Blended

Wordless Wednesday - HOW many in the Tub?!?

Taking Some Time Off

You may have noticed that I took a little time off from the blog there for a minute. It was sort of on purpose and sort of not-on-purpose-but-actually-because-the holidays-were-a-little-overwhelming-and-I-sorta-lost-track-of-time.

It is an interesting feeling to take time off from something you love and enjoy. I love writing and look forward to writing stories for the blog. (It is possible that I look forward to writing because I know it happens after the kids go to sleep…) But I didn’t hate not writing for a few weeks. Sometimes you have to miss something to appreciate it, I guess.

Of course, writing isn’t the only thing I had to take some time off from over the holidays. This being their father’s Christmas, my kiddos flew to his house on Christmas Eve and didn’t return until January 2. Bill’s kids, in turn, spent the 10 day vacation at their mom’s house. I love my kids. All of them. But I also didn’t hate not waking up at 6am for a few days.

Bill and I noticed that right before the holidays, parenting becomes a bit of an uphill battle. (Like climbing Mt. Everest in a blizzard wearing flip flops.) We were faced with our normally well-behaved (ish), controlled (just go with it), polite children’s increasingly ridiculous behavior. We knew that given the constant influx of sweets and gifts, their behavior was normal. We were worried that if we continued to discipline and correct behaviors the way we usually do, that we would regret not having just enjoyed our children during their last week with us.

We made an irrational, unprecedented decision. We stopped parenting.

That’s right. We threw out bedtime. We watched movies as a family all cuddled up on the couch on a school night! We didn’t make them pick up their junk. We didn’t do dishes. In fact, we didn’t cook – (the real meaning of restaurant week). We ate dessert even when broccoli was still on the plate. We loved and hugged and played games.

We didn’t tell the kids we were taking some time-off from parenting. We just did it. At first, I think they thought they were getting away with something. The big kids slowly realized something was up, but something crazy happened: It was as if they realized they were being given a gift and were scared they’d lose it. So they were unbelievable well behaved. It was probably the best week we’ve ever had as a family. Messy house, dirty dishes, late for school, but focused on fun and family.

When it was time to let them go, we were ready. We kissed them goodbye, loaded them into minivans and airplanes and tried not to cry as they drove and flew away.

Then we took a little time-off of our own. We spent the week pretending to be grown-ups. (This worked really well until we turned to each other in the middle of a club on New Year’s Eve at 2am and shouted, “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL AWAKE!” “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL AWAKE” )

When all the kids finally came back last week, we wanted to make a special afternoon for them. Unfortunately, we live in a tiny town that was not prepared for our plans. The pool was closed. The bowling alley was closed. The roller skating and ice skating rinks were closed. There weren’t any movies playing they hadn’t already seen. All they wanted to do was go to Chuck E Cheese.

Chuck E Cheese is two and a half hours away.

Good parents would know better than to drive two and a half hours each way on a school night. Good parents would have calmly explained why that wasn’t a choice.

We took just a tiny bit more time-off from “good” parenting and drove those kids down the interstate to Chuck E Cheese. Yes, that means they went to bed at 10pm on a school night and yes, the next morning was a complete and total disaster, but those were some pretty happy (albeit exhausted) kids. That’s how we like ‘em. Tired and happy.

New Year’s Resolutions? We’re gonna take a little more time off. Between ice skating lessons, archery club, volleyball, Girl Scouts, basketball, swimming lessons and Bar Mitzvah training, it will be hard to do in the next few months, but amid all this chaos, we will find time to make sure those kids are tired and happy.

You'd Think, Especially after the Last Post, that I'd be More Productive...

So you know how the school won’t let your kid go back to school the next day if they had a fever or threw up at school the day before?  I’ve learned to embrace this rule.  Here’s why:  the result of the rule is that today I have 6 hours where 5 kids are at school and 1 kid is “resting” and I’m not ALLOWED to go to work.  Genius.  You might think I used this time productively.

 

You’d be wrong.

 

So, in a deliberate and fantastic act of procrastination, I have created a list of all the things I SHOULD have done today.   Enjoy.  I’m going back to Pinterest. 

 

The Should-a List

What I should have done: Cleaned the bathroom and organized the medicine cabinet.

What I actually did:  Carried the cleaning products to the bathroom, got distracted and sat on the bathroom floor painting my toenails.

 

What I should have done: started baking holiday cookies for the mailman, piano teacher, etc.

What I actually did:  Make elf donuts based on a photo I found on Pinterest.

