Sprite's Keeper

Just Can't Pass It Over

(Editor's Note: I originally posted this Passover tribute on April 10, 2009 for a Spin Cycle, but it still holds true this year. I did end up forgetting to bring the matzo in yesterday so it made the trip to Sprite's school this morning. Along with a dozen hardboiled eggs for Easter Egg coloring because I sign up for EVERYTHING. Does this seem a little sacreligious to anyone? Meh. The kids will be getting some very mixed up culture today. If I haven't mentioned it yet, and I think I haven't, a happy Passover to all my Jewish friends, and a happy Wednesday to everyone else. I'll be lifting a glass for you on Friday.)

(And yes, this counts for a Spin Cycle. I'm linked!)

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When I was a kid, I loved Passover. Passover, for those Gentiles who don't know, is a seven day feast celebrating the Isrealites' freedom from the Pharoah, their resulting wandering across deserts, parted seas, and subsequent movie spoofs. (History of the World Part I is a definite favorite.) The most traditional form of celebration is a dinner called a sedar. At a Passover sedar, we recount the miracles that happened, we eat the matzo (great with butter, by the way), and drink the wine until we reach the inebriated state as to place OURSELVES into the legends. Things can get VERY confusing. And the more people invited to the sedar, the more noise, the more things break, and the more the merrier.

My grandparents (MY Baba and Zieda) usually hosted the meal when I was younger and aunts, uncles, and cousins would jockey for position to hear the stories, pass the book where everyone took turns reading aloud (and the others took turns trying to trip up the spotlighted reader) about the times in Egypt, and of course, there was a kid's table, since we couldn't be trusted around the good china. Plus, when the pickle spears and olives were set out before the meal? It was an all out war between the cousins. (I STILL have some battle scars.)

I remember nothing but good times at these events, and even though there were some boring parts to the reading ("If you don't want to read, just pass the book on to your uncle, Jen."), and I still don't like eating raw horseradish ("Just place it on the side of your plate and stop making faces, Jenny."), and Manischewitz wine makes me queasy ("That'd better be grape juice in your glass, Jennifer Lynn!"), I still love matzo ball soup ("If one more person makes a comment about how hard their balls are, I'm going to hit them!") and the feelings of togetherness. ("Lee Ann! Jennifer! Do I have to separate you two?")

When you can look around the table at your family members and think nothing but good thoughts, your life is blessed. And mine was.

I still am, for even though my family is strewn all over the Eastern seaboard, I know they're thinking of me on this holiday. And I will be having my own sedar this year with John's friend Trevor in attendance. (Trevor, you're bringing the wine, right?) This will be a small sedar in relation to the standing room only feasts I have attended in the past, but I want Sprite to experience this as I did, even if we're without most of the extended family.

At least she won't be fighting anyone for a pickle spear..

RTT: Speaking of health care reform...

Did you ever wonder what kind of health benefits the worker for a frozen food company enjoys when his or her job description is testing microwave cooking times for the very meals we barely glance at the instructions for before slitting the plastic overlay and throwing it into the oven? Imagine all that standing in front of the microwave, watching, listening, smelling, utilizing all senses to get the timing just right so the food comes out the best. Imagine being exposed to all those radons and ions and add-ons and other-ons. Is the employee pretty much forced to take breaks if only to limit that type of environmental exposure? Does this employee come home saying "If I have to heat on HIGH one more time.."? There is one thing in their favor though. They're kinda SUPPOSED to burn the popcorn.

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When insurance companies sink to a new low: ABC News

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Way back when in July of last year, I went to a smallish conference up in Chicago called BlogHer. Heard of it? Snark aside, I attended a session which was sponsored by Strawberry Shortcake's new video release. Beseiged by the promotions which sat on every seat, I took a few of the dolls and a figurine home with me for Sprite, although she had never really heard of it before then. The three dolls, which were doled out over the course of the summer, never made a splash with Sprite other than having long hair which she could use to gain height and speed when she chucked them across a room. Those poor toys were quickly relegated to a storage bin in her bookcase and never saw the light of day again. Until now.

