WITH A LITTLE KICK

The First Kick

Popping into Dollar Tree at Hamilton Town Centers I was struck by the dirty floor.  When I asked if they sold saline solution for contacts, the cashier directed me to the manager who was focused on his cell phone and seemed to be pacing.  

He briefly gave me eye contact, then pointed and led the way.

As I was leaving, I noticed a Help Wanted sign which explained the dirty floor, and picked up an application.

On a lark, I went to the car, filled it out to the best of my memory, leaving some things blank.

When I presented it to him, he asked, "When are you available?"  I replied, "Tomorrow!  I'm a stay-at-home mom."

Next day, I worked my first shift.  He came up to say, "Can you come back this afternoon?  Go home, take a nap and come back."  Wow!  I worked a double my first day!   To be fair, they were desperate for help.

Well, it wasn't long before I figured out who was who, including a little sprite of a lady that was my manager on the evening shift.  We were the only employees at closing and she was reconciling my drawer.

Then she got nervous, then she started pacing, then she got on the phone and continued pacing.  She said my drawer was 87 dollars short.  

NO WAY!  I've been a cashier at Wal-Mart, and have 3 yard sales every summer.  I know how to take cash and give change!  I wouldn't be happy at being off by a penny!

Well, after much searching all over the cash register area, where we put money in a secret drawer, under the change drawer, and even the trash can, we never found it.  She called the boss.  Much secret talking took place, and then she confessed -- she added it up all wrong!  Of course she did!

The Second Kick

Christmas rush at Dollar Tree found us running 4 registers and I was going as fast as I could trying to keep up with the beep-beep-beeping of the scanners of the other more experienced cashiers.  One short dark-haired female customer complained as I looked up to tell her her total.  I looked expectantly for her to hand me either cash, card, or check.  She said, "You are the rudest cashier I've ever met.  I'll not come here ever again!"  

Wow, was I stunned!  I'd just been doing my job, too focused, I guess.  Jen, my shift manager, came over, smoothed ruffled feathers and told me not to worry about it.  "Keep going", she instructed, "she was probably having a bad day."

The Third Kick

I'd put in bold plain writing on my application that I would not/could not work Sundays.  The boss said I'd have to.  I said I couldn't, that it was on my application when he hired me.  He said, "You and I will have to do some more DEEP thinking on this!"  Well, he called headquarters and I don't know what was said, but I was never scheduled for another Sunday.

The Fourth Kick

The boss invariably scheduled me to open.  As he bustled from the office to the back to unload freight, I was told to quickly fill helium balloons enough to fill the ceiling corral, refill all the reading glasses display, sweep the front door area, fill the WOW (first) table with specialty product, and put 2 boxes of broom handles and broom heads together.  His answer was "All of them!" when I asked in surprise, "Which one do you want me to do first?"  

He was gone.  

My goal was always to beat him - to get all the tasks done before he and the fellows got the freight unloaded.  I would win.

With A Little Kick

Finally, I got a name tag.  White plastic, it was, with green stripe on top, green stripe on bottom, I.D. number in Sharpie on the corner, and my name in the middle.  The L in Pamela wasn't aligned.  It leaned a little to the left, the lower stroke aimed upward.  The boss apologized for not applying it correctly.  I laughed, thought of the little quirks in my employment and said, "That's all right.  Pamela, an L with a little KICK, huh?"  As his eyes met mine, they crinkled at the corners, he smiled and said, "Exactly!"  

I stayed on for another year.

STORYTELLERS, GRANDKIDS ARE STORYTELLERS

Okay, you've read the title and you're agreeing -- kids are storytellers.  You've raised 2 year olds, 5 year olds, 4 year olds and 1 year olds, and maybe even some teenagers, so you know they tell stories for different reasons, but I'll bet you're not gonna guess this one.

A five year old doesn't want to disappoint you, "I know how to zip my coat myself" while struggling to get the ends inserted.   A one year doesn't know the difference, especially if he's still in the ma-ma da-da grunting stage.  A 4 year old doesn't want disciplined for running over bubby's toes.  And a 2 year old thinks if she says she didn't do it, you'll just believe her because she believes it her self.

They just dream it up! 

And that's where we're at.  They dreamed it up.

It started with flashlights.  Yes, there are many flashlights in this house -- penlight, household, minature, mag lites --we have 'em.  

When Jacob carries his black and yellow trimmed one around and drops it, it comes apart in 6 pieces --including the 2 batteries.  When Alayna says, "Tooh heav-ee", we exchange her mag lite for a regular household silver one.