 

Oh no...what's wrong with my mother?

What I should have done:  The dishes

What I actually did:  Arrange the dirty dishes so they took up less space.

What I should have done:  The Wii fit, or some sort of work out.

What I actually did:  Hire a personal trainer that I may or may not actually meet up with next Tuesday.  (Any encouraging text messages at 3:40 on Tuesday will be accepted.)

 

What I should have done:  Vacuuming

What I actually did:  Make 28 pretend snowglobes with my daughter and decide that the fake snow all over the dinning room floor was festive.

 

What I should have done:  Organized my closet.

What I actually did:  Make up new outfits on Polyvore (Oy! How the internet kills my productivity!) and then try to figure out where to buy all the cool scarves I loved.

 

What I should have done:  Scrapbook the 10,000 photos of my own children that are sitting on my desk.

What I actually did:  Take 151 photos of my friend’s baby in a bucket of Christmas ornaments, sleeping under the tree and playing with Christmas lights.

What I should have done:  Planned meals for the week, including tonight

What I actually did:  Googled 10 minute/3 ingredient meals.  Then Googled Pizza Hut coupons.  (That stinkin’ Internet again!)

 

What I should have done:  Cleaned up my kids’ rooms.

What I actually did:  Shut their doors.

 

What I should have done: Read an intellectual book or something that would further my career.

What I actually did:  Read the latest issue of Cosmo that came automatically to my Nook, and then three chapters of Tina Fey’s Bossy Pants.

 

 

What I should have done:  Corrected papers.

What I actually did:  Left the papers at school yesterday when I flew out of there yesterday to pick up my sick kid.

 

What I should have done:  Made homemade soup for my sick kid.

What I actually did:  Make her soup out of a can.  Then make her hot chocolate.  From a packet.  Pretty sure she didn’t notice.

 

What I should have done:  Planned a cute outfit in which to greet my husband when he arrived home from a week-long business trip.  (At least that's what I should have done according to the Pinterest list of "101 Things You Should Be Doing For Your Husband.")

What I actually did:  throw on lip gloss, earrings and a bra when I heard his truck pull into the driveway.

 

What I should have done:  Spent time figuring out why my living room is so much colder than the rest of my house.

What I actually did:  Snuggle under a blanket with my “sick” kid.

 

What I should have done:  Update my address book so that I won’t get so many returned Christmas Cards next year.

What I actually did:  Spend an hour on facebook chatting and stalking relatives and friends before remembering to actually message them asking for their addresses.

 

What  I should have done:  Get the heck off of the computer.

What I actually did:  Write this story.  While sipping hot chocolate (from a packet).  Under a blanket in the living room with my “sick kid.”  In my sweatpants.  With undone dishes and unvacuumed floors.  While enjoying elf donuts.

 

I'm Thankful for...Chaos. (and Wine)

Here’s the thing:  Living 2,000 miles away from your sister totally sucks.  But if you’re lucky enough to have a sibling like I do, then it sucks less.  Last weekend, Manhattan Sister, her husband Uncle New York and my East Coast Parents all flew out here for an early Thanksgiving celebration.  (Because let’s face it, it is WAY easier for them to drag their butts out here to South Dakota than it is for us to drag the butts of 6 children all the way back to Boston or New York City.)

 

From the moment they walked in the door, the giggling never stopped.  All six kids attacked them and hung on for dear life.  Within seconds they had created personal jokes:  “Why did the chicken cross the road?  Because he got runned over!”  “Why did the chicken cross the road?  Because he had CHEEEESE for dinner.”  I’m fairly certain that even the creators of these “jokes” did not understand what was making them funny, but that didn’t stop them from rolling on the floor laughing every time they were repeated (ad nauseum). 

 

The girls were learning a special song for their school holiday concert, which had lyrics about the season of winter:  “It’s a glorious time of the year!  It’s a wonderful season of cheer!”  The timing of this new song fit perfectly with my sister’s arrival, so she helped the girls change the lyrics: “It’s glorious Aunt Melly’s here!  It’s wonderful because she’s here!”  This, of course, caused even more giggling, and the repetition of the new lyrics every four seconds for the whole weekend.

 

Gabby and my sister, setting the table for Thanksgiving, came up with a new way to celebrate, using the sparkly confetti I’d bought for the table.

 

 

This, of course, led to more giggling, and the unavoidable glitter-fight, which left me picking pieces of sparkly confetti out of my children’s hair, the chandeliers and my pants for the next several days.

