KOKOMI'S KORNER: HALLOWEEN

Beware!  Lock your cabinets and guard your refrigerators for when the moon is full, the Werebaby strikes!  With the strength of ten babies and the thirst of a hundred, the Werebaby will stop at nothing to take any baby's bottle!  The only thing that can deter the Werebaby are silver plated rubber nipples.  Uh Oh...  The moon is full... it's almost midnight!  Gaga Goo Goo...  HOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLL!!!!

ZOMBIE BABY!

You know it's almost Halloween.  You hear the groans in the distance.  You can hear the thump, thump, of their clumsy footsteps.  Watch out!  They're coming... and they want your BRAINS!

CREEPY CRAFTY

Halloween is quickly approaching and we needed to decide if we were going to dress Ellie up or not. We originally agreed to do a Hello Kitty costume, but the only costumes we liked were online and we never made an effort to purchase them.  And with a few days to Halloween, it’s just not going to work.  Then I thought of doing a mummy costume.  How cool would a baby mummy be?  The caption of the photo would read “I love my mummy,” even though her daddy put the costume together.  Whatever, I’d still love it.  But my wife didn’t want our child dressed as a dead person.  I needed to come up with something else.  Something easier.  Something better.  And I did.  But it’s an idea so secret I didn’t even tell my wife.  Only my mom and I know.  And that’s what brought me to JoAnn Fabrics a few days before Halloween.

JoAnn Fabrics is usually a normal store with normal things and semi-normal people who shop there.  But if you go there before any major Holiday, you better watch out.  For one, you know you are in the JoAnn Fabrics’ parking lot when at least half the cars have a guy sitting in the driver seat reading the paper.  They are not brave enough to go in.  They sit somewhat patiently in the car waiting for their wives to return with bags of fake leaves and fabrics with teddy bears on them and a mind full of dreams.  Dreams of homemade wreaths for EVERY holiday and homemade pot holders to use at dinner for ANY occasion.  This occasion happens to be Halloween. 

I walk in the store and it is immediate chaos.  The lines are long, the women are crazy filling their baskets with crafty things as if they are preparing for the apocalypse.  There is a heard of guys by the entrance because they didn’t want to sit in the car.  So they stand guard by the door ready to make a break for it.  I’m assuming that the bulk of the store would be head to toe Halloween, but boy was I wrong.  The store looked like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer puked all over it after eating too much mistle toe.  Christmas already?  For real?  The Halloween section was reduced to a few blood tubes, pumpkin cupcake papers, and some skull cookie cutters. (which I almost bought).  For 70% off wouldn’t you?  I scour the fabric section looking for the ideal fabric for my project.  The fabric cutting line is getting longer and longer.  I think it’s mainly for Halloween costumes but it’s such a random group of people.  A few old ladies with Christmas fabric who must be entering a quilted potholder competition, some creepy guys buying way too much elastic, a hot mom with some spider web fabric, and me.  Eventually, I get to the front of the line and the lady who cuts the fabric looks at my fabrics and says “I can’t cut this type of fabric because of my hand, unless you want to come home and nurse me!”  The other lady working the counter says, “Sally, that’s not a good idea.”  Sally looks me up and down and says, “I think it’s a perfect idea.”  I wish I was smooth and would just wink back.  But I feel my face turn red and I sheepishly smile.  Finally, I get my fabrics cut.

After that, I make my way through the heard of old women scavenging through the Christmas ornaments, fake sparkle leaves, and pot holder kits.  I’m ready to check out.  The JoAnn Fabrics checkout line is not like any other checkout line.  You have to go through the dollar section and a maze of clearance items or just plain crap until you are able to see a cashier.  And since this line was long and slow moving, you were stuck looking at all this crap wondering if you needed it.  If you stare at something long enough not only do you find that you want it, but that you NEED it.  Like this Twilight Calendar for only a dollar!  Or small sparkle red bags.  They are too small to put anything inside them, but they sparkle, and they’re only a dollar!  I NEED these!  Or how about these Halloween coloring books!?  Maybe I’ll be bored later today.  And for only a dollar, how could I not!  I manage to resist these temptations and make it to the candy section.  I would die for a Reese’s right now.  But I’m strong.  I just had lunch and I’m full.  I let the craving go.  And then…  uh oh… what is that!?  S.B.D.  The old silent but deadly move.  Either Captain Elastic in front of me or the weird old lady behind me farted!  I can’t tell because I feel trapped.  It’s like someone gave me an @ss lasso.  It’s in all directions.  I’m putting my money on Captain Elastic because he looks way too suspicious.  What’s he need with all that elastic anyways.  You can just tell he’s hiding something.  I try to be cool.  I stop breathing.  My eyes begin to water.  I keep blowing air around to dissipate it.  What do I do!?  Finally the cashier calls me over.  “Hey there, nice jacket. (wink)”  I thought this was JoAnn fabrics, not Cougar Central.  At least it’s nice to know I have options.  I still got it!

