New phones. Mostly, they're great. When texting, there are helpful little suggestions about the word you might be trying to type so you can write messages faster. Supposedly, the algorithm used to create the suggestions takes into account the previous word so that if you type the word "happy" it will automatically suggest "birthday" as the following word. My question for the software designers is this: Why does my phone suggest the word "children" after I type the word "rotisserie"? Granted, it's probably not a word used in everyday parlance but I'm sure there are hundreds, nay thousands, of people each day who might text to a loved one, "Would you mind picking up a rotisserie chicken for dinner?" or "I simply must have that new $500 turkey rotisserie and fryer from Williams-Sonoma." One would think common words that follow rotisserie would be "chicken", "grill" or "yummmm", but no. Children apparently is what comes to mind when the programmers think of a rotisserie which brings up the very disturbing possibility that our phone's messaging app has been designed by a ruthless tribe of cannibals. We switched to a Samsung Galaxy from an iPhone because we valued the way we could personalize it so much easier, and the way that it talked to our computers nicely instead of swearing at them in a foreign language or worse, refusing to communicate at all- but now I am concerned that we may have erred. As much as I didn't love things about our iPhones, at least we weren't propping up a corrupt regime of child cookers! Yeah, I'm looking at you Verizon Message+. I guess I'll just have to find a new app, preferably one with a catchphrase like, "People. We don't eat them." That would be good.
Update January 2016: My phone no longer suggests "children" following the word rotisserie. It now suggests "chicken", "?" or "the". See? I must have made a difference in the world. Either that, or my phone just figured out that we really like rotisserie chicken....
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Frustration, Thy Name Is Children
So, even though I still have a huge backlog of unwritten randomness and cutesy pictures from last year, I thought I should forge ahead with some fresh thoughts from this blessed New Year. I fear that if I wait until I'm completely caught up I will forever be behind and this blog will turn into some weird version of a History Channel special. When you are a harried mother, last month can feel like eons ago. Trust me.
Anyway, today I was noticing that my toddler drastically affects the way I view and interact with the world. This might sound obvious. Of course, having a toddler is different than being childless. But I'm not talking about the normal life differences one associates with having a child. I'm not talking about lost sleep or the fact that it takes twice as long to leave the house because you have to repeatedly chase the toddler down, sit on him, and cram some article of snow gear onto a randomly selected wiggling body part. (Boots, mittens, what's the difference? You can't really pick anything up with those giant puffy water-proof mittens anyway.) No, I am talking about drinking straws and sub sandwiches and vision benefits. These are the parts of my life that were changed today by having a toddler.
For those of you living in Dickinson, or really within 50 miles of Dickinson, you are aware that a Schlotzsky's Deli just opened. Anything new opening in Dickinson is a BIG DEAL, but to sweeten the pot Schlotzsky's was offering a free sub every week for a year to their first 100 customers. This is not the story of me battling crowds and trying to win those free subs, no, this is the story of how when I saw the advertisement for the grand opening I thought, "Meh."
If you know me, and if you are suffering through this blog post you must know me, then you are aware that I LOVE food. Too much, really. The single, childless me would have been up at 5 AM with a strategic plan on how to win said free subs. The toddlerized me, however, quickly realized that having a free sub every week for a year just wasn't worth it. I mean, who has the time? First, there is no way that I would remember to get a sub every week. Whenever I missed a sub opportunity I would have extreme feelings of guilt, like I wasn't living up to my privileges, like I was wasting a gift that someone else could have enjoyed. A child in Africa, for example, would never have forgotten to pick up a free submarine sandwich. What kind of spoiled, first-world person am I? Second, if I did remember, there are the logistics of actually getting the sandwich. Picking up the sandwich would mean a minimum of one extra unloading and loading children out of and into the van. Assuming that I load and unload children around 32 times in an average week, this would be an increase of over 3%! Three percent! Who needs that extra workload? Finally, once I actually had the sandwich in my hands there would be the issue of sharing. Eating alone is the fantasy of many mothers. It is the ultimate luxury. It never happens. Thus, I would be faced with two choices: Share my delicious sub with my child(ren), feeling grumpy and resentful the entire time or refuse to share my delicious sub with my child(ren) while feelings of selfishness and self-loathing accumulated. Also, there would be child(ren) attempting to snatch the sandwich out of my hands and/or mouth.
