As a 38-year-old woman, one would generally assume I've experienced a few Black Friday shopping sales in my time. Ha! - but it's not so! Until today, I have never, ever been lulled out of bed at an ungodly hour just for the benefit of a sale.
There is simply no savings big enough to warrant getting up at 3 a.m., dodging the deer congregating on the side of the road, and waiting in line outside of Kohl's in the frigid November dark, so that I can save a few bucks on a set of holiday sheets. I will not risk life and limb and start my day out in a state of general frustration all in the name of saving a few bucks. I clip coupons. I am frugal to the nth degree. But I do pride myself on knowing where to draw the line.
And then I had kids. Who grew quickly out of the baby, doesn't-really-matter-what-you-get-them stage, into the I'm-going-to-study-the-target-holiday-catalog-and-tell-you-exactly-what-I-must-have stage.
Now, at five and almost four-years-old, my kids are still not too particular, but there are definitely a few must-have's on their lists. I'd already patted myself on the back for buying a whole buttload of gifts from K-mart, where they patiently wait for me to rescue them from layaway, and getting a very early jump on my shopping. But my oldest is in the market for a Razor scooter this year and they start at $28 - $32. So when the big red double dot ran an ad for a sale at $22, I was intrigued. Six - $10 is enough of a savings on something I specifically wanted, to consider venturing out. Besides, I figured with the economy in the toilet, the stores were bound to be less crowded than in years past. I was going to do it!!!
Still, I refused to get up at the crack of dawn, instead having a leisurely morning, complete with coffee and bagel, and finally headed out around 9:45 a.m.
As I approached the store, I began to feel anxious. What if it was a zoo in there, with people tugging and grabbing at the last scooter on the shelf? What if they were all out? What would the parking lot be like? I'd never done this before. I had nothing to go on.
I got to the parking lot. Not too bad - crowded, but I was still able to find a respectable spot close to the front. I parked and briskly walked to the doors, determined to get there before the other people who'd parked near me. I walked in, strolled past the carts ( I only wanted ONE thing. No carts for me!!!) and back to the bike section. No scooter of the brand and design that I wanted (read - the ones on sale). I asked a clerk, who said everything was out. A woman came up next to me and said she'd thought they were only $17 but I somberly informed her they were not, as I pulled out the flyer to prove it. The OTHER big box store had scooters, she said, but they were crazy crowded. I shrugged and decided maybe I'd try the other Target by the mall.
On the way out, I overheard conversations in which shoppers said they'd been shopping since 6 a.m. Crazy!
So I walked slowly out to my car and decided to try the other store. If they didn't have them there, I'd give it up.
Ten minutes later, I found myself driving past the mall, which was packed with cars, and on to Target. Somewhere along the way, my husband called wondering where I was. As I approached the store, I got anxious again, but again, the parking lot was not too bad. The store was crowded, but not annoyingly so. I race-walked to the back of the store.
Success! They had tons of scooters! I grabbed one, checked it thoroughly for any defects, and walked triumphantly to the personal care section in search of toothpaste, before paying and heading back out.
I was done. Black Friday conquered. Maybe next year, I'll try two different stores! Maybe I'll go out earlier! Maybe not.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Kindergarten, Part II
The first day has come to a close. I managed to busy myself and was waiting in the carpool line promptly at 3:30 p.m. And the verdict is ... M - had a great day! Hooray!
Now, as is par for the course with her, I didn't get a huge amount of information. They played on the playground, did a little work, had story time in the media center, had a nap. But she was excited, not as tired as I'd expected, and for me, that's good enough for now.
Now, as is par for the course with her, I didn't get a huge amount of information. They played on the playground, did a little work, had story time in the media center, had a nap. But she was excited, not as tired as I'd expected, and for me, that's good enough for now.
Kindergarten
The big day has finally arrived - our oldest daughter, M-, started kindergarten this morning. My feelings are ... mixed.
We did all we could to prepare - we attended the orientation, went to the Meet the Teacher event, studied the supply list and went on a mother-daughter shopping trip to find the perfect backpack. I tried to make the last few days uneventful, tried to make sure she was caught up on her sleep, tried to make sure she was ready, tried to make sure I was ready.
Despite all that, this morning went okay at best. M- didn't sleep much last night. She was too excited. Though she was in bed at 7:30, we found her still awake two hours later. She fell asleep shortly after, but was wide awake at 1 a.m. in the bathroom.
What can I do? It concerns me, of course. She's a kid who needs her sleep. I'm terribly worried that she'll be a blithering mess by lunchtime, that the first day assessments won't go well, and the counselors will think she's a remedial student at best because she won't be able to function enough to respond properly, and she will be subjected to an entire school career of not living up to her potential! (Okay, really, I know I'm being overdramatic here).
Then there was the whole school drop off thing. We were told not to make a big deal of the first day - to treat it as a normal day and get them used to their routine. They recommended not bringing the kids to their classroom so they wouldn't get upset. We decided on a happy medium - we would drop her off at the front of school so she could walk in herself (M-'s decision), and then we'd park and meet her in class.