As I make it back to my car, I think, what a bunch of weirdos, totally discounting the fact that I’ve made many solo trips there in the past for my own projects.  And totally disregarding the fact that I just spent at least a good 20 minutes STARING at two bolts of fabric not being able to decide which color to get.  Not only did I just stand there staring, I called my mom AND dad to discuss what the best option would be.  I was that weird guy with the cool jacket picking out fabric.  At least I wasn’t buying elastic.

THE STORM OF THE CENTURY

The day was to be the Storm of the Century.  The news stations had warned everyone of the damaging winds and the possible tornados to come.  It was to be the worst storm the Midwest had seen in 70 years.  It also happened to fall on library day.  Should we even go I wondered?  What if I got stuck in the storm with her?  What if we were trapped in the basement of the library?  I even got the worried reminder phone call from my mom.  “Make sure you have a weather radio on.  We have a tornado watch today.  We are supposed to get severe storms.”  Not only was it the Storm of the Century, Ellie also hadn’t been napping well.  Well, she hadn’t been napping at all, for a little over a week now.  Ten or fifteen minutes in the car on the way home from Meijers does not count as a nap.  Also, story time is at 11:00am which is a tricky time for us.  Ellie usually eats at 11:00am or 11:30am, and if I’m lucky she'll hopefully fall asleep afterwards.  So between all these things, you could say I was a little distracted in the morning.

I had finally finished feeding Ellie breakfast and still needed to prepare her bottles, but she was showing signs of being tired.  Should I put her down now at 10:00am, this close to story time, or should I wait?  I decide to give a try.  After 15 minutes of trying I decide this was a bad idea.  I prepare her bottles so all I have to do is warm them up when we get home..  I also need to decide if I should feed her before story time, or after.  There are benefits to both.  If she eats beforehand, I can take the long way home and have her pass out in the car and hopefully she’ll stay asleep for a little bit.  Or if I wait, she’ll be hungrier and more tired and pass out for a good nap.  I decide to feed her afterwards, but at least I’ll heat up the water before I leave so it won’t take as long to heat up when we get back.  I fill up the kettle, place it on the stove, and turn it on high.

We make it to the library just fine despite the Storm of the Century.  Ellie perks right up, as usual, and starts trying to play with her friend Emily who is all dolled up in her rockin’ Halloween skull pants.  Story time starts and since Ellie has recently learned how to clap on her own, she is smiling and clapping at everything.  She is having a ball.  There were new stories, and new songs.  More songs I need to learn.  Songs about monkeys jumping on the bed, buses, and toes.  And the last song the instructor closed with was my arch nemesis, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  One of the grandmas was there again showing off her song skills.  It seems she lacks the signal in your brain that stops you from talking.  It must have broken somehow along the way.  Her inner monologue, is now an outer monologue.  “We’re gonna go to the park before the storm.  Yes we are, yes we are.  We are going to jump.  Just like last week.  Show me how you can jump.  Remember to jump? Oh look Ellie has your toy, but you can share.  Even though you won’t know what that means until you’re three… And I tell you and your mom, my job is to keep you safe!”  For a moment I thought I saw the kid roll his eyes and say, “okay okay, the park, yes I’ll jump, give it a rest already, I’m playing with my truck right now.” 

All in all, it was a good trip.  Ellie had a ball, the two other kids had fun, and I even had a conversation with one of the other moms.  I think we all benefited from this trip.  AND we were going to safely make it home before the Storm of the Century starts.  I put my jacket on and get Ellie ready and say, it’s time to get you home so you can eat and…. 

GASP! 

Have you ever had that moment when you remembered something far too late to do anything about it?  Like when you’ve over slept, or when you completely missed an exam in college, or realized YOU MAY HAVE BURNED DOWN YOUR HOUSE!?   

