Thursday, April 01, 2004
Use your Noodle
Fazoli's has one of the best fast-food kids' menus in town. But has anyone else noticed that their marketing department must love The Simpsons? Noodle, a wild-and-crazy skateboarding mascot, is a total Poochie knockoff. Only not tongue-in-cheek, as near as I can tell. He's all about "Fun to the X-Treme!" I giggle every time I look at him.
(I was going to borrow the new Noodle coloring book to scan and show you just how goofy the helmet-wearing dog is, but Em insisted on taking it to day care. I guess they do know their target market.)
(I was going to borrow the new Noodle coloring book to scan and show you just how goofy the helmet-wearing dog is, but Em insisted on taking it to day care. I guess they do know their target market.)
My kid in Utah
Emma's site is updated with photos from our Salt Lake City trip. Check out the picture-postcard mountain shots ...
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Wally wonderful
I used to be a self-righteous Wal-Mart hater. We did shop there when necessary, to pick up toiletries and cleaning supplies and cat litter and the like, but we were loyal Albertson's lovers. Albertson's had the freshest meat and produce, the best selection of cheese and spices, specialty breads and desserts and more. We were hooked.
Until one weekend we were short on time and we decided we couldn't make two trips. We just bought the groceries we needed at Wal-Mart, along with toilet paper and whatever else. We saved $40 that week. And we never looked back.
I know the pain Wal-Mart causes in small communities. I understand that. I also know folks in small towns near here drive an hour to our Super Wal-Mart, because it's so much cheaper and has such a better selection than their wee grocery stores. And I still have to make the occasional extra grocery trip, to pick up a random spice, strange pasta shape, specific vegetable or gourmet item. Wal-Mart carries a lot, but not a lot of variety. Including absolutely nothing -- at least here -- for Passover.
With time short this week --- being out of town, we couldn't make our regular weekend grocery trip --- and needing to pick up kosher-for-Passover products before they were picked over, we hit Albertson's last night. It always has a good ethnic section. And because it was midweek, we just planned two small meals and decided we'd get our regular groceries there, too.
What a mistake. The Passover stuff alone -- just matzah, matzah meal, macaroons, etc. -- cost $25 alone. That's to be expected; it's expensive anywhere. And it's not like I have a lot of choice on where to shop for that stuff (and even Albertson's selection gets smaller every year, damn it). But the ingredients for two meals, plus OJ and fruit and veggies and stuff, cost as much as our normal weekly grocery bill, which is usually four or five meals plus everything else. It's damn ridiculous.
The cheapest grade of hamburger meat was $1 more a pound than the ground sirloin I usually buy. OJ was half again as expensive. Tomato sauce was 50 cents more per can. With one exception (a sale on pasta, we stocked up on cool shapes), every single thing we bought cost more than its equivalent, often the exact same brand, than at Wal-Mart.
So yeah, I understand all the complaints about Wal-Mart. It's huge. Impersonal. Dirty. Corporate. But, man, we get all of our shopping out of the way in one trip, from bananas to socks for Emma. We get to check ourselves out. And it's cheap.
Someone alert Wal-Mart, quick. The store is being talked about, and I'm not claiming I got bitten by a snake in a shoe. I should be getting paid for this post ...
Until one weekend we were short on time and we decided we couldn't make two trips. We just bought the groceries we needed at Wal-Mart, along with toilet paper and whatever else. We saved $40 that week. And we never looked back.
I know the pain Wal-Mart causes in small communities. I understand that. I also know folks in small towns near here drive an hour to our Super Wal-Mart, because it's so much cheaper and has such a better selection than their wee grocery stores. And I still have to make the occasional extra grocery trip, to pick up a random spice, strange pasta shape, specific vegetable or gourmet item. Wal-Mart carries a lot, but not a lot of variety. Including absolutely nothing -- at least here -- for Passover.
