Entries from June 2008 ↓

OK folks, I think I have the answer. I think I can solve all our expensive gas woes. I honestly have NO idea why anyone hasn’t thought of this before. And I should know, being entirely uneducated in car design, or the business of running and fueling one. But hear me out. I am telling you, THIS is the answer we have been looking for.

The first step is a bit tricky. My plan requires that we run our cars on straight vegetable oil. Yeah, I know. Not exactly the quick fix you were hoping for. This step requires that we either buy cars with diesel engines (um, ok, those are super easy to find) and convert them, or buy cars already primed for biodiesel that would run entirely on vegetable oil (again, just as easy to find – but that could change with enough demand).

Now, here’s the step I am most excited about. Where do we get the bio-diesel easily? Obviously this is an infrastructure issue. We have gas stations on every corner. But we don’t have vegetable oil stations on every corner. But you know what we DO have on every corner? McDonalds! They are probably MORE common than gas stations! And can you even IMAGINE the kind of vegetable oil they go through and toss out? All we need to do is get Mickey D’s in on the plan. They just need to work it out with the bio-diesel experts and design some sort of fancy schmancy fuel pump that will process, clean and recycle their oil so that it is ready made for any bio-diesel car that runs on pure vegetable oil coming through the drive through. Do you have the visual yet? “I’ll have a big mac, a small fry and fill ‘er up.” All for $10! Brilliant, no? So, your car will smell like McDonalds. That’s a heck of a lot better than your car smelling like the regular unleaded it does now.

Ok, so I am suuuuure there are a thousand holes that someone can poke in this plan. Plus, there needs to be a huge, guaranteed demand for a new fuel system - as outside the box as this one - to actually succeed. Mega corporations across the board need to work together to make something like this move forward. Consumers need to be mentally ready: they need to trust that this will work, they have to be on board with a massive overhaul, and they need to truly understand that the gas we know and hate right now is NOT the best fuel for our cars.

And it would certainly not surprise me if the oil companies did everything in their power to undermine a massive change such as this one. You and I both know that they sit smugly in their secret lairs, with their Mr. Bigglesworth kitties on their laps, cackling evil cackles and pushing buttons to up the price of gas everywhere. After being so used to running the universe, I am SURE they’d be a bit miffed if they lost business.

But here’s my bottom line really. This idea may be impossible on many levels (I’m not sure which levels but what clue do I have) and I get that. But if we don’t start thinking up crazy ideas like this soon… if we don’t start taking our fuel crisis seriously and stop assuming “oh it will get better, gas will get cheaper, we’ll be fine”… we will never find a dependable, renewable source of energy to run our cars. Folks, being concerned about fossil fuel consumption is not for hippies and earthy crunchy types ANY longer. (Check out today’s article on MSNBC to prove my point.) THINK, people. We need to come up with something – FAST.

Until we get an alternative source of fuel and we can escape the choke hold of our current gas guzzling, money eating, gross emissions spewing, rattletraps we all own and curse, I will fantasize that one day, the car I drive, smells exactly like one ginormous french fry. Please pass the ketchup – let’s go get a clue.

It all started out with the best of intentions. When T. turned five last week, his grandmother sent him a crisp $20.00 bill to spend on whatever he would like. What a sweet and smart gesture! A true acknowledgement that he was a big boy – five! – and old enough to have his own money. T. and I agreed that he could take his money to Toys R Us where he could buy a special toy all by himself. So, today, holding onto some left over birthday cheer, we headed over to the recently opened Toys R Us up the road. When we got out of the car, he was absolutely fired up. He jumped up and down beside me, his $20.00 held tight in his hand. And I was excited too, I thought that he might get a good lesson about money and how to spend it. This would be fun!

Walking into Toys R Us still holds the same magic for me as it did when I was a kid. Like something out of a dream, bright primary colored toy boxes were laid out before us, as far as the eye could see, from floor to ceiling. My heart still skips a beat when I pass that wonderful candy pink aisle packed with every kind of cool Barbie stuff. I remember standing in that aisle with my own birthday money, carefully weighing my options, giddy, silly and wanting.

