How I hate grocery shopping; let me count the ways.

I don't know about you, but I loath grocery shopping. What should be an enjoyable few hours leisurely mingling among various culinary treats, is downgraded to nothing more than a madhouse moment that parallels a 90% off sale on everything at Sax's! Let's add a half-crazed, and over-exciting three year old to that equation and the fun starts really happening for me.

I cannot tell you how many times I have been run over by some granny in hot pursuit of a good buy. Something about being over 70 with a shopping cart in your hands, suddenly makes you a lethal weapon. But it's the whole process of going grocery shopping that is out of control; just for the sake of keeping a few extra pennies in the bank.

When I got up this morning, I dragged myself to the kitchen with pen and paper in hand to do inventory of all the cabinets, bins, the refrigerator, and the freezer. I'm trying to get the kids ready for school at the same time, so kitchen is like a war room for 2 hours. It never fails that the kids have to analyze everything I'm looking through, and second guessing all my food decisions.

Well hell; why don't they just stay home from school and do the shopping for me. I would gladly sit in their tiny chairs at school for them and rehash pre-algebra and playing kickball during recess, than do this today! But since they have their stinking field trip about some eco-educational stuff, I'm stuck doing this with the midget, and a neurotic-foodie for a husband instead.

Figures!

I'm sucking down one cup of coffee after another, asking for snack suggestions, and watching the three year pour more cereal on the table than in her bowl (wait till she gets to the milk!). Then one of the smarty-pants kids ask "Did you clip coupons Mom?" Why does my husband always hear that when I think he is sitting in complete zombie-land on the computer?

Nope! His head suddenly whips around the corner into the kitchen at echo's the kids comment, "Yeah, did you get some coupons for today?"

"I haven't finished the list yet. How can I know what coupons I need," I snap back hoping it buys me a little bit of time with another cup of joe before I spend the next year of my life at the computer researching coupons.

Let's talk stinking coupons, will we? I hate these things. "Why", you ask? Because corporations have become wise to the "saving" value of coupons. Instead of $.50 off of one item, they changed the game where you have to buy two or more of that item for the same discount. What kind of savings is that? NONE - that's what!

But then, we "Food Budget Engineers", have been brainwashed to think that we can't dare leave the freaking house without coupons in our cute little designer coupon totes that we found at out local flea market cause we thought if we bought that damn tote, it would start making us clip coupons like crazy and save our families a million dollars a year.

WRONG!

It has done the opposite. I spend more time and energy than I do saving money, canvassing our local crappy Sunday newspaper for coupons that my money-saving blogger moms have told would be in there - and they never are! I must live in the only city/town/piece of crap community that gets gypped every stinking Sunday on coupons. I guess some coupon god thinks we don't use them down here.

So, for the one's I get gypped on, I have to go searching on the internet only hours before I have to haul my butt to the local market. So I'm searching, I find a few, I choose the ones I want only for the stupid site to tell me that I can't print cause I'm not on Internet Explorer or Safari. Well I'm using the browser, Firefox, that I thought at least 90% of people are using, but apparently I'M WRONG!

I have to switch browsers, go back to the site, register again, choose all the coupons ALL OVER AGAIN, then ask it to print. Then have the stinking site tell me again that it can't print cause I haven't downloaded it's "special" coupon printing, piece of crap software.

AAUUGGHH!

I click download and wait.... and wait...... and wait. Then it shoots me back over to where I have to choose the coupons AGAIN! At this rate, I'll hit the grocery store at, say.... about midnight!

So after enduring three or four sites like this; I'm done. I am so over this I can't tell you. Clipping stinking coupons is for the birds, and I think I prefer to pay that extra 35 cents than have to do this all freaking over again. If you sit around all day and all night surfing these sites, and looking through every paper you've purchased at Barnes & Noble for all the best coupon deals, then my pinwheel hat is off to you.

And what is with the idiots who actually buy "money saving" coupons from other people? How stupid is that? Am I the only one who thinks that does NOT make sense?