Having run through the scenarios in my head, all I could muster was apathy for free food. I know, it's almost unbelievable.
Another toddler-affected experience today was calling a number of customer service lines in search for the truth about what vision plan we had and what it covered. (As it turns out, we currently have none, which explains a great deal of the confusion.) Most of these customer service lines had a voice recognition menu which asked you questions or required you to verbalize your member ID number. I used to hate these voice menus because the computer never seemed to understand what I was saying. Happily, the software has improved greatly over the last few years but, oddly enough, when you have a toddler the computer is still unable to understand your answers. This is because your toddler is climbing all over you and making monkey sounds whenever you start talking.
Me: three, two, seven...
Tobias: Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah! Aaaaaah!
Phone: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Please say your nine digit member ID number.
Me: *raised eyebrow
Tobias: *innocent smile, silence
Phone: Let's try again. Please say your nine digit member ID number.
Me: three, two, seven, five...
Tobias: Oooh, aaah! Oooh, ooh, aaah!
Phone: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.
This went on for quite some time. There really ought to be a menu option for those of us with toddlers. Something like, "If you are the parent of a toddler and need a live customer representative right away, please make a random animal noise now." "Moooo! Moo!" "You said, 'Mooooo'. Is that correct?" "Woof! Woof!" "Please hold while I transfer your call."
Today we had the rare treat of going to lunch with Daddy. Marc called me in a state of disbelief. He was actually going to get his lunch break. Benjamin, Tobias and I met him at the only restaurant close to his work. It's fairly new in town so we hadn't been yet. I was happy to see that they offered little hats for children, coloring pages and over-priced kids meals. Clearly, they were prepared to deal with my kiddos. Things went well at first. It's a sporty place so there are TVs everywhere. This was extremely helpful during the long wait for our food. Tobias would point at a random screen, give me a meaningful look and say, "Ball." Benjamin was too enthralled by the sight of so many TVs in the same place that he didn't speak at all. However, I am sad to tell you that this restaurant is not really kid friendly. How do I know? They brought regular straws for the kids drinks. Regular. Straws. When will they learn? I have come to hate regular straws. I mean, here we have two children sitting at a table. Even with booster seats, their little mouths are, at best, six inches above the table top. That's being generous. Those straws are at least 7 1/2 inches long. Where is that extra inch and half supposed to go? Tobias, foolishly expecting that he could actually drink his water, nearly pierced the roof of his mouth trying to get his lips around that straw. When that proved uncomfortable, he bent the straw with his hand and put it in his mouth. That method didn't deliver any water. I showed the poor kid how to put the cup down in his lap so that the straw was at an appropriate height for his mouth. He promptly spilled cold water on his pants. I am going to start bringing scissors every time we go out so I can cut those bad boys in half, but come on restaurants! How much would it cost to buy smaller straws? Or bendy straws for the love?!? How much longer will we let this sad charade play out at table after table of small children? How oft will we hear our little ones, like the ancient mariner, cry, "Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink"?
As you can see, I had a very emotional day. I kind of exploded during dinner, already breaking my resolve to be a nicer mommy this year. The boys were all purposefully annoying each other, Marc was at the hospital and wasn't expecting to come anytime soon and I knew I had the task of getting everyone ready and out the door on time for gymnastics classes ahead of me. When three of them abandoned their bowls of chili to start chasing each other around the table, nearly spilling milk and water everywhere I yelled. "Enough!" I then, in a loud strident voice that I am not proud of, outlined exactly how they were to behave for the duration of dinner and then what they were going to do afterwards. Then, I heard an echo. I looked down to find Tobias standing beside me, chest puffed out and mimicking my tone of voice and hand gestures. He looked like a mini Mussolini complete with scowl. I wasn't sure whether I should laugh at his antics or cry because I was so embarrassed to see myself mirrored in this little person. I think I did a little of both.
The score for today was Toddler:3 Mommy:0. Luckily, tomorrow is another day, another adventure, another chance to discover how becoming a mother has completely changed my life. Fascination, they name is children.
