Snot What You Think…



Snot What You Think…


Brian and I were shopping at Super Store recently, and it brought to mind a previous shopping trip that I had written to him about when he was working away from home in Fort McMurray.


I was waiting to get through the checkout and was watching others go about their business.  I enjoy people watching, and the entertainment factor that day was working for me…I focused in on a Mom who was struggling to get through the door, complete with 3 children in tow (approx. 2-6 yrs of age). The small one wants to be picked up, which is evident by his crying “UP..UP..UP” while reaching on tippy toes. The middle child is picking his nose and wiping it on (unbeknownst to her) moms shirt hem. The oldest child is attempting to make a break for freedom by ducking, twirling, and shuffling  (either that or he’s getting ready to audition for the upcoming  series “So You Think Your Kid Can Dance”). I watched them head off in search of the Crystal Skull….Oh wait…that’s Indiana Jones. As they scurried out of sight I silently wished that she be blessed with patience, love and a health benefits plan that covers Prozac.


Anyway, that incident brought back a few memories of when my kids were little, although I shudder to think I might have been out in public with kid snot on my shirt hem. So many memories, there’s not enough space on my computer to hold it all.  Like spaghetti sauce and noodles in the hair, peas in the ears, dinky cars in the toilet, floaters in the tub (you know what I mean) and play dough ground into the carpet, sofa and grandma’s crocheted table runner. Then came the often used phrases such as “I really really neeeeeeeed it…Reeeally”, “She/He started it”, “I don’t know” and the number one “Not me!” There’s not a household with children, ANYWHERE, that doesn’t have a Not Me living in it. Eventually it becomes “Can I have $20.00?”, “I don’t HAVE any homework”, “EVERYONE else’s parents let them yadayadayada”, “That’s not fair!” and let’s not forget “Grounded? I HATE you!” Brings a tear to my eye……Really. So the time has come when Brian and I get to sit back and enjoy the visits with our grandchildren (We have 3 between us) and watch them guide walk drag their parents through this stage of life.  I stifle the urge to laugh (although not always successfully) whenever I hear them whine (the parents, not the children) about not having enough time in the day or a moment to themselves, while on their hands and knees cleaning up peanut butter, mashed potatoes and cereal off the floor, wall and nearby window. Shouts of glee (the children’s, not the parents) and sounds of water splashing coming from the bathroom, and wondering how soon it’ll be before water trickles down the stairs and into the kitchen. The not so pleasant odor being emitted by the little one, along with an obvious discoloration of his pants taking their attention away from the stove, resulting in another not so pleasant odor, which ends in a call to the nearest pizza delivery service.


It’s not that we don’t sympathize because we really do. After all we’ve been there, and as such, have paid our dues as did our parents before us and theirs before them. As grandparents it’s simply our turn to sit back and see the humor in it all. And besides, it won’t be long before they’ll be uttering the oh so popular phrase “Just WAIT ‘til you have children of your own!” after leaving the principals office, child in tow, for the third time in as many weeks, with the child quick to reply “School SUCKS. I’m not having kids. And if I do I’M not going to be so mean to them!”


In the meantime parents, keep an eye on your shirt hem, the pizza delivery number nearby, and remember to tell them you love them anyway, knowing one day it’ll be your turn to stifle a giggle. And you won’t have to say I told you so because it’ll be written all over your face…. J

1 Comment »

  1. Maureen Said,

    August 12, 2009 @ 8:11 pm

    did bring back tons of memories of hauling the kids and daycare kids around.
    They were so cute!!!!!!!!

    But nothing compares to the grandkids.

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