Oh No!  EFFF!  I turned the stove on high before we left, and I didn’t turn it off!  I had left the kettle on the stove, on HIGH, for at least 30 minutes!  Fortunately we live really close to the library, but now I fear my house will burn down before the storm has a chance to blow it away.  As we drive back home I keep hearing in my head the Talking Heads song, Burning Down the House.  But the Tom Jones version.

We pull in the driveway and I’m glad to see that there is no smoke coming from the roof.  I run in expecting to hear the whistle of the kettle but all I hear is the sound of the burning flame on the stove top.  It was boiling for so long all of the water had boiled away and the bottom of the kettle had turned black.  The kitchen smelled like burnt metal.  I look over by the front door and see Ellie in her car seat as if jamming to Tom Jones, smiling and clapping.  “Watch out… burnin’ down the house!”  Luckily, just as nothing happened with the Storm of the Century, nothing major happened to my house or the kitchen.  But it still caused the same amount of anxiety.  I just kept thinking:  MAJOR FAIL.

And to just think the other day I was telling my mom how responsible I am and that she doesn’t need to give me all her friendly reminders: 

Make sure you’re wearing clean underwear: check. 

Make sure you have your seat belt on: check. 

Make sure you drive safely: check. 

MAKE SURE YOU DON’T BURN THE HOUSE DOWN: ooh… oops.

BOO

With it being October, or Shocktober as they call it, I’ve been watching tons and tons of scary movies.  From the old Universal Monster classics to the slasher movies to the all-around just really creepy movies, I enjoy them all.  Some are movies I’ve never seen before, but most of them I’ve seen year after year.  Even though I’m familiar with most of them, they still get inside my head and mess with my mind at times.

Ellie wakes up in the middle of the night and I go into her room to soothe her back to sleep.  The room is dark, only lit by a small green glow from the baby monitor light.  I pick her up and start humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star because I still don’t know the words.  Ellie is asleep in my arms in no time.  But I can’t help but feel the darkness.  I hear a creek in the corner.  I look and see a pile of stuffed bears.  Their beady eyes staring back at me.  I feel the dark emptiness of their eyes burning into me.  My heart begins to race.  I notice the closet door.  I think it’s closed.  It seems like it’s latched, but I’m a little uneasy checking it.  I look over at the windows.  The curtains are backlit from the street lights.  I start to see faces, mean faces, in the damask pattern on the curtains.  Each face turns into another one.  They are watching me.  I feel a chill.  I look away.  I look at Ellie.  I have to get out of here.  She looks so content and peaceful though.  I feel bad leaving her alone in this room, in the darkness, with these strange sounds.  But I put her down anyways. I give the bears a quick glance to make sure they haven’t moved.  I figure whatever is hiding in the closet will make a noise and I’ll hear it through the baby monitor.  I make sure the closet door is closed and then I quickly and quietly shut the door and go to bed.  Goodnight Ellie… and good luck…

My wife wakes up the next morning and sees the lamp next to the bed on.  She asks, “Did you forget to turn the light off when you came to bed?” 

Ummm… yeah…  That’s it, I forgot.

The brown bear is their leader...

KOKOMI'S KORNER

STORY TIME PART II

I finished my third class of story time with Ellie at the library.  We were on-time and even though no one else comes prepared with the essentials, I still do.  Burp cloth; check.  Diapers; check.  Wipes; check.  Emergency cheerios; check.  In this session there were five kids.  Two boys, and three girls.  Two of the babies had their grandmas with them, and the rest of the parents were around my age.  Our group is always very quiet, but when these rowdy grandmas came in I couldn’t help but feel a little threatened.  Intimidated.  Each week I’m determined to participate more, to interact more, but these grandmas seem pretty dominating.  We’ll see how I do. 

We sit down and Ellie is already pumped.  She immediately squeals and starts heading her way to one of the boys.  He sits in his mom’s lap and looks scared.  “This chick is nuts!”  I scoop up Ellie up and story time begins.  It starts with a book.  Ellie squeals again and stands up.  The grandmas chime in “oh my, she’s really excited.”  She is the most excited and most outgoing one of the bunch.  She is fixated on the instructor and the book and stares with a smirk on her face.  The other kids are just looking around the room or playing with their shoes.  The grandmas are participating more than their grandbabies.  They are mooing and barking loudly at the animal flashcards being shown.  Otherwise the room is pretty quiet. 

