On a Deeper Note...
04/09/2007 21:41 |
Permalink
I am tired. Very, very tired. My parents have been
here, we’ve had the Easter holiday, I’ve
got a 6-year-old who is starting to “not
believe” (if you get my drift), and I am just
wiped out. It’s one of those things that I
can’t really explain. It happens sometimes, and
God just sort of gives me a little push to remind me
that I have a damn good, damn lucky life.
There is a woman I know from MOMS Club who has a seriously ill child – the little girl has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and has had a very tough few months. Her website is http://www.caringbridge.org/mn/abbyleigh/index.htm. She is getting better, which is excellent news, but is still going to spend a lot of time in the hospital, and it looks like she may need a heart transplant at some point in the near future. She could use our prayers.
A few weeks ago, Abby’s mom, Heather, put an entry in their blog about a little friend of theirs in the hospital named Wylan. Wylan is very, very sick, and his parents have signed a DNR. From his website (http://www.caringbridge.org/cb/inputSiteName.do?method=search&siteName=wylanisaacvobornik), it appears that his family has decided that it is time to let Wylan go. He is a month younger than Johnny, and has spent most of his life in the hospital. He is an absolutely beautiful child, and his family needs every ounce of strength that God can give them right now. Please pray for them.
And then there is my niece’s little friend Hans. Hans has neuroblastoma, and is scheduled for a bone marrow transplant later this week. Hans’ website is www.hansjourney.blogspot.com. As he and his family enter this difficult phase of treatment, they need support and prayers.
And I have four very healthy children. Each day I wake up to little hands and little feet, and relatively few worries. And then I deal with people who cannot see beyond themselves (like Ronald McDonald’s mom), and I just want to scream. I wish people realized that they have so much to be thankful for – they have so many gifts, and the tiny issues about which they get so angry mean nothing in the long run.
The next time you’re feeling sorry for yourself, take a minute to say a prayer for someone who is struggling with something really important. And thank the good Lord that you have the wonderful blessings you do. I promise that I will.
There is a woman I know from MOMS Club who has a seriously ill child – the little girl has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, and has had a very tough few months. Her website is http://www.caringbridge.org/mn/abbyleigh/index.htm. She is getting better, which is excellent news, but is still going to spend a lot of time in the hospital, and it looks like she may need a heart transplant at some point in the near future. She could use our prayers.
A few weeks ago, Abby’s mom, Heather, put an entry in their blog about a little friend of theirs in the hospital named Wylan. Wylan is very, very sick, and his parents have signed a DNR. From his website (http://www.caringbridge.org/cb/inputSiteName.do?method=search&siteName=wylanisaacvobornik), it appears that his family has decided that it is time to let Wylan go. He is a month younger than Johnny, and has spent most of his life in the hospital. He is an absolutely beautiful child, and his family needs every ounce of strength that God can give them right now. Please pray for them.
And then there is my niece’s little friend Hans. Hans has neuroblastoma, and is scheduled for a bone marrow transplant later this week. Hans’ website is www.hansjourney.blogspot.com. As he and his family enter this difficult phase of treatment, they need support and prayers.
And I have four very healthy children. Each day I wake up to little hands and little feet, and relatively few worries. And then I deal with people who cannot see beyond themselves (like Ronald McDonald’s mom), and I just want to scream. I wish people realized that they have so much to be thankful for – they have so many gifts, and the tiny issues about which they get so angry mean nothing in the long run.
The next time you’re feeling sorry for yourself, take a minute to say a prayer for someone who is struggling with something really important. And thank the good Lord that you have the wonderful blessings you do. I promise that I will.
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Mall of America = Land of Hate
04/05/2007 23:09 |
Permalink
Today was a fun day. I yelled at a lady in
Nordstrom’s. I was with my parents. It was the
highlight of my year. My parents think I have emotional
issues.
You have to understand how the day started… My parents and I had decided to take the kids to The Park at MOA. Emma was playing hooky from school, and we were out to enjoy some good, old-fashioned fun at the indoor amusement park. I wanted to leave at 9:00 AM so that we could get to the park before the throngs of Spring Breakers got there. Of course, we didn’t leave until 9:35 AM (and you’ll never guess who was running late – it wasn’t me, the kids, or my father), and I had to stop and put gas in the van. So, we didn’t leave Chaska until almost 10:00 AM. When we finally pulled into the MOA parking lot, it was close to 10:45. (By the way, my mother is reading over my shoulder as I write this, and claims that it’s not her fault she was late – she doesn’t move that fast anymore).
