren’t there.”

“Shells?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Pasta?”

“Yes, but that’s okay.”

“You like pasta?”

And so on and so on…

Then the poor girl had to go to Kroger too. That’s just too many Krazies for one day.

The best bake is no bake

 

It’s the day of my annual cookie exchange and boy, have I come a long way since the Rolo cookie disaster of 2005 now know that you can’t substitute Splenda for sugar. You can’t use Swiss Miss cocoa instead of baking cocoa. You can change out…well, anything! Baking is exact. It’s like science. And I was always bad at science.

I’ve had some successful baking ventures since then. I mean, there were the drop cookies (the ones you get out of the tube and just drop onto the cookie sheet) that earned me a “ten” from Frank. And I’ve made some muffins and brownies that have turned out okay. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever made a good brownie. I always screw up the ones on the edge, and that makes up a large percentage of the brownies in an 8 x 8 pan.

So for this year’s cookie exchange (my fourth), I went with a recipe from my sis-in-law, Laura. They’re called Chocolate Peanut Butter No Bake Cookies. When she said “no bake” I was like, “Sign me up!”

I just threw a bunch of stuff in a pot, heated it up and then dropped the mix on wax paper. Leo even helped me! That’s how easy they are! And they taste awesome.

They didn’t win top prize (that went to Chantal’s chocolate, marshmallow mint creations). But then again, I couldn’t really win since I was hosting. Yes, we’ll blame it on that.

Frank summed them up best: “They taste better than they look.”

 

You say “Merry” I say “Christmas”

I don’t know where he got this or what the first one was that he said, but Leo likes to say, “You say ‘Donald’ I say ‘Duck.’” or “You say ‘Dinosaur’ I say ‘Train.’” And when we do it, it goes on forever! Mickey-Mouse, Mashed-Potatoes, Basket-Ball…whatever it is!

He also has this cute game he learned at creative play which he explained to me. We all dance around until he says “FREEZE!” and then we stop until he says go. I think they must dance like animals because he keeps saying we need some animal music. For now, he has to deal with me singing Jingle Bells. And sometimes he will freeze us for a long time. I’m pretty sure I stood without moving for about two minutes yesterday while he got distracted with something else.

And here are just a few cute pics from December so far:

At Bianca’s birthday party, playing piano with Reagan:

 

 

Group shot at Bianca’s party:

 

Checking out Baby Ryan

 

High Fiving John

Holiday Hoarding

We’re not the Griswolds but by my standards, our house usually looks like it threw up Christmas this time of year. I don’t know what it is about Christmas—maybe it’s the temporaryness of it, the shiny things, the green and red color scheme—but it turns me into a hoarder!

I have no problem accepting or buying anything relating to Christmas decorating. (This is also true about dish towels. Last year Claire gave me a Christmas dish towel which is the PERFECT gift!)

Every inch of the house is covered in Christmas. There’s a bowl full of ornaments on the dining room table, a nativity scene on the entertainment center, a little Santa light on an end table, garland strung everywhere and of course, the tree. I’ve even got stuff on the walls, in the kitchen and in the half bath. I mean, you can’t even go to the bathroom in my house without being reminded that it’s Christmas.

Right now I’m in the market for a plate that says “Cookies for Santa.” Seriously? The fat dude really doesn’t need cookies much less a special plate. I’ve got tons of plates! But I want one. Because at Christmas, I’m a hoarder. And that’s a total hoarder thing to do—to buy something you don’t need and don’t have room for.

My house is not quite complete with all the Christmas craziness yet. There are still more boxes in the attic—yes, in the attic, a place I normally try to keep clear of clutter! I’ll post pics so you can see my cluttered Christmas craziness. Even Santa says, “My God, where is she going to put all this stuff when Christmas is over? What a hoarder!”