Anyway, today I was noticing that my toddler drastically affects the way I view and interact with the world. This might sound obvious. Of course, having a toddler is different than being childless. But I'm not talking about the normal life differences one associates with having a child. I'm not talking about lost sleep or the fact that it takes twice as long to leave the house because you have to repeatedly chase the toddler down, sit on him, and cram some article of snow gear onto a randomly selected wiggling body part. (Boots, mittens, what's the difference? You can't really pick anything up with those giant puffy water-proof mittens anyway.) No, I am talking about drinking straws and sub sandwiches and vision benefits. These are the parts of my life that were changed today by having a toddler.
For those of you living in Dickinson, or really within 50 miles of Dickinson, you are aware that a Schlotzsky's Deli just opened. Anything new opening in Dickinson is a BIG DEAL, but to sweeten the pot Schlotzsky's was offering a free sub every week for a year to their first 100 customers. This is not the story of me battling crowds and trying to win those free subs, no, this is the story of how when I saw the advertisement for the grand opening I thought, "Meh."
If you know me, and if you are suffering through this blog post you must know me, then you are aware that I LOVE food. Too much, really. The single, childless me would have been up at 5 AM with a strategic plan on how to win said free subs. The toddlerized me, however, quickly realized that having a free sub every week for a year just wasn't worth it. I mean, who has the time? First, there is no way that I would remember to get a sub every week. Whenever I missed a sub opportunity I would have extreme feelings of guilt, like I wasn't living up to my privileges, like I was wasting a gift that someone else could have enjoyed. A child in Africa, for example, would never have forgotten to pick up a free submarine sandwich. What kind of spoiled, first-world person am I? Second, if I did remember, there are the logistics of actually getting the sandwich. Picking up the sandwich would mean a minimum of one extra unloading and loading children out of and into the van. Assuming that I load and unload children around 32 times in an average week, this would be an increase of over 3%! Three percent! Who needs that extra workload? Finally, once I actually had the sandwich in my hands there would be the issue of sharing. Eating alone is the fantasy of many mothers. It is the ultimate luxury. It never happens. Thus, I would be faced with two choices: Share my delicious sub with my child(ren), feeling grumpy and resentful the entire time or refuse to share my delicious sub with my child(ren) while feelings of selfishness and self-loathing accumulated. Also, there would be child(ren) attempting to snatch the sandwich out of my hands and/or mouth.
Having run through the scenarios in my head, all I could muster was apathy for free food. I know, it's almost unbelievable.
Another toddler-affected experience today was calling a number of customer service lines in search for the truth about what vision plan we had and what it covered. (As it turns out, we currently have none, which explains a great deal of the confusion.) Most of these customer service lines had a voice recognition menu which asked you questions or required you to verbalize your member ID number. I used to hate these voice menus because the computer never seemed to understand what I was saying. Happily, the software has improved greatly over the last few years but, oddly enough, when you have a toddler the computer is still unable to understand your answers. This is because your toddler is climbing all over you and making monkey sounds whenever you start talking.
Me: three, two, seven...
Tobias: Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah! Aaaaaah!
Phone: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Please say your nine digit member ID number.
Me: *raised eyebrow
Tobias: *innocent smile, silence
Phone: Let's try again. Please say your nine digit member ID number.
Me: three, two, seven, five...
Tobias: Oooh, aaah! Oooh, ooh, aaah!
Phone: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.
This went on for quite some time. There really ought to be a menu option for those of us with toddlers. Something like, "If you are the parent of a toddler and need a live customer representative right away, please make a random animal noise now." "Moooo! Moo!" "You said, 'Mooooo'. Is that correct?" "Woof! Woof!" "Please hold while I transfer your call."
