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Why I hate taking my kids to the park

October 17, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

Note: I started this post over a week ago, when my husband was home and had gone to the park with me. He had Addy and I had Arden. But since he’s been gone, I’ve gone to a park with both children, on my own, and I am even more of a total basket case. But I still go because it’s better for me to be a basket case and to get them out of the house than to not go at all…it still sucks though. And I’m open to suggestions on how to make it easier.

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Yesterday we went for a picnic at a park. Arden LOVES this park – and I do, too. However, it turns me into a nervous wreck.

There’s a huge wooden structure that replicates a castle. Inside the castle are turns and small openings. It’s really not that complicated, once you explore it a couple of times, but I’m sure it makes the kids feel like they’re really getting somewhere. At the top of the castle is a slide – that’s the only way to get down from the top. Otherwise, there are four exits at the bottom, and if the child exits from any of those, there are multiple other areas of the park they’re directed. This knowledge turns my stomach upside down.

Luckily, I can fit easily through the tiny doorways and “halls” of the castle, so I can go with Arden to keep an eye on him. But my stress level rises when he wants to go down the slide because I know I can’t make it to the bottom of the slide in time to meet him there (however, uh, I just though – why don’t I just go down the slide after him?? I’m an idiot…) Am I a freaking nut or what?

At one point I decided that maybe it was best to stay by the slide and wait for him to get all the way up the castle and back down again. So that’s what I did. But on about the sixth run, he didn’t come back down the slide – just as I had feared. So then a fearful decision needed to be made: Do I continue to wait by the slide, or do I go into and up into the castle to try and find him? Or, better yet, do I go to the other side of the castle to look for him in case he had ventured off into another corner of the park – and risk not being at the bottom of the slide if he just lolly-gagged his way up this time? Keep in mind, there are a lot of other children and parents at this park – it’s very popular.

I shuffled back and forth near the slide for a few seconds, desperate to find sight of him. I had to really try and contain myself. I wanted to scream for him, scream his name but I just couldn’t. Instead, I took off and hurriedly wound through the structures trying to take in the details of every child I saw, trying to weed him out. The longer it took to find him, the more scared I became. I knew I would find him, but the thought kept nagging me, what if I didn’t?

Finally, I found him, crossing a “bridge” outside of the castle. I grabbed him and got kneeled down and tried to tell him that I’d been looking for him. I had told him before letting him go into the castle by himself that he was only to go up to the top and down the slide and I was trying to scold him, make him understand that he’d disobeyed me and that I was scared because I couldn’t find him. He was OBLIVIOUS. Completely oblivious.

Ugh. What do you do? Immediately take him out of the park and go home? What’s the protocol here? I’m not opposed to doing that – I know that sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet but really, is that what I should do?

Am I to blame for being so scared someone could take him, even though chances are no one will? Or, is he to blame because he didn’t listen and do exactly as I had instructed him? He’s only three and a half, mind you. Was I asking too much from a three-year old?

Ugh.

This is why I hate going to the park. I am a nervous wreck. When Addy is with me I am so afraid that she’ll fall through a slat, bonk her head going down the slide, or fall off of a ladder. I can’t wait until they’re old enough that I can, if I want to, just sit on a bench and watch them play. When the only thing I’ll have to worry about is having a good view.

Maybe I shouldn’t say “I can’t wait”. That time will be here before I know it.

I really need a vacation.

Word.

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Don’t rush to kiss the boo-boos

September 30, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Hardy-har-har, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

A couple of evenings ago, we set out for a walk around the ‘hood. We invited our cute little six-year-old neighbor friend along. The kids were riding their bikes about two houses down and then purposely falling over into someone’s yard. They’d giggle for a bit and then get back on their bikes and do it all over again.

Finally we made it home and wouldn’t ya know it, that’s when Arden fell over on accident, scratching up his palms. He held them up to me, whaling, summoning me to come look. I instinctively went to him, pulled a palm to my lips and lightly gave it a kiss.

“Blauck! Arden, your hand stinks!” I exclaimed.

Our little friend quickly revealed the source if the smell, “He fell in dog poop.”

Whoa! Way to go, Me!