 

Manhattan Sister also introduced my children to the wonderful concept of  planking.  They planked the couch, the coffee table, the pool table…and each other.

 
Thanks Manhattan Sister.

 

On the day of “Thanksgiving,” actually a random Saturday in November because that’s how we roll, my husband decided to take Uncle New York hunting for pheasants.  (When in South Dakota….) They triumphantly returned, about six hours later, with two pheasants.  East Coast Hippie Grandparents cringed as the children ran around the house with the feathers plucked from the dead birds.  Manhattan Sister and I bit our tongues until the feathers ended up in the dinner table centerpiece.  We drew the line.

During Thanksgiving preparations, my sister and I did some traditional things:  Make sure we have “real” cranberry sauce (you know, the kind in the jar) in addition to mom’s “fancy” cranberry sauce. (you know, the kind with real cranberries in it). And some untraditional things:  Like figure out how to fry stuffing.  Hey!  If you are in South Dakota, you fry the turkey!  And if you’re frying the turkey, why not make mashed potato-stuffed stuffing balls and fry them up too!  And while you’re at it, try frying the pie.

 

The turkey, stuffing and pie all tasted delicious, but the outside of the turkey didn’t look so good when it came out.

 

 

Gabby’s face fell when she entered the room to see it.  “What happened to it?” she asked sadly.  But it was delicious!  Of course, anything fried in oil is delicious, and on this holiday, there’s no guilt about eating healthy.

 

But the funniest moments of our weekend, by far, were at the Thanksgiving table.  I’m not sure exactly how to explain it, so I’ll try snippets of overheard conversation:

 

Me: Gabby, please don’t put the confetti in the butter.

 

Kid 1: I’m going to Canada.

Kid 2:  Well I’m going to another country!

Kid 1:  Canada IS another country!

Kid 2: Nuh-uh!

Etc…

 

Dinner is served.  Everyone is chewing. There is silence. Suddenly:

Gabriella:  Justin Bieber is my BOYFRIEND!

 

 

Kid 1: I’m thankful for my family

Manhattan Sister: I’m thankful for my family too.

Kid 2: I’m thankful that Christmas is coming

Kid 3: We gettin’ any presents on Fanksgiving?

Kid 4: No, dummy.  No presents on Thanksgiving,

Kid 5: I’m thankful for presents!

Kid 6: Justin Bieber is my boyfriend!

Me: I’m thankful for wine.

Manhattan Sister: I take it back, I’m thankful for Bill frying stuff.

 

East Coast Dad: I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach.

Uncle New York: I think my eyes were bigger than my liver.

Levi: Eyes big!  Tummy hurt.

Bill: Don’t throw up in here, it’s white carpet.

 

Then there was this:

  

 

And why, you ask, do I allow this kind of shenanigans at my Thanksgiving Dinner table?  2 reasons:

 

1.  Because I am apparently not in control of the situation and if I didn’t laugh, I might die.

2.  Because they had CHEEEEESE for dinner!

  They only look normal...

Special thanks to East Coast Mom and Dad and Manhattan Sister and Brother-in-law for dragging their butts out here, for making us laugh all weekend and especially for helping the children learn the lyrics to the Aunt Melly Song, which has resulted in only two phone calls home from the school music teacher.

My husband "planking" after a big turkey dinner.  Or maybe he's just sleeping on the floor.

 

 

Pajama Day

As a student, a teacher and a mom, Pajama Day has always been the best day of school.  As a student, I remember the fun, silly feeling of being at school wearing something different, and giggling at the idea of my teacher in her robe as well.  As a teacher, I enjoy the challenge of finding something exciting enough to DO on Pajama Day that I can capture the students’ attention and keep them focused even though I’m wearing plaid flannel pants.  As a mom, Pajama Day for the big kids means an easy-out.  No outfit planning!  No arguments!  Just go to school!  (Of course, some of my daughters are in the change-into-new-pajamas-when-we-wake-up camp.)

 

But the first Pajama Day of a school career is certainly the most exciting.  Levi’s was today.  We’ve been talking about it since we found the letter in his backpack from preschool – we all agree that it’s a very exciting moment in his school career!

 

Levi and I picked out new “jamas” at the store and chose matching slippers to accessorize.   We counted down the days.  Levi made a special request and the whole family promised to wear our jamas to dinner on the night of Pajama Day.  We planned breakfast for dinner, Levi style – chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream.  (And vegetables, Grammy, don’t worry.)