With time short this week --- being out of town, we couldn't make our regular weekend grocery trip --- and needing to pick up kosher-for-Passover products before they were picked over, we hit Albertson's last night. It always has a good ethnic section. And because it was midweek, we just planned two small meals and decided we'd get our regular groceries there, too.
What a mistake. The Passover stuff alone -- just matzah, matzah meal, macaroons, etc. -- cost $25 alone. That's to be expected; it's expensive anywhere. And it's not like I have a lot of choice on where to shop for that stuff (and even Albertson's selection gets smaller every year, damn it). But the ingredients for two meals, plus OJ and fruit and veggies and stuff, cost as much as our normal weekly grocery bill, which is usually four or five meals plus everything else. It's damn ridiculous.
The cheapest grade of hamburger meat was $1 more a pound than the ground sirloin I usually buy. OJ was half again as expensive. Tomato sauce was 50 cents more per can. With one exception (a sale on pasta, we stocked up on cool shapes), every single thing we bought cost more than its equivalent, often the exact same brand, than at Wal-Mart.
So yeah, I understand all the complaints about Wal-Mart. It's huge. Impersonal. Dirty. Corporate. But, man, we get all of our shopping out of the way in one trip, from bananas to socks for Emma. We get to check ourselves out. And it's cheap.
Someone alert Wal-Mart, quick. The store is being talked about, and I'm not claiming I got bitten by a snake in a shoe. I should be getting paid for this post ...
Touchy-feely
Emma acted like a baby again on our recent trip to Salt Lake City. Yes, she was her normal, wonderful 3-year-old self. But she repeatedly did something she hasn't done since she was wee -- she touched strangers.
The rest of this post is up at DotMoms. Show them -- and me -- some love.
The rest of this post is up at DotMoms. Show them -- and me -- some love.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Safe and sound
We made it home from the Salt Lake City without incident. Well, there were a few incidents, but they were pretty minor.
Like:
The we-aren't-dressed-right-for-this-function incident.
The Em-is-catatonic-from-lack-of-sleep incident.
The they're-all-laughing-but-he's-still-doing-karaoke incident.
The hot-chocolate-all-over-the-appropriate-outfit incident.
The jumping-spiders-freak-Emma-out incident.
The we-have-to-get-up-at-5-for-our-flight incident.
The bumped-off-the-plane-for-fun-and-profit incident.
The our-other-flight-is-really-late incident.
The Emma-is-hysterical-from-lack-of-sleep incident.
The giant-mosquitoes-freak-Emma-out incident.
Incidents aside, the entire trip was worth it for these two hours:
We had time for very little besides family events while we were there. We arrived late Saturday afternoon and Emma slept through the entire party -- which is a feat in and of itself, since she's the kind of kid who only sleeps in a bed designated for her after a certain amount of ritual. But within 30 minutes of arriving, she was walking around, not saying a word, staring at the floor on the edge of tears.
I asked if there was something I could do to help, and she wanted to go up to her cousin's room. I assumed she wanted the toys, but she wanted a book. And then to cuddle. And then she was asleep. So we changed the original plan -- which had someone stuck at the hotel after her bedtime -- and hung out with Adam's amazing, hysterical family for hours.
Sunday was the naming ceremony (and we started the morning with the hot-chocolate spill and the big scary spider). It was beautiful, but clearly not much fun for a 3-year-old. We'd mentioned the snow to Emma but tried to downplay it, as we weren't sure what everyone wanted to do. It was a priority for us and a couple of other people, though, so after many hours of trying to arrange who was going where and doing what, we hit the mountain.
It was one of the best times we've had as a family. Emma had never seen snow like that before. And I guess we'd never told her -- or she didn't remember from last year -- that you could eat it. She giggled and yelled, "Gross, Mommy!" when I told her she could taste it, but after watching me take a bite, she shoveled handfuls in every chance she got. We built a snowman -- OK, sort of a snow tower -- and did a ton of sledding. We basically took over an exit off a ski path and just sent the kids, and often, adults, down the hill.