Let my mistake be a lesson to you…don’t be so quick to kiss the boo-boos. They’ll survive…you might not.

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One of those days

September 19, 2012 in Anger Inducers, Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

Oh my gosh it’s been one of those days – and it’s not even over.

All day I’ve been sort of on the edge. My stomach has been clenched and I just feel like I’m going to crumble. I have to share my day with you.

I got up a little early because I had a lot to do this morning. We had a new employee coming over to fill out paperwork and I needed to be ready with both kids to take Arden to his preschool. In addition, I was meeting with a lady to try and sell some of baby things that I don’t need anymore – trying to get a little fun money.

I got out the door late, but who cares, at least I was out the door. Got over to Arden’s preschool and as soon as I spotted some of his classmates I looked up to see that the teacher accompanying them was not the teacher who had just started less than a week ago and whom Arden fell in love with right away. There has been constant turnover at that school since Arden started and he does not do well when there is change. So far, we’ve been able to get him comfortable through each change, but not without a lot of reassurance and listening to a lot of, “Mommy, I don’t want to go to school.” (Mind you, he only does this when there is a new teacher.) But this morning was a turning point. I’m over it.

I looked over at the administrator and said, “Uh, what’s the deal? What’s going on with his teacher?”

She replied, sincerely, “Oh, I am SO sorry (I had told them all about his love for this new teacher that is now gone) but Ms. Carmen had a disabled adult son to take care of and just couldn’t stay with us.”

Damn, I thought. She went on to say that she was doing interviews and was trying to find a permanent teacher for his class and maybe we could put him in Ms. Amelia’s class since she was a permanent teacher.

Over my dead body. That woman is a total bitch. I don’t want her near him. “Uh, that’s okay. I’ll just keep him with me,” I said, “and  we’ll see how it goes on Friday.” Now, I really do like the school. It’s been a wonderful experience for him, aside from the whole nap trauma (the one where we learned that naps cause him terrible anxiety to the point where I wonder if he needs to be on antidepressants…okay, not THAT bad but you get the idea).  I hate to make a change but this turnover crap is ridiculous. I mean, I’m not stupid, I know there’s going to be people coming and going – particularly in the price range I can afford, but come on! I think it’s time to get serious about finding another place, as much as I hate to.

Okay, so then we hit the highway to meet this lady. I had agreed to meet her in the middle because she lived an hour away and I felt bad that she was going to have to drive that far. Plus I thought there might be a better chance that she would buy from me if I put a little effort into meeting her and I am pretty eager to get rid of this stuff. Well, she did buy from me, just not enough to justify spending the money in gas getting to her and the hassle of dealing with the kids while we stood at my car (actually my friend’s car but we’ll get to that). Okay, fine. So we’re done with that and head back home. Lesson learned.

On the way home, Arden mentions something about going to the park. Yea. Okay, I thought. I’ve been so busy the last few days that I haven’t gotten to spend good time with the kids so it would fun to hang at the park a bit. However, by this time it was time for Addy’s nap and so I made a deal with Arden that we would go this place we call ”The Toy Place” after Addy woke up from her nap. And then I think, oh wouldn’t it be fun to invite one of Arden’s neighbor friends to go with us so I got on the phone with her grandmother.

While on the phone with her, I got into telling her about the daycare dilemma. And during this conversation, the kids started screaming and crying in the back seat and wouldn’t stop, so I had to end the call. This chaos had only ended seconds before we turned down a street in our neighborhood and I thought I spotted a neighbor/friend. I was kind of staring at her so that if she saw me (in this strange car) I could wave at her. Just as I passed her I saw a vehicle backing out of their driveway and I had to crank the car to the left to swerve out of the way! The other car’s tail-end was sticking into the street before they stopped. As I looked in my rearview, a little shaken, I saw the driver’s hand waving out the window as if to say, “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Funny, because I was thinking the same about him! I started berating him out loud and usually when this happens I have no control over the words that come out. But this time, thank goodness, I was able to think ahead far enough that nothing regrettable came out of my mouth. Ugh. The bastard. (I did have the right of way, right?)

