7 Quick Takes about parenting fails, Evernote socks, and fruitcake (again)

A while later, my seven-year-old started hobbling around and saying that she couldn’t walk because of her shoes. Mother of the Century over here didn’t notice that my daughter had walked out of the house in stiff dress shoes with no socks, which is not exactly ideal for an event where you’re going to be on your feet for hours in the heat. I was standing there throwing my hands to the heavens, wondering whatever we would do, when Kathryn walked up and said, “I have an extra pair of girls shoes in the car that should fit her. Size 1, right?” I very gratefully said yes, and she handed the keys to her sons and told them precisely where they could find this pair of shoes in her (evidently super-organized) car.

They turned out to be wonderfully comfortable boots, complete with the Texas A&M logo to give a little shout-out for the Aggies at the event. As I carried the new footwear back to my daughter, I passed the lady who had asked Kathryn how she does it. I wanted to run up to her, grab her by the shoulders, and say, “You have chosen the right sensei, woman. Kathryn Whitaker is competent enough for all of us.”

The blogger behind the uber-popular Cake Wrecks site recently did an extended internet fast, and she wrote  on her personal blog. All of her insights are excellent, but my favorite was the one titled, “I need to accomplish physical, tangible goals to be happy.” She wrote:

When I stopped crafting and making things with my hands in order to crank out more writing online, everything went out of whack. I lost focus. I lost my drive. The work was paying off, because Epbot was the most successful it had ever been when I hit that wall, but I reached a point where I couldn’t remember what I was working so hard for anymore.

During my Sabbatical John and I did both a major home remodel (which you’ll see soon) and our costume projects, so every morning I got up with a physical goal in mind. THAT was what got me out of bed. Once I accomplished something tangible – from painting a room to carving a leather bracer – it was so much easier to sit at the laptop and dive back into my virtual head space.

(I found this through another blog, but now I can’t remember which one. Whoever recently linked to this, thanks!)

One evening last weekend, my crazy two-year-old (the Shaun the Sheep fan) took a great interest in what Joe and I were drinking. I said that it was “wine,” forced myself to make a very-unnatural-feeling “yuck!” face, and offered her a milk sippy cup. (Okay, it was a bottle. My two-year-old still has bottles sometimes, because that’s how I deal with life around here.) Anyway, she indicated that she would prefer the red liquid in my glass by smacking the milk bottle out of my hand and trying to climb onto the table, then trying to climb on top of me to get to the glass.

In a moment of parenting brilliance, I decided to fight fire with fire and let her see what it tastes like. I did the “wine! yuck!” thing again, and tipped the glass so that a drop would touch her lips. She paused for a moment, and I waited for the smug feelings of self-satisfaction that would arrive when I saw her twist her face in disgust. Alas, instead, her eyes lit up and she lunged for my glass shouting “MORE WINE!”

I thought the worst of it was over after we got her to bed that night (sans her much-requested glass of Sonoma cab), but I realized the full consequences of my parenting fail the next day, when I took her to the grocery store. When I rolled the cart past the beer and wine section, she jumped up, pointed a chubby finger at some bottles of merlot on display, and began shouting “WINE!!! WANT WINE!!!!!!” at the top of her lungs. As I tried to wrangle her back into a sitting position, her demands for wine only got louder and more emphatic, which attracted the attention of pretty much all the other people in the store, who were undoubtedly quite curious about how this two-year-old a) knows what wine is, and b) knows that she really, really likes it.

Let me guess: you were just sitting there thinking, Evernote is so amazing. There is nothing — NOTHING — that it could do to improve my life that it hasn’t already!

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