Another Gray Hair

Pop-Tart Fetcher Extraordinaire

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School was cancelled today because temperatures were a chilly 12 degrees this morning. I'm not sure I agree with cancelling school due to cold temps but that's probably because I don't have kids that have to wait at a bus stop in the a.m. I took advantage of the off day, letting the kids stay up a little later than usual last night so I could catch some extra shut eye this morning. This plan rarely works but that has never stopped me from trying. Today was one of those rare occasions that the kids were compliant and let me sleep while they watched some morning cartoons. It was blissful, not the kind of sleep that people without young children would appreciate (There was the occasional elbow in the stomach and lots of noise) but given my ability to tune out all non-emergencies, I slept like a baby. I awoke at around 8:30 and decided to roll myself out of the bed. I sat up, scanned the room and bid a formal good morning to my kids. My son didn't waste any time getting to the whining. Here's what he said:

Son: Why do I always have to get the pop-tarts for us in the morning?

Daughter: Because you're my Bubba.

***It should be noted that Pop-Tarts are not a typical breakfast around here. I keep them in the house for mornings when I can steal a little extra shut-eye***

That seemed to satisfy him and it made me smile so I got on with the business of my morning routine and we braved the cold for a fun day of indoor play and a lunch date with some friends. After we came home I made the kids play in their rooms for a bit while I got some things done around the house and my daughter seemed to completely forget the conversation she had that morning when I heard this coming from my son's room in a high pitched scream:

I DON'T LIKE YOU AND I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE MY BUBBA ANYMORE!

Who's going to get her pop-tarts now?

Peanut Butter Edisons

The entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well in my son. Actually, he may be more of a haphazard inventor than an entrepreneur. He's really into inventing things, mostly food items. Almost all of them involve peanut butter, which makes sense considering it is the one and only source of protein in his diet. I've become somewhat of a peanut butter Edison myself, although our innovations have different origins. My sons come from a deep creative need whereas mine are born out of a lack of groceries and a burning desire to avoid Wal-Mart at all costs.

Two mornings ago, for example, I prepared a breakfast of fresh strawberries and Peanut Butter Boats, the latter consisting of ½ of a hotdog bun slathered in peanut butter. Yes, I am a genius. And yes, I do plan to copyright the idea. My kids thought they had died and went to heaven. My son went so far as to remove the boat from his plate in a dramatic interpretation of a boat crash, complete with sound effects. It was awesome.

Driven to up the ante on the peanut butter invention competition that has taken over breakfast in my house, my son came up with a radical idea this morning. Here's what he suggest:

Son: Mommy, this morning instead of doing just a Peanut Butter Boat, I have an invention. Let's put Honey Nut Cheerios on the Peanut Butter Boat.

Me: Interesting idea. What will we call it?

Son: A Peanut Butter Boat with Honey Nut Cheerios on it.

We're copyrighting that one too.

For Daddy

My son surprises me sometimes with his capacity for generosity. About two weeks ago he did something that was especially sweet. The kids and I had lunch with my Mother and we took the kids to Wal-Mart to pick up a few things. In an effort to keep them at bay, I offered a treat to any child who remained reasonably calm and quiet for the duration of the shopping trip. Yes, it is bribery. No, I'm not ashamed. They had their moments but, all in all, the kids were well-behaved so I bought them a package of Airhead Extremes (one of my son's favorites and easily divided among two kids). I gave the kids two strips each when we got into the car and we began our 10-minute drive home. My son and I had the following conversation:

Son: These airheads are SO good!

Me: I'm glad. Can I have one?

Son: Uh huh. Has Daddy ever tasted them?

Me: Thanks. Yes, he's had them before.

Son: I'm going to save one for him Mommy.

Me: That's sweet honey but you don't need to. He's had one before. Plus, there are two more left and I was going to give one to you and one to your sister.

Son: I'll save some of mine for him.

Me: That's really nice. I'm sure he'll appreciate that.