 

The day finally arrived.  Levi jumped out of bed, ready to go to school already.  “Jama Day! Jama Day!”  Bill managed to get him to eat breakfast and wait patiently through the morning before it was time for preschool to start (if “patiently” means, “asking every 4 seconds if it is time for school while bouncing off the walls and screaming “Pajama Day! Pajama Day!”).

 

Levi dragged Bill down the hallway to his classroom, sliding along in his slippers, eager to see his classmates and show them his new jamas.  When they opened the door, Bill and Levi were shocked to find all of his classmates…in regular clothes.

 

Because Levi’s Pajama Day was last week.

 

Over his chocolate chip pancakes at dinner, Levi let us off the hook, explaining that it was okay that he was the only one wearing jamas today…because “I cool like that.  And last week I’s the only one in clothes when they’s wearing jamas!”

 

Oh.  So, Parents of The Year, then?

 

Thank goodness the littlest one is also the most easy-going.  Being the youngest of six requires a certain amount of chaos-tolerance. 

 

 Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

 

Messages from a 12-Year-Old

I went to an all-day meeting last week  Before I left, I reviewed the house rules: don’t hit, don’t bite, don’t scream, don’t make messes, don’t answer the door to strangers, don’t eat only chocolate all day long.

 

Then I reviewed the “contact rules.”  These rules are in place specifically so that my kids don’t call me in the middle of the meetings with “emergencies” such as: “I can’t find my book,” and “Emily is making fun of my body spray.”  The rules are basic.

 

Call if you have an emergency.

A real emergency.

No, your brother stealing your favorite toy is not an emergency.

An emergency involves blood, vomit or fire. 

 

If you call me to tattle, you are all grounded.

 

If you just have a question, text me.

 

I should have revised that last one.  It should have been if you have an IMPORTANT question, text me.  Then, perhaps, I should have defined “important” as well.

 

This is the text message conversation I had with my son today, during the meeting:

 

Can I use the computer?

$*jacked up camaro*$

Is the house clean?

 

Yea

$*jacked up camaro*$ 

    What is $*jacked up                                                                                                  camaro*$?

 

It’s my signature

$*jacked up camaro*$

 

What does it mean?

 

idk

$*jacked up camaro*$

$*Why is your signature something

that you don’t understand?*$

 

idk

$*jacked up camaro*$

 

Can I play the wii?

$*jacked up camaro*$

If you change your signature 

so that it isn’t stupid? 

$*You don’t know what it is*$

 

K

$*Poned*$     

What is poned???

 

It means like dissed      

$*Poned*$

(Pause for some research)                  

"Actually, according to Urban

Dictionary, it means: Something

the Jonas Brothers messed up.

Poser lingo for the internet slang

word 'pwned' as in being owned

or disgraced by someone else.

EX: 10 Year old Jonas Brothers Fan:

Omg like you got poned."

 

Oh.  Can I watch fast 5?

$*jelly beans*$         

no.

 

Can I go to the movies?

$*just do it*$

no.

 

 

Can I hang out with Matt?  

$*Mom is cool*$

yes.

$*well played*$

 

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

The Moral of this Story is Listen to Your {Step}Mother

Isn’t that the moral of MOST of my stories?

 

Last night we took the kids to the Halloween Festival at the elementary school.  My mother has created an amazing collection of Peter Pan-themed costumes for them this year.  Levi is Captain Hook, Gabby is Tinkerbelle and all the big kids are pirates.  (Bill is Peter Pan, but he refused to wear tights to school because the “lights would be on inside” and I am Wendy, but my blue nightie is a tiny bit risquee for school…)

 

Anyway, Levi announced after putting on his full costume, that he had to wear his black dress shoes…from last year.  “These,” he declared, “are my pirate shoes.”

 

I wasn’t aware that pirates wore penny loafers, but I am also not one to argue with a four year old.

 

Except…I am.

 

I informed Levi that those shoes were too small for him to wear to the event, but he insisted that he couldn’t be a pirate without them.  After a while, it was clear that it was the too-small pirate shoes or a full-blown melt down, so we gave in. (Don’t judge me.  You’re not here. )  We let him wear the tiny shiny shoes with his costume.

 

When we arrived  at the event, he promptly sat down, removed the shoes and informed us that they were too small.  “Why you let me wear those?”  he asked.

 

He spent the rest of the event barefoot and hitched a ride home on Daddy’s shoulders.