So anyway, we got home and put Addy down. When she got up we fumbled our way out the door. But I had noticed that my friend’s oil light would flicker on and off intermittently. Great. And when I couldn’t get a hold of her, my husband suggested that I take her car to the place she gets her oil changed and have them check it and top it off if necessary. So just before I got onto the highway, I crossed two lanes to get turned in the direction of the Jiffy Lube. Got there and in record time they were able to get the car taken care of – without even getting my kids out of the car (Historically, I’ve hated Jiffy Lube but this visit made me question that.)

And finally we were on our way to “The Toy Place”. We were about two minutes away from pulling into the parking garage when I looked into the rearview to see Arden’s head cranked to the side and his eyes closed. Great. He’s fallen asleep. Freaking perfect. This means that whatever outing we were on has abruptly ended. So I continued on past the parking garage and headed home. On the way home, Addy began to cry several times, surely because she was hungry. By this time it was now about 1:30 and the kids had only breakfast to eat. I was planning to stop somewhere and grab a bite, take it to a park and while Arden napped in his carseat, Addy and I would play and eat right by the car. But forget that idea because I just knew that wherever I went I would have to listen her cry throughout the whole ordering process, so I just continued toward the house – listening to her cry.

Unfortunately, my fuse was short from the time I woke up this morning and this crying was seeping into every crevice of my being – and inflating.  I. Could. Not. Handle. It. I turned up the music hoping to get her sidetracked and when that didn’t work I continued to turn up the music. And when that didn’t cover the sound of her screaming I lost it…and I started screaming. Which woke up Arden and he promtly started yelling at Adalei to stop crying. “STOP CRYING I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO IT!” He yelled.

Oh great. Now I’ve dug this hole much, much deeper. Good going, Mom.

At that point I pretty much left the music loud and watched the kids scream from the rearview mirror. I’m not proud of myself, mind you, that’s just the way things went. I slid into my driveway with both kids still sniffling and Guns N’ Roses on the radio. My friend has one of those radios that keeps playing after you turn the car off until you open the door so when I thrust the door open, the music was surely audible for a good two to three seconds. I shut the car door and leapt to the front door and exclaimed, out loud to myself, “Great. This was a colossal f’ng failure!!” Except I said the real “f” word. Then, after unlocking the front door and whipping around to let get the kids out of their car seats, I made eye contact with my centenarian neighbor. She was sitting in her car, eyeballing me through her open window.

Fabulous. Did I mention she’s very pristine and perfect? Great. She’s probably sitting in her car trying to recall the number to the city’s ordinance division to have a cop come out and site me for noise pollution and possible child endangerment.

Bring it, Lady!!

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And now, after the kids are to bed…

Sigh.

Well, yea, so it was one of those days. It quickly got calm once I got Adalei thrown into her high chair and tossed a broken banana onto her tray. She was immediately pacified.

And I dangled a lunch size container of ravioli into Arden’s line of vision and he was quickly mesmerized into silence.

It doesn’t take much sometimes…just a mother with food.

Whoo!

Glad this day is over.

Bottoms up!!

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An indiscretion, a key to the city, and a few unanswered questions

July 19, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

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As I said yesterday, we are in the Golden State for a wedding. The wedding has obviously come and gone but we thought we would stay for a few more days and make it into a little va-ca. A few things have happened on this trip that have made it memorable. For example, our truck broke down on the way here, but we were quickly up and running again, thanks to my grease-monkey husband; Adalei fell off a bed for the first time in her life, leaving behind a still visible bruise on her forehead; She also fell out of the camper, down the metal steps and onto her belly on the concrete pad – no injuries, thank goodness, but that was a painful lesson in just how quickly she can get things figured out (i.e. how to open the door); And one more thing, we lost our son in the RV park. The last one takes the cake.

In California, particularly in and around the largest cities, many people live full-time in their RV’s. So, as a traveling RV’er, you have to be aware that just because you see a listing somewhere for an RV Park, it might not actually mean you can stay there as they might be filled up with people who live in the park. In parks that do allow overnighters, you can be sure that there will be many full-timers somewhere on the property. We happen to be be staying in a park now that has a separate area for the full-timers, beyond a cedar-fence divider from the overnight spots. You can still move freely from one side to the other, though.