Friday night, I was going through my drawers and came across the Strawberry Shortcake figurine which I had forgotten about so long ago. Thinking Sprite had had a good week at school and was oh so cute and cuddly at the time (I'm sure your kids have those moments too, and I'm not talking about when they're unconcious), I decided to give it to her, expecting the figurine to meet the same fate as the dolls. Not so, not this time. Sprite immediately wanted the box opened, and as soon as I tipped her off that the figurine emitted a sweet smell which KIND OF resembles strawberries, she was hooked. The little set also came with an 11 minute DVD which I immediately popped into the player, assuming it would be a harmless little cartoon.

Someone should have warned me about 1. the annoyingly catchy tune and 2. the annoyingly catchy tune. The song was heard before the visuals came up and repeated over and over until you finally hit PLAY. Of course, I had to sit and watch with her, and poor Susan, who was visiting for the weekend, had to sit with us. (I think she forgives me now. Still not sure.) Susan and I both made the comment after the first play through that it felt a lot longer than 11 minutes. Or that may have been the feeling of our souls being crushed by gobs of cute. Once the video ended, the title scene came up once more and the theme song replayed over and over until you 1. hit the "power" button on the remote or 2. hit the "play" button. We somehow lived through the second showing since Sprite was enthralled with the characters and girliness of it all, but drew the line at a third play.

Ever since she opened that figurine, she has been requesting Strawberry Shortcake every hour on the hour and carrying the figurine around like a nosegay to steal a sniff when she feels "the vapors" coming on.

To make addictions even worse, I spotted a pair of Strawberry Shortcake socks in the Target Dollar Spot and bought the damn things, making my kid even happier when she got them.

My name is Jen and I'm an enabler.

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Last night marked the first night of Passover and Sprite and I spent it honoring our meatloaf and chicken nuggets respectively. We'll be having our sedar this Friday with our friend Trevor (one of the few Jewish friends we have out on this side of the state), but I'm sending Sprite to school today with a package of matzo to share with her friends at snack time. I can imagine the looks of distaste on the kiddies' faces when they realize that these crackers really don't have any taste to them (it must be acquired since I am known to devour them plain jane just as quickly as with condiments) and the disappointment on Sprite's when she realizes the teachers won't be as forthcoming with butter as a topper as I am.

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Watching Dancing With the Stars last night, (yeah, I wanted to see the trainwreck that was Kate Gosselin's performance) (so did you!) I couldn't help but notice that while Brooke Burke was interviewing her and her partner post session, Pamela Anderson was sitting on a background couch emulating Marilyn Monroe, her character for her own performace. Which had ended thirty minutes prior. (Method actor?) Luckily, she didn't flip her hair nearly as much as she did last week. Probably doctor's orders since last week's show left me thinking she must have suffered some sort of whiplash.

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Sometimes, it's disgusting how honest I am. This past weekend, I bought an outfit for Sprite at Walmart, just a simple shirt and leggings set. The price tag read ten dollars. Somehow, I picked up the one size that didn't have a price tag and brought that with me to the register. The cashier looked all over the fabric and could not find the code in order to ring up the true price and asked me if I remembered how much it was. Quoting her "ten", I then watched as she rang up the children's clothing code and then peered up at me again.

"How much did you say?"

"Ten dollars."

Her eyes glinted over the tops of her glasses. "Seven, right?"

I got the hint. She was going to give me a break. I smiled. "No. I said ten. Thanks anyway."

She billed me ten.

Should I have taken it since the cashier initiated the discount?

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Should you click over to Keely's renovated The Un Mom? Well, her bathroom is renovated, which is enough, right?  Whatever you do, don't mention the dust and proclaim the tilework to be perfection. And offer her wine! She likes that too.

Standing up for the little guy.

Every time John brings up his desire to buy a camera that requires its own alphabet, I bring out a picture I've taken with my trusty point and shoot:

 

Besides, you can't carry one of those fancy cameras around in your purse all the time. So I'd be missing shots like the last two on a sunny cool day at the park.

No thanks, Nikon.  