Today we had the rare treat of going to lunch with Daddy. Marc called me in a state of disbelief. He was actually going to get his lunch break. Benjamin, Tobias and I met him at the only restaurant close to his work. It's fairly new in town so we hadn't been yet. I was happy to see that they offered little hats for children, coloring pages and over-priced kids meals. Clearly, they were prepared to deal with my kiddos. Things went well at first. It's a sporty place so there are TVs everywhere. This was extremely helpful during the long wait for our food. Tobias would point at a random screen, give me a meaningful look and say, "Ball." Benjamin was too enthralled by the sight of so many TVs in the same place that he didn't speak at all. However, I am sad to tell you that this restaurant is not really kid friendly. How do I know? They brought regular straws for the kids drinks. Regular. Straws. When will they learn? I have come to hate regular straws. I mean, here we have two children sitting at a table. Even with booster seats, their little mouths are, at best, six inches above the table top. That's being generous. Those straws are at least 7 1/2 inches long. Where is that extra inch and half supposed to go? Tobias, foolishly expecting that he could actually drink his water, nearly pierced the roof of his mouth trying to get his lips around that straw. When that proved uncomfortable, he bent the straw with his hand and put it in his mouth. That method didn't deliver any water. I showed the poor kid how to put the cup down in his lap so that the straw was at an appropriate height for his mouth. He promptly spilled cold water on his pants. I am going to start bringing scissors every time we go out so I can cut those bad boys in half, but come on restaurants! How much would it cost to buy smaller straws? Or bendy straws for the love?!? How much longer will we let this sad charade play out at table after table of small children? How oft will we hear our little ones, like the ancient mariner, cry, "Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink"?
As you can see, I had a very emotional day. I kind of exploded during dinner, already breaking my resolve to be a nicer mommy this year. The boys were all purposefully annoying each other, Marc was at the hospital and wasn't expecting to come anytime soon and I knew I had the task of getting everyone ready and out the door on time for gymnastics classes ahead of me. When three of them abandoned their bowls of chili to start chasing each other around the table, nearly spilling milk and water everywhere I yelled. "Enough!" I then, in a loud strident voice that I am not proud of, outlined exactly how they were to behave for the duration of dinner and then what they were going to do afterwards. Then, I heard an echo. I looked down to find Tobias standing beside me, chest puffed out and mimicking my tone of voice and hand gestures. He looked like a mini Mussolini complete with scowl. I wasn't sure whether I should laugh at his antics or cry because I was so embarrassed to see myself mirrored in this little person. I think I did a little of both.
The score for today was Toddler:3 Mommy:0. Luckily, tomorrow is another day, another adventure, another chance to discover how becoming a mother has completely changed my life. Fascination, they name is children.
Monday, January 5, 2015
A Poet and He Knows It
Gabriel enjoys writing poems. After Christmas, he made me a very cute book with three poems in it. It is too cute not to share. The cover reads:
By Gabe To Mom
Three
Poems
For Mom
Cooking
Bed
Dinner
Each poem is then written on its own page with its own illustration.
Cooking
I lover her cooking
It smells so good to me
When I smell it
It smells like victory
Oh yeah, my cooking is just that good. Victory!
Bed
I love when it's time for bed
She gives me a hug
And kisses my head
And thats why I like
When its time for bed
This one made go "awww". Warm fuzzies for sure.
Dinner
I love her dinners
She loves them too
All I have to say is
I Love You
Also sweet, although I'm starting to worry he has a food obsession. I was feeling pretty good about myself until I saw the book Gabe was making for Marc. The cover of Marc's book listed six poems titled:
Popcorn
Work
Loving
Great
Perfect
Wonderful
It reads like a verse from Isaiah about the Prince of Peace. Good grief. I think this kid loves his dad. Just a little. I'm trying not to have an inferiority complex. I'm going to go read that poem about my cooking tasting like victory again.
By Gabe To Mom
Three
Poems
For Mom
Cooking
Bed
Dinner
Each poem is then written on its own page with its own illustration.
Cooking
I lover her cooking
It smells so good to me
When I smell it
It smells like victory
Oh yeah, my cooking is just that good. Victory!
Bed
I love when it's time for bed
She gives me a hug
And kisses my head
And thats why I like
When its time for bed
This one made go "awww". Warm fuzzies for sure.
Dinner
I love her dinners
She loves them too
All I have to say is
I Love You
Also sweet, although I'm starting to worry he has a food obsession. I was feeling pretty good about myself until I saw the book Gabe was making for Marc. The cover of Marc's book listed six poems titled:
Popcorn
Work
Loving
Great
Perfect
Wonderful
It reads like a verse from Isaiah about the Prince of Peace. Good grief. I think this kid loves his dad. Just a little. I'm trying not to have an inferiority complex. I'm going to go read that poem about my cooking tasting like victory again.
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