On the other side of the fence are many children who live there, and as soon as my son saw them he wanted to make friends. Any time they were within earshot, he asked them if they wanted to play and went right into riding his bike with them or showing them his new scooter. For the most part, he stayed right outside the camper, but he would wander a little too far away if he weren’t paying attention, so we really had to watch him closely. In addition to his distance, we had to watch for other vehicles, making sure to call him back when we saw someone driving our way, just to be safe.

Last night, as I was cleaning dinner dishes and watching Addy inside, Neil had Arden outside, watching him ride his scooter. I heard Neil talking to the couple in the neighboring camper, a friendly retired couple from Phoenix. I wondered a few times where my son was, but didn’t want to interrupt Neil to ask him, for fear of sounding like an overzealous and untrusting wife. Only about twenty seconds after I had set aside my concern, Neil came to the camper steps and asked inside, “Did Arden come inside?”

WHAT THE – ?

NO!

I swooped Adalei onto my hip and rushed outside as my husband mumbled, “I was only talking for a few seconds – he was just right here…”

I made a b-line for the part of the park where the full-timers stay, hoping that he had followed another child back there to play. I really started to panic when I didn’t see any of the other children – WAIT! There they were! But I didn’t see Arden’s little blonde head in the crowd.

I interrupted them, “Have you seen the little blonde-haired boy”, and made a motion with my hands to indicate his height. They knew exactly who I was talking about.

“No. No – Wait! Maybe he’s over there – he was playing with my cousin -” and the little boy quickly jumped on his bike and sped away. I thanked the remaining children and started back towards my camper. On my way back I past a man walking a dog so I asked him if he’d seen my little blonde haired boy (I was so embarrassed to be asking – paired with fear of where he might have gone). Oh, the guy acknowledged, maybe one street over, he said as he motioned for the next row of RV’s.

I jetted between some campers to the next street and as soon as I turned to look towards the fenced part, where the full-timers live, there he was, coming my direction with a few other boys.

“Mommy!” he exclaimed, oblivious and excited to see me.

I grabbed the handle to his scooter and forced him off of it so he would have to walk next to me. I wanted to get back quickly to our camper to find his dad and let him know everything was okay. In the distance, I saw the guy who had helped me locate Arden, and I gave him a wave.

Of course, all this hub-bub upset Arden, which would potentially delay things, so I had to try and calm him but keep him moving. As we rounded the end of a row, I saw the little boy who had jumped on his bike to go look for Arden and I waved at him and told him ‘thank you’. We made it back and I found Neil between the RVs in another row. We all went back inside our camper. Neil took Adalei and I held Arden and tried to get him calmed down, while letting him know what he had done.

Just as things started to get calmed down, there was a knock on the door. I answered the door, still holding Arden, to find a strange man.

“After you’ve had a few minutes to settle down from the shock of finding your son, you should know that those little boys really jumped into action to help find him,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” I said, “They were so sweet.”

“Yea, they really jumped into action. We’ve got some really good kids here.”

Again, I agreed as I reached for the door to pull it shut, signaling to the stranger to beat it.

As I shut the door, I thought, what the eff did that guy want and what the hell was he trying to accomplish by coming over here? What did he want – for me to talk to the mayor and get the kids a key to the city? Is is protocol to drag my son out and wander around the RV park, looking for every one of “those kids” to thank them for their effort in finding my precious child? Freaking weirdo.

As if momentarily losing my son wasn’t bad enough, now I have to listen to a pitch from the one-man-kudos-brigade.

Ultimately, I sort of wanted to beat my husband for not paying attention, but I knew that he already felt bad enough that he didn’t need to hear it from me. And I knew that it could have been me. But let me tell ya, my kid didn’t get to play on his bike or scooter again. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was when neighbor kids sprung into action to help return a little three year old back to his mommy but my fear was that it would warrant another visit from that reward seeking weirdo.

This entire incident brings back to light a question I have had since Arden began to walk: How do you explain to a young child why they can’t go further than a certain distance away from you? Do they understand the words “danger” and “safe”? When I use those words with Arden he just stares at me blankly, like he is trying to make sense of it.