Next comes the nursery rhymes.  Patty Cake.  Which, by the way, did you know it’s actually called Pat-A-Cake?  I did not know this until I Googled it.  The instructor sings through Pat-A-Cake a few times and I’m really listening to the words because I don’t know them.  I figure I should learn these soon.  The other parents my age are half mumbling the words like I am, but these grandmas are singing along like they wrote the song.  The instructor isn’t handing out prizes ladies.  Let’s use our inside voices okay.  I notice one of the lyrics “and mark it with a B.”  I really don’t know what that means.  What kind of cake is this?  Hesitantly, I ask what the “B” stands for.  The instructor doesn’t know, but sure enough those grandmas do.  “It stands for BABY.”  Well, par-don me.  If I was baking a cake for my baby, I would not put a “B” on it, I think to myself.  Maybe an “E” for Ellie, with a heart around it and some sprinkles.  But I reply with, to make sure Dad doesn’t eat it by mistake?  No one found this cute.  Luckily Ellie squealed to break the silence. 

Then it’s toy time.  All the babies sit shyly looking back at their parents for approval to go get the toys.  But not Ellie.  She’s on the ground and the first one to the box.  She grabs a few toys and shakes them with a smile.  Then she heads for the instructor.  She crawls right up and sits in her lap for a little bit.  And then she heads over to one of the grandmas.  She climbs up on her leg and starts pulling on her hair.  I thought about stopping her, but maybe it’ll be a good lesson.  Look Ellie, H is for hair.  As Ellie climbs around and meets people and the other babies, the grandmas take it upon themselves to be the toy police.  They intervene and make sure babies don’t take toys away from other babies, or they make suggestions.  They even decided to appoint themselves to teach the other babies, too.  “This is a ball…  do you know what a ball is?  It is a red ball, can you say red ball?”  What’s with these ladies!?  How about you worry about getting your hippie grandson a haircut and stop policing the room.  The other parents and I just sit quietly and make sure our kids don’t pull hair or punch anybody. 

I thought about being more social this time, I thought about singing along to the songs, but I was a little turned off by the grandmas.  I know they mean well and they have a wealth of knowledge that I don’t.  But they rubbed me and my cake pan the wrong way.  And to be honest, all this Pat-A-Caking had me a little distracted so I couldn’t wait to get home and bake a cake.  I think I’ll do just that... and I’ll even put an “E” on it... with sprinkles.

BABY, WON'T YOU SWING WITH ME

So Ellie and I headed back down by the river for a nice afternoon stroll.  I wasn’t looking for her to take a nap.  It was just gorgeous outside it felt like a crime to not have her be outside.  It was a tricky time, not quite nap time, and not quite feeding time.  So she had some yogurt for a snack, I grabbed my coffee, and we headed for the river park; destination swings!

As we walked in front of the car river sitters I felt the stares.  I felt their eyes burning my flesh.  I was so nervous I felt like I might spill my coffee or lose control of the stroller and then they’d point and laugh.  As we came to the grassy area we passed a bench and I overheard one old guy say to the other, “so if you use a gun, you’ll get two years… so you get two years…”  This reminds me of a time when I was walking in Detroit and over heard someone say “without a body it’s not a crime.”  Maybe I’ve been watching too much CSI but it made me think of a headline for the paper.  Old man gets two years; body not found.

As we continued our way towards the swings I noticed a young couple getting their engagement photos taken.  At least I hope this is what was happening.  I don’t know if watching people make-out while they get their photos taken is more uncomfortable for me, or for them.  I tried not to look, but it was kind of like a car accident, or a woman with a mustache.  You don’t want to look, but you can’t help it. 

As we arrived to the swings, I took Ellie from the stroller and she just looked around.  She hadn’t fallen asleep, but she was in a twilight.  I put her in the swing and she looked around curiously.  “hmm…  this is different.”  Then I saw an Asian mom and her infant son with whom I can only guess are the white grandparents.  I instantly felt an unspoken connection to them because my wife is Asian, and my parents are white.  Her kid was halfsies just like mine!  The grandpa was a little rough around the edges but you could tell he was really into having a grandkid.  He was a big guy with a big grey handlebar mustache and a Harley Davidson t-shirt.  He brought this kid who was only 3 or 4 months old over to the swings while the mom and grandma were saying, “he’s too small for this, that’s too dirty for him.”  He shouts back, “He’ll be fine.”  He shoves the kid in the swing while still holding on to him.  “See. There. He’s fine.”  The kid just sat there like a sack of potatoes.  Well, like a sack of potatoes covered in soy sauce.  The grandpa looks over at me and says, “What do these women know.”  I just smile back with a polite chuckle.  The mom then notices Ellie and then me, and she most likely thought, “She’s halfsies, too!”  We exchanged a few hellos and how old’s your baby and then they were on their way.