I managed to print a few, but not as many as I like because some companies still have not realized that some families do not like to overindulge in chemically filled Hamburger Helper (eek-gag, do people still eat that stuff?), or artificially dyed Fruit Loops. When I see an overflow of coupons for organic and more natural products, then I guess I'll have a real reason to use that stupid designer coupon tote I bought. Until then, it will lie in the kitchen drawer as lonely as the day that I got it.

I manage to hit the ground running as I enter the grocery store. I hand my husband half of the list that I know he can't manage to screw up; the canned stuff, the boxed stuff, and the meats. I try to get down the first aisle as my daughter is picking out several hair scrunchies and bows that she insists should be on my list. We settle on a new Dora toothbrush instead.

I'm humming along just fine, when I hear the dreaded loudspeaker:

"Goooood morning shoppers! For the next 15 minutes, we are having a sale on pork tenderloin in our meat department. It's on SALE for 99 cents and guaranteed to be flu free!"

Now I am stuck in the aisle that is directly parallel to the meat coolers so I feel a sense of panic rush through me. Suddenly I hear the rapid squeaking of the grocery carts and as I turn to see my daughter running towards me, there behind her is a sea of white haired men and women banging their steely carts into one another and heading straight toward me like a mad stampede to a trough! By the wide-eyed "I'm gonna save a buck" look in their wrinkled, beady eyes, I can tell not a one of them is a bit concerned with the whole swine flu thing happening. I whip my head to the right and there is another group of them descending upon me in a way that both groups are gonna meet, head on, with me and my daughter caught in the middle.

I grab my daughter and flee to the nearest aisle as I watch them all gather around the the "swine sale" like a pack of cockroaches on a cheese puff. I breathe a sign of relief as I hear the sounds of "Mommy, mommy, moooommmmiiieee!" coming from the rear. My daughter is bouncing up and down like a sunbeam when I realized I've put myself into an even bigger quagmire by placing us into the dreaded cereal aisle. She is completely fixated on a box of Barbie cereal. A bad moment is coming and I know it. Who the hell feeds their kids Barbie cereal anyway? Somebody, that's who, or it wouldn't be sitting eye level to a three year old!

She grabs that box and refuses to let go to any of my pleas. I swear someone has purposely put super glue on the box because it's not coming off of her hands any time soon. Luckily the Calvary shows up: my husband! He sees the weariness and frustration on my face and knows it's his cue to take over. It gives me a few moments to quietly maneuver my basket around the raving hoard of pork lovers without disrupting their penny saving feast so I can grab my milk and cheese and RUN for the checkout line.

If I've forgotten anything on the list - it doesn't matter now, I'm fully cooked!

As I prepared to pay for my groceries after a morning of fun-filled and exciting shopping, which included pulling my three year old out of the peanut bin, I felt a bit proud that I was going to save some change on my grocery bill after all I'd been through today.

That came to a screeching halt real quick.

The damn cashier suddenly announced that if the register couldn't "read" the PLU from the coupon since it was printed from my printer off the internet, then I couldn't use it.

"Excuse me," I said. "Do you realize what I went through just to even get those from the computer into this store?", I told her.

She just gave me the mouth semi-open, stupid look.

"See that number on the bottom of the bar code? You can just punch that number in and it'll be fine." I say with that I'm a mom under pressure, so don't screw with me look.

I could feel my heart pounding thinking I was going to miss out on my few cents savings after all that hard work trying to get my few cents savings.

Luckily all went well, and each and every bar code was read. It could have been worse cause it could have been me and that cashier all over the grocery store floor haggling over PLU codes and coupon acceptance.

At lease my daughter would have found it amusing.

So I left the store while looking over my $326.00 food bill and noticed the little line on the bottom:

"Congratulations! You Saved $12.45 Today."

I cannot believe that I nearly lost my sanity for $12.45.