If you know me at all, you know that I don’t handle tardiness well, and I don’t handle crowds well. When we got to the MOA, we were later than I had planned, and there were crowds. Lots and lots of people. And I had my little, tiny children with me. We had started off on the wrong foot.
My mother and I waited in line to get the kids their all-day wristbands for almost 20 minutes. Once we got the bands, we put them on the little wrists and headed out to ride some rides. The kids rode the Forggy Jumper first, which Patrick and Gracie loved. Emma, on the other hand, clung to the ride for dear life with a look of sheer terror on her little face. When your eyes are as big as dinner plates to begin with, you look kind of silly when you’re scared. When they got off the ride, my mother and I asked her why she was scared, but she said she wasn’t scared – she loved the ride. If only I’d had a video camera.
We went on several other rides, and then Gracie started to get cranky. We decided it was time for lunch, but we had to make a pitstop at the bathroom first. Too bad the kids’ mother picked the bathroom right by the crane machine. In case you are unaware, my kids and I are excellent “crane operators.” We win almost every time we play. So, I was sent off to get tokens (God forbid the damn things take quarters!), and I brought back just enough to allow each older child (Johnny was strapped into his stroller this whole time, being an absolute angel) one try. And we didn’t win anything. This was accepted nicely by my oldest child, but the middle two had meltdowns. BIG meltdowns. They’re used to winning. When we don’t win, they get very upset. They’re a lot like their father that way. (haha! Just kidding. They’re a lot like me!).
Anyway, we dragged these four kids, two of whom are puddles of tears, to the elevator banks and waited the requisite 12 minutes for an elevator to make it to us. We climbed in, along with most of the rest of the Twin Cities, and rode up to the third floor, where we had planned to eat at Famous Dave’s.
When we got to Famous Dave’s, they told us that it would be a 10 minute wait, so we tried to settle in for the wait. But Famous Dave’s doesn’t have benches or anything, so the kids decided to sit on the floor. Gracie asked Patrick if he would share his water with her, which he did. But then he got mad (apparently, she was hogging all the good water), so he started smacking the bottom of the bottle, and cut her lip. Then she started screaming, and I lost it. I gathered the children, and left the restaurant in a huff. My parents trailed behind, completely confused as to what had just transpired.
When we got out into the MOA hallway, I explained that we weren’t eating at Famous Dave’s because the kids had been so naughty. Then, my father asked to stop so that he could rest at the restroom for a moment. Apparently, he was afraid to ask me if he could go potty because I was in such a state.
But, it gets better! As we’re leaving, I noticed that Nordstrom’s has a café. Patrick had apologized to me (Gracie didn’t, but that’s a story for another day), so I figured that we could go sit and eat at Nordstrom’s. It was after 1:00, and we were all very hungry. So, we enter the café.
If you haven’t been the Nordstrom’s Café, I suggest you don’t bother. There are no indications of how the place works. You walk in, and a sign points to the left for To-Go orders, and straight ahead for Dine In orders. The problem is, it isn’t clear if you order at the counter or if you are supposed to wait to be seated. So, my mother was going to ask the cashier. But… a nasty old bat (with bright orange and red dyed hair and bad makeup) hollered at her that the “line is over there, honey.” My mom, who is nothing if not non-confrontational, looked at the woman with her very best scowl and told the woman that she was just trying to ask a question. The lady then said “Well, the line is over there.”
SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!!!!
That was it. Katie’s pulling out all the bitch slaps now! We started over towards where the line was (which, by the way, was empty because there was no one in line), but I decided that I couldn’t take it. In my very best stage whisper, I told my folks that we weren’t eating at the Café. I explained, loudly, that I wasn’t about to eat in a place that catered to idiots like that woman.
As we left, I shouted (yes, shouted!) over my shoulder:
“Your hair looks stupid!”
And, we piled into the car and headed to Boston Market.
Fun. Load of freaking fun. No more MOA for me anytime soon.
And if you happen to know Ronald McDonald’s mother (the old bat at Nordstrom’s), let me know. I have some more things to say to her.