 

When a candy-filled event ends at 8:30pm, you can be sure the bedtime routine isn’t going to run smoothly, and it didn’t.  Around 9:30, Levi was bouncing around on the top bunk, jumping up and down despite his father’s demands that he lay down.

 

And then he fell.  Hard.

 

Bill scooped up the crying toddler and I googled “how to tell if your kid has a concussion.”  Levi drooped listlessly on Bill’s shoulder and cried the most pitiful cry while I started my triage.

 

Symptoms your child might have a concussion

• Vomiting – Levi, do you feel sick?  No.
• Changes in behavior, including irritability or fussiness – Well, he just hit his head – wouldn’t that make YOU fussy?
• Changes in physical coordination, including stumbling or clumsiness – We set him on his feet, and he wasn’t any more clumsy than usual – of course, this IS the kid who just fell off the bed…
• Vision or eye disturbances, including pupils that are bigger than normal (dilated pupils) or pupils of unequal sizes – Levi!  Look at my eyes!  No…my eyes…No look here.  Okay yes, right there!  Okay, they look…what are they supposed to look like? 
• Blood or fluid discharge from the nose or ears – Nope, no blood.
• Large head bumps or bruises on areas other than the forehead– Nope, no bumps.

• A loss of consciousness lasting more than a minute – Nope, no loss of consciousness.
• Amnesia about the event – Levi, what happened?  I fell out of bed. Why?  Because I’s messing around. 
• Pain – Levi, does your head hurt? No.  Does your face hurt?  No.  Does anything hurt?  Yes.  What hurts?

 

At this point, he climbed down off of Bill’s lap, turned his little foot around and pointed to a blister – “Dody,” he said seriously.  “Member those shoes you made me wear?  THIS hurts.”

 

Okay, you're fine.  Go to bed.

 

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

10 Things I Never Thought I'd Say (or Swore I wouldn't)...but Did.

After reading 10 Things I Never Thought I’d Say, by the Domestic Goddess, I  had to weigh in with my own top 10.  Manhattan Sister will tell you that having a phone call with me can be a little disconcerting.  She can never be quite sure if I’m telling her or one of the children to, “Stop doing that right now!”  Here are some good ones I’ve said before realizing what was coming out of my mouth.

 

10.  Please get down off the top of the refrigerator.

 

9.  Why is there a guinea pig in my living room?

 

8.  Your artwork is beautiful, but please!  On paper – not the walls.

 

7. For the last time!  Stop putting the dog in the dryer!

 

6. I know you like rolling down hills, but I am very certain that the stairs aren't as comfortable...

 

5.  Oatmeal is not a finger food.

 

4.  Please stop licking your sister.

 

3.  I understand that a slushy is juicy, but that still doesn’t make it a fruit.

 

2.  Please play my grandmother’s antique piano with your fingers, not your toes.  Or the heels of your cowgirl boots.

 

1.  The last is a montage of things my mother and father said to me that I swore I’d never repeat (but do, in some part, on a regular basis): If you don’t stop filling the air with noise, then I will take your bedroom door off the hinges!  And no, you can’t have those jeans, even if everyone else has them.  Would you jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if everyone else did?   Stop knocking your sister over, because she is the only one you’re getting.  Everything is all fun and games until someone loses an eye or breaks an arm!  Now sit down because you make a better door than a window, and get a snack quickly because the refrigerator is not a television.  Shush! BECAUSE I SAID SO!

 

 

Renovations

One of the tiles on my kitchen floor is cracked.  (It is cracked because I dropped a jar of tomato sauce on it, but that’s not really relevant, is it?)  So, I’ve been investigating different options for replacing the kitchen floor.  Of course, while looking at kitchen floors in the home-improvement store, (3 hours away because OUR town is WAY too small for things like THAT…) I became a little distracted.  I do that sometimes.  So I’ve started a list of other home renovations that would greatly improve our family life.

 

I’ll start in the kitchen.  Aside from the new floor made of something super-durable (read: won’t scratch when the kids ride skate boards on it, and won’t break when I drop stuff on it) I will need new appliances.  We need a self-cleaning double oven, a self-cleaning microwave and, if possible a self-cleaning counter.  They make that, right?  I could use two full sized fridges – one for milk, and one for everything else.  Then maybe I won’t have to go to the grocery store Every. Single. Day.  We will also need new cabinets, all up over the head of the tallest child, so they can’t take everything out and leave it on the counter.  Except I’m not really that tall either, so we’ll need to make sure that at least the liquor cabinet is down low enough to be reachable.  Yeah.  That’s right.  Cereal, snacks and everything else up high.  Wine where I can reach it.  Perhaps we can have adjustable height cabinets so that as the kids grow taller and their indiscretions change we can keep one step ahead of them.  Or at least one step higher.  Oh!  And we need a chef.