I realize now that I should have been more swift with the consequences when he ventured outside the invisible boundaries I had pointed out to him. But still, what are appropriate consequences for a three and a half year old that just wants to play with other kids so badly and doesn’t understand that he’s could get hurt when out of our sight?

Ugh.

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Spring has finally arrived!

April 22, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood, Uncategorized

Aaahhhh, Spring is in the air, freaking FINALLY. The beautiful weather has finally made it to me, here in what could could easily be a sister city to the North Pole. Yesterday was a glorious day! Two things happened:

1) I pulled out the box of summer clothes and enveloped myself in my favorite summer attire – skirt, short-sleeve shirt and flip-flops!

2) I made Spring official with my annual painting of the toenails – mine AND Arden’s.

Aaahhh, this feels so good. Skirts and dresses are my favorite things about spring and summer. They are just so comfy! And I think skirts fit my figure better than shorts or capris. My mom gave me the gifts of saddle bag thighs and bony knees, skirts cover them nicely, I think. In my opinion, it’s not Spring until I can pull out my comfy skirts and beloved Teva flip flops and wear them without getting goosebumps. So, let my winter induced funk be replaced with a much needed ‘who gives a crap, it’s a beautiful day’ contentment.

As of this writing I only have ONE foot with painted nails, however. Arden thrust his toes into the mix before I could even finish my first foot so he got the paint treatment next. I am not one of those people who gets all wigged out about boys doing “girly” things, particularly at this age. (I may feel different when he’s older, but remember, he’s only three.) And when I met Neil his toenails were painted purple – he’s not goth, he’s just silly – so he doesn’t care. I don’t paint my kid’s nails for the shock value. I just do it because he nicely asks me to. But it IS a bit comical when someone notices his nails and becomes visibly uncomfortable, not sure of how to respond. I mean really, who cares? And if you think painting my boy’s nails are bad, you should see this.

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

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The coughing fit

March 31, 2012 in Anger Inducers, Becoming Less Dumb, Friendship, Kidlens, Life Lessons

You may remember my post about my decision to send my son to preschool two days a week. (If not, you can find it here.) Well, joke’s on me because just after my son’s second day, I noticed a little sparkle of snot coming out of his nose.

Damn!

So now, with every COUGH! COUGH! HACK! COUGH! I feel a pinch of guilt in my stomach for putting him in the germ pool that is daycare. In fact, he was coughing so badly yesterday – which was to be only his fourth day – that I decided to keep him home with me. And let me tell yea, that was one tough call.

Right in the middle of Operation Stop the Cough yesterday morning, as I intently weighed the pros and cons of sending my sick kid to school, my good friend stopped by to drop something off. I was glad to get her opinion as she is a mother of four grown kids and an elementary school teacher for over twenty years. She stood in the doorway of my bedroom and listened to me share my dilemma, all while Arden COUGH! HACK! COUGHed! to my side.

With a pensive look, she said, “Uh, I don’t think you should take him, Carol. He may spread it to the other kids.”

BAM!

This didn’t go over well with me. For whatever reason, her response activated the hissy fit that was hiding under my skin and I was all, “Uh, well, other parents didn’t give a crap about my boy when they dumped their cold-infested kid off at the daycare.” I said a few more things that were really stupid, too, but I’d rather not re-live the whole thing here. The really stupid thing was that I wasn’t contemplating taking him to school with a cold just to spite the parents of other sick kids. In addition to the fact that I was peeved because I knew that I wouldn’t be getting my anxiously awaited To-Do Day, I just didn’t care to look at it from any kid’s defense but my own. For example, had she said,”Yea, you should probably keep him home so he can get better. He’s just too sick for school,” or, “He needs to be home so his mommy can make him feel better,” we would have been on the same page. But for some reason, her desire to protect the other children caused me to have a fit (for which I should probably be more embarrassed). Isn’t that stupid? So my friend was left wondering if she should have just kept her mouth shut. I’m so horrible.

After I finished my little conniption, I realized that it didn’t matter how she said it, her point matched what I knew: Arden needed to stay home with me. And here’s another horrible mom admission: I threw my fit right in front of my son. Nice, right? Classy. Let’s just hope that he forgot all that when his head had to make room for the many wonderful lessons he learned by watching cartoons on Netflix most of the day yesterday. I’m counting on it.