Emma wasn't very interested in sledding after her first ride, which surprised me. She's the daredevil kid who insisted on climbing to the top of the big-kid slide ("By myself!") at 15 months. But she was so fascinated by the stomping and throwing and eating and building with the snow, sledding didn't compare. At first.
Our crowd thinned by half, as some family had to hit the airport, and Emma and only cousin close to her age were left. They had a ball, sledding with one adult, sledding together, sledding by themselves. Emma kept begging, "Just one more time!" even as we were trying to load up. She was absolutely fearless, wanting to climb higher and go faster and plunge into huge snowdrifts. She got the hang of it fast -- in a way that scared one of the other moms -- just lay back and let gravity do what it may.
We wrapped up the evening pretty early, after Emma and Dad and others climbed the snow-free mountain directly across the street from the house, as we had a very early-morning flight. Emma handled sharing a room with us like a trooper, which I'd been dreading. And she got up at 5 a.m. without much complaint and was a dream on all of our flights.
She got really confused, though, after we said goodbye to Grandma and Pop-Pop in the Phoenix airport only to get off our plane to OKC after we were seated and strapped in. We put in our names to be bumped for overflow -- and got a ton in vouchers to do so -- and called the gfolks back to get us. ("I want to go home! What about my animals!" We explained the flight had too many people, so we were getting off so other people could fly. "Other people we know?" She ended up thinking we did it just out of the good of our hearts, as she didn't get the whole FREE FLIGHT thing. Fair enough.) So we spent an unexpected few hours in Phoenix, which worked out perfectly. Emma was thrilled to be in Grandma's town, pointing out cactus, running wild at Grandma's house, finding tiny ducklings -- and monstrous koi -- at the nearby pond to feed, playing at the park.
Before long, though, we had to turn around and drive back to the airport, where our flight was delayed by an hour. She was a doll in the airport, charming everyone around her. We played cards, read books, put on finger-puppet plays and took long walks around the terminal. And she was great till the very end of our flight, at which point the long day really started to catch up with her. One second, she'd be in tears ("I want to be on the ground right now! I want to unbuckle! I want to go home!") and the next, giggling maniacally at something Adam or I had said or done. Luckily, we just had to pick up our luggage, conveniently waiting, grab the shuttle bus, always exciting, and drive home.
Trying to unlock the door, a big mosquito -- the kind that look ferocious but don't bite, though Adam doesn't believe that -- flew at her. And she totally lost it. I'd though the spider was bad, but she was screaming and shaking and hysterical. Adam got it swatted and we got safely in the door, we got her in bed and collapsed ourselves, 15 hours and four airport trips after we'd gotten out of bed in Salt Lake City.
(Updated to add: As for family stuff, it all went well. The person is normally horrible to me made an overture, the first in eight years. Adam's family is tiny compared to mine -- he's got two aunts and four cousins with five kids between them; I have five uncles and 13 cousins with 25+ kids. Family gatherings are very different, and so much better, than what I grew up with. I wish we lived closer to everyone. We laughed for hours, the kids had a great time and everyone cried when Rachel was given her Hebrew name. I'm so, so very lucky to have married into such an amazing, loving group of people.)
Like:
Incidents aside, the entire trip was worth it for these two hours:
We had time for very little besides family events while we were there. We arrived late Saturday afternoon and Emma slept through the entire party -- which is a feat in and of itself, since she's the kind of kid who only sleeps in a bed designated for her after a certain amount of ritual. But within 30 minutes of arriving, she was walking around, not saying a word, staring at the floor on the edge of tears.
I asked if there was something I could do to help, and she wanted to go up to her cousin's room. I assumed she wanted the toys, but she wanted a book. And then to cuddle. And then she was asleep. So we changed the original plan -- which had someone stuck at the hotel after her bedtime -- and hung out with Adam's amazing, hysterical family for hours.