With the commotion over, Ellie was ready for me to start swinging.  I gave her a little push, and she gave a half smile.  I pushed her a little more and she gave a full smile and started to kick her legs.  She went back and forth with the wind on her face.  I pushed her a little higher and she started to cackle with laughter.  The excitement was building.  She was laughing and laughing.  Then she started hiccupping.  Something seemed a little off.  Then her face stopped smiling.  Then that yogurt she had before we left decided it didn’t like to swing.  You know when you shake a can of soda up and down and then you open it.  It turns out a baby is a lot like a can of soda.  This swing had swung.  We went home.

THE OFFICE

I started to wonder what my life would be like if I had my current schedule, but was working in an office?  What if Ellie was my client and my boss.  I figured one major difference would be the morning routine.  For most people, for most jobs, you wake up to an alarm clock.  Usually, you would take a shower and start getting ready for the day.  You’d probably have some breakfast, maybe some tea or coffee.  In the car on the way to work you would probably listen to morning talk radio, the news, or just some jamming tunes.  Once you are at work, you would log into the computer and maybe even grab another cup of coffee.  All of these activities fall into the “waking up” category.  I don’t get to have this.  My alarm clock is either crying, or the sound of Ellie pounding on her crib waiting for a fresh diaper.  “I’ve got yesterday’s meatloaf in here!  Let’s get this cleaned up chief!”

It’d be like if I slept under my desk at work.  My boss would come by at 6:30am and start pounding on the top.  “Matt!  The conference room bathrooms need to be defogged!  Get those cleaned up before the client shows up.  And where’s those TPS reports!?”  I’d have to immediately get up, clean the bathrooms, get my reports ready, and go into a meeting.  Then I’d prepare for the next group of meetings and the next set of reports while entertaining the client without having showered.  Then I’d have to prepare for my boss and client a breakfast while making sure they stay on course during the discussion.  I don’t want anyone drifting too far or getting into something they shouldn’t.  When they finally take a break, I might be able to grab a cup of coffee.

It’s not until Ellie goes down for her first nap that I get to have my real “waking up” time.  If I were working, this would be the time I’d go find a friend and we’d chat about our weekend or weekend plans.  But since my only co-worker is my employer and my boss and happens to be sleeping, I call the only person I know interested in talking about my job… my mom.  And after I’ve recapped last night and the day so far for her, I have a tough decision to make.  Do I take a shower? Change my clothes? Prep the bottles? Or just sit down for a minute?  I think I can do all-of-the-above but I start with just sitting.  Since her naps usually aren’t very long, that’s about as far as I get. 

Back at the office after the break, everyone is back rested and ready for round two.  But now the meeting is spreading into different areas of the office.  Not just in the conference room, but in the hallway, the office space, and the kitchen.  Computers, marker boards, markers, post-it notes are scattered everywhere.  I’m trying to guide the course of the meeting, but right now, my boss is just as distracted as the client is.  So I just follow them around the office making sure they don’t break anything, or discover the paging system.  “Paging Matt to room 301.  Bring a plunger.”  After this little mishap it’s time to take the company car and take them out to lunch.  Since they won’t let me eat at the same time as them, maybe I can grab a sandwich when we get back.  Back at home, I put Ellie in our company car, the stroller, and we hit the streets for our afternoon at the park.

After lunch we’re back at the office cleaning the bathrooms AGAIN.  At work I’d probably tell people about where I went for lunch, but I didn’t eat and no one’s here.  I keep thinking I should eat.  But I forget.  I’m distracted with my client and boss in the other room.  They’re definitely what they call go-getters.  Finally after the 3:00pm snack, the afternoon break has officially started.  If I were at the office, I’d probably eat something now and take a walk around the block.  But being at home, I am faced with my second big decision of the day.  Do I sit down and rest a bit?  Do I start dinner?  Or do I clean?  I usually decide to start prepping dinner.   Also known as, the final evening meeting of the day.  This is the meeting where my other co-worker attends.  She’s been working off-site all day but always makes it in for the evening meeting.  It becomes a race against the clock for me.  I need to get this prepped before the boss/client wakes up.  When she wakes up, she’s pretty demanding making prepping more difficult.  I’m also 90% sure there will be another bathroom hose down.  Is it Friday yet?