Now, these are grandkids, so as their grandma I have no clue where the idea comes from for them to set the stage by turning on their flashlights.  They pressed them to their chins to light up their faces like creepers at a window!  The flashlight lights up their nostrils, gives them black circles around their eyes, and makes their eyes look thin like slits over black orbs.  Creepy.

After a long couple hours where they have gone from one interesting toy to another, you'd think with wings on their feet for extra speed, John and I are glad to sit and listen to these little storytellers.  

Earlier at the supper table Alayna told us "When Jay was a baby-baby, a little baby, him crawl, him walk" and she goes back to slurping spaghetti noodles.  (BTW, Jay's five and going to Kindergarten.). 

Jay, not to be left out, "When I was three and a baby, to count I said, "Goo-goo, goo, goo, goo."  

I'm sure he did!

As storytelling goes, the 3 year old girl, climbs 3 steps up the stairs, swings her arms 3 times, swi-ing, swi-ing, swi-ing, jumps off the step, lands on all fours, then when she pops up, she tells a big one, "It doesn't hurt."

We had a good half hour or so of playing hide and seek.  THEY CAN'T HIDE WITHOUT GIGGLING!  If we didn't fudge a little bit ourselves, there'd never be time spent on hunting toddlers, they're too, too easy to find!  I instructed them several times, "No sounds, no gasping breaths, no giggles.  Sit still; your clothes are making sounds.  Don't push the couch out, grandpa will hear the scraping legs.  Shhhhh."

But Jay couldn't stand it, he tells all, and loudly,  "We're hiding in the living room!"

Back in the family room, grandparents taking a sit-down rest, grandkids excited and cross-talking with their flashlights poised, Jay begins.

"Once upon a time, I had to see what's up there. (Jay points to the stairwell.)  It comes out in the night.  Everybody has to go out.  Out into the night.  Catch Bigfoot!  He boo-ed at me.  He ate the others.  We went running and he caught ME.  And he pulled me down.  And I shined a flashlight in his eyes.  I save people."

He pauses ever so briefly, "Being brave was so good.  The end."

LOL, being brave is good, very good!  Even if to feel brave, you have to be a storyteller.

RED AND CHEERFUL, TINSEL AND BRIGHT

Red and cheerful, the house looks wonderful.

Christmas lights adorning the yard, electrified Mr. and Mrs. Claus waving a hello, and soldiers guarding the entry stand welcoming.  The inside Santa placing a hat on frosty snowman hangs on the wall.  Hubby's prized pirate figurine even sports a miniature Santa hat, fur ball thrown over left shoulder!  A manger scene set before mirrored glass reminds us why this season of goodwill exists.  

The cat purrs her contentment, in the same room as the wood stove; she curls herself into a shiny black ball, laying on orange terry cloth discarded atop a flower garland, and she's looking like a centerpiece ... until she opens her mouth and exposes pink tongue and white teeth in a yawn of faked disinterest.

No fireplace, but the stairs support red stockings trimmed in white fur.  All stockings, even the girlfriend's and the one expected in Spring, are full and bulging.  Their peaks of many gifts, and the peeking of gifts with eyes, were tempting early investigations - candy?  chocolate?  trinket?  book?  stuffed animal?  a thousand dollars?

Back rooms ready and waiting for guests.

Bathroom soap dispenser is red-nosed.

Kitchen secrets food for devourment, the freezer knows of happy dishes, the appliances held forth linens of the season, and the counter tauts "Here's the cake!" 

As supposed to be, the food would be an answer to taste buds.  Taste buds waiting in expectation of specific flavors - new and exciting, old and remembered, current and wanting.    

The table's haphazardly set with not enough forks, and unmatching chairs parked willy nilly here and there under the table with added leaves.  

The sought coffee pot's set up for early morning risers and day drinkers.

Gifts of red and white, green and red, and silvery blue are piled higher than the lowest Christmas tree branch -- which reaches out in protection.  It interweaves decorations of trains, airplanes, Hallmark pups, Starbuck cups, gold baubles, and glittery bulbs with light strands a'plenty.  Amongst the candy canes on every branch are added a "Believe", a "Noel", and a treetop star heralding "Merry Christmas".

No Rockwell painting here, nothing perfect, no life yet.

Words, these words,  brush stroke a tinsel and bright family portrait -- they're coming.

.

TODDLER TALK WITH JACOB AND CLINTON JACOB

He's not exactly talking, but we sure do communicate!  He's a toddler with high energy, arms out-reaching, and purpose,   "I see.  I get."

