Rebecca visits her grandma’s house and heads straight for the pantry to grab a snack. “Grandma, what do you have for me?” she asks. “We’ve got Yankee Doodles,” her grandma tells her. “Why don’t you have any Mets Doodles? We don’t like the Yankees!”
So I finally gave up my mom car, a big boxy minivan and I’m now sporting a sleek black Jetta. I’ve had it for a few months now and it’s already morphing into a new version of the mom on wheels version I cast aside. The back seat is littered with toys, water bottles are everywhere, there’s scissors and tape for presents wrapped on the fly and bird poop that desperately needs to be washed off the side view mirror if only I had time to go to the car wash. Anyway, all this leads me to what happened to my cool little Jetta last night. We were walking back to our parking spot only to find a pair of teenage boys with their drinks and sandwiches spread out on the hood of my trunk. There were at least 50 cars on the block, but these two boneheads decided that my new Jetta was the perfect spot for a late night picnic.
While one of the kids apologized profusely for putting his gatorade on our car, my daughter looked at him and said “You know, that’s very rude!” Exactly what I was thinking…thank goodness for the moxie of a seven year old.
After this incident, I decided it’s time to take my Jetta for a car wash – I need to keep my cool car intact so that no one else mistakes it for a picnic table.
I am hereby fed up with my gym. I hardly go, they charge me a gazillion dollars a month for the two times I’m there, and they just sent me a notice in the mail that they’re about to raise their prices! Meanwhile, the place is always packed to the gills with cosmetic surgery plagued women who now have the figures of teenage girls, but that’s a whole different story. I actually went to the gym this week and attempted to get on the first treadmill I saw. Unfortunately, it was broken. So I went to another one. Missing the thing-a-ma-jig that connected to the TV set so I couldn’t use that one either. Went to a third and that too was on the fritz. This gym, in a word, blows. It’s allegedly one of the best gyms out there and yet their equipment is constantly breaking down, the place is always crowded and the women are as plastic as my overused credit cards. I should cancel my membership and every so often I get up out of bed, throw on my workout clothes, determined to quit the gym once and for all. And then I think to myself, do I really want to go through the hassle of joining another gym that I won’t go to and then will find a million reasons why that gym stinks too? So I’ll keep going from time to time to this one. Maybe I’ll even get in shape while I’m there. Okay, that’s crazy talk. Let them fix the treadmill and the speaker thing and then maybe I’ll carry my end of the bargain.
If you think this post is going to be about my secret passion for the game of b-ball, then think again. It’s about a visit I paid to the Waldbaums in Southhampton yesterday where I was hit in the produce section by a flying basketball. Why would a basketball be anywhere near the honey dew melons, I’m sure you’re asking yourself. Well your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I was minding my own business, picking out some peaches, plums and all that other great summer fruit of the season when I glanced over to see a grown man having a catch with his teenage son in the aisle I was about to enter. At first, I thought to myself, “now that’s pretty strange,” but moved on since I’m a New Yorker and nothing really phases me. That is, until Bozo the basketball player decided to throw the ball to his son and it hit me in the leg! Now, I wasn’t injured or anything by this accident in aisle 3, but what if I were an old woman with a walker? What if I was ambling down the aisle with my walker and basketball man through his ball, it hit me in the leg, I tripped, fell on the floor and broke my hip? Pretty big what it, but it could happen. Lesson of the day…keep the basketballs on the court or in a playground and stay away from the melons!
Took the kids out to the park today and while my husband and dad kept an eye out on them, my mom and I kicked back on a park bench where we began to people watch. A few minutes passed and we looked over to see an older man who was either a grandfather or Dad (you never know in the Hamptons) who was walking along with an adorable two year old in a cute pink dress and no shoes. I’m all fine with being carefree with kids…especially since they hate shoes, but this time around, the little tykes’ toes were in trouble. You see, the ground at this park is covered in sand that is littered with sticks, glass, rocks, bugs and other items that are not too sanitary for tiny feet. As the little girl tried to walk, she kept wincing in pain and lifting out her arms so that Grandpa would rescue her from walking on this kiddie version of hot coals. Meanwhile, Gramps was wearing sandals with socks so he didn’t even realize that his little bundle of joy was in danger of damaging her tootsies. He finally picked her up and then brought her over to the toddler swings where he proceeded to push her so high that the little girl became frightened and begged him stop the swing twice. I guess in a few years, little shoeless Jane will love her adventurous Grandpa, but at age two, it’s fine to just give a little push and lots of kisses…and keep those shoes on! Splinters are the worst and taking them out of a two year old foot is pure torture. Trust me, I’ve done it and it ain’t pretty!
