May 2013 – Tough Bananas

Rhubarb – It’s Time to End the Conspiracy

It’s almost that time of year – summer! Strawberries, asparagus, corn on the cob, peaches, oh, and of course, their awkward cousin, (you know, who makes everyone laugh a little uncomfortably while avoiding eye contact): rhubarb.

Seems innocuous enough - don't be fooled. — Seems innocuous enough – don’t be fooled.

Before this time of seasonal enticement begins, I’d like to get ahead of the inevitable propaganda that comes along with it. Why are we all still pretending that rhubarb is delicious? I have a theory. Someone put it in a pie by accident and no one wanted to hurt their feelings. Kind of like The Emperor’s New Clothes, but with dessert.

Rhubarb can’t stand on its own. Somewhere along the line someone thought, “Hey, strawberries are just too sweet and delicious, let’s add just a smidge of bitter and stringy stalk bits – oh, perfect!” Rhubarb is Strawberry’s longstanding friend that poor Strawberry just can’t shake. They both know it’s time to move their separate ways, but clingy Rhubarb just doesn’t take the hint. Strawberry knows he’d be better off solo, but doesn’t know how to break it to Rhubarb.

This cover-up in modern cuisine is everywhere and social media is the biggest tool in this propaganda machine. Yes, Facebook, I’m talking about you.

“I just made the YUMMIEST rhubarb muffins.” Nope, ‘rhubarb’ and ‘yummiest’ are mutually exclusive.

“Check out this strawberry rhubarb cookies – SO good.” Stop dragging strawberry into this.

“Oooh, rhubarb coffee cake for dessert – can’t wait!” Liar.

Now, you might be thinking that I have it out for rhubarb, and you’re right, I do. But let me close with these two indisputable facts and then you can decide which side to support.

1. Rhubarb is a vegetable. (yup, I looked it up)

2. Rhubarb is a result of the fall: “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles and rhubarb for you.” Genesis 3:17b-18

I rest my case.

Adam and Eve – Littles Style

At bedtime, when both of us parents are home, we tend to divide and conquer – one of us takes the Littles, the other has the Bigs. Trust me, it’s just easier that way.

We are once again reading the Bible story book I grew up with: The Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes by Ken Taylor.

The stories are short and sweet with very accessible language for young children (that’s the teacher in me speaking, I’ll tell her to be quiet from here on in). However, the length of the story does not correspond with the length of time it takes us to read one. Allow me to demonstrate.

“These are the people God made. Can you see them in the picture? Yes, that’s a tree. Oh, a kitty cat? I think that might be a cheetah. They are behind the flowers in the middle of the – fingers out, that’s yucky – picture. Can you point to them? He can point, too – wait, wait, ok, can you point now? At the people. The people. WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE!?”

(brief pause while I compose myself)

“Continuing on. The man’s name is – no, not Daddy, he might look a bit like Daddy. That’s not Uncle Ken, is Uncle Ken in the Bible? Yes, he does read it. Yes, he’s Jesus’ friend, too. His name is Adam. The lady’s name – please say ‘excuse me’ when you do that. Her name is Eve.

(pause while we relocate due to ungodly smell)

“Adam and Eve did not have a mother and father. No, they didn’t have a grandpa or grandma either. Well, I guess they had to get their own breakfast. God made Adam out of dust from the ground, and then – yes, I heard the train, too. No, they didn’t have Chuggington in the Bible. And then He made Eve. Yes, God made you, too. Just get a Kleenex, don’t wipe it on your pants.

(pause for some personal hygiene)

“God made them happy and good. They love God and God loves them. In the picture you see them looking up toward God. No wonder they are so happy. Yes, some day we can look up and see God.”

Sometimes reading this book for about 36th time feels rote. Sometimes bedtime can be another chore to complete before the freedom that follows tucking them in (the most wonderful time of the day, to be sure). And sometimes through that, little nuggets of truth sneak in: Bible time is important. Spending quiet time with the boys is a special moment of the day. And some day we will look up and see God.