You have to understand how the day started… My parents and I had decided to take the kids to The Park at MOA. Emma was playing hooky from school, and we were out to enjoy some good, old-fashioned fun at the indoor amusement park. I wanted to leave at 9:00 AM so that we could get to the park before the throngs of Spring Breakers got there. Of course, we didn’t leave until 9:35 AM (and you’ll never guess who was running late – it wasn’t me, the kids, or my father), and I had to stop and put gas in the van. So, we didn’t leave Chaska until almost 10:00 AM. When we finally pulled into the MOA parking lot, it was close to 10:45. (By the way, my mother is reading over my shoulder as I write this, and claims that it’s not her fault she was late – she doesn’t move that fast anymore).
If you know me at all, you know that I don’t handle tardiness well, and I don’t handle crowds well. When we got to the MOA, we were later than I had planned, and there were crowds. Lots and lots of people. And I had my little, tiny children with me. We had started off on the wrong foot.
My mother and I waited in line to get the kids their all-day wristbands for almost 20 minutes. Once we got the bands, we put them on the little wrists and headed out to ride some rides. The kids rode the Forggy Jumper first, which Patrick and Gracie loved. Emma, on the other hand, clung to the ride for dear life with a look of sheer terror on her little face. When your eyes are as big as dinner plates to begin with, you look kind of silly when you’re scared. When they got off the ride, my mother and I asked her why she was scared, but she said she wasn’t scared – she loved the ride. If only I’d had a video camera.
We went on several other rides, and then Gracie started to get cranky. We decided it was time for lunch, but we had to make a pitstop at the bathroom first. Too bad the kids’ mother picked the bathroom right by the crane machine. In case you are unaware, my kids and I are excellent “crane operators.” We win almost every time we play. So, I was sent off to get tokens (God forbid the damn things take quarters!), and I brought back just enough to allow each older child (Johnny was strapped into his stroller this whole time, being an absolute angel) one try. And we didn’t win anything. This was accepted nicely by my oldest child, but the middle two had meltdowns. BIG meltdowns. They’re used to winning. When we don’t win, they get very upset. They’re a lot like their father that way. (haha! Just kidding. They’re a lot like me!).
Anyway, we dragged these four kids, two of whom are puddles of tears, to the elevator banks and waited the requisite 12 minutes for an elevator to make it to us. We climbed in, along with most of the rest of the Twin Cities, and rode up to the third floor, where we had planned to eat at Famous Dave’s.
When we got to Famous Dave’s, they told us that it would be a 10 minute wait, so we tried to settle in for the wait. But Famous Dave’s doesn’t have benches or anything, so the kids decided to sit on the floor. Gracie asked Patrick if he would share his water with her, which he did. But then he got mad (apparently, she was hogging all the good water), so he started smacking the bottom of the bottle, and cut her lip. Then she started screaming, and I lost it. I gathered the children, and left the restaurant in a huff. My parents trailed behind, completely confused as to what had just transpired.
When we got out into the MOA hallway, I explained that we weren’t eating at Famous Dave’s because the kids had been so naughty. Then, my father asked to stop so that he could rest at the restroom for a moment. Apparently, he was afraid to ask me if he could go potty because I was in such a state.
But, it gets better! As we’re leaving, I noticed that Nordstrom’s has a café. Patrick had apologized to me (Gracie didn’t, but that’s a story for another day), so I figured that we could go sit and eat at Nordstrom’s. It was after 1:00, and we were all very hungry. So, we enter the café.
If you haven’t been the Nordstrom’s Café, I suggest you don’t bother. There are no indications of how the place works. You walk in, and a sign points to the left for To-Go orders, and straight ahead for Dine In orders. The problem is, it isn’t clear if you order at the counter or if you are supposed to wait to be seated. So, my mother was going to ask the cashier. But… a nasty old bat (with bright orange and red dyed hair and bad makeup) hollered at her that the “line is over there, honey.” My mom, who is nothing if not non-confrontational, looked at the woman with her very best scowl and told the woman that she was just trying to ask a question. The lady then said “Well, the line is over there.”
SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!!!!
That was it. Katie’s pulling out all the bitch slaps now! We started over towards where the line was (which, by the way, was empty because there was no one in line), but I decided that I couldn’t take it. In my very best stage whisper, I told my folks that we weren’t eating at the Café. I explained, loudly, that I wasn’t about to eat in a place that catered to idiots like that woman.
As we left, I shouted (yes, shouted!) over my shoulder:
“Your hair looks stupid!”
And, we piled into the car and headed to Boston Market.
Fun. Load of freaking fun. No more MOA for me anytime soon.
And if you happen to know Ronald McDonald’s mother (the old bat at Nordstrom’s), let me know. I have some more things to say to her.