SingleWorkingMama

By now, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about the new, Homeless American Girl Doll, Gwen. (If not, read about it here.)

Gwen's mother does a pretty good job of getting her dressed for school in that car. She's more coordinated than my kids on any given day.

I have a couple of thoughts about this new addition to the American Girl (now clearly dysfunctional – ha!) family:

First, did they do any market research on this? Does this homeless doll fill a quiet void among children of parents who are able to spend $95 on a doll?

I’d also like to know which charity provided the Gymboree-quality, fully coordinated outfit of this lil’ sweetheart. Yes, I can tell that her seersucker dress doesn’t require ironing, which is a good thing. Obviously, her mother can’t very well iron in the car. And, Gwen’s mother is quite the artist. She’s dressed much better than my kids do on the average school day!

I think that introducing dolls of different backgrounds is a spectacular idea. Sure, it would make sense that in this day and age, there would be a doll from a single parent household. I think they jumped the shark a bit with the whole “homeless” bit, but then again, the singer Jewel lived in a car with her mother for quite some time as a young girl. Perhaps this was the American Girl attempt at showing hope.

Then again, it could be one more way to make actual homeless children feel inadequate, with their less-polished attire and hairstyles.

It’s a good thing Gwen is out of my price range. If my daughter wants a homeless doll for Christmas, I will take one of the forgotten, neglected Generican Girl dolls laying around my house and re-gift it to her.

We flew into Orlando and grabbed our luggage with ease. (Well, not with ease, necessarily. My sister nicknamed my bag “Big Bertha,” as it could easily accommodate at least one full-grown adult, and possibly a small child.)

At any rate, we breezed through the baggage claim and hopped in line for the Magical Express.

We were the first group to get on the next bus, and the kids charged on board and took the coveted first row. They were SO excited! My sister and I took the row across from them, seated directly behind the driver’s seat.

Our driver got on the shuttle. He was heavily winded, which wasn’t surprising since he had to haul most of the luggage under the bus. However, I started to become concerned as continued to pant heavily.

He started to drive, and took the microphone. “Welcome (pant pant pant) to Walt Disney World. (pant pant pant) My name is (We’ll just call him “Johnny,” as I’m not going to reveal his true identity) and I must apologize…” (Long, dramatic pant sequence) “But I am getting older (pant pant pant,) and I cannot (pant) breathe.”

Some passengers seemed oblivious, and I exchanged bug-eyed glances with a few others.

Thankfully, this is *not* the last known photo of the kids.

By now, we were about 7 minutes into our 30 minute drive. It suddenly occurred to me that these highly sought after front row seats were not ideal if the driver should succumb to some sort of medical episode.

He mopped his face with a paper towel, and I tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, are you okay?” He insisted he was, and that was that. Meanwhile, I studied the path from my seat to the wheel in the event he should suddenly slump over.

We made it. By the end of the drive, he seemed to have recovered. We gave him a big tip for his heavy haulin’. I didn’t quite kiss the ground when we got off the shuttle, but I was very thankful.

Later, my sister said “Yeah – I came up with a plan to grab the wheel and pull his leg off the gas if necessary.”

I’m happy we didn’t make the news. Magical indeed!

We’re fresh home from Disney World.

One night, in the hotel, Drue told me: “I’m a little bit homesick. I miss our house.”

I told her I understood, but reminded her that “Home is where the heart is, remember?”

She looked at me with a tired, serious face and nodded slowly.

To confirm she understood, I said “Okay, so then where’s the heart?”

She said “At home. You just said so.”

Tonight, when I came home and opened the fridge to scavenge for dinner, I was met with a fright: The gallon of milk I poured into the morning cereal today was gone.

“Damn,” I thought, “I left it out.”

I pivoted around to look in the usual places, and the milk was nowhere to be found.

Freaked out, I did a slow grid search (Ha ha! My kitchen isn’t THAT big!) and determined it was nowhere, including the garbage.

I pictured a carton of milk with a gallon of milk featured on the back: “Have you seen me?”

Have You Seen Me?

Suddenly, it occurred to me that the kids are getting old enough to, at the very least, remove it from the fridge. I circled their usual hangout areas thinking I might find it.

I did not.

Not worried that someone broke into my house and stole merely what was left of a gallon of milk, I checked less conspicuous areas, such as my bathroom and in the corners of all bedrooms. I envisioned coming home from Disney to find yellow crime tape circling my house, as neighbors had called in “offensive odors” coming from the place. (If you’re new to this blog, I’ve previously disclosed my runaway imagination.)

No milk.

Often the victim of hysterical blindness, I decided to abandon the search for an hour or so. During the time off of my search, I remembered my hunger. I opened the fridge to scavenge again, and found the milk low in the fridge door.

Duh! No wonder I couldn’t find it!

Suddenly, it occurred to me that my little, helpless children are capable of refilling their cereal bowls and putting the milk away… Just not in the spot I’m used to.

I’m two days away from going on a dream trip to Disney with my kids, Mom, Dad, Sis, Bro, and Sis-in-Law.

Welcome to the height of anxiety for me.

This trip has been planned for months and months, and it seemed pretty unreal until last week, when Drue got a mysterious fever and pains in her abdomen. As the possibilities emerged (mono, strep, appendicitis!) the trip became very real, and I am so very happy that she mended over the weekend. Now, as long as Boo doesn’t get it for the trip, we’re good.