The preschool/daycare issue is just such a sensitive thing for me that I don’t know what side of the coin I’m on half the time and I think that is what contributed to my fit. I feel guilty because as a stay-at-home-mom I feel I shouldn’t NEED to put him in preschool. I should be able to get everything done – housework, bills, business paperwork, healthy and homemade meals, etc. – all while caring for two small kids and providing the equivalent of a private-school education. And the fact that I struggle so much to get the most important of those chores done causes me a lot of anxiety. I feel like I spend all day pirouetting from one thing to another, and not very gracefully. Some days I literally have to stop myself in the middle of what feels like a carousel ride to take a breath and focus on ONE thing at a time.

My ass display yesterday was just a sample of the guilt that I have felt about putting my son in preschool (I call it “preschool” rather than “daycare” to make myself feel better). I knew that he should stay home. I wanted him to stay home so that I could care for him. But I was counting on that day to get a whole lot of stuff done. And the fact that I felt more than a little peeved that I wasn’t going to get that day made me feel like a bad mom. Did I just hear you say whhaaaack joooob? Yes, yes I am.

It’s something I know I will get over. I know he is gaining just as much from being there socializing – crafting – reading – playing – than I am by having a little extra time to do my “chores”. It’s not like he’s crying his eyes out when I drop him off. Instead, I have to chase him down to tell him I’m leaving. I just need to focus on that and forget everything else.

I do have to note something in my own self-defense though: The conniption fit came before I’d had any coffee. That fact alone is enough to make it forgivable, right??

Word.

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Introduction to the A.R.M.

March 23, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Pokes at Parenthood

I would like to introduce you to the Annoying Repeat Method (Copyright © 2012 4eyedblonde) of getting your child to do what you want. It works when you repeat direction, over and over and over again until the desired action is complete. I found it to be successful the other day, so I employed it again this morning. Low and behold it worked AGAIN. I think I’m on to something. It worked two times in a row – to me, that makes it sound and dependable (for a few days anyway). I’m sharing it with you  because you deserve a perk if you suffer through my blog – ever. Here is an example of the A.R.M. in action:

 

How to Get Your Child to Do What You Ask: The Annoying Repeat Method (A.R.M.)

Arden: Can I have some special cereal? I want some special cereal. (He’s referring to  multi-colored Cheerios – I don’t usually buy “kiddie” cereal)

Me: Get your clothes on. (I say this for, like, the twentieth time – I know…I’m not following the handbook)

Arden: I don’t want to…get…my…clothes…on…

Me: Get your pants on.

Arden: (Silence – swings his jeans around, whacking stuff with them)

Me: Get your pants on – get your pants on – get your pants on – get your p-

Arden: STOP! Stop SAYING ‘Pants on – pants on’ I don’t like it when you say ‘Pants on – pants on – pants on’ (he starts to put his jeans on)

Me: Okay, now get your shirt on.

Arden: I want to play with it (he swings the shirt around, whacking stuff with it)

Me: Put your shirt on – put your shirt on – put your shirt on – pu-

Arden: STOP! Stop saying ‘Put shirt – put shirt – put shirt’ I don’t like that…(he starts to put his shirt on)

(Now he’s dressed)

Me: (Silent, admiring my parental handy-work)

Try it and let me know how it works out. I’m going to bask in my smugness now…

Word.

 

 

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Manners: Five basics according to me

March 12, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Life Lessons, Lists

Good manners: Some people have them, some people don’t. Today, I’m talking to the Don’ts of the world. And because I’m confident that you, my reader, are NOT a part of the Don’ts, I welcome you to send a link of this post to any Don’ts you know, as a friendly reminder that good manners are not only acceptable and honorable, but highly encouraged. Look at it this way, by sharing this post with a Don’t, you are telling them they are worth something to you. You are telling them that you would like to be closer than acquaintances, better friends, or more cooperative co-workers. Because, to put it simply, good manners can bring people together.