My co-worker arrives, and even though I’ve been busting MY butt all day, the boss flips out with excitement at her as if disregarding all the work I’ve done.  Thanks for the pat on the back lady.  Typical boss.  I’ve been pigeonholed into being the janitor and the admin staff.  Will she ever give me the recognition I deserve? I’ll have to bring this up at my performance review.

With the last meeting concluded my co-worker clocks in and I finally get a break.  This is when I’ll check my e-mail and prepare for the next day.  Finally, I think my day is over and I clock out and settle in to watch some TV or do some reading.  But you never know, the boss may call me in to pull an all-nighter being DJ Dad for a late night company mixer.

KOKOMI'S KORNER

NIPS

I love fall.  I love everything about fall.  I love the cool crisp air.  I love the sound of the dry leaves beneath my feet.  I love the apple orchard trips filled with apples, pumpkin donuts, and cider.  I love carving my Halloween pumpkin.  I love watching horror movies.  I have a list of movies I try to watch every October.  I love the food.  The squashes, the apples, the pears, and the pumpkins.  Pumpkin muffins, pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin pie, pumpkin donuts, I even developed my own pumpkin meatloaf recipe with a pumpkin gravy.  And with me being in charge of the kitchen these days, I’ve never been so excited for a magazine to arrive at my house.  I was greatly anticipating the arrival of my Cooking Light magazine.  The October issue.

Aya loves to cook, so my mom got Aya a subscription to the Cooking Light magazine for Christmas.  I’m not a magazine person.  I usually just look at the pictures or read the captions.  But since I’ve been at home cooking now, 99 percent of what I make comes from this magazine or website.  It’s mine now.  Yes, I get excited over a cooking magazine.  A magazine about LIGHT cooking.  Deal with it.  It has great, tasty, easy, fast, and healthy recipes.  The nutrition of my family is now in my hands and I don’t take my responsibility LIGHTly.

The October issue arrived and I immediately started tagging recipes and planning my meals for the whole month.  My first fall meal I was planning was prosciutto sandwich with pear and blue cheese, a mixed green salad with apples, walnuts, and goat cheese, and apple parsnip soup.  I’ve never had parsnips, or even seen them, but this sounded good, and the picture looked great, too.  I was so excited to kick off fall with this intro fall meal.  I even went to the farm market to buy all my produce. 

Cooking day arrived.  This shouldn’t be a big deal.  The only item that would really take any time is the soup.  But Ellie didn’t nap well.  She was extremely needy and whiney all day long.  I tried peeling the apples when she was asleep, but her nap didn’t last long.  Time was passing and my progress was slow.  I finally got to peel the parsnips.  They smell harsh and pinchy.  These are supposed to be paired with apples!?  I began to question what I purchased.  Do you know how many vegetables end in “nips?”  Two!  There are parsnips and turnips.  Both I have never eaten or seen before.  So I decided to Google them both and sure enough, I bought the wrong one.  I bought turnips!  What do I do now!?  I already have half the soup made!  I’ve never had turnips, and as of right now, I HATE them.  Seriously, whoever named these vegetables really dropped the ball.  They don’t even look like they are both from the “nip” family.  Turnips are purple round balls, and parsnips look like white carrots.  Since parsnips look closer to carrots, I propose they change the name to parrots... No?

So Ellie and I take an emergency field trip to Meijers to buy turnips.  Wait, I mean parsnips.  I did it again!  The whole time on my way to Meijers I kept chanting in my head, parsnips, parsnips, parsnips.  I get to Mejiers and ask, can you tell me where the turnips, I mean parsnips are?

Finally, we get home with my PARSNIPS, and even with a needy baby I somehow manage to make the rest of the meal… and on time.  It was a big hit and Aya loved it.  But now I have no idea what to do with all these leftover parsnips.  I mean turnips.

