Friday, March 19th 2010
Cups: Of the Plastic Variety That Do Not Match Plates or Bowls.

A week or two ago Mike called me from Caden-6yr’s baseball practice and asked me – who was across town at Ethan-9yr’s baseball practice, “Does Ethan-9yr have a cup?”

I should point out that I am big on children avoiding dehydration. ¬†Anyone, really. It’s bad. Gah. There was this one time about 7 days before the arrival of Seth-4yr and I got WAY sick and dehydrated and was sprawled across the bedroom floor — nevermind. It gets worse. But that was a long time ago, and there were hospital IVs and Seth-4yr was fine, and at one point Mike opened the bedroom door into my head when he discovered me there and THAT kinda hurt but he didn’t know I was there. Again with the nevermind. Dehydration = Bad.

So of COURSE I said, “No. He doesn’t have a cup, he has a water bottle.”

Mike laughed. Because that was not the right answer.

I might have 3 boys, but my original family is mostly women. No little boys were around. No one played baseball. And you know what a cup was? It was a cup.

Fast forward to now. And suddenly, it has a new meaning I am not entirely okay with. I mean. Really? Geez. Is that really necessary, or is it just the male way of macho elbowing into the otherwise feminine world of accessorizing? But fine. Sure, they say it’s important and I guess I can believe them and learn the new vocabulary.

What I SHOULD have done immediately after this little revelation was to say, “Nope. And YOU can buy him one, honey.”

Instead, guess who the cup-buyer was? Mmm. And the Cup Buyer forgot to explain the general cuppiness of the errand until we were already there and walking by them and OH MAN TOTALLY GOTTA DO THIS GREAT. I thought we were there for something else, and we were, but then we had to do this and a quick conference in the car would have been so much better.

So there was a minor conference with 3 boys and one mom in the Cup Department the other day. And 3 employees who had nothing better to do than listen in and smile and nod and laugh at the clueless mom who was trying to explain the concept (who doesn’t necessarily understand/buy into the concept) to 3 little boys who were amusing themselves by NOT listening – which ensured lots of confusion and meant I had to repeat the whole thing a few times – and stop the boys from grabbing all the packaged cups off the display. So there we were. I’m grabbing handfuls of the packages out of the kids’ hands and hanging them back up as fast as I can and Seth-4yr is looking at the backs of each package and yelling, “I do not get it. WHERE DO YOU PUT THE TWINKLE THING? WHERE DOES IT GO? WHY DONT I GET ONE? This one? This one is GREEN! HOW DOES IT WORK?”

Ethan-9yr looked ready to faint from embarrassment. Particularly when I sshhed Seth-4yr and said, “You know what? I DON’T KNOW. I have NEVER seen one of these and I don’t have any IDEA how it works and we’ll all just figure it out later, ‘KAY?!”

Seth-4yr nodded and said, “Maybe you should have asked Dad.”

“Dude. You are SO RIGHT.”

The three least helpful employees in the store enjoyed this mom conference way too much. One of them called out, “Good luck with those,” as we walked off. And I did not have it in me at that moment to smile and say thank you. Although that would have been nice.

I barely refrained from a Withering Mom Glare that would have set his eyebrows on fire as I corralled the kids and the ‘cups’ and the shopping basket and the purse and the car keys which some kid had grabbed and you know? That amount of self control was admirable in that particular moment, so I’ll just go with it.

Some days I manage to hold myself to higher standards. That wasn’t one of them.

*thanks, crickl’s nest for wondering about the conclusion to the footprints in the snow. However. There is none. The snow melted. I got very flippy for a bit and armed the alarm system every two minutes, then had to disarm it to let the dog out. Then I calmed down. And no one ever broke in and no one ever solved the mystery (although at one point I was sure it was someone from Dubai and it made TOTAL sense at the time and still kinda does but I was probably wrong and you don’t want me to explain) and I’m just glad that whoever looked in the windows was not impressed enough to come back. But, I coulda saved him some time by putting a note out there that read: “Hey. I have a lot of laundry on the table, a lot of ¬†Legos lost in beige carpet you’re welcome to round up for me if that’s your thing, not much else, and I REALLY KINDA HAVE BEEN WANTING A REAL LIFE OPPORTUNITY TO PUNCH SOMEONE FOR AWHILE NOW, SO COME. ON. IN.” But I didn’t. Instead we put up security system stickers on all the windows that we got from a friend. That works better probably.


5 Comments on “Cups: Of the Plastic Variety That Do Not Match Plates or Bowls.”

March 19th, 2010
2:01 pm

I also grew up in a family of girls and now have boy children. They are young enough to just be starting the sports thing, so I haven’t had to deal with this subject yet. But I dread it.

crickl's nest
March 19th, 2010
2:38 pm

Thanks, I’m glad it didn’t get weird(er). Legos in the carpet can be a powerful weapon to prowlers….especially if they take their shoes off before sneaking around. Every time I’ve stepped on one as a mom I think of the potential there. It’s just getting prowlers to take off their shoes first that throws it off. lol

We got a security system after being robbed (we were not home, thankfully), and it is very comforting to have!

March 22nd, 2010
1:55 pm

I thought this was going to be a post about our love for melamine tableware from Target and how none of it matches. Nope.

March 22nd, 2010
6:56 pm

Thanks for the epilogue on the strange footprints in the snow. I was creeped out for you, so I’ve been wondering… silently. :)


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