Dear Craigslist; I Need A Car

I NEED A VEHICLE TO FIT MY FAMILY OF SIX

I am looking for a reliable vehicle that will fit 6 people, for around $5000. It needs to be in decent shape and not look like it was dragged through Iraq and back, or bombed by insurgents thinking it's a tricked out (Al Queda-style) Humvee. I totally understand dings and worn interior, but destroyed and rusted out - no, not happening. Do not try to Photoshop your image to make it prettier than it is. I do graphics, I can spot "touch-ups", even without my reading glasses on. I know, I like the "band-aid" tool on Photoshop myself - gets rid of all those pesky little wrinkles and blemishes REAL well; even on a car.

Would you please email a picture and some info on what you are selling. I cannot go on your imaginative and clever descriptions alone. I have 4 kids and a husband that occupy what brain cells I have left, so please sellers, I NEED IMAGES.

Please be as honest as you can about the vehicle. Don't tell me it runs great when the engine or transmission is one hiccup away from being complete overhauled or replaced, or falling on the pavement as I leave my driveway. I want to know exactly what needs to be repaired before buying your vehicle.

I know it's used, I know it will need repairs of some sort, I'm not out of touch with reality (just yet); just tell what the problems are and let's get that obstacle of bargaining out of the way. I have kids and do not need to be surprised on the way to Grandmother's house by something you "forgot" to tell me about because you were afraid I wouldn't purchase it; thus leaving me and the kids stranded on some strange interstate while obnoxious truckers honk at us as they whiz by at 90 m.p.h. Not good Karma to pass around these days.

If your vehicle was used for hunting, please remove all blood stains before showing it to me. I want to personally thank the last person who showed me that SUV that I thought was perfect until I opened up the back. My kids are still having nightmares from the ordeal, and I currently can't get any of them to sit in the back of our nice clean van yet. Have you ever tried driving with four kids backed up against your neck while driving to the grocery store? Please people, just clean the damn car a bit before showing it.

Now the list of vehicles I have absolutely no interested in purchasing, seeing, or even talking about:

ANY HONDA VAN
- I have a 2001 Odyssey already and it's given more trouble than any other car I've ever owned. I have been through 2 transmissions, a completely replaced air conditioner/evaporator, 2 power doors components, a completely replaced Navigator unit, and the electrical components on the dash are failing as we speak, and one of the power doors won't close without butt slamming it closed. This van does not even have 95,000 miles on it yet. Oh, and both the transmissions were replaced before the car even hit 65,000 miles; and no, it's never been wrecked (except when my husband "bumped" a yellow pole). Would you like to buy it??? I HAVE HAD IT - DON'T WANT ANOTHER ONE!!

ANY VAN.... PERIOD
- After my Odyssey trip (no pun intended), I have determined that owning a van is bad for me, and bad for my health. Of the two I have previously owned before this - the Ford Windstar's engine blew up at 65,000 miles (I learned first hand why you don't buy ANY van from Ford), and a Plymouth Voyager, which was totaled by a bigger van that hit me and left me with a titanium plate in my neck instead of a disc. I'm quitting the van business while I'm still ahead, still have money left, and am still alive.

IT HAS TO FIT MY FAMILY OF 6
- No, I cannot fit 6 people in a Honda Accord or the like. I have a big family, I love them all, cannot magically turn them into sardines just to go for a drive for an ice cream cone. Would you?

ANY TRUCK
- I do not live on a farm so there is no need for one in my household. Do not have chickens, livestock, dead animals, or motorcycles to haul; just kids and groceries, and what I find on Craigslist that fancies me. On the occasion I do buy a farm, I will be happy to look at it then. Till then, keep on truckin.... on.

ANYTHING THAT'S BEEN THROUGH A FLOOD, OR FLIPPED AND REPAIRED
- Me female, but me not stupid. I have a highly skilled and trained mechanic that was also doing side work as a secret agent in another country. I am sworn to secrecy in order to protect the identity of this person. He/she has seen everything, and will spot it out for me in a second. Our lives could be put in danger if you pull a fast one on me. SO CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED AND DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SELL ME ONE OF THESE VEHICLES!!