Carpool drop-off was sort of rushed. The carpool woman didn't really help guide her to where she needed to go and I unhappily watched from the back window as my daughter stood uncomfortably alone in front of the school trying to figure out what she was supposed to do. I should have told the woman it was her first day. I should have told M- to go to the front door and walk in.
We assumed there would be volunteers or teachers to guide the new students and there were. They just weren't there when M- came into the lobby (she did eventually make it inside the building). So when we got inside, there she was, all of four-years-old, wandering down the hallway amidst a group of first graders and not having a clue where she was supposed to be.
A counselor did finally find her, around the same time my husband saw her, and M- made it to her classroom, a little more disoriented than we'd hoped she'd be. Meanwhile I was still waiting in the office for my turn to register as a visitor.
I bit my tongue but politely let the office staff know I was unimpressed with their handling of the situation. I finally made it to her class, and she was doing fine, sitting by herself and drawing. My husband said she'd readily walked into the classroom and made herself at home.
We made sure the teacher knew she was excited, but likely tired, gave M- a big hug and told her to have a great day, and left.
On the way out, we spoke to the counselor again, found that she would be the one conducting the assessments, and let her know as well that M- hadn't slept well last night in hopes that she would keep that in mind. The office staff apologized when I went to check out, for the way things had gone.
We will think about M- often today, and wonder how she's doing, whether she's having fun. We wonder, my husband and I, where the time went - I swear it seems like just yesterday that we brought her home from the hospital - and how we got here and where we're going. I will try to make the transition easy for our youngest, who will miss her sister as the routine of school becomes more apparent, and she realizes her constant companion has moved on to bigger things. Most of all, I will just try to remember to enjoy my time with them, take a deep breath, and hope for the best.
We did all we could to prepare - we attended the orientation, went to the Meet the Teacher event, studied the supply list and went on a mother-daughter shopping trip to find the perfect backpack. I tried to make the last few days uneventful, tried to make sure she was caught up on her sleep, tried to make sure she was ready, tried to make sure I was ready.
Despite all that, this morning went okay at best. M- didn't sleep much last night. She was too excited. Though she was in bed at 7:30, we found her still awake two hours later. She fell asleep shortly after, but was wide awake at 1 a.m. in the bathroom.
What can I do? It concerns me, of course. She's a kid who needs her sleep. I'm terribly worried that she'll be a blithering mess by lunchtime, that the first day assessments won't go well, and the counselors will think she's a remedial student at best because she won't be able to function enough to respond properly, and she will be subjected to an entire school career of not living up to her potential! (Okay, really, I know I'm being overdramatic here).
Then there was the whole school drop off thing. We were told not to make a big deal of the first day - to treat it as a normal day and get them used to their routine. They recommended not bringing the kids to their classroom so they wouldn't get upset. We decided on a happy medium - we would drop her off at the front of school so she could walk in herself (M-'s decision), and then we'd park and meet her in class.
Carpool drop-off was sort of rushed. The carpool woman didn't really help guide her to where she needed to go and I unhappily watched from the back window as my daughter stood uncomfortably alone in front of the school trying to figure out what she was supposed to do. I should have told the woman it was her first day. I should have told M- to go to the front door and walk in.
We assumed there would be volunteers or teachers to guide the new students and there were. They just weren't there when M- came into the lobby (she did eventually make it inside the building). So when we got inside, there she was, all of four-years-old, wandering down the hallway amidst a group of first graders and not having a clue where she was supposed to be.
A counselor did finally find her, around the same time my husband saw her, and M- made it to her classroom, a little more disoriented than we'd hoped she'd be. Meanwhile I was still waiting in the office for my turn to register as a visitor.
I bit my tongue but politely let the office staff know I was unimpressed with their handling of the situation. I finally made it to her class, and she was doing fine, sitting by herself and drawing. My husband said she'd readily walked into the classroom and made herself at home.
We made sure the teacher knew she was excited, but likely tired, gave M- a big hug and told her to have a great day, and left.
On the way out, we spoke to the counselor again, found that she would be the one conducting the assessments, and let her know as well that M- hadn't slept well last night in hopes that she would keep that in mind. The office staff apologized when I went to check out, for the way things had gone.
We will think about M- often today, and wonder how she's doing, whether she's having fun. We wonder, my husband and I, where the time went - I swear it seems like just yesterday that we brought her home from the hospital - and how we got here and where we're going. I will try to make the transition easy for our youngest, who will miss her sister as the routine of school becomes more apparent, and she realizes her constant companion has moved on to bigger things. Most of all, I will just try to remember to enjoy my time with them, take a deep breath, and hope for the best.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Taking Care of Things
I got very upset with my three- and four-year-old daughters today, because they broke several toys. It's not the first time it's happened, and not the second or third time that I've tried to explain to them the value of things and why it's important to take care of their toys. And of course, it's a conversation that's totally lost on children so young. Or is it?
