Food Wars

My son, the light of my life is crying at the dinner table. I have tried to poison him again, this time with slightly seasoned chicken breast meat. He is squirming with discomfort and contorting his face as if he has been served a bowl full of eyeballs. He is gagging and putting his napkin over the offensive plate. We make eye contact. I slant my eyebrow and let out a sigh. He erupts.

"Why can't I just have waffles!" He whines throwing his little skinny arms up in disgust. I stifle a giggle.

"Because you have to eat protein to grow up strong and have muscles." My words are gasoline feeding his fire.

"Protein. Protein? Protein!" He looks at me. His hazel eyes wild with rage and wet with tears. "What the heck is protein!"

Trying with all of my might not to smile I reply. "Protein is chicken, tuna, ham, beans..."

"I hate all that stuff! Why do we eat all of that stuff! Always that stuff ! I hate that stuff!"

"You would prefer tofu?"

"Tofu! Gross! I hate all of the protein stuff! I want to eat something different!"

"Oh like fruits & vegetables?"

"Never! Something normal, like waffles!"

I can't hold my laughs in any longer. Dylan moves his plate and lays his head on the table.
"It's so hard to be me. When am I going to get my own life? Can't a guy just eat waffles?"

I gently rub his back and wipe the tears from my own eyes. They are half from amusement and half from seeing my beloved boy so upset. I would love to give him everything that he wants, but then he would never know how to deal with disappointment. Tonight it is waffles but in ten years it could be a broken heart. I am rubbing his back and trying with all of my might not to give him waffles. I am making him strong and arming him for the future, but I want to make him happy.

"Honey, why don't you eat a few bites of chicken and then have some apple sauce? I can make you waffles for breakfast tomorrow?"

He did and this morning I did. We ate waffles and he was so excited and happy. We;ll for the time being.

Throwing Up On The Jones

"My eleven-year-old daughter is so picky. For her birthday has to have Coach." She says with her nose in the air.
I am at the pick up line at school chit-chatting with one of the mom's in Dylan's class. We are discussing how times are hard and money is short.

Her Eleven-year-old has to have a birthday present from Coach? She's eleven! Can't the mom buy her a knock off? What about a nice Cooch bag? Will the kid even notice? But, I don't think the kid is the one that mom is trying to impress. What is up with people trying to keep up with Jones? Especially these days when everyone is hurting financially?

The mom goes on to tell me that she has two jobs in addisiotn to her husband's. Are they working themselves to death just so they can brag in the school pick-up line about how much expensive stuff they have? I say we all throw up on the Jones! Let's stop trying to act like we are better off than we are. Everyone I know is much worse off these days than they have ever been. In fact instead of showing off to each other my friend have been going with me to the thrift store. Let's forget flaunting expensive price tags and start flaunting dirt cheap bargains. Like my daughter's new (to her) polo workout pants. My three-year-old has to wear polo, they cost .99 cents from Savers. Only the best for my kids.

I am so tempted to tell the mom to stop bragging and come with me to the thrift store, but you can lead a clothing horse to bargians but you can't make them shop.

Mom's Say The Darnedest Things

Yesterday at the park Alice is was walking Anabel around on a leash. Okay Anabel was dragging Alice around. A cute group of little kids was tagging after Alice and Anabel. Eventually the little group got too far away and moms starting calling their kids back. Of course this didn't work and a gaggle of us moms had to run after the kids who were running after the dog.

Eventually we got all of the kid's back but Alice, who was being dragging around the edge of the parking lot by Anabel. I started to walk across the parking lot to get my girls when I heard a mom yell.

"No no! Don't go into the parking lot it is dangerous!" I assumed that one of the kids was still following me so I said loudly over my shoulder in the child's direction.

"I am an adult. So I can walk in a parking lot." Then the mom's voice yelled out.

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to my daughter!"

At that moment I realized that I had just made a new friend or an new person that I'll be avoiding in the supermarket. I turned with a big smile on my face to explain that I too was obviously talking to the child and to laugh about this ridiculous misunderstanding. Then I saw her pained serious expression and defensive stance. I quickly mumbled an apology and then continued across the parking lot to grab Alice. As for the mom if I ever see her again I'll be the one hiding behind the broccoli.

I Hate Barbie

I hate Barbie! She done me wrong and I have never forgiven her. When I was a little girl I loved my Barbies and I was assured by the commercials that I too would some day grow to become a tall skinny blond with a tiny waist blue eyes and large boobs. I got the boobs, but I am still waiting for everything else. I made a pact that when I had a little girl I would not let her play with Barbies. Well unless I married Brad Pitt, hence giving my daughter a glimmer of a chance to attain Barbie's hotness. Well I married Dave and she is destined to be a short sturdy girl like her mom.

