Have a Whopper. On Me.

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Every so often I have to venture out of my house, off my property and into the big bad city to do something known as grocery shopping. It is a well-documented fact that I hate grocery shopping. I hate shopping unless it involves the comfort of my couch, my computer and Etsy.

But the law says since I have three children who follow me around and call me Mommy that I am legally obligated to feed them. Foraging for berries only works at certain times of the year and since I live on the edge of the North Pole, it'll still be weeks before any berries can be foraged.

This leaves me in a bit of a bind because unless my children don't mind eating up the spilled remains of dog kibble which have rolled into the corners of the pantry (and they do) I actually need to purchase food items.

Kids these days. So damn demanding.

I probably wouldn't mind grocery shopping so much if I could do it in my pajamas. My pajamas consist of my birthday suit and a bathrobe. They should institute a day for naked grocery shopping. Just think of the fun of the freezer section!

Ahem.

So, with my grocery cart laden with necessary food items for my children (milk, bread, eggs and fruit) and unnecessary food for myself (think Froot Loops, Oreos and ice cream sandwiches. I find these items are best for putting that special jiggle in my arse cheeks when I walk. Dudes dig it.) I made my way to the check out, where I stood in line like a cow waiting for slaughter and wasted countless minutes of my life reading the covers of gossip magazines (Angelina is having Brad's three headed baby and Jennifer is plotting to steal it!)

The line was moving slowly and I was growing annoyed. I briefly scanned the other lines to see if they were moving faster but it looked as though everything was at a standstill. So there I stood, waiting.

When one waits, one has nothing to do. Except read about Angelina's three-headed baby, which I admit, doesn't terribly interest me. I have four kids, one is invisible, one has super powers and the other two act like they have three heads at all times. So I snoop at what other people are purchasing.

Because that is what interests me.

And that's when I noticed him.

The man in front of me with a grocery cart filled entirely with cases and boxes of Whoppers. Absolutely nothing else but Whoppers. In fact, he had so many Whoppers he needed TWO carts. 15 cases filled with boxes of the candy as well as 20 loose boxes.


I know because I listened as the cashier counted them.

The total tally for his Whoppers?

$701. 92

What made the Whoppers so interesting is the man purchasing the candy was quite clearly a Hutterite. Hutterites shun technology and my society in general, so I know he wasn't buying them to resell in his own store.

So what does one rural farmer need with over 700 dollars and thousands of Whoppers?


Also, I'm totally that girl who is judging you on what's in your cart.

Best whopper one liner wins a 100-dollar gift card to Amazon.com supplied by my husband's hard earned cash.

Because every one needs a little whopper now and then.

*Winner chosen at my whim, no entry limitations, announced on Friday, June 17. Just amuse me and you could win. Contest open to anyone who has a valid email address and shops at amazon.com*

Track And Field Super Star

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The month of June means one thing around my household: Track and Field. Which, I suppose would make that two things, but I never was very good at counting.

I love track and field. Back when I was a young whippersnapper, track was my thang. I joined my first track club when I was nine and have been running like a serial killer was chasing me ever since. The field part of track and field came a bit later in life, but I loved it equally.

My specialty was the distance runs. I preferred the longer races so that it was just the thud of my heartbeat and the swoosh of my breathing as I chased my peers around the track. But I did sprints and relays too and shook sand out of my shorts from the long jump pits. I bounced on the high jump mat like I didn't have a spine and I failed repeatedly at shot put because of my puny upper arm strength and poor form.

But it didn't matter. I adored track and field. My favourite day was always the days I was on the field or the track, practicing or competing. Luckily for me, my children feel the same way about T&F. The competitive hunger for first places and gold medals lurks beneath their innocent exteriors, and like me, they take themselves way too seriously when they are out there, competing.


This year has been no different for Fric and Frac. They've competed, both with success and without. I've been there as often as possible to cheer them on and encourage them (by threatening to chase them around the track myself, while yelling their names as loud as possible), all the while reliving my own glory days.


And like every year, they roll their eyes at me and run a little faster because they aren't quite sure that I won't make good on my threats as I stand around waving my shiny silver pompoms and calling their name.


And like every year I've been a parent to a special needs child, I do my very best to find ways to include Jumbster in our love of competing. Jumby, though it may not be obvious, is every bit as competitive as his siblings and parents. If ever a kid was born to win, it was my son.


It's not always easy having him included in typical child activities. His physical and mental limitations sometimes seem insurmountable to the ones who don't know him well.


Fric and Jumby gearing up for the 50-meter dash


So I spend a lot of time modifying activities to ensure he is included because it's important to him, to me, to the children around him who aren't used to the realities of disabilities, that they see him and not his chair or his slumped body or his tight fists or slack jawed grin.


I want people to see the fire in my son's belly and the twinkle in his eyes as he rides like the win.


He may never win a gold medal or know the thrill of a win, but he knows what it feels to participate. That rush of joy one feels when one is simply included.


Perhaps this is why the Special Olympics is so special to me, and why I'm happy to be part of a paid sponsorship for Procter & Gamble’s Proud Sponsors of Moms program. Because this is an event that takes ordinary disabled folk and lets them shine. It gives the world a chance to see the fire in their bellies instead of the limitations imposed on them simply from being born different. It makes every participant a winner, even the person in last place, as Jumbster so often is.


Procter & Gamble has been a proud partner of Special Olympics for more than 31 years. P&G not only celebrates and supports the athletes, but also their moms, who ultimately want what every mom wants… to see their children have every opportunity they deserve.


So I'm here to remind you that for every person that becomes a fan of the Thank You Mom Facebook page and/or leaves a comment, Procter and Gamble will donate $1 to support Special Olympics Team USA’s journey to the World Summer Games in Athens – up to $250,000!


Jumby has his own track and field day fast approaching. I'm not exactly sure how it will work out but I do know I will be doing everything in my part to ensure that he is included in as many events as possible.


And you know I'll be out there swinging my shiny silver pompoms, cheering my little athlete on. Because that's how *I* roll.


They didn't win, but they didn't come in dead last like last year. So we'll totally count this as a victory.