We got home and my son had saved about an inch and a half piece of his last Airhead strip. He wanted to make sure that his Daddy got it so, without any prompting, he took out a piece of paper and a marker and asked my Mom how to spell, "For Daddy." He wrote it on the paper and then drew a circle. He put the paper on the arm of the couch right by the front door and put the piece of candy inside the circle. There was an arrow pointing from the words to the candy.  It was painfully sweet. My Mom still talks about it to this day and boasts about my son's unprompted sweetness in a way that only a grandmother can. She told me it was blog-worthy and I have finally given the incident its due web-based validation. Mom, this one's for you!

A Lunch in the Life

If I could delete food completely from the relationship that I have with my children, my family life would improve dramatically. A single green bean has the power to send myself and my children into a frantic, emotional state. I sigh and do my best to suppress the urge to pull my hair out piece by piece. My son makes horrible faces, preparing his mouth for the entrance of the microscopic bite of green bean by holding his nose with one hand and strategically placing his drink with the other. My daughter repeats the same line over and over like a mantra of disdain, "I don't like that. I don't like that. I don't like that. No! No! No!" or the perennial favorite (and bold-faced lie), "I took two bites Mommy. I took two bites Mommy. I took two bites Mommy" as if this statement has any relevance at all.  This scene lasts for at least twenty minutes every day.  It exhausts me and sends me into a frazzled Mom-state in which I use the television as a tool to remove the children from my presence. I can't take it anymore. Any suggestions? Words of wisdom?  Prescription drugs?

Kick in the Keister

The worst of the winter blahs appear to be behind us and my household has joined the land of the living again. My son returned to preschool today and we are all shell-shocked from the sound of the alarm clock. Three weeks without it have taken their toll and we are mourning the loss of our 8:30 wake-up time. Adieu. I even made it to the YMCA this morning. It's the first time in two months that I've breezed through those double doors. This is the equivalent of flushing $100 down the toilet so I must get back in the saddle. And, man, what a difference two months makes. The cardio room has quadrupled in size and all of the equipment is brand new. There are TV's on the majority of the machines and everything is pristine and beautiful. At 8:15, there was no wait for a treadmill so I hopped on and was reminded of what keeps me paying my dues at the Y. I love it there. My kids have a blast in the childcare center and I get to spend some quiet time with my ipod. Bliss.

As a result of my productive day thus far, I have decided that my New Year officially starts today. The past week has been a sort of 2007/2008 purgatory where I have still been trapped in holiday mode, unable to convince myself that the food free-for-all is over and life must commence again. The start of school gave me the swift kick in the keister that I needed and I'm back, armed with unrealistic resolutions and a rush of deceptive New Years energy. Unrealistic resolutions tend to have more staying power when you share them, so here goes:

1. Get published in a national magazine.
2. Drop 40 pounds
3. Get in shape.
4. Kick my Ambien dependancy.
5. Spend more quality time with my kids every day.
6. Spend more time outside.
7. Spend less time in front of the computer (this might be tough in combination with #1).
8. Blog three times a week. No exceptions (again, #6 is going to be a challenge).
9. Kick meth habit for good.
10. Save up for dental work (see #9).
11. Play more ping-pong. This one's pretty random but I got a table for Christmas).
12. Learn Photoshop.
13. Be in bed by 10pm every night.
14. Wake up at 6am every day.
15. Do strength training daily.
16. Purchase a pop-up or travel trailer.
17. Earn a steady income.

With all of these contradictory goals, I should be on the fast track to failure. Happy New Year everyone!

He Likes It! He Really Likes It! Wait… No, Maybe Not

I was forced to be creative with my dinner tonight. I usually work with a plan when it comes to dinner. I know what I'm going to have and I have all of the ingredients for each dish. I lost track of time today. It got late and I ended up with nothing defrosted. I had to improvise. I combined all of my shredded cheeses together, cut up some onions and peppers and combined them with hashbrowns for some surprisingly delicious hashbrown casserole. I defrosted some chicken and made chicken nuggets and I steamed some broccoli. I thought to myself, "Damn. You're a great Mom. You threw together a delicious, kid-friendly meal in no time flat. You go girl!"

