Tag Archives: ice cream

I’m a Big Fat Ice Cream Liar

I lied to Katie yesterday.

It was a repeat of a lie that I’ve told countless times over the past two months.

On the day of the initial lie, we were outside playing and she heard the Ding Ding (the ice cream truck) and said, in her sweetest, most curious voice, “What’s that noise?”

I panicked.  I totally panicked.

Here’s why:

When I was little, I had an unhealthy addiction to the Ding Ding.  My mother, who often showed just how much she loved me through baking and allowing me all sorts of goodies, encouraged this. {Thank you, Mom!}

The Ding Ding plays a huge role in my memories of summer.  He came every day and my mother always had her spare change ready for me.  {I think I developed super hearing from always listening for the earliest hint of the music from that truck.}

If we were going to run errands, I needed reassurance that the timing would in no way conflict with my daily treat.  Nothing could keep me from that truck.

I would drop whatever I was doing and run for the truck with all of the other neighborhood kids.  We all waited impatiently for our Push-Up Pops, Creamsicles, Chocolate Eclair Pops, and Fudgsicles.

Every single day.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am that mom.  I don’t allow Katie to have sugary treats very often. I’ve nearly perfected my trips grocery store, almost always avoiding the problem areas.  And, if she catches sight of something I won’t allow her to have? I say, “Oh, those aren’t for kids, they’re for grownups.”

{Yes, I do realize that I am a horrible liar.}

The Ding Ding is a combination of all of my worst nightmare on wheels.

What do I see when I catch a glimpse of that truck?  A pedophile (our local driver looks CREEPY) who drives around spewing fumes (get a new muffler, buddy!), peddling his high fructose corn syrup-laden fat bombs to innocent children.

So, when Katie heard the Ding Ding and asked what it was, I lied.

I said, “Oh, that?  That’s the music truck.”

She looked befuddled, so I enhanced the lie by telling her, “the music truck drives through the neighborhood every day so that all of the kids can hear the music while outside playing.”

Totally lame, I know.

So, now when she hears the truck, she looks at me and almost challenges me to lie again.  I am convinced that she KNOWS I’m lying.

Although a huge part of me wants so badly to make her happy, as I know the treats would, I just can’t do it.  If I let her have a treat even once, I just know that I am setting myself up for daily struggles.

How am I going to keep up this lie?  We live in California–our Ding Ding knows no winter.

Any suggestions?

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Birthday Crazies

Our baby girl turns three at the end of this month.  I’ve been thinking a lot about her special day and, honestly, my head hurts just thinking about it.  The headline on the May issue of Parents magazine’s reads “Birthday Blowout!”  That’s what I feel my head is going to do if I’m not careful.

When I was little, birthdays looked something like this:

My family would gather together–aunts, uncles, cousins and a very small handful of friends.  There would be cake, ice cream, and perhaps party hats.  And love.  Yeah, love.

Here’s what Katie’s birthday party looked like last year:

We did a tea party theme (I know, right?!  When I was a kid, the theme was IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!).

The menu included shaved roast beef sandwiches with homemade creamy horseradish sauce, a variety of tea sandwiches, pasta salad, fruit salad, sliced strawberries, fruit kabobs, and fresh raspberry lemonade.

The goody bags were filled with necklace kits, bracelets, stickers, and the like.  We had thirty guests, twelve of whom were children.  We had balloons everywhere, we set up craft stations both inside and out, and blah, blah, blah, you get the picture.

How did this happen?  Keeping up with the Jones’, that’s how.

Parties these days are different and there is this overwhelming part of me that wants Katie to have the same things that her peers are having.  Over the past couple of years, we’ve been to parties at gymnastics facilities, indoor playgrounds, parties with bounce houses in the backyard, and I even have a friend who hired actresses to dress up as princesses to make the rounds at her child’s party.

Katie has loved attending these parties, and I while I applaud the mothers who put together these elaborate celebrations, there is a part of me that wished they’d knock it off.

Last year, I was so busy making sure thirty people were having a good time, that I barely saw Katie.  I feel as though I robbed myself of memories of my sweet girl turning two.  We’ve decided that we’re just not doing it this year.

So, I’m declaring here that we’re keeping it simple.  Just a small handful of people, lots of love, and a bounce house.  (Yeah, we kinda promised that one.)

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