I have put together a few of what I believe to be the basics in good manners. I’m not prudish or sophisticated, in fact I’m far from it, but I believe these five basics to be at  the core of common courtesy. These basics should be used by everyone, regardless of social, economic or religious status. And, I’ll go even further. I’ll even provide the basic five in a language familiar to the common person – like me. Hopefully this will make things easier to remember.

1. ‘Thank-you’

Hey, Dillweed, when someone does something nice for you, ANYTHING for you for that matter, say ‘Thank-you’. It’s really that simple. By NOT saying ‘Thank-you’ and failing to show basic appreciation for an act done on your behalf, you are implying a feeling of entitlement on your part. And let me tell ya, Friend, you are not entitled – to anything. When someone opens your door, or holds it open for you, or returns something that you dropped, or even refills your water, say ‘Thank you’. It’s just the right thing to do. Here’s a big one that I, unfortunately, see often: Young or old, when someone buys you dinner, even if it’s their way of repaying you for something you did for them, SAY THANK YOU. Ingrates.

2. ‘Please’

Really? I believe that even a person’s request for a another’s last dollar would be more likely granted if the request were followed by a sincere ‘Please’.

Examples: “May I have your last dollar, please?” Or, “Can I kick you in the nuts, please?”

See? Don’t you just want to oblige simply because someone asked you nicely? I think I’ve made my point here. Moving on…

3. Hold the damn door open!

How freaking self-absorbed are you when you can’t even sense the presence of someone close by when you open and go through a door? The other day, my friend – who is of a mature age, we’ll just say, as I know she reads my blog (and between you and me she’s a wiry ‘ole gal) – complained to me that as she walked up to a door one day, an old dip-shit of a man opened the door, let himself in, and promptly let the door go – right in front of her! Nice one, Geezer. Way to set an example for the youngens.

Don’t be like the Geezer:  If you’re a dude, hold the damn door open for a lady and allow her to walk in before you, even if it means she’ll get a place before you in the ticket line. If she has good manners she’ll allow you your place. And if she does not, I suggest you find a way to get her email address and send her a link to this post. She’ll thank you later.

If you’re a chick, hold the damn door open, too. You ain’t so good you can’t pause from your hasty dash to the Gap and show a little etiquette.

4. Get the hell out of the way!

I like to shop. I try to be a kind and courteous shopper. Why don’t you give it a try, too, and we can ALL have an enjoyable shopping experience? Here’s how to be a kind and courteous shopper like me (most of the time): Get the hell out of the way! At the grocery store or at the Target, wherever two carts should reasonably fit down the same aisle, how’s about you move your cart to one side of the aisle so that other shoppers don’t have to ask you to move it? Are you really that oblivious? If curiousity takes over the next time you pluck that can of Spam off the shelf and decide you MUST know what is really inside, please, pull your cart as close to the shelves as necessary to allow other shoppers to easily get by. Or, the next time you’re out and about and you see that former co-worker on which you secretly had a crush but haven’t seen since the big lay-off of ’07, please, have the courtesy to step out of the way while catching up. I’m thrilled that you have found each other at last. But get the hell out of the way! The only exception to this rule is if you are seventy or above; I believe that at your age, you should allow the rest of us to move your car for you. You’ve earned it.

5. He who gets in line first should check out first.

This is another shopping-manner: Let’s say you’ve scoured the shelves and/or racks at the store and there’s just no other bargain to be had. You find your way up to the front of the store to find only one check-out lane open. Bummer, right? You sigh, and take your place at the back of the line. Then, as you’re trying to take deep breathes to keep the annoyance at bay, the stars shine down on you and another check-out lane opens up and a cheerful young attendant flips the number light next to her station to the “On” position. What should you do? Nudge Grandma out of the way and barrel your way over to the empty counter? NO, ya rude-ass! Step back and allow those in line in front of you make a path to the newly opened counter!  And sure, there will sometimes be other idiot rude-asses who ignorantly gallop over to the new line, taking the place of others who’ve been standing in place, shifting their weight to keep from getting heel cramps for ten minutes already. You have an obligation to help them, they haven’t learned proper line etiquette. Get their email address and school them, with a link to this post.

You’re welcome.

And you’re welcome, too.

I hope I’ve done some good for the world today. In small part, I think I have.

Word.

 

 

 

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