Went to a carnival run by the North Sea Fire Department last night and was completely appalled. From the moment we arrived, I stood behind a clueless patron who was busy fishing for cash and holding up the entire ticket line. When it was finally my turn, and she and her brood of four kids finally moved out of the way, I forked over my $45 for 20 ride tickets for my son and daughter. At first, it started out fine. They went into the fun house and the friendly ticket lady even let my husband go in with my kids so they wouldn’t get scared (no extra ticket required).
Immediately after that, things got ugly. We went over by the bumper cars and just as we were about to put the kids on the ride, the ticket taker informed my husband that two tickets were required, plus two adults had to ride with my kids because they were too young to go alone. So in other words, it would have cost us four tickets to ride the bumper cars. My dad went to complain to one of the event organizers about this ticket travesty and he just double talked him to death. If one person goes on the car, you have to give him two tickets because you’re taking up a seat, but if two kids go on together it’s one ticket each. Huh? Thoroughly confused and frustrated, we bailed and opted to go on a slide that only needed one ticket for two turns. Of course, about 25 yards away I spied a swing set complete with a slide that they could have played on for free for hours, my kids of course, opted for the bouncier model that cost us two tickets and 45 seconds.
From there, things went from bad to worse. We headed toward a kiddy roller coaster where the lazy ticket attendant didn’t even check to see if my kids were harnessed properly into the ride. I yelled out to my seven year old – “Make sure you hold on tight!” And then, I watched as they rode around the track hoping nothing bad would happen…luckily it didn’t.
Next was the carousel. Looked pretty safe but since it was about 90 years old, it was missing belts to strap the kids in! Luckily, the ticket kid allowed my husband to ride along with my son and we watched as the carousel sped around quickly with little ones holding on for dear life! One child even yelled out, “Mommy, this ride is really fast! Yippee!” Sure, “yippee” until someone is thrown from a decrepit horse!
Then we went over to the Ferris Wheel, where a disgruntled ticket taker informed me that I had to ride along with my kids (no problem), so this time I handed him a ticket and strapped my son in. As we rode around and around and around (I forgot how boring the ferris wheel is), the Ferris Wheel guy kept on stopping, starting and speeding up the ride – so much so that at one point, our car begin rocking so fiercely that I feared it might flip over! “This ride is a disaster!” My four-year-old exclaimed. Exactly what I was thinking. When we finally got off, the miserable ticket guy didn’t even extend a hand to help us off. Who taught this kid manners? An ex-con?
The last ride of the day was the mini truck ride. A pretty safe bet with trucks that drove around in a circle for about two minutes. As we arrived on line, the ticket kid was embroiled in a dispute with another parent holding an adorable two year old. Apparently, the man didn’t give the kid a ticket, although the man protested he did and then called him a kid or something to that effect. The kid, went ballistic. “I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old. Why don’t you get away from my (rhymes with truckin) ride!” Holy cow!!! Looks like a few two year olds just learned a new word.
Suffice to say, we won’t be returning to this annual rip off fest next year. Crazy that an event run by the Fire Department would have so many problems relating to safety. I think they better think twice about hiring kids who would rather be hanging out with their friends then dealing with the public in a friendly manner and helping little ones get on and off rides safely.
One last note…there was one conscientous ride operator – the swing man. He at least made sure that all the kids were buckled in safely before he turned on the ride and they went swinging into oblivion. So at least there was one good apple in the bunch, the rest were pretty much rotten to the core.
Just came back from seeing the movie “Cars” with my family. Surprisingly, my kids were incredibly well behaved but not so for the posse of restless ruffians that were surrounding us today. Behind us was Twinkle Toes Timmy who obviously thought he saw a “Kick This” sign posted on the seat in front of him and decided to use my daughter’s chair as part of a two hour kick boxing routine. To my left was Katie the climber, who midway through the film decided to stand up on her seat because she ran out of popcorn. What this heck is it with taking out of control kids to movies these days? There are rules you know. Forget about the no smoking, no cell phone rule. For kids movies, they should have a no kicking the seat in front of you, no screaming because your brother just snagged the last twizzler and no standing on your seat when you get bored with the movie your parents paid good money to take you to see. And one more thing…parents, if your kids act up, it’s your job to take them out. It’s not fair to the rest of us who have already been through our own version of kiddie boot camp and can finally watch a movie in peace with our own kids.