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Posts tagged with: mom

Children and Money…

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My sister had to take my mom to Urgent Care yesterday (lest dad be ever so lonely in having health concerns). I called to ask if they needed company while they waited for test results and they declined but asked if I wouldn’t mind stopping to pick up my six year old nephew who was sitting with them at the hospital.

I loaded my nephew into the back of my car and about 15 minutes into our traffic jammed commute, he started crying. 15 minutes after that, he was sobbing. Sure I understand. Grandma is in the hospital, mom is busy, it’s scary, and he’s tired but…

I have absolutely no idea what to do with a crying kid.

You’d think I’d be experienced at this since I’ve got 11 nieces and nephews, but crying in traffic? No clue.

I gave him my iPod which kept him entertained for 10 minutes, until the battery died. After that, more crying.

We sat in traffic for another 40 minutes until my gas light blinked on. “I’m sorry buddy. I’ve got to stop for gas. We’ll be home soon OK?”

Silence.

Long drawn out sniffle.

“Can I get candy in the gas store?” he whispered.

“Sure buddy. Anything you want.”

“Can I get TWO candies?” he asked, the tears drying in his excitement.

“Possibly cause diabetes? Contribute to childhood obesity? Sure. Why not?” I replied.

“How about a large soda too?” he asked.

I was willing to buy part ownership in Shell gas station if that’s what it took to make him stop crying.

He picked out the two largest bags of candy, filled up a soda cup the size of his head, and off we went to sit in traffic again. There wasn’t a single tear the rest of the way home and I got a huge ‘Thanks Auntie Beks!!’ with a hug before he left (I didn’t mention the sugar overload to my sister – I value my life far too much).

I can say no to myself all day long but to kids? I’m putty. If this experience is any indication of my future financial and health dealings with my own children… I’m dead.


Summer Vacation Memories are Free

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As my husband, my brothers, and I leave for our summer vacation today, I can’t help but remember some of the best summers of my life growing up. My brothers and I have always been close friends – and always up to no good.

When my brothers (John & Mike) and I were 13 and 15, one of my dad’s oh so responsible employees showed us how to build a potato gun – because everyone knows the combination of pipe, potatoes, a bottle of WD-40, and a flame tool are landmark in safety and you should share them with teenagers.

We spent our afternoons launching the potatoes into targets… *cough* the pool deck… *cough* the new trees… *cough* the house siding… (sorry ‘bout those dents dad)

On a particularly hot day, John filled the chamber up with a combination of Rave hairspray and WD-40. The fumes filled the air as he quickly spun the cap on and pulled out the matches. He touched the flame to the side and a loud BOOM exploded into our ears. Mike and I looked down to see John on his back, his shoes smoldering, and the lawn burst into flames.

He hadn’t spun the cap on tightly and instead of launching the potato, the force rocketed the cap and the flame onto John’s shoed feet.

Responsibly… Mike and I laughed hysterically at John.

We laughed so hard, we overlooked the fact that the lawn was still on fire. About 60 seconds of laughing at John’s smoldering blackened shoes went by before we suddenly became aware that the fire was growing. If mom saw the fire, she’d never let us shoot another potato again (though I’m not sure she ever truly ‘approved’ it in the first place).

Mike ran for the hose while John stomped out what he could.

Fortunately they got the fire out (hence the reason they are such good firefighters… they started young) but there was still a huge problem…

There was a black spot of charred lawn directly in front of the screen door that mom surely wouldn’t miss. We couldn’t think of a believable story for the burn spot and we certainly weren’t going to tell the truth sooooo…

We dug out the lawn, tossed it across the fence, threw on some fresh dirt, then went inside and told mom the dogs had dug a patch of the lawn.

As for John’s shoes? ‘Pssshhh. Mom, that’s a fashion statement. Don’t you know style?!?!’

My best summer vacation memories were never about where we stayed or what kind of expensive things my parents bought, they were always about the fun times with my family.

Sure, we aren’t going somewhere nice this year, but we’re going together – and that’s the best part.