ANYTHING THAT HAS TO BE TOWED HOME AFTER PURCHASE
- May I remind you that I have children. They find it socially unacceptable for their friends to see them riding in a car that has to be towed while dropping them off a school. I cannot have you ruining my children's lives by suggesting that we purchase a vehicle that needs to be towed in order to get around in it.

NOW, TO THE "SELLERS/SCAMMERS" WHO OFFER TO SHIP A CAR TO ME
- HA, HA, HA, HA, HA! - Go Get A Life - I only do local buying, not idiot buying. Look elsewhere if you're looking for gullible sale (can you even pronounce that word where you come from?).


Okay, I think that's it. If you think you have something I could use, please feel free to email me. I will contact you as soon as my kids stop either oogling or laughing over the pictures you have sent of your car.

Thanks!

NEWSBREAK: Children Sold As Orange Juice

Today, two young kids were found on sale at the local grocery store. After speaking with the manager of the store, no one is quite sure how two young children managed to be shipped in, and stocked with the orange juice merchandise.

The children in the display were quickly taken down and removed as soon as management was notified of the error. After being examined, both were said to be in fine health. Health officials also noted that no permanent harm came to the children upon the removal of the $3.95 price tag that the store chain had displayed on each of them.

"We work hard to supply our customers with the best products and were unaware of any discrepancies in stock additions.", the manager was quoted as saying.

"We will, in the future, take a more pro-active approach to examining our stock before putting such items like these on our shelves, or in our store's freezers.", he continued.

"We promise, in the future, never to display or stock children on our shelves again. And we sincerely apologize for any inconveniences, shock, or heart attacks this may have caused our customers, or the public at large." he ended as saying.

A Bedtime Story By Nia

There was this boy in my class and.....
He had a really big nose and....
His head was big like an orange, and....
He wanted to marry me but....
I said no, but...
He wouldn't take no for an answer so....
I bit him, and....
I got in trouble so...
The teacher took me to the principal's office and...
I had to tell him I was sorry and...
He asked me to marry him again, so....
I said yes, so...
He wanted to kiss me, and....
I said NO WAY! and....
We were sitting in class, and...
He started growing, and....
His head went up to God, so....
My teacher and my class started to run, and....
I couldn't find him, so....
I went to his house, and...
I thought he was crying, but...
It was snowing and....
He was ice skating, and....
He was really fat, and.....
He had big boobs and...
He fell on his booty and....
He started crying and...
His mom and dad came out and....
They lived on a farm, but....
The cows heard them all and....
The cows came over and...
ATE THEM!

The End

Sushi with "Sarafina"

Some days, I'm not sure whether to be totally amused by my three year old, Nia, or worried that I should be entertaining therapy instead of searching for the right pre-school for her. At this point, I'd rather think of her as a clever little entertainer, instead of the the next Sybil.

Tonight, since it was Friday, we decided to eat out at a local sushi bar that has just opened around the corner from us. My three year old has suddenly become a girl named "Sarafina", that we are dining out with. Sometimes she turns into "Elizabeth", or "Rosalita", but tonight we have this new guest to get to know.

"Sarafina just loooves sushi." she tells us. "I have traveled to Japan many times and had real sushi; not the semi-fake stuff they serve around here."

Where does she come up with this stuff?

This is a three year old we're talking about here. She is oohing and aahing over her udon noodle soup while trying to master the chopsticks that are made for extra large hands, and not hers.

I turn to ask her "Where is Nia tonight, Sarafina?".

"Oh, she's been bad and has to stay home cause she's grounded.", she replies while sucking a noodle through her tightly pierced lips that are in the shape of a perfect "O".

"Well, what did she do?", I ask again.

"I can't tell you. It's really bad." she says with eyebrows crunched together and a wrinkle at the top of her nose.