Sunday was the naming ceremony (and we started the morning with the hot-chocolate spill and the big scary spider). It was beautiful, but clearly not much fun for a 3-year-old. We'd mentioned the snow to Emma but tried to downplay it, as we weren't sure what everyone wanted to do. It was a priority for us and a couple of other people, though, so after many hours of trying to arrange who was going where and doing what, we hit the mountain.
It was one of the best times we've had as a family. Emma had never seen snow like that before. And I guess we'd never told her -- or she didn't remember from last year -- that you could eat it. She giggled and yelled, "Gross, Mommy!" when I told her she could taste it, but after watching me take a bite, she shoveled handfuls in every chance she got. We built a snowman -- OK, sort of a snow tower -- and did a ton of sledding. We basically took over an exit off a ski path and just sent the kids, and often, adults, down the hill.
Emma wasn't very interested in sledding after her first ride, which surprised me. She's the daredevil kid who insisted on climbing to the top of the big-kid slide ("By myself!") at 15 months. But she was so fascinated by the stomping and throwing and eating and building with the snow, sledding didn't compare. At first.
Our crowd thinned by half, as some family had to hit the airport, and Emma and only cousin close to her age were left. They had a ball, sledding with one adult, sledding together, sledding by themselves. Emma kept begging, "Just one more time!" even as we were trying to load up. She was absolutely fearless, wanting to climb higher and go faster and plunge into huge snowdrifts. She got the hang of it fast -- in a way that scared one of the other moms -- just lay back and let gravity do what it may.
We wrapped up the evening pretty early, after Emma and Dad and others climbed the snow-free mountain directly across the street from the house, as we had a very early-morning flight. Emma handled sharing a room with us like a trooper, which I'd been dreading. And she got up at 5 a.m. without much complaint and was a dream on all of our flights.
She got really confused, though, after we said goodbye to Grandma and Pop-Pop in the Phoenix airport only to get off our plane to OKC after we were seated and strapped in. We put in our names to be bumped for overflow -- and got a ton in vouchers to do so -- and called the gfolks back to get us. ("I want to go home! What about my animals!" We explained the flight had too many people, so we were getting off so other people could fly. "Other people we know?" She ended up thinking we did it just out of the good of our hearts, as she didn't get the whole FREE FLIGHT thing. Fair enough.) So we spent an unexpected few hours in Phoenix, which worked out perfectly. Emma was thrilled to be in Grandma's town, pointing out cactus, running wild at Grandma's house, finding tiny ducklings -- and monstrous koi -- at the nearby pond to feed, playing at the park.
Before long, though, we had to turn around and drive back to the airport, where our flight was delayed by an hour. She was a doll in the airport, charming everyone around her. We played cards, read books, put on finger-puppet plays and took long walks around the terminal. And she was great till the very end of our flight, at which point the long day really started to catch up with her. One second, she'd be in tears ("I want to be on the ground right now! I want to unbuckle! I want to go home!") and the next, giggling maniacally at something Adam or I had said or done. Luckily, we just had to pick up our luggage, conveniently waiting, grab the shuttle bus, always exciting, and drive home.
Trying to unlock the door, a big mosquito -- the kind that look ferocious but don't bite, though Adam doesn't believe that -- flew at her. And she totally lost it. I'd though the spider was bad, but she was screaming and shaking and hysterical. Adam got it swatted and we got safely in the door, we got her in bed and collapsed ourselves, 15 hours and four airport trips after we'd gotten out of bed in Salt Lake City.
(Updated to add: As for family stuff, it all went well. The person is normally horrible to me made an overture, the first in eight years. Adam's family is tiny compared to mine -- he's got two aunts and four cousins with five kids between them; I have five uncles and 13 cousins with 25+ kids. Family gatherings are very different, and so much better, than what I grew up with. I wish we lived closer to everyone. We laughed for hours, the kids had a great time and everyone cried when Rachel was given her Hebrew name. I'm so, so very lucky to have married into such an amazing, loving group of people.)