That's Jacob, a blue eyed, under 2 feet tall, 16 month old, toddle-like walker who's in that excited discovery stage "I see it.  And, by golly, I'm gonna get it!"  

Communication without words?  Here's examples, these were all in one afternoon:   a bite of deviled eggs from GrammyPam gets an "ummmmm" from his hungry lips, a grabbed small poinsettia plant evokes a "ahhhhhh" of pleasure as he reaches up to pull it down to his eye level, and an empty mouth spying desired food on someone's plate provokes, "uh, uh, uh" as in want, want, want.  

And, boy howdy, is he speedy!  He came into the family room waving my pink dowel rod that was stashed behind the utility room door, and we didn't even realize he'd left the room!

Currently master Jacob likes to put things in his mouth.  Yesterday he wandered into the kitchen and came out with food, a club cracker in each hand!  Where he got those is a mystery, and that's funny.  

Mom says he's discovered that if he gets into the bread drawer he can shake a loaf of bread until it pops open so he can have a slice.  I keep saying she's got a hungry boy who's growing more muscle than that little Lilly girl!  Lilly has aversions, and doesn't always eat well.  This boy is a whole new ball game.

His father, Clinton Jacob, confessed.  He told us a story from his own youth.  "Mrs. Gable, probably 60 years old, was my teacher.  In her class I ate a whole glue stick.  I told her,  "Mrs. Gable, I ran out of glue."  I'm sure she looked at me funny since I had pink lips!"  

I just sit there in shock with my own mouth wide open!  Ew, a whole glue stick!!!

And then my mind wanders back to those sayings around the house that emerged from the boys' growing years.  One was  "I'm as hungry as I ever been."   

Another was purloined from my father,   "I'm so hungry my big gut is eating my little gut!" 

"Feed this boy" and the male speaker usually points a finger to his own chest.

"Are you hangry?  Huh, huh, huh, are you hangry?"  (This was brought to us 20 years ago by cousin Jack before it was ever said on TV.)  It means, "Are you so hungry you're angry?"

"Milk this boy!"  means give this boy a glass of milk, or if age appropriate, a baby bottle.

"I need a Hungry Man meal!"  Again, a purloined phrase, this one is from Campbell's soup; you can hear the commercial in your mind, right?  "How do you handle a hungry man?  The man handler."

Sometimes my teenagers would open the refrigerator door, stand inside and holler out, "She ain't got nothing, who wants to go to Hardees?"

They grew, they made sure of it, they left home like good adult sons do, but sometimes on their way back home for a visit they phone,  "Do you have something fixed, or do I need a drive-thru?"  During my pause, thinking of what's in the fridge, or what I might quickly cook-up, they make a quick decision,  "Never-mind, we're going to a drive-through!"

Click.

Well, durn.  Not my arms, but my voice is out-reaching, like Jacob, I need to communicate, "Hey, I'm hangry, too!  Uh, uh, uh."

THE MISTER'S MENAGERIE

"Come on in!  Yes, walk right up the ramp!  There!  You've got it!  One hoof in front of the other!"

And I looked on aghast at the girth of the elephants, the height of the giraffes, the muscle bound rhinoceros, the swarms of bees, and the mated serpents eyes that gleamed "You look delicious!  I want to bite you!"

Noah was encouraging all these creatures to get on board while I was wondering where on earth, I mean ship, I was going to sleep.

He said we were going on a cruise, right?  But these fellow passengers are rough and rowdy, smelly, and hungry enough to eat the horses!   Cruise?  Phooey!  Looks like a Katrina rescue to me.

"Noah, how do you want me to dress for this trip?"

  

"You always look good to me, honey, anything will do."

How like a man.  I mean, if I'm gonna help slop the pigs, I'm not putting on my pearls!  Besides, westwardly, it's looking gloomy and dark, I'm starting to think slickers, wading boots and a bumbershoot!  

And here comes the rain.  

And here comes more rain.

And here comes more and more rain -- pelt-pelt-pelt.

A foul stench wafts into our captain's quarters.   Ew, like the excrements of a thousand men on iron supplements.  "Can I open a window?" 

"Do you have bailing buckets?"  asked hubby.

"What is that smell anyway?  Smells like it's coming from your ass?  That donkey's has been eating hay all day!  Sheesh.  And the flies!"

"Shem, give me a flyswatter." 

Noah, "No!  No!  No!  I need at least seven of 'em!"

"Then I'm swatting 163!"