Here's the exact response I got from my son after he finished his first bite:

When I first put it in my mouth I liked it just a little bit but when I started doing this (makes dramatic chewing motions with his teeth), it started to taste bad. The taste just got worse and worse until I swallowed it. When I eat the next bite, I'm going to try to take a small one so I don't have to chew much.

It's good to be appreciated.

Quick Quiz

How many pounds of candy would you expect to receive at a small town Christmas parade?

Perhaps you think even one pound is a ridiculous estimate.

What if said town was home to an M&M Mars plant? Would that change your answer? Maybe not, but it would probably change the quality of the candy.

My children came home with two plastic grocery bags full of candy. Good candy. We're not talking candy canes and Bit O' Honey's here. We're talking Twix bars, M&M mini bags, Smarties, Skittles and Starburst. The bags were so heavy and full that my husband decided to weigh them. He hopped on the scale holding the bags and then jumped on bag-free. The difference? Eight pounds. Eight pounds of high-fructose corn syrup delight. Eight pounds of preschool crack. Eight pounds of, well, pounds on the hips and guts of my growing family. My kids think its Halloween again, only all they did was sit on the side of the road with cow-eyed looks and open grocery bags.

The parade may have encouraged sugar-induced comas and tooth decay but all was not lost. One of the last floats was sponsored by a local gym. Floating atop the sea of candy, just below the handles of the grocery bag, were several 14-day gym passes. I won't tell you where those ended up.

Halloween Fallout

Top Eight Signs that Halloween is Over:

1. You had your first Tootsie Roll at 8:30 am.
2. Your children woke up in their costume, confused because they passed out in a sugar coma last night.
3. You keep reliving your interaction with the fifteen year old, costume-less punks who rang your doorbell, asking you to fill their pillowcases with candy. Why the hell did you give in? Next year's plan: order custom fortune cookies with the message, "You should have worn a costume" printed on the fortune slip to pass out to unsuspecting teenage punks.
4. You start putting away money for your child's next dentist appointment.
5. You have to resist the urge to throw the contents of the plastic pumpkins into the garbage disposal to save your growing waistline.
6. You don't care if you never see a piece of candy corn again. Good riddance high fructose corn syrup nuggets.
7. You hear this come out of your mouth, "Yes, you can have another piece of candy if you eat this baby carrot."
8. You call your husband at work and accuse him of stealing all of the Snickers.

Live Active

Anyone seen this product? Is it cheese? Is it a laxative? Who knows? And who, in their right mind, is going to make the connection between constipation and cheese?

I’m constipated. Hmmm… I think I’ll head to the dairy aisle.

And why are these products always marketed to women? Are we the only ones who ever experience irregularity?

Sorry. I'm done now.

Faux Potatoes

Whose bright idea was it to create “healthy mashed potatoes?” Isn’t that an oxymoron? Anyone who tells you that, when blended to the right consistency, cauliflower is a dead ringer for good ol’ fashion russets is a liar.

Mashed potatoes are a delicacy that should not be forsaken. They are usually the first sampling of “real food” that babies have the pleasure of tasting. They are a Thanksgiving staple and they can be made an infinite number of ways dependant upon the herbs and spices added, the variety of potato, the presence of skin, texture and the ratio of milk and butter. No matter how you make them, mashed potatoes are magically delicious.

Low-carbers of the world take notice: feel free to eat mashed cauliflower to your hearts’ content, just spare us the diet-speak. You and I both know that no matter how much cream cheese and garlic you throw in the mix, blended cauliflower tastes like cauliflower. God help the poor soul who serves me mashed cauliflower with my Thanksgiving turkey.