Because It’s Not Easter Without A Gift From Aunt Dot

We had a quiet Easter this year. Instead of choosing to go out to eat, and dealing with the possibility of Cordy melting down in her Easter finest, it was decided to have a quiet meal at my grandmother’s house, where Cordy didn’t have to dress up, and she could run around the house all she wanted before and after the meal.

The meal was excellent, and soon afterwards Aunt Dot began handing out her goodie bags to everyone. Well, not quite everyone – this year she forgot about Aaron, but made it up to him by giving him a half-empty tray of chocolate bunnies, and then some Peeps she found in the bottom of her bag. Aaron traded one of the chocolate bunnies to another family member for a Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg, so he was content.

For those who are new and don’t know about Aunt Dot, you can read more here and here.

I didn’t come out too bad this year: I got my standard bag of cashews. She always gets me large containers of cashews, and usually chewy, old cashews, too. Why in the world she thinks I like cashews this much I’ll never know. I mean, sure, I like nuts as much as the next person, but a pound of cashews each holiday? Lay off the nuts. Luckily, that’s all I got, so I had less to dispose of.

Cordy’s bag contained a chocolate rose that she can’t eat (the thing is enormous and hard as a rock), a cute Little People person in an egg, and a bag of Goldfish crackers. Cordy’s eyes lit up when she saw the “fishies!”, but mine equally lit up when I saw the expiration date that proved these “fishies” were meant for the garbage bin and not her mouth. My mom distracted her with some pretzels, and all was well. I suppose I should have brought Aunt Dot’s birthday gift for Cordy with us, since it’s now the right time of year.

My mom once again won this year’s worst gift award. Last Easter she won for her expired box of cake mix. This year, however, was quite an unexpected gift. My mom has collected brown or brown and white cows for some time. She does not like black and white cows. Aunt Dot, of course, always gets her black and white cows, despite my mom telling her over and over that she only collects brown cows.

So this year, mom reaches into her bag and pulls out this:

And it moos. A lot. You barely touch the thing, and it moos at you. But wait, it gets better! Not only is it a mooing cow, it’s also a candy dispenser! Can you guess where the candy comes out?

Of course! It’s the amazing candy pooping cow! Just lift the tail to open the hatch under it, and then push down on the cow (who will moo at you, of course) to have a round candy pellet plop out into the milk can. We’re a family of candy lovers, but watching a cow poop out your candy can ruin anyone’s interest in trying the candy.
And finally, more proof that my family is now accepting of my time spent blogging came when my mom and one of my aunts were sitting in the kitchen, laughing in amazement about the candy pooping cow. They looked at me, shoved the cow into my hands and, at nearly the same time, said in a hushed voice, “You have to blog about this one.”


I’m Not Sorry My Child’s Presence Bothers You

I know there are people in the world who are simply not interested in children and don’t like being around them. I can understand – kids can be a real handful and honestly, pretty annoying at times. But there are times when I am amazed that people can be so anti-child, especially with nothing provoking the response.

Today we were out at the mall, and decided to stop for lunch. We got our table, and Cordy was, at that moment, not interested in sitting down to eat. She cried for a couple of minutes, until we could settle in and find something to distract her. A banana did the trick, followed by crayons and paper to draw on. There was only one other occupied table in our area – a college-aged woman and an older woman. At one point while Cordy was crying, I made eye contact with the younger woman, who gave me a smile of understanding.

Only a few minutes later, all was happy and peaceful at our table. Cordy had a cup of milk to drink, and was spending her time coloring while Aaron and I chatted.

Five minutes later, the hostess comes by with an older couple, and tries to seat them at the table across from us. The woman quickly stops her and says, “No, we’d like somewhere more…quiet.” During that pause before the word “quiet” she turned around and glared at Cordy. The look could best be described as somewhere between I smell something bad and seething repulsion. The hostess offered to turn down the music in the restaurant before she understood the woman’s meaning and lead them to another section.

Aaron and I looked at each other and laughed. At the moment they came by, Cordy could have been the poster child for toddlers in public. She was quietly involved in coloring neatly on her paper, had her sippy cup of milk nearby without a drop spilling out of it, and the floor beneath her held no missing crayons, crumbs or other items from the tabletop. Not a sound was coming from her. I can only guess that this woman assumed that all children are loud and obnoxious, and fully expected Cordy to change into a screaming, food-throwing monster as soon as they sat down across from us.

(Or maybe she reads my blog and knows the tantrums Cordy is capable of? Nah, she didn’t look like the mommyblog-reading type.)

Did I point out that this is a family restaurant? As in, there is a large emphasis placed on children being there, with interesting knick-knacks on the walls, and an awesome kids menu coloring book. If the woman didn’t want to be around children, this was not the place to eat.

While we ate, several other families were seated, many with children. As we left, we looked around at the restaurant full of children and wondered where they managed to seat that couple that didn’t have kids around? We guessed they were next to the kitchen.

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Have you been over to my reviews blog lately? I have a new review posted about the book, Good Kids Bad Habits. If you’re looking for ways to get your kids to eat better, get more exercise, or take better care of themselves, you should check it out!



How NOT To Take Your Toddler Out Into The Snow

1. Decide it’s OK to play in the snow, even though your toddler has been a cranky nightmare.

Never a good idea.

2. Don’t check the back door before you suit up, to make sure the door isn’t iced shut.

Yeah, it might have been smart this morning to check the door first. Turns out, it had a small snow drift up against it, with a layer of ice over that, making the door impossible to open. I pushed it, I kicked it, I put my whole body weight into the door, but nothing would open it. Of course, Cordy was at the door the entire time, anxious to go outside.

I tried to tell her that we needed to go to the front door, but this two year old can’t comprehend changes in plans like that, and the tantrum began. She wanted the door open – right now. And my inability to open the storm door was translated to her as I got her all dressed up only to dash her dreams of playing in the snow. This was the result:

Change is hard.

3. Carry crying toddler to the front door, then force her outside.

She screamed and cried until I dumped her down on the ground outside. Then, realizing she was out in the snow, she suddenly was very, very happy.

Wow, mommy, those are some big footprints.

4. Tell toddler we’ll go into the backyard via the gate, only to find gate latch iced shut as well.

Foiled again.

5. Promise toddler snow, when actually a half inch of freezing rain fell after the snow, forming a hard shell on top of five inches of snow.

There’s nothing fun about playing on hard ice. And Cordy didn’t weigh enough to break through most of it. I barely broke through it with each step.

Today – walking on snow. Tomorrow – walking on water?

6. Allow toddler to play outside without mittens, resulting in very cold hands.

She fought me several times over the issue of mittens, so I gave up and let her out without mittens. Our time outside lasted less than 10 minutes before she came up to me, holding her hands out, and started crying and saying, “Hands! Hands!”

I picked her up, brought her inside, and stripped off the outer layer of clothing (she had on two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, etc.). Grabbing a fleece blanket off the couch, I wrapped her up, held her on my lap, and helped her warm up. Soon she was happy again.

But despite the happy ending, this is not the way to play in the snow.

Yeah, this sucks.