"Japeth, was it you who drew in that leviathon?  Give me that hook!  You do know this is a no smoking zone?  His smoking nostrils and firey mouth will burn down our house....uh...ship!   Give.  Me.  That.  Hook.  Oh, my goodness, what's a mother to do with you boys.  You're just like your father."

From the rafters comes a "Who?  Who?  Who?" 

"Noah -- that's who!"  

"Ham, I need help in here.  You've got a long reach.  I don't mind birds in the hull, but they don't need to be here in my sleeping quarters.  Can you get that partridge out of the pear tree?  Thank you, son."

Noah interjects, "Maybe we should retire to the land of slumber for the rest of this trip.

The rooster can crow up the sun, and the dove can tell us when we've reached land."

"What do you mean you put a hole in the ship?  Are you nuts?"  I'm aghast again.

 Shem, Japeth, and Ham stand there like those monkeys Hear No Evil, See No Evil, and Speak No Evil, "Well, mom, you said you couldn't stand the smell in here, so we've created a poop chute."

"Quick!  We need those bailing buckets after all."

"Noah, don't look at ME like that, these are your boys! 

3 Sons, Their Playful Prince, And A Dishwasher

Thanksgiving's Black Friday finds me listening in on the men's conversations as they install a new dishwasher.  The youngest is Ian, the middle one is Spencer, the older is Calvin, and then there's their dad, John, their playful prince; rather than being group leader he prefers to join in on the laughter -- to be one of the boys.

Spencer:  Where's the drill?

Ian:  You have to master manuel tools before we give you power tools!

Spencer to Calvin:  Did mom send you in here?

Calvin:  I'm here for moral support.

Calvin:  Are you supposed to remove that?

Ian:  Yes, Calvin, it says, "Remove before use."

Ian:  Calvin, you're gonna lean the dishwasher back.

Calvin:  I'm busy (and he yawns and looks away).

Spencer to Calvin:  We have to have the dishwasher over there.

Ian:  Up, dude!  

Calvin:  I asked for power tools to begin with, you gotta work smarter not harder.

(As he pretends to sit) I have a chair right here.  

Dad:  It says installation bracket.  Here's the packet with screws.

Spencer:  They're talking about these tabs, right, Dad?

Ian:  We NEVER put screws in a dishwasher!

Spencer:  Just ignore it.

Ian:  He's a grown man, he's an adult, he can do this.

Spencer:  We have to tighten this.

Dad:  If it doesn't leak, we can go with it.

Dad:  Sit it down, Calvin.

Ian:  Gently.  Please.

Calvin:  Can you not do that?

Ian:  Let's get the thing in here, come on, guys, let's just do it.  It's just sitting here.

Calvin:  Don't move!!!

Spencer:  Coming down!  It's coming your way!

Dad:  Guide it.

Spencer:  Okay, Calvin, 

Calvin:  Over top it, around it, where's this go?

Calvin:  Dad, are we going to set this dishwasher on top of this wire?

Dad:  No.

Spencer:  There's a channel, we're good to go!

Dad:  Set it down.

Spencer:  No, don't set it down!  Lean it toward Ian!

Calvin:  Yes, lean it toward Ian.

Spencer:  Now, gently come down, gently come down.

Dad:  Push it in.

Spencer:  Nice and easy.

(Note:  Originally I wanted white to match the rest of the kitchen, but settled on stainless steel since it was such a good deal.  And, I'd told the boys that stainless steel shows fingerprints, another reason I was in the market for white.  Of course, they had to tease me about my relenting.)

Calvin:  Look at this nice and shiny steel.

Ian:  The more you talk the more you stir things up, just keep quiet.

Spencer:  She chose it.

Calvin:  Yah, but she really wanted white.

Ian:  Shush, keep it down.

Ian to Spencer:  You can do it, you're an electrician, that got fired, but you can do it.

Ian:  I put mine through the channels so you can just ignore my wires.

Dad:  Also, it says ........

Calvin:  Look Dad, I found it!

Ian:  What?

Calvin:  A level !  (and he begins singing) "I put one foot in front of the other."

Ian:  I gotta connect that drain thing, Calvin give me a screwdriver!

(Presently my new-fangled, LED lit, smart Wi-Fi dishwasher will be usable.

Well, it'll be usable in a minute or two, gotta check for stains first, blood stains!)

Dad:  Let's close the door.

Calvin:  I tried but Spencer won't let me.

Spencer:  OW!  DON'T CLOSE THE DOOR!  My fingers are in there!