(I wrote this post last week and then brought my camera to a birthday party this last Saturday where it decided not to work anymore. Gone. My little point and shoot no workey no more. I was devastated, seriously. But John, in his brilliance, had bought the camera for me the previous Mother's Day at Costco which has an amazing guarantee system for electronics bought within a year. Within the next two weeks, I should be pointing and clicking away again like nothing ever happened. The hardest part is telling life to stop being interesting in the interim.) 

Spin Cycle: When pressed for the best,

Put your archives to the test!

We're looking for the Best Of this week!

Rikki over at Cowgirls Like Me

Meowmie over at Meowmie's Weblog- A "Me!" Spin!

Meowmie over at Meowmie's Weblog

Mama Badger over at Out of the Boondocks and Into the Burbs... -Updated Monday! A "Me!" Spin!

Kathleen over at So Much To Say, So Little Time -Updated Monday! New to the Spin Cycle!

Gretchen over at Second Blooming -Updated Wednesday!

Maureen over at IslandRoar -Updated Wednesday!

Michelle over at Just Eat It -Updated Wednesday! New to the Spin Cycle!

Camille over at Archives of Our Lives -Updated Thursday!

Mary Anne over at The Stiletto Mom -Updated Thursday!

Julie over at Modern Day Middle Age -Updated Thursday! New to the Spin Cycle!

Joanie M over at Joanie's Random Ramblings -Updated Thursday!

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead -Updated Thursday!

Stacy over at Stacy's Random Thoughts -Updated Thursday!

Maureen over at Adventures in the Underground -Updated Thursday!

Remember, you have until Friday to show us the post that makes YOU smile the most!

Spin Cycle: It all came down to me.

In the Spring of 1994, my senior year of high school, our Drama department put on a play. This was no ordinary play, this was The Spirit of Theater, a medley of 21 shows our teacher and mentor, Mrs. DeGregory, had directed over her years with our school. As she was retiring and my friends and I were graduating, this show meant something to us all.

I had been given the role of Student Director, working to maintain the chaos that would come with so many scene changes and so many cast members, many of them under the age of listening to direction. Mrs. DeGregory had also brought back a few of her former students to reprise their former characters, including one girl (woman by then) who was to take on five different roles.

I kept track of every actor and actress, when they were supposed to be on stage, when they weren't and were just goofing off during rehearsals, and worked hand in hand with the stage manager, a friend of mine who was prone to yelling when frustrated, to keep everything running smoothly and keep our director happy.

I had a few bit roles here and there, but nothing major. The two months of rehearsals went swimmingly, the graduates coming the last week to join the undergrads for run throughs. The show would be great.

I got called into Mrs. D's office the day of our opening performance. She looked at me with stern eyes. (Not uncommon as she wasn't known for smiling often.) "We have a problem."

My pulse jumped. She had a problem with me? What did I do? What didn't I do? My mind raced with the options of something I may have forgotten. "What's the problem?"

"Leah pulled out."

An alumni. Who had five roles throughout the performance. And no understudy. (Mrs. DeGregoy didn't believe in understudies.) The show would seriously stumble without the scenes Leah was supposed to carry.

"What do we do?"

"I need you to do it."

Me? What about running the cast and making sure they hit their marks? What about keeping the students away from the stage manager when he and the techies were trying to move sets? (As I said, he was a real bitch when pushed.) (Yeah, I meant bitch. No typo there.)

"Do you know her lines?"

I stammered as I recalled the different costume changes I would have to undergo. Oh, what about costumes? "Y-yes."

"You have two hours to find costumes for all the scenes and get to make up. Curtain up at seven-thirty."

"Mrs. D, I don't know-"

She leaned in close and stared me down. (She was quite good at intimidation.) "You will do it. And you will do it well. You are going to save my show." Stepping back, she turned to her planner, dismissing me. "Now go find your costumes."

I ran out to my car, clutching my keys in one hand and the script in the other, on the brink of tears from the thrill at being sought out to take on such a challenge and the lung clenching fear that I would screw it up completely. (High school students. So dramatic, no?)

It took minutes to get home as we lived so close to the school, running inside to yell the turn of events to my mother (No readily available cell phones back then. Remember when news had to wait until you were both in a stationary area?) was a blur as I ransacked her closet looking for clothes, long skirts to dress an older woman who would be planning a murder in a scene of Arsenic and Lace. Once she knew the gist, she created a bigger mess than I did, yanking blouses from the hangers.