KOKOMI'S KORNER

D is for DONUT

One of my biggest accomplishments when I was working at the office was starting a Donut Club.  It all started when I quit the bagel club.  The bagel club was well established in the office for some time, and as the company grew, so did the bagel club.  It was up to 70+ members.  But when people would bring bagels, most people would still only bring two or three dozen bagels in.  The math didn't line up.  I also noticed I was always picking the bagel that was covered in sugar.  So I decided to quit.  And then I decided to start my own club.  A better club.  The Donut Club. 

It was invitation only at first and caused quite a stir in the office.  People were quitting the bagel club to join my new group.  The healthy committee at work even discussed it at one of their meetings.  I decided we would have a maximum of thirteen members.  A baker’s dozen.  It was like I was Donut Jesus and had twelve Donut disciples.  It became an ultra-exclusive, non-welcoming elitist group.  We wanted members who would appreciate the true power of the Donut.  And these weren’t just any Donuts.  These were Donuts from the best bakeries in the Metro Detroit area.  The Vinewood Bakery, Dutch Girl, The Donut Cutter, Main Street Donuts were just a few of the bakeries they came from.  When a spot opened up we’d hold contests.  There were two essay contests, a photo contest, and a trivia night.  Unfortunately, not everyone could make it in and some disgruntled contest losers started their own club.  The RDC.  The Rogue Donut Club.  They welcomed everyone and had no rules.  They didn't even require you to bring Donuts.  Who would want to be part of such a group?

Although we kept a close eye on who ate our Donuts and didn’t let just anybody in our group, there were times we showed generosity to the rest of the office.  Every Fat Tuesday all members would bring in a dozen paczkis to share with the office.  Thirteen members times a dozen paczkis = a lot of paczkis!  We had more paczkis than people in the office.  It was a magical day.  One year I had six paczkis at work.  I felt pretty weird by the end of the day.  It affected me so much I gave up sweets for all of lent.  I had enough sugar in my body, I’m not sure I even really noticed I gave anything up.

I’m no longer working in the office, and the Donut Club I started is just a skeleton of what it once was.  It is one of the things I miss most about working.  Friday was a great day with one big decision to make.  Size or flavor?  Lemon or jelly?  Apple fritter or old fashioned?  No matter what you'd chose you still had one great Donut.  In my case, it was usually two or three.  There is nothing like sitting around munching on great Donuts while asking everyone “So what are you doing this weekend?” 

So what is stopping me from having this same experience?  I do live just blocks away from one of the best bakeries.  So I will start another Donut Club.  This one will be ultra ultra exclusive with only two members.  And one of my members can’t eat Donuts yet…  That means I get two!  Well, you wouldn’t want me to let it go to waste, would you?

STORY TIME

I signed Ellie up for a baby story time at our local library.  It’s only for twenty minutes once a week.  I figured this would be a good opportunity for her to enjoy story time, to see other babies, and for me to meet other parents.  But I was also a little worried what kind of group this would be.  It could be a total fun story time, or it could be the most awkward group of people put together in a room making twenty minutes feel like two hours.

Ellie had a sh*tuition that needed attending to before story time so we arrived a few minutes late. Other than being late, I showed up prepared.  I feel a silent pressure from society since I am a stay-at-home-dad.  That being a man I’m more likely to be unprepared, forgetful, and late.  To prove this wrong, I try to be on top of things at all times.  So I walk in late mid-story and everyone turns around and stares at me.  I have my man-bag diaper-bag, and a pink burp cloth in my back pocket.  I’m feeling prepared.  But as everyone is staring at me I notice NO ONE else has a diaper bag or anything with them.  I know this is only twenty minutes long, but I’d hate for Ellie to puke with excitement and to have to ask someone for a rag.  Or for her to have an explosive dump in the library and not have diapers handy.  Why am I the only forward thinking person in this group?  I kinda hope some kid pees their pants and a mom has to leave early.  Should have been prepared, I’d think.  I get over the awkward stares and after the first story we introduce ourselves to the group.  There are five kids including Ellie.  They are all there with their mom’s except one kid has both parents.  I’m the only solo dad in the group.  I’m also the only prepared parent in the group. 