The ABC's of Boyhood

 The ABC's of BOYHOOD

A - ACRONYM - When naming your progeny, watch the acronym.   Arnold Stephen Parker, what a sneaky snake, ASP!   Peter Owen O'Brien, ew, POO!   Zachery Allen Perry, he'll be ZAPped daily!  Don't do it!

B - BAT - Refrain from giving a boy a bat, his toy truck might sub for a baseball, and he might think Gunner the dog can play catch.

C - CHALK - Has many uses -- learning to write one's name,  drawing stick figures, making railroad tracks and racing ovals on the sidewalk, swallowing, choking, colored vomit.

D - DRY WALL - Hole in the drywall?  They'll just hang a picture over it.  Mom won't discover for 5 years!!!

E - EXCAVATION - Excavating's okay 'til the hole's so deep it needs shoring.   You will have to explain that shoring doesn't mean building up the walls like a bank.  They'll think you mean "when you hit water get out uncle's oars to head to shore."

F - FOOD - This is it's own ABC's.  A - Always have some.  B - Backup, always have some.  C - Carrots, always have some.  THEY won't eat carrots, YOU will always have some.

G - GOLF CLUB - Hide all golf clubs, not everything swung at will first rest on a tee.

H - HOLES - In the yard you just need to know that they exist and where they exist, from golfing holes to dog dug holes to "Let's bury her Little Pony!" holes.

I - INSECTS - Give 'em a magnifying glass on a sunny day and they can use the rays on insects as a precursor to becoming CSI agents.  It's a goal!

J - JUMP -  When they become teenagers and take 45 minute naps in the shower under hot water, just expect it.  Your water bill will JUMP!

K - KNIVES - Sharp, dull, paring, butcher, washed, dirty - doesn't matter, bloody skin can be achieved even with a butter knife.

L - LAUNDRY CHUTE - Keep full of dirty clothes.  If empty, pre-teens can, and will, hand down to their sibling  below, their infant brother!

M - MATCHES - Look cool, taste cool, smell cool, are fuel!

N - NOT ME, IT WASN'T ME!  Those words, the backbone of life, are learned at birth.  Once out of the womb, just before inserting right thumb, your precious, innocent infant will look at you while you're still recovering from the pain of it all and utter, "Not Me, It Wasn't Me!" 

O - OVER MY DEAD BODY!  Another string of words that become a parental staple.  If it's someone other than you saying it, you'd better investigate before the coroner does.

P - PIT - You know where that pit is, even if you only see the crown of their brown hair!  Digging a six-foot pit has benefits -- time-consuming, uses up energy, centralizes tools and terrorists. 

Q - QUALITY INN'S POOL - A teenager infested indoor pool of  manmade waves bounding over the edges and ledges will assume the nature of a tsunami.  Clerks ramp up charges!

R - ROCKS -  Oh, for the love of rocks; to load a toy backhoe bucket, to dare a monster truck's climb, to fill pockets, to dam water, to wallow in your mouth until they're clean, to clog mom's clothes machine.

S - STICKS - All sticks, all the time, many uses, any time.  Whacker, smacker, scepter, sword, lightsaber, wand, rapier, pointer, ant ramp, security alert, and gun!  RUN!  

T - TREE TRIMMERS - Know where they are at all times, even glancing out the window to see neighbors evergreens being de-branched by your own little hellions, know that that is where your tree trimmers are.

U - UNDER COVER - Moving lumps, about the size of a child's head, under a blanket on the floor, indicates the other child poised on the bed MUST be stopped, especially mid-leap!

W - WADING POOL - Every family needs one.  Maybe, two.  One in the attic for backup.  They hold water, wild turtles, baby ducks, miscellaneous collections, and dirt piles.  They don't hold up as a landing during an Evil Knieval tricycle jump.  Keep tissues handy but a dirty sleeve will do.

X - X-RAY!  Yes, when the chubby girl in second grade lands on your skinny boy during gym and breaks him, you will need an x-ray.  Thankfully, collar bones heal quickly.

Y - Y, Why?  That is a question.  A question repeated until the end of time, your life-time.  Don't let it drive you crazy, avoid therapy by keeping handy the only reasonable answer "Because."  

Z - ZOOM -  Boys' got it, boys use it, boys regenerate it with naps.  Beware!  It's a repeating cycle; ZOOM, ZOOM, nap, ZOOM, ZOOM, nap, ZOOM ZZZZZzzzzzzzzz........

From A to Z, you and he will survive boyhood.  Grab a nap.

In the meantime, if you text your husband asking for help, beware, he will laugh, "I just read your joke -- Me Time!"