My bundle of cotton in my arms, I rushed back to the school, chanting my lines over and over, hoping the confidence would somehow seep in with each word, yet the only thing rising was my nerves.

Time sped by as the big fantasy I had harbored for most of my adolescent years was slapping me in the face. I was going to fail. In my dreams, I had succeeded. Now, I didn't see a happy ending.

Make up on, standing offstage left, watching in silence as the other cast members squealed in excitement and nervous energy, I couldn't assume the director status and hush them, only wincing when the stage manager came over to yell at them for just being themselves.

He whirled away from the now mute Oklahoma! dancers, set his sights on me, and winked in support before bellowing "Five minutes!" and running off to kill someone else's buzz.

The house lights dimmed out. Backstage noise fell to its death. My heart beat loudly as I whispered a hasty last prayer to Thespis, as if that would save my ass. No turning back now.

The curtain opened.

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It's all about me! Or you!

Blogging Mama Andrea over at Blogging Mama

Life's Ups and Downs...and My Place in it All

Peg over at Square Peg in a Round Hole

CaJoh over at Ca-Joh

Pseudo over at Pseudonymous High School Teacher

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter

Maureen over at IslandRoar

Gretchen over at Second Blooming

Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar

Kendra over at Life In the Slow Lane

The South Dakota Cowgirl over at the south dakota cowgirl

Heather over at Welch Happenings

Elle Em En over at Try All of Column B -New to the Spin Cycle!

Erin over at The Locals Love It

Arwen over at Spors in the Desert -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Joanie over at Joanie's Random Rambling -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Pines Lake Redhead over at Pines Lake Redhead -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Lisa over at Boondock Ramblings -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Vandy over at The Testosterone Three and Me -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Ellie Belen over at Distracting Minutia -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Patty over at Pancakes Gone Awry -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

Erin over at Only a Movie -Updated Friday! Fresh Spin!

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Next week's Spin Cycle Assignment: Best Of..

It's that time again! Look in your archives and find that post that just makes you smile. That post that you keep coming back to and reading over and over.

We're looking for your favorites, old, new, whatever! Just re-post it and link it to the Spin Cycle!

Easiest Spin Cycle ever, right? Or is it?

Payback Has An Expiration Date. (I need your help.)

Or does it?

"Susan's going to be in town this weekend. Mind if I take a night off?"

"Yeah, I guess I can handle Sprite by myself."

"You guess."

"Just making noises. Don't worry."

"I figure you still owe me anyway."

"Owe you for what?"

"The cruise you took."

"Jen, that was four months ago. You've had plenty of-"

"John, it was in January."

"Fine, three months ago."

"Try again."

"How long are you going to hang that over my head? Are we going to be in our sixties with you telling me to watch Sprite while you take a breather?"

"If Sprite is still in our house when we're sixty, you have my permission to put me out of my misery."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure. I think I'm confusing myself."

"Tell you what, I'll give you a year to call in your favors before you can no longer use the cruise card as your Ace."

"Are you setting an expiration date on my payback?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"Come on, Jen. A year is plenty of time to make it even."

"Any time I want a night off or a break or-"

"Within reason, of course."

"Restrictions? What other fine print are you going to throw in there?"

"No, what I mean is you can't call in a favor RIGHT before you take it. Give me notice."

"Oh."

"Okay?"

"....Give me forty-eight hours to think about it."

"What, you need it in writing?"

"You could say that."

Alright, everyone. Weigh in. Is one year of random requests for time off complete redemption for the GUY cruise he took WITHOUT us in January?

I have until tonight to give him an answer.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

"Fishies!"

Sprite scrambled to climb into her carseat and reached out for the baggie. "Mine!"

Relinquishing the snack, I buckled her in and walked around to my side to begin the ride home. I heard nothing but quiet munching for the first few minutes before she began to speak again.

"Mommy."

My eyes stayed on the road as my voice slipped into verbal cruise control. "Yes, my love."

"Yes, my love."

Er, what?

"Hi, Daddy."

Daddy? "He's working hon-"

"Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy."