Now You See Him, Now You Don’t

The toddler has the amazing ability to disappear in the blink of an eye. He accomplishes this by merely not making eye contact. Don’t believe me? See if you can spot him below.

"Please put your shoes away." — “Please put your shoes away.”

See what I mean? Vanished.

All I said was, "Let's change your diaper" and he was gone in a flash. — “Let’s change your diaper.”

He can even disappear at church.

"All done with water." — “All done with water.”

And he can use his super power in any room, to avoid any chore.

"Let's put your cup away." — “Let’s put your cup away.”

Yup, any chore.

"Time to clean up the toys." — “Time to clean up the toys.”

Or any perceived unpleasantness.

"Mommy's turn with the toothbrush." — “Mommy’s turn with the toothbrush.”

Toddler son might outgrow this ability, only time will tell. His dad and I are just hoping he can turn things around and use this gift for good.

Why I Don’t do Organized Sports

Bearded husband says I pulled a bit of a bait-and-switch on him. He claims that when we were dating, I was sporty… and into sports…. and liked sports and stuff. He’s deluded. WE WERE DATING.

Ok, ok, I admit I was more into that stuff 15 years ago. But we clearly remember the past differently.

Him: You used to play baseball with me.

Me: I let you practice pitching with me as back catcher. It hurt. A lot.

Him: Remember how you used to play badminton?

Me: In the backyard with lots of lemonade breaks.

Him: Well, we played squash together.

Me: We were dating.

Him: You played beach volleyball for a while.

Me: Until I went home in tears, remember that part?

Him: Alright, but we would go for runs together, remember?

Me: I had a wedding dress to fit into.

Truthfully, I actually do enjoy sports, but not enough. I like to play for fun. FUN. Don’t count on me to get the winning goal or the impossible save. The only good game is one where I get to laugh. A lot. Mostly at myself.

I chat when I exercise, it’s how I know I haven’t pushed myself too hard. In between at-bats is the perfect time to catch up on the latest news. Right after the serve is a great opportunity to tell my teammate I like her shoes. Waiting for a pitch is when I do my best meal-planning. This is who I am. This is who he married.

If anything I have gotten better with sports. Now, when I go to watch a game, I bring along really good snacks and sometimes even a chair, not just a blanket. Oh, and I also bring four small spectators with me. Let’s just take a moment to acknowledge the effort that takes.

Sometimes I even pretend to follow along when SportsCentre is on. And not just the Top 10 stuff, the real clips and commentaries. And for each professional sport, I memorize one or two players’ names so I can act like I know what’s going on. Kirk Gibson still plays for the Tigers, right?

Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe I did pull a bait-and-switch. I baited him with a mediocre sports enthusiast and switched into the Spectator Extraordinaire. That guy always wins.

Why Mommy Needs Wine Most Nights

Our dinner table often resembles the opening segment of “The View”, but with small interrupting boys instead of loud, interrupting women. Recently the boys were discussing good artists they know. That is to say, their teachers. The almost 4 year old does not like to be left out. What follows is his contribution to the discussion.

A4YO: Mrs. Winston draws good pictures, too.

Me: Who is Mrs. Winston?

A4YO: You know, Mrs. Winston.

Me: Who is Mrs. Winston? Is she from church?

A4YO: No. Not church.

Hubs: At preschool?

A4YO: No. (insert condescending chuckle)

Me: I’m wondering about this Mrs. Winston. Is she at the boys’ school? (sidebar to older brothers reveals no such person exists at the local public school).

A4YO: You know, Mrs. Winston.

I’m beginning to suspect this Mrs. Winston is completely made up and sad that it took me this long to figure it out.

Me: Tell me more about this Mrs. Winston.

A4YO: The one who lives with JACOB (slightly exasperated, definitely incredulous that I am unaware of the elusive Mrs. Winston).

Me: Who is Jacob?

A4YO: He lives with Mrs. Winston.

Me: I got that part, but who is Jacob?

A4YO: The one in the red shirt! (obviously)

Me: Ok, but who is this Mrs. Winston who lives with Ja—……who wants dessert?