I had a vivid dream the other night that my Dad called, waking me up, and said “Hi! We’ll see you at the airport in an hour!” and hung up. I realized I hadn’t even started packing, and that the kids were asleep, and that it would take about an hour just to get to the airport. It brought me out of my slumber and into a cold sweat awfully fast, that dream did!

When I was at Wal-Mart on Saturday trying to tie up some loose ends (Neosporin, Band-Aids, etc.) the thought crossed my mind: “Hey – don’t they carry Disney stuff here?”

Sure enough, I found two t-shirts for me (Cool, distressed-looking Mickey and Tink shirts) and a Tinkerbell hat and shirt for the redhead. Little Boo was not so lucky, as they seemed to specialize in such characters as Spiderman and Transformers. I grabbed him a $1 clearance Spongebob hat for consolation, and he loves it.

Yeah, baby! We're going to Disney!!!

So, for $18, I got each one of us something to wear on the plane. I already told the kids that I bought the Disney stuff here to save money. We’ll see where that gets me.

Eight years later, as I watch the news coverage and memorials of September 11, 2001, it seems like that very day.

For much of my life, I’d had nightmares about planes flying into buildings, and when my friend Amy and I were traveling to Illinois for a consulting assignment one summer, I’d always talk about it when we’d go by O’Hare.

I was sleeping when I got the call from Amy. “Heidi! Your nightmare came true! A plane hit the World Trade Center!” I sat up, stunned, and turned on the television. That was before anyone really realized we were under attack.

I remember the feeling of helplessness that day. The fear of the unknown as one by one, three additional planes went down, and as the towers fell.

I remember the news reporters, doing their best to cover the unimaginable.

I remember people in business attire, covered with soot, stammering through New York in shock.

I remember seeing the look on the president’s face when Andy Card whispered into his ear “America is under attack,” as he read to small children.

I remember that my Dad was in St. Louis and I just wanted him back at home.

I remember hearing that people were leaping out of the buildings, and I remember the first time I saw photos of that, and thinking how horrible it had to be to choose that fate.

I remember my friends Alan and Cornelia, who lived in Washington D.C. at the time, and trying desperately to reach them. I remember the feeling of relief when I learned they were okay.

I remember learning that one of the victims in the WTC was the daughter of my very first boss (The owner of Peter Piper’s Pancake House), Gordy Habermann. Andrea was on her very first business trip that day.

I remember feeling hopeful, as here and there a survivor would be pulled from the wreckage, and the day it was apparent no more survivors would be found.

Sadness, confusion and anger followed, as I started to understand the impossible concept that other human beings would want to kill us. For as long as I’ve understood the concept of terrorism, I wasn’t prepared to have it so close to home.

I’ll never forget Tony Snow, who at the time was a Fox News anchor. He wrote a tribute that he read on the air, and he broke down in tears. I remember sort of realizing that news anchors are people too.

So, today I remember it all, and thank the heroes who helped that day, after that day, and still today by protecting our freedom.

Last week, the SuperManny somehow stumbled upon a very interesting topic with the kids.

Somehow, someone posed the question: What would Brett’s action figure say? If you had a doll that looked just like Boo, with a string to pull… What would come out?

SuperManny and Drue both immediately agreed it would be “For REAL.” (Based on a chain of statements, and basically, the addition to any opinion he expresses, several times each day. Example: “Mom. If a lion bites you, you will die. FOR REAL.”) When I got home and heard about this game, I added “I have a GREAT idea.” (This is his term for “Even though you’re saying no, I’m going to do my level best to negotiate with you…” It is also stated multiple times daily.)

Imagine my non-surprise when the SuperManny told me what the kids speculated my action figure to say:

“I’m gonna be late for work! Ahh!” (At least I’m consistent.)

After hearing that, I took it a step further in my illustrative mind. What accessories would my action figure come with? Oh yeah. Multiple bags, knitting needles and a ball of yarn, and of course the tiny Diet Redbull, Karuba coffee mug and Pepsi Max!

Suddenly, I’m the action figure on clearance at Target, aren’t I?

Play the game with your family. Learn about yourself.

The second week of school isn’t exactly going swimmingly.

Druesy has a fever for the second day in a row, which has secured her a slot at home again tomorrow.

Boo had his first week of daycare and informed me on the phone tonight: “Mom, I’m not going to school again.”

I asked him what the problem was. He said “Naptime! Ba-Oring!”

I asked him what he’d be doing during the day if he didn’t go back to school. He said “Staying with you!” (Only he said “Staying wiph you.”)

This is what you get when you have a fall kid who just misses the kindergarten cut-off, I suppose!

On August 9, I posted a complaint about my experience at Steak ‘n Shake.

I sent the link to my post to the company via their website, and the first thing I got was a form letter, promising me that my complaint would be passed on to the proper authorities. I didn’t have much faith that I’d ever hear another peep about it, but much to my surprise, I got a very personal response from their Milwaukee Director of Operations.

The email told me that this really was likely the result of a “misunderstanding,” rather than a sinister corporate policy. He apologized, and apparently went through the records from that day, pulled our check, examined it as well as the surveillance video from the restaurant!

He gave me a discount off of my next visit and thanked me for my business. I’m very impressed and appreciative.

I give the Steak ‘n Shake corporation two thumbs up for customer service.

We will return to our Steak ‘n Shake cheese fry routine this weekend… And NOT just because of the discount!