I peered into the rearview. She wasn't even looking in my direction, rather down at her hands. "Sprite, what are you doing?"

"Sh! Mommy and Daddy are talking."

She lifted a fish cracker in her left hand and pointed it to the fishie in the right. "Daddy, does your belly hurt?"

I smiled, remembering the phrase she had used so many times on me at the beginning of the year when I had to use that excuse for not lifting her.

"Yes. Megan hit my belly. It all better."

Knowing I was not a part of this conversation but obviously allowed to eavesdrop, I kept my attention on the road while lending half an ear to her dialogue.

"I go to the doctor. I feel better now.... Okay, good."

Traffic came to a stop, I peered into the rearview to see the two fishies still staring at each other in either hand. "Which one is Mommy?"

"This one!" She lifted her right hand, then smiling, popped my alter ego into her mouth for a loud crunch.

She offed my fishie.

Sprite giggled at my lifted brow. "Don't worry, I don't eat Daddy." The fish in her left hand had a reprieve. "I give it to him later."

Then her hand came back up and she began to lick it.

"Um, Sprite?"

"No, Mommy. I eat you. No talking." She continued to slobber all the salt off the fish cracker.

Meh, he's working late. If she spares his life, it should be dry by the time he gets home anyway..

RTT: It's Tuesday, do you know where YOUR Random is?

I got your Random right here.

Um, I did. Crap. Where'd it go?

Give me a minute...

Obviously, if you saw the photos yesterday, you know that we went to a birthday party over the weekend. One of Sprite's cousins (second cousin, not removed, maybe changed) decided to leave the babyhood status behind as he stepped (with help) into the toddler arena. And the party was great! For the other kids. Alexander's daddy made the comment about halfway through the party that it was a circus out there (the guest count was nearing 100 and the house and backyard were full to bursting with joyous noise) and the party was for the other kids, not Alex. He had reached his epiphany when standing back and watching the older tots enjoy the spoils of the bounce house, pony rides, face painting, and pinatas (Yes, pinataS. There were two.) while his birthday boy was passed from relative to friend to relative. While Lou had a point, I made the counterpoint that the party was actually for him and his wife and quickly followed that up with my theory that the first birthday party is always for Mom and Dad and their efforts to show off the fact that "Look! Our kid made it to one! Relatively intact! We can be trusted with him! Celebrate us and our parenting achievements!"

Lou smiled at me, chuckled in response, and took a swallow of his beer. Then another.

People tend to drink a lot around me.

It's a shame I don't.

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At one point, I had walked inside the house to greet my father-in-law and thought John was watching over Sprite (who was still hovering around the bounce house). John thought I was watching her so he turned his attention to his brother and catching up on family news. Sprite was not in our crosshairs for about two minutes. I walked out to find her (and hopefully John with her) and found an older woman gesturing frantically over my confused daughter and asking to anyone (in Spanish) who passed by, "Quien es? Quien es?" or "To whom does this unsupervised child belong to?" My sister-in-law, who was in the immediate area, saw me come up and pointed me out as the mother. The woman turned her focus to me and looked for confirmation. I agreed that yes, the cute little girl in the flowery party dress is mine, isn't she pretty? in English. Apparently, the English response did not deter the woman from continuing her tirade in Spanish as she gestured to the nearby pool. "La agua esta aqui! La agua esta aqui!" or "Do you see the water? The wet stuff? Am I the only one who knows it's there?" I continued smiling at her, in confusion and consternation at exactly what she was getting at. FInally, she broke it down for me in a very accented version of my own native language. "You! You watch! You eyes! Watch!"

I had been reprimanded for allowing my kid to walk within five feet of the pool. In Spanish. Now, I actually agree with the woman. My own reflexes were on alert every time Sprite even sneezed in the water's direction, and I hadn't been there when she ventured too close. Once. And the pool was right next to the desired bounce house and pony rides. Luckily, this pool problem was quickly resolved as a bunch of grandmotherly types, all of them Spanish, sat under the portico, watching closely as anyone under the height of four feet crossed between them and the water. Any time a small foot paused and turned toward the blue chlorine, the wave of nana's rose up and called out for Junior to 1. get away from the water and 2. for the unfit parent to keep a better eye on their kid.