I know when I’m beaten.

———

Sometimes you let them win, but sometimes you have truth on your side. I now offer you Example B.

We’re in the van on the way to SportChek. A4YO announces that busses are really a truck.

Me: Well, they LOOK big like a truck, but they’re not, they’re a form of transportation

A4YO: Actualleeeeey, no. They are a truck.

Me: Nope. They are a type of vehicle.

A4YO: Well, actualleeeeeey, they are a truck.

Me: You might think they are a truck, but they are a different vehicle.

A4YO: Actualleeeeeeey, they really are trucks.

Me: A truck would carry cargo or something, busses are for people. Vehicle.

A4YO: No, actualleeeeeey, you’re wrong.

Me: You think I’m wrong, but I’m right. Vehicle.

A4YO: I know, they are trucks.

Me: You can keep saying it, but it doesn’t make it true. Type of vehicle. (insert slightly hysterical sing-song voice).

A4YO: Actualleeeeey, no. You’re wrong.

Actually, I’m just going to accept that a preschooler’s mind cannot be changed. Even in the face of indisputable truth.

Le Dentiste

Every six months I get to visit the dentist for what they call a “Check Up”, but we all know it is much more than that.

They start off with the chit chat. How was your day? How are the boys? Are you back to work this year? Oh, kindergarten? How nice. This is all just to put you at ease before they ask about their hidden agenda. The answer to “How many cups of coffee do you drink” is, “Mind your own business”.

I’m quite certain that dental teams attend a workshop in “mhmmm”. There are many different meanings behind all those little “mhmmms” and it is up to those of us on the receiving end to interpret them:

Option A: “not too bad, just a little plaque, well it has been six months”

Option B: “more tartar than I’d like to see, but it’s on those back teeth, that’s tricky”

Option C: “ok, no flossing has been happening here”

Option D: “The horror! I will be using every sharp tool I have on this tray”

We know, dental hygienists, we know.

Dentists and hygienists have also mastered the art of shaming:

“I’m sorry I have to keep going back to this spot, but there is just SO MUCH plaque.”

“Do you floss? Ever?”

“Here, hold this mirror and watch while I show you how you are supposed to floss, *dummy.”

Next comes the polishing stage which is almost the worst (fluoride rinse is the worst, and needs no further discussion). She’s polishing and rinsing and polishing and rinsing and I do my best to be a good patient, but all I can think is: “DON’T YOU SEE I AM DROWNING ON MY OWN SALIVA?! THAT SPIT SUCKER THING IS NOT A DECORATION – GET THE SPIT! GET THE SPIT!”

Okay, the worst is mostly over, but this visit I noticed a new tool. No, not the tiny instruments of torture they use for plaque removal, a Sales Tool. I’m guessing our dentist office recently bought shares in SonicCare’s parent company because as I’m getting poked, prodded, and scraped, she keeps reminding me that an electric toothbrush would considerably reduce all that plaque and make cleaning easier. When I don’t grunt agreement, she seems to find a little extra something that needs scraping on my already tender baby tooth (I still have 3 of them). Well, played, hygienist.

But the dental team is not the only one with a plan. I’m pretty wily myself (comes with being the youngest of four). You can’t just floss the night before, that’s no good. Floss once or twice a few days beforehand. Then you can truthfully say, “Well, I don’t floss EVERY day…” and trail off, just like that (take a second and practice, I’ll wait). Also, flossing a few days ahead of time will reduce the bleeding and toughen up those gums a bit. It builds stamina, trust me.

If you’re lucky and don’t have any cavities or abnormalities, don’t cheer or say “really?!” that just tips your hand. Maintain a cool veneer like you fully expected the appointment to go that way, because you are a flosser who drinks just the right amount of coffee and does not eat Sweet Tarts or Zingy Zaps before bed. Ever.

(*Dummy is said with the eyes, pay attention.)

So, what’s your deal? How often do you floss? (nevermind, no matter what, I’m going to assume you are lying).