With that said Alice and I were at our favorite thrift store the Blessings Barn and were given a brand new Barbie in the box. They have decided to no longer sell toys and they were just going to throw the doll away. You know me and free. I just can't say no. Also I glanced at the box quickly before hiding it from Alice I saw that the doll was Cut and Style Barbie, and Alice has been obsessed with hair cutting since we cut her hair short two weeks ago. I decided that one Barbie won't hurt. I take the doll and decide to put it in Alice's Easter basket.

Easter arrives and Alice gets the doll and freaks out. She is so happy! I take the doll out of the box and am horrified now that I see her up close. The doll should be renamed Baby Momma Barbie. First of all she has on dark slutty make up, deep raspberry lips and dark eye make up. She is scantily clad in a sparkly tube dress with a plastic pink coat and hot pink stripper boots. She comes with an extra pair of stiletto street walker shoes, extra hair, and styling products. This doll is the antithesis of everything I want Alice to become. But she has already seen the doll and is yipping with glee.

The fun part about Baby Momma Barbie is that she comes with scissors and you can cut her hair. Alice instantly began cutting the dolls synthetic magnetic hair that stuck like Velcro to our plastic Easter table cover. Dave walked in to the kitchen to grab some candy and got a little to close to the hair. The hair quickly attached itself to his fleece shirt making him look like he had been wrestling with a Golden retriever. Not wanting to spread the hair through out the house I grabbed a marshmallow peep and used the candy as a lint brush. They work very well!

We made a rule that Alice could only cut her doll's hair while sitting outside at the table. Impressed? We have our patio table already set up...no we just left it out all winter. Alice agreed and we thought the hair invasions were behind us. That is until I went to pick up Dylan from school yesterday and when he got into the car he asked why the back seat was covered in hair. I parked and looked in the back seat and found that Alice has smuggled the doll and the scissors into the car. That is why she was so quiet when we were waiting in the pick up line. She was busy cutting the doll's hair and in doing so covering every inch of my back seat with statically magnetic golden strands of hair. When I tried to sweep the strands up they just spread! Did I mention that hate Barbie! I hate Barbie! I hate Barbie!

Above are Barbie's before and after shots.

EBAD


Dave and I are sitting at the breakfast table about a week and a half ago. I told him that I was going to make some money on Ebay.

"Honey, you know that you are bad at Ebay." Dave says to me with a sympathetic smile. I hate that smile. It is the same kind of smile that I give to the kids when I have caught them doing something ridiculous. Like putting macaroni and cheese in their milk.

"I am not that bad." I reply.

"Yes you are. Remember the..." I quickly cut him off I know where he was going.

"That was a long time ago and the vase was shipped to France. How did I know that the shipping would cost more than the vase?" I bark at him.

"Gee, I don't know maybe the Internet, the post office, or the..." I cut him off again.

"Okay, so I lost money just that one sale."

"Sweetie, just that one sale?"

"Okay! Fine! Most of my sales." He can be such a nag! "Maybe I should re-think using Ebay."

"Now that is a good decision." He got up kissed me grabbed his coat and computer and headed to work. I gathered up the kids drove them to school then came home and immediately started putting items on Ebay. What? I re-thought Ebay and decided that this time I'd finally make money. I listed some shoes and dresses that Alice never wore, or wore once for a few hours. I only listed the expensive fancy stuff.

I listed the items for rock bottom starting prices with reasonable "Buy Me Now" prices. Then I waited and waited. I only had three out of 8 items that any one even looked at. Hanna Anderssen clogs that I had priced at $9.99, Merrell Moc's that I had priced as $3.99, and Gap suede boots that I had priced at $2.99. I waited for the bidding wars to begin and the prices to climb...but they never did. I sold the clogs that retailed for $55.00 for $9.99, the Mocs the retail for $50.00 for $4.04, and the boots that retail for $25.00 for $3.03. Are you kidding me? I was shocked and embarrassed. These pathetic prices weren't worth the effort of even selling them. Thank God that I set up the shipping feature to calculate from the buyers zip code....Or did I?

When I looked at the invoices for the sales all of the shipping cost $5.25. But they were purchased for 3 different states. Oh crap! The feature malfunctioned. I go to the post office and end up having to pay $1.69 each for three mailer envelopes, slicing into my small profit. Then I get the packages weighed. 2 are about $5.00 and a I am okay . However the last one is going to Colorado! The cost to ship is over $8.00! My total shipping costs are about $23.50 and I made $32.00 on the sales. So I did all of this for about $8.00! Wait. I didn't minus the Ebay fees that are about $1.00 per item and I posted 8 items. Okay so I made about... ZERO! Zilch! Nothing! Nada!

I hate when Dave is right!

Maybe I'll try Craig's List?

Rain Makes Rainbows

I am so sick of cold gray weather and April showers. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. When I am complaining so much that I start annoying myself, I know that I have to snap out of this runt.
I need to hit myself in the head with the happy stick!
Rainbows are happy and they bring color and life to these gray crappy days. Most importantly they make me smile.
Here are some rainbows to brighten our rainy April days