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Some people made the comment that the cake was a beauty. And it was! I zeroed in on it as soon as we walked through the front door. (I have a thing for sugary artistry. Something to gawk at before gobbling? There is NO fail about that.) (Has anyone else noticed how birthday cakes are becoming more elaborate these days? Grocery store treats are taking a hit in the springform pan as people turn to fondant and modeling chocolate. I ordered a castle cake for Sprite's birthday myself, paying less for a fondant beauty than I would have spent at the chain bakeries. Do you think it's because of shows like Ace of Cakes and Cake Boss? Just wondering..) Taking out my camera, I angled for some shots before the rest of the guests came and heard a secret about this culinary masterpiece.

The cake was fake.

My husband's aunt spilled the beans about how, due to the intricate shapes and anchors needed to make the cake what it was, the baker (sugar artist? cake maker? batter beautician?) had decided to make a fake cake, cutting out pieces of styrofoam and covering that in fondant while hiding the actual dessert in separate boxes so the cake would be wished over, brought back to the kitchen, and hidden while the real dessert was sliced and spliced and served. (Weddings do it this way. Why else do you think you never get a rose when your slice is delivered to your table?)

The fake cake was goggled over and posed as guests milled around the table. Few were told the secret behind the sweet. Then it came time to sing to the birthday boy.

Anyone sense a warning?

The song was performed, the guest of honor (an absolute cutie) was squealed over, and the pictures began in earnest; Mommy and Daddy with Alexander, then family members, then all the kids of the party. Ten or so cake droolers (Sprite included) filed behind the table to pose with the birthday boy and the still lit cake when someone decided the table should be moved out a little to allow more bodies behind it. Well, the table decided it wasn't keen on that plan and thought it best to take a knee.

In the blink of an eye, the horizon turned into a forty-five degree angle and the cake went down. Multiple O's of surprise mixed with the shouts of horror (and someone may have dived in an effort to save it) as the cake took the slide onto the floor. The shouts became words of wonder when everyone realized that the cake had survived the ride! Even the candle remained lit! Finally, everyone was let in on the secret about the fake cake and we all had a good laugh. (Some laughed harder than others. And were cut off from the beer.)

And I didn't have my camera for it. I had figured, meh, blowing out the candles, I don't need any more pictures, I'll just give the flash a rest, and this happened. Bad blogger.

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Dear Buzz Aldrin,

I hope I can move half as well in my eighties as you did last night. Technical, schmechnical, who cares about scores? I give you a 10!

Love, Jen

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The only perfect ten I can think of is The Un Mom! Get your Random right away, hot and fresh to your table or it's free! At least, that's what Keely tells me. I'd ask to see her Money Back Guarantee if I were you..

Spin Cycle: It's not you, it's me.

Who says you can't have a little "me" time?

These Spinners are all about it!

Blogging Mama Andrea over at Blogging Mama

Life's Ups and Downs...and My Place in it All

Peg over at Square Peg in a Round Hole -Updated Tuesday!

CaJoh over at Ca-Joh -Updated Tuesday!

Pseudo over at Pseudonymous High School Teacher -Updated Tuesday!

Suzicate over at The Water Witch's Daughter -Updated Wednesday!

Maureen over at IslandRoar -Updated Wednesday!

Gretchen over at Second Blooming -Updated Wednesday!

Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar -Updated Wednesday!

Kendra over at Life In the Slow Lane -Updated Wednesday!

The South Dakota Cowgirl over at the south dakota cowgirl -Updated Thursday!

Heather over at Welch Happenings -Updated Thursday!

Elle Em En over at Try All of Column B -Updated Thursday! New to the Spin Cycle!

Erin over at The Locals Love It -Updated Thursday!

Get those Spins in by Friday!

She won't be nearly this excited about Monday.

Only on the weekends,

are bounce houses considered mandatory,

is cake is seen as a celebratory reward and not a warning of calories to come,

 

is a dirty face proof of how much fun you're having,

are pony rides even better when the horse's name is Goldalicious,

 

is food tastier when shared among friends,

is happiness always so much brighter when caught in mid-air.

How was YOUR weekend?