Monthly Archives: January 2013

January 31, 2013 · 10:45 am

The Gun At The Park

I’m at the park with my boys and a good friend’s son, Samwise.  Samwise is a code name, because privacy is always my first priority (for other people’s kids, anyway).  That, and wouldn’t be cool to have the name Samwise?  It’s a gorgeous Florida “winter” afternoon with a warm sun and a cool breeze, and the playground is filled to the gills with kids, moms, dads, babysitters, and even a few grandparents.  Dylan, Riley, and at least a dozen other children are chasing squirrels, and Samwise and I are sitting on a bench.  I’m on Facebook (surprise!) and Samwise is stuffing fists full of Quack’n Bites in his mouth when out of nowhere, Samwise says, “Hey, that guy has a gun.”

I immediately have three thoughts:

(1) Samwise is three years old.  He’s just as likely to say, “That guy has a gun,” as he is to say, “A unicorn ate my nose.”

(2) In the post-Newtown (Columbine, Aurora, Virginia Tech) world in which we live, it’s not wise to say something like this in a busy public place (in the same way it’s not a good idea to talk about bombs at the airport).

(3) F–k, is there a guy at the park with a gun?

I look up in a panic to find a young boy – about nine or 10 years old – with an assault rifle of the brightly colored, plastic, Nerf variety.  It’s a toy.

Ask my boys if I like toy guns, shoots, shooters, or whatever the heck you want to call them (Nerf calls them blasters), and they both know the answer.  No.  I can’t help it that occasionally we come home from the toy store with a Transformer or Star Wars character with an attachable – and thankfully, easily lost – weapon.  But actual guns?  Forget about it.  I can’t control a lot in this world, but I can control this.

The toy rifle at the park is as attractive to the kids (the boys, especially) as a candy-filled piñata.  Dylan keeps his distance.  (Good boy.)  Riley picks it up and examines it while the gun’s owner is on the swing, but when I ask him to put it down, he complies and says, “We don’t like shoots, right, Mommy?”  Right.  “Shoots hurt people.”  Right.  (Good boy.)

On an idyllic afternoon such as this, there are “common property” park toys everywhere, including sidewalk chalk, a football, a soccer ball, and a remote control monster truck.  Everyone plays with everything, and it occurs to me that I might be the only Mama who thinks the big gun is wildly inappropriate.  Fortunately, I’m wrong.  Soon, I hear a Mama say, “Isaac, put it down.  I don’t like that.”  And then another.  And another.

At one point, the young boy points his gun to no one in particular and pulls the trigger causing a “pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa” sound.  He does this two or three more times before stopping.  I cringe.

When the sun begins to set, we head home for dinner and a bath, but I can’t get the image or the sound of the gun at the park out of my head.  I think about Gabby Giffords, the children in Newtown, and the teachers who tried to protect them.  I think about wise Uncle Ben who tells Peter Parker, “With great power comes great responsibility.”  I think about Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) and Smokey the Bear, and how it’s just as important to have a shift of values in our homes as it is in Washington, D.C.  I think about how my disdain for guns has thankfully rubbed off on my kids.  (If only my love of kale had the same effect!)  I think about how in one small park in one small town in one county in the state of Florida in the United States of America, I was one of many who were uncomfortable with the presence of a toy gun with semiautomatic sound effects.  I think about how beautiful it is to be a living, breathing cog in the wondrous phenomenon known as change.

Editor’s note:  It took 679 words for me to express my thoughts on guns.  At yesterday’s Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on gun violence, it took Gabby Giffords just 71:

“Violence is a big problem. Too many children are dying. Too many children. We must do something. It will be hard, but the time is now. You must act. Be bold, be courageous. Americans are counting on you.”

I don’t like guns.  It’s okay if you do, but I don’t.  If you want to learn about or engage in a movement to enact common-sense gun laws in our country, check out One Million Moms 4 Gun Control.  (Or don’t.  I won’t be upset.  Promise.)

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Filed under guns, making a difference, toys

January 30, 2013 · 11:10 am

Word Problems XII (The Grocery Store Edition)

Q: A Mama schleps her three-year-old son to Whole Foods at 8am on a Tuesday morning because she needs a Green Dream pronto.  The smoothie costs $6.99.  Then, the Mama buys her son a jumbo croissant because he wants it and because she needs him to keep his s–t together while they wait.  The croissant costs $1.99.  On their way to the front of the store, the Mama’s son insists he needs to buy flowers.  “They’re for you, Mommy,” he says looking up at her with his toothy smile and ridiculously blue eyes, “because I love you.”  (He had me at hello.)  At the cash register, the Mama pays for the Green Dream, croissant, and flowers and the total, including a $1.50 tax is $28.47.  Just how much did those flowers cost?

A: $17.99.  Oops.  Not only am I a compulsive shopaholic, but also I’m a careless one, too.  Let’s hope I can keep the flowers alive for at least a few days.

Q:  A Mama finally takes her little sinus troll to the ENT.  Not surprisingly, Doc puts the troll on Nasonex and a strict dairy rehabilitation program.  He is to have no more than two servings of dairy (from cows) per day.  Doctor’s orders.

According to the USDA, one serving of milk is one cup.  On an average day, the troll drinks approximately four to 40 cups of liquid cocaine Kefir.  And then there’s all of the other dairy indulgences he fancies, such as cream cheese, cheese sticks, yogurt, pudding, and ice cream.

This Kefir addict has been known to throw sharp objects, melt in a puddle of his own tears and saliva, and/or make fire shoot out of his ears if Kefir isn’t presented to him pronto in his favorite blue cup with a blue cover and a blue straw.   This Mama is both terrified and thrilled to tame her addict.  Terrified because the withdrawal period will be agonizing and quite possibly dangerous for anyone within a one-mile radius.  Thrilled because each 32-ounce jug of Kefir costs $4.39. Conversely, soymilk, which Doc gives a thumbs up, costs a mere $3.35 for a half-gallon, which according to the “Internets” is 64 ounces.  (This Mama was never good at retaining measurement conversions.  She also sucked at geometry.)

If this Mama buys on average eight jugs, or 256 ounces, of Kefir per week, she spends about $35.12 (plus tax) enabling her troll’s addiction.  If she’s able to switch the troll from Kefir to soymilk, she can buy approximately four containers per week and spend just $13.40.  That’s over $20 per week in savings and a lot of money the Mama can spend carelessly elsewhere.

The good news is that the troll likes chocolate soymilk, no one was (seriously) injured during the detox process, he wakes up coughing a lot less, and the insurance co-payment for all of it was $35.

A:  Was there a question?

Q: On Tuesday, a Mama goes to Whole Foods once and Publix twice.  On Wednesday, she goes back to Publix.  On Thursday, she goes to Publix (and uses a coupon!).  On Friday, she goes to Publix.  On Saturday, she rests.  (Actually, she doesn’t rest at all.  She just doesn’t go to the grocery store.)  On Sunday, she goes to Whole Foods in the morning and Publix in the afternoon. On Monday, she goes to Publix.  On Tuesday, she goes to *Target.  In seven days, how many times does the Mama go to the grocery store?

A: Ten.  This is embarrassing.  Replace Whole Foods with “a soup kitchen,” Publix with “the gym” and Target with “the spa.”  Ahh…that sounds much better.

*Target counts as a grocery store because they sell (and she bought) groceries there.

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Filed under math, shopaholism