I asked T. where he would like to look first. He said “Star Wars stuff” so we headed there. He went straight up to the $49.00 Darth Vadar/Death Star transformer. “What about this?” “Sorry hon, too expensive.” And then pointed out what things were ok. He touched all the boxes, considering everything but he seemed a bit overwhelmed. So I said that maybe we should walk around a bit and see what else there was.

When we stopped at the Thomas the tank aisle, without any hesitation, he picked up a starter train set for $19.99 and said “I want this!” Perfect! Ok! Let’s go check out.

…”But what about the Star Wars things??”

“Um, no, hon, this train set costs $20.00. You’ve spent all of your money.”

And that’s when it happened. I could practically hear the audible snap. Greed swooped in and clutched my son’s usually rational brain – a beast took over.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! I WANT THE STAR WARS THINGS!!! I WANT THE TRAIN THINGS!!!! I WANT EEEVVVVEEERRREEEETHIIIIIING!!!!!”

He promptly burst into tears and slumped down on the platform displaying all the bikes. While C. ran up and down the bike aisle, with a bike helmet on, T. sobbed. I explained that he couldn’t have everything. $20.00 will only buy him somethings or one thing. Not everything. He was crushed. He was overwhelmed. The decision was impossible.

We finally went with the train set. As we went to check out, we steered clear of the Star Wars aisle for fear he would be set off once again. But what really made me sad was that he wasn’t giddy and excited about his purchase. He seemed resigned. Instead of getting a fun new toy, he looked like he had actually lost something. His eyes were still wet, his face was sad and walked behind me slowly. This was not the fun adventure I thought it would be. The only lesson he learned was there is so much he couldn’t have. Granted, that is a very important lesson for any child, but again, it wasn’t exactly how I thought the experience would go down when we walked in there a half hour prior.

As I have mentioned before, I try to limit too much stuff in our lives. Call it being cheap, being green, or saving space, but we honestly don’t have half the toys his friends do. And even the toys T. has, he only plays with them now and then. T. has never been a stuff guy. Presents are fun to open but he’ll leave something in its box for days and only vaguely find interest when I get his attention and ask him if he wants to open it with me. He is usually happier with a book, playing a board game, playing outside with a ball or in the sprinkler. Of course, he loves T.V. but not too much. He has always seemed “just right” with his need for any sort of excess. He has never hoarded, he has always shared well, and – shockingly – he has never begged or pleaded or demanded a toy (ice cream, yes, a toy no). Until today.

So excuse me as I unleash the mommy guilts within. But, today, I feel like I ruined a little bit of him. I let money become something exciting. I let the stuff become a fun thing to get and find and need. My heart went a little cold when he said “I want everything.” I know this is a human reaction. We all want a shopping spree. We all get excited over stuff. We all get bummed out when we can’t afford something we want desperately. Its normal, he needs to understand how buying things works and understand the value and limits of money. And, I assure you, there will be more birthday money in his future, we will set out for Toys R Us once again, and we will keep working on this lesson until it is good and learned. But, I guess, just to see his first moment where he is actually heartbroken over not getting some sort of stuff… It just didn’t feel so good.

And here’s the kicker. After lunch we pulled out the train, got it all set up (making a figure eight with train tracks is no easy feat, I mean it) and now its sitting there untouched on our family room floor. A few minutes ago, I asked him ”What about your train, T.? Why don’t you play with that for a little bit?” “Its making me boring, mommy” Oh o.k. Terrific.

Stuff. We want it. We stress over it. We use money we don’t even have to buy it. We finally get it, hold it up like a trophy fish scooped out of mall’s ocean. When, most of the time, we really don’t even need it.

The only bit of knowledge I dare share with you this evening is my formula for complete and total brain nummage. This formula is hardly unique - and I fear many of you have enjoyed and subsequently suffered from this sort of forumla on many occasions. But here it goes anyway. Who knows. Maybe your brain is firing on all cylinders, and thats just boring, and you would like to figure out a way to make it stop. Read away, this plan should reeeeally do the trick.

(Note: Definition of the Caroline word “Nummage”: Having been numbed to a point of total neural failure.)

1 five year old birthday party for T. At home. With games, a star wars theme, self-frosted box cake, pinata, sprinklers, candy, music, beers, balloons, streamers, heat, wet kids, costumed kids, light sabering kids, screaming kids, and exhausted kids.