Have you ever been involved in those team building exercises in school, or those awkward ice breakers?  Where nobody wants to do it, but your instructor is super excited about.  Where all the kids are either mocking it, or only doing it half-way because they are embarrassed.  That’s what this class felt like.  The instructor was super excited and animated and all of us parents were awkwardly saying the stuff half-way, either mumbling it or whispering it to our kids.  It’s one thing to be all “Hi Sweetie pie!  Whos’ my Ellie belly!?  Are you my Ellie belly!?  Here comes the tickle monster!!!” in your own home.  But to do that kissy face stuff and dancing hands in front of a bunch of strangers, it doesn’t feel as natural.  We were all feeling uneasy which helped, but it also made it even more awkward.  Another thing that made the parent participation difficult for me was I don’t know the words to the songs we were being forced to sing-a-long to.  When I sing Twinkle Winkle Little Star at home to Ellie I always end up mixing in words from Rudoplh the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  I’m not sure how or why, but it always end on “won’t you guide my sleigh tonight.”  Same thing with the Pattie Cake song.  I don’t know the words at all.  So I faked it.

Ellie was cautious at first.  She was sitting in my lap looking at the instructor like “this lady is crazy…  but I kinda like her!”  She didn’t really notice how uncomfortable I was or that I didn’t know the words so she started to really enjoy herself.  And then the lady brought out the bubbles.  These five kids went nuts!  It’s like she was throwing candy or money in the air.  This is when Ellie made her move.  She headed straight for the older long-haired boy and tackled him with a smile.  She patted his shoulder and tried to climb up on him.  He just froze.  “Who is this lady!”  When he felt it was safe, he slipped away and went back to his mom.  Then Ellie headed for another little girl.  Let's just hope she just has a thing for hair, and not an inclination for long-haired older boys.  Maybe when her own hair comes in she won’t be so fascinated by other's. 

Before the next class, it seems I need to practice the lyrics of children’s songs.  Too bad they don’t sing any Guns’ N’ Roses in this class because I’d be golden.  I mean there are already sparkly bubbles, long-haired boys, and girl groupies.  Paradise City anyone?

I WALK WITH PURPOSE

I didn’t think I’d find myself back at the mall.  But this time I had a purpose.  This time I had a destination.  And with this new sense of purpose, I felt ready to give walking another try.  Mallwalking.  Yes, it’s time again to put the rubber wheels to the terrazzo floor and start the odometer.  I wanted to do some mallwalking, but I needed to be covert.  I needed to be undercover.

It was time for Ellie’s morning nap.  She’d had a fresh diaper, and was just fed.  This was a perfect time to go.  Within 30 seconds of her being in the car she passed out.  Even when I got her in the stroller she remained asleep and didn’t even flinch.  But as I approached the entrance to the mall, the outdoor mall music was bumping and her eyes opened.  Uh oh…  I entered quickly and got away from the speakers, but her eyes remained open.  I was going to go to my destinations first, but I needed to get her back to sleep.  So I started walking.  We were walking quickly and sticking to the main aisles.  I tried to make it look like we were browsing to avoid suspicion.  I was also trying not to loop around anywhere because that’s what mall walkers do.  They make big u-turns and loop around at dead ends.  But the smell of the Cinnabun store had attracted me like a mosquito to light.  I headed in that direction.  I was strong enough not to get one because it was Monday and I had just made my Sunday night resolutions.  And I just had a $1 sandwich from McDonalds 15 minutes ago.  Ok Ok.  I had two $1 dollar sandwiches from McDonalds.  But who’s counting.  So we passed the Cinnabun drooling and I realized we were hitting a dead end.  We needed to loop around!  Just when I thought we could do this move undetected, a mall walker, a true mall walker, smiled and gave me a hello like we were mallwalking buddies.  I knew he was a true mall walker because he had on knee high socks, cut-off jeans shorts, and a tank-top, stuck to his body with sweat… and head phones.  AHHH!  We are NOT buddies!  I am NOT a mallwalker!  I’m an undercover mallwalker!  My cover was blown!  I had to think fast.  We darted into Payless Shoes to avoid the loop around.  Instead of looping around out in the main isle, I fake browsed in Payless to make it look like I was a customer.  “Do you have baby shoes?”  I walked by the section and pretended to look but wasn’t really absorbing anything I was looking at.  Woah, that was close.  I determined it was safe to return to the main isles of the mall.  We rejoined the masses of the mall without a hiccup and continued our undercover mission.

I went to my stores and then started heading towards the exit because Ellie was getting fussy.  When I exited the mall I saw a group of three or four women.  They all had strollers and their kids and they were laughing together.  You could tell they were good friends and were going to spend some serious time mallwalking.  I was glad to be leaving the mall, but as I walked to my truck alone, I couldn’t help but feel left out. 

KOKOMI'S KORNER