The toys were pieces of doll house furniture that their grandmother gave to them for Christmas. The pieces are not inexpensive, and they're delicate. Probably, in retrospect, way too delicate for children so young. Yet, when I saw their room, torn apart in general with things everywhere, and then the contents of the dollhouse strewn in a messy pile, heads were going to roll!
Taking are of things is a sticking point for me. I don't recall being destructive when I was little and prior to having children, my husband and I insisted we would teach our future kids to value things. We did not intend to end up with a house full of broken toys and knick knacks (like many of our friends and family members) We simply could not understand why you wouldn't teach your kids to take care of toys and possessions that cost money.
On top of that, is the pressure of my own parents who, like most people from an older generation, have a tendency to judge and to forget the reality of what life was like when they were raising kids of their own.
The problem is, in reality, at what age do children really get it? As my husband pointed out this evening when I rehashed the days events and my guilt over the matter and the punishment I handed down (more on that later), they can't always even recount what they did an hour ago. They have no sense of time, certainly no sense of money or the value of things.
That's what makes it so frustrating for me. HOW do I get through to them, in even some little way, that what they did was wrong? Shouldn't they feel at least a little remorseful, even if they don't exactly understand the issue, since I'm obviously upset by it?
Initially, I put them both kids in time out, and then planned to remove all of the toys from their room with the understanding that they would get their things back eventually.
Harsh? Yes. Knee jerk reaction? Yes, yes. Effective? I just don't know. My oldest would understand why I took the things away, but my youngest would not.
I wonder if they just have too much given to them and don't appreciate their things as a result. While we have far fewer things than some people I know, we certainly have more than I did when I was growing up.
At the same time, I think I ought to give them a lot more slack because of the age that they are. They're good girls, and our oldest is, after all, beginning to understand. She's so much better now about picking up her toys, as I mentioned before, than she was just six months ago. So I should know that eventually they'll both get it. And the things is, they didn't really even realize what they were doing. They were pretending the dollhouse was on fire and the fireman had moved all the things out to save them. I'm quite sure the last thing on their minds was being careful about the furniture.
Which leads me to the "duh" moment of the whole thing, the utter lack of common sense that finally makes itself obvious to me, which is "Gee, maybe I ought to just put the dollhouse away for a few years until they're both old enough to play with the delicate pieces."
And that is exactly what I plan to do. The other toys will probably go back in a day or two -- long enough so they know I'm not a pushover because, overreaction or not, now I have to stick to my guns or risk losing my street cred.
And I will try harder to think things through the next time, and make sure the punishment fits not only the crime, but the age as well.
The toys were pieces of doll house furniture that their grandmother gave to them for Christmas. The pieces are not inexpensive, and they're delicate. Probably, in retrospect, way too delicate for children so young. Yet, when I saw their room, torn apart in general with things everywhere, and then the contents of the dollhouse strewn in a messy pile, heads were going to roll!
Taking are of things is a sticking point for me. I don't recall being destructive when I was little and prior to having children, my husband and I insisted we would teach our future kids to value things. We did not intend to end up with a house full of broken toys and knick knacks (like many of our friends and family members) We simply could not understand why you wouldn't teach your kids to take care of toys and possessions that cost money.
On top of that, is the pressure of my own parents who, like most people from an older generation, have a tendency to judge and to forget the reality of what life was like when they were raising kids of their own.
The problem is, in reality, at what age do children really get it? As my husband pointed out this evening when I rehashed the days events and my guilt over the matter and the punishment I handed down (more on that later), they can't always even recount what they did an hour ago. They have no sense of time, certainly no sense of money or the value of things.
That's what makes it so frustrating for me. HOW do I get through to them, in even some little way, that what they did was wrong? Shouldn't they feel at least a little remorseful, even if they don't exactly understand the issue, since I'm obviously upset by it?
Initially, I put them both kids in time out, and then planned to remove all of the toys from their room with the understanding that they would get their things back eventually.
Harsh? Yes. Knee jerk reaction? Yes, yes. Effective? I just don't know. My oldest would understand why I took the things away, but my youngest would not.
I wonder if they just have too much given to them and don't appreciate their things as a result. While we have far fewer things than some people I know, we certainly have more than I did when I was growing up.
At the same time, I think I ought to give them a lot more slack because of the age that they are. They're good girls, and our oldest is, after all, beginning to understand. She's so much better now about picking up her toys, as I mentioned before, than she was just six months ago. So I should know that eventually they'll both get it. And the things is, they didn't really even realize what they were doing. They were pretending the dollhouse was on fire and the fireman had moved all the things out to save them. I'm quite sure the last thing on their minds was being careful about the furniture.
Which leads me to the "duh" moment of the whole thing, the utter lack of common sense that finally makes itself obvious to me, which is "Gee, maybe I ought to just put the dollhouse away for a few years until they're both old enough to play with the delicate pieces."
And that is exactly what I plan to do. The other toys will probably go back in a day or two -- long enough so they know I'm not a pushover because, overreaction or not, now I have to stick to my guns or risk losing my street cred.
And I will try harder to think things through the next time, and make sure the punishment fits not only the crime, but the age as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