 

The playroom we have is lovely, and just large enough to contain the enormous mess my children create in it every day.  The only modification it needs is sound-proofing.  And maybe rubber walls. And some type of apparatus that automatically disposes of any toys or game parts that have been left on the floor for more than 30 days.

 

Our dining room is only about 2 feet larger than our gi-normous table, so maybe we could extend that a little bit. The floor in there needs replacing too.  I’m thinking poured cement with a drain in the middle so I can just hose down the whole room after dinner.

 

Next up, as long as we’re into a little remodeling, could be an add-on room for pets.  Since we last spoke, we had a little hamster catastrophe.  You see, it appears hamsters don’t actually want to live together. It also appears that hamsters, when forced to live together, will kill each other.  Gross.  And it also seems that the man at the pet store didn’t think that was an important thing to tell me. The children recovered quickly when we promised to upgrade to a guinea pig.  Now we have to build a new room so we have someplace to put the humungous guinea pig cage.  We’ll also need to keep Brady and Alice in there.  Hmm… Huge naughty dog and little stupid dog in the same room with a small rodent?  Maybe we need two “pet rooms.”  Or, maybe we need fewer pets.

 

Moving outdoors, perhaps some sort of magnetic field that would pull all the toys back into the garage, so they don’t lay in our yard until the dogs chew them up? 

 

So aside from replacing all of the carpet the stupid dogs ruined and repainting over all of the kids’ fingerprints on every single surface, I think that’s about it.

The Game of Life

Three of my kids decided that we should play a family game today.  As they came up from the playroom with The Game of Life (again), I paused to consider which game most closely resembled my actual life…  Monopoly?  Not!  Sorry?  Nope!  Battleship?  Occasionally.  Operation?  Well, I do sometimes feel like people are pulling me in all different directions…   Candyland?  Do they make Rumland?  No, I decided that my life actually mimics Charades.

 

You know, because I’m frantically flailing about hoping that somebody – anybody(!) will figure out what I’m trying to communicate?!?

 

Tonight, however, we played Life.  It occurred to me, in the first few minutes of the game, that this game neither bears any resemblance to real life, nor prepares you in any way for the reality of the world!  If the Game of Life is really how my life is supposed to be, then I have some issues.

 

First of all, you start off with 10,000 dollars.  Um, hello?  I think someone misread the rules when I started MY turn! 

 

In my first turn on the game tonight, I landed on “Study for test, miss turn.”  On what planet am I going to stop playing a fun game to study for a test?  This is not a very realistic example of college life.  What are we teaching these kids?

 

After three turns, my daughter, son and I, who all chose “college” were 100,000 dollars in debt and my “career” daughter has a mansion, $320,000, and is halfway through the board.  (She would go on to win the game, and stand in a shower of dollar bills.)

 

 

 

In my fifth turn, I paid $25,000 to a doctor (my nine-year old) to repair damage done to myself in a skiing accident.  Skiing?!?  Me?!?!  Clearly the creators of this game have no idea what they are talking about. 

 

Later, I landed on a spot that said, “Twin Girls!  Collect Gifts!”  Now this one I know for sure is a typo.  It should have said, “Twin Girls!  Collect Diapers! (and maybe get a nanny!)”

 

Two out of the four players won the lottery during this game.  Did this teach my children anything about gambling?  How about the fact that I decided that those were pretty good odds and took them out to buy a powerball ticket afterward?  Did that help?!?

And also this:  All of my children retired before me.   Well, at this rate…

 

The game also pointed out some of my children’s concerning characteristics  Not one of them is very good at debt management, at least one of them is a cheater, and all three of them put back the “teacher” career card because “The salary was a joke, Mom!” Yes, I know.

 

Some things are clearly missing from the game.  For instance, where’s the “Get-a-divorce.-Meet-the-man-of-your-dreams-and-raise-a-blended-family-of-eight-in-South-Dakota” spot?  And couldn’t it be attached to a “Win $100,000” spot?  How about “Get out of Hamster-Ownership Free?”

 

I must admit, though, that I love an activity where I can win a sports scholarship, an art competition AND the Nobel prize all in an hour…

 

 

 Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011