1 morning of sheer panic packing for a week’s vacation to the beach. Where are the UV shirts? Did you pack both blankies AND mickey mouse? Don’t forget the mega super value box of goldfish. Did we pack “Return of the Jedi”? No he doesn’t want “The Phantom Menace”, its gotta be “Return of the Jedi”, he’s ALLLLL about Luke getting away from Jabba and Boba Fett falling into the Sarlac Pit (…what?…). Wait. This place has STAIRS???? What place has STAIRS in Florida!!!! GET THE BABY GATE GET THE BABY GATE!!!

3 hours of driving to our beach destination. And we actually heard it. I thought it only happened in movies. But we heard it. The notoriously whined, in a continuous loop, starting after hour one: “Uhhhh… ARE WE THERE YET?”

7 of us – my fam, my brother, his wife, and one gloriously inquisitive and truly wonderful 18 month old - together, in a lovely townhouse, overlooking a Marina. …”GET THE BABY GATE UP!!!!! QUIIIIIICK!!!!!”

5 days of wake up, cereal everywhere, find the swim diapers, sunscreen, get the bathing suits on, find the noodles, floaties, toys, find the keys, pile in, go to pool, swim, chase, throw, catch children, pile into car, eat lunch, babies nap, we nap, everyone up, re-sunscreen, re-find everything, pile back in, go to beach, watch the undertow, watch them eat sand, stop them eating sand, pile back in car, realize someones swim diaper doesn’t smell so good, get back home, bathe, feed, play hard, to bed, parents hit the booze, eat, swear at the bug bites, appreciate how beautiful it all really is and how lucky we really are, collapse into bed and wake up and do it again.

4 hours back from our destination. There was a tanker explosion on I-75 a few days before and the traffic is fierce. It’s 99 degrees outside and my Saturn is in a full sweat keeping our A/C chugging while we crawl along. Nope, we are soooooo not there yet.

1 two year old birthday party for C. At the playground (thank God)! No games, but with a Mickey theme, another self frosted box cake, fruit, balloons, running, pushing swings, its way WAY too bloody hot, Popsicles, goopy cake, sticky kids, total baby meltdowns, and its done in less than 2 hours.

2 more birthday parties since. God help me if I have to eat another piece of frosted cake. Seriously. Birthday cake, the new white meat. It’s whats for dinner.

2 bad cases of diarrhea for both of my birthday boys. What? A diet of sand, salt water, pool water, mutual tub water, juice boxes, goldfish, and 5 lbs. of birthday cake aren’t going to keep the pipes working normally for my two boys? Soooo utterly shocking.

So yup. That’s my formula for total brain nummage. I am SHOCKED this post even got posted. I am SHOCKED I had the wits about me to move. mouse. to. box. that. says. “publish”. But I guess I did. So I must be coming around. The neurons are slowly starting to refire. I am getting feeling back in my frontal lobe. If I lay off the overscheduling-total-control-freak crack that leads to this horrid case of brain nummage, there may just be hope for me yet.

Stop laughing at me. It could happen.

That’s right. Sun, sea, sand, some tunes, some sand toys, some beachy drinks. Swimming way out so the kids can’t get me. Scanning the horizon for dolphins. Sunblock everywhere – maybe I’ll get a ”harmless” tan …if there is such a thing. Watching the kids play, so proud they do so well with the water. Making sure no one throws sand. Building castles, yup, I’ll be right there to help. Stop throwing sand at your brother. Sand in my sandwich and sand in the CD player. Sand in a diaper. Sopping wet swimmie diapers. T. has to poop and where is the closest potty? Hauling stuff everywhere. Sunburns. Stop throwing sand at your brother. Sand crunching in C’s teeth. Hysterical crying fits when we leave the beach. Stop throwing flip flops at your brother. Wet everything. Sandy everything. Constantly hungry and everything costs 5 times what it should. Baths, showers, towels hung out to dry, a beer or 6, tuck kids in bed, and turn the tunes back on to watch the sun set.

And realize there is no internet access. Deep breaths. Its only 5 days!

Tell me to shut up and enjoy myself.