So I begin my inquiry again: "It must have been really bad if she's been grounded. How long is she grounded for Sarafina?"

"For life!" she emphasizes through a whisper.

"Wow, that's a very long time. Do you think her mom is gonna make her stay grounded for life?" I reply very slowly while mimicking her voice level.

"Yep, especially when her mom sees those shoes!" she replies,

GOT HER!

"What happened to the shoes Sarafina?" I asked with wide eyes, a smurk on my face, but with a heart and mind of an investigator.

"Well, she wasn't suppose to play with them, buuuut..... she did anyway, and, well, she got them wet, and well, the beads fell off, but then she tried to fix them, but, well, then her mom found out, and then she has to stay in her room for life!", she says in one single breath in under five seconds while slopping another noodle in her mouth.

"What shoes with beads Sarafina?", I ask now with a firm inquiring tone in my voice and a pang in my stomach.

"The sparkly black and white ones." she says. This time she picks up the bowl and starts slurping the broth down while hiding her face at the same time.

I look down at my feet because I have the shoes on that she speaks of and there it is, or rather, there it is not!

"Oh Crap!" I say much too loudly for a Japanese restaurant, and the soup bowl is still covering Nia's face.

My brand new, $100 thong sandals that I got at a bargain basement price of $17.00 (but still the same, they were $100), are missing the main bead at the toe, and as I look a bit closer there are gaps where black and white pearl-like, sparkly beads should be.

My head goes into my hands over my tempura vegetables and yellowtail sushi.

"Niiiia!" I say.

"Nia's not here I said. I'm Sarafina!", she smarts back.

"Sarafina! You need to go home and Nia needs to get back here el pronto!" I say back.

"Uh, uh." she replies again with a mouthful of fried rice.

My husband finally intervenes and tells Nia she needs to fess up or no brownie when we get home.

That's it; bribery! Why does he always resort to bribery?

Because it WORKS, that's why!

"Okay." she says looking down and sideways at her udon noodle bowl.

She turns to me with those big brown eyes and cherub-looking cheeks and says so daintily and quietly with her little fingertips pressed together: "I'm sorry Mommy. I know I wasn't suppose to play with them. But they look like Princess shoes."

Even though I think this is the brownie talking, I am still taken in by the look on her face, the sounds of sincerity in her voice, and the fact that she is just too damn cute right now! Plus, my husband is giving her that puppy-dog look that tells me I have to back off now and just pick a different time and place to discuss this with her.

"And Mom, since I ruined them for you, I think that YOU should give them to me forever and ever so I can be a pretty Princess!", she chirps with a look that has turned into a sort of sunbeam over our sushi boats.

I think I want Sarafina back.

Invasion of the Lettuce People

So we're sitting at the dinner table tonight enjoying a rather delectable dish of New Orleans style "dirty rice", smoked sausage, sauteed greens, and a "white" salad. I call it a white salad because of the color makeup of the cucumbers, lettuce, white cheese, croutons, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah, whatever!

We were coming towards the end of dinner and while enjoying our salad. We eat salad last because somewhere my husband said that's what the Europeans, or the French do and so we hopped on board the idea thinking it was nouveau riche or something. We sure as hell don't want to be the average family.

So he begins to educate the kids on why the lettuce is called "living lettuce". They harvest the lettuce by pulling it up from it's roots and leaving them attached. Therefore, the lettuce is still thriving and "living" until one washes and removes the roots prior to eating. The kids seemed semi interested as kids do at this age about learning anything remarkably new from their parents.

It's the, "Parents are stupid, everyone else is not", mentality at this age. At least the three year old was excited about the fact that her food was still alive and she wanted to know if it would still talk to her. She became busy having a conversation with her pieces of lettuce as she made it dance across her plate.

Suddenly, Julian started choking. I looked over and his hands were wrapped around his neck, his back and head were arched as if he was succumbing to some seizure, and his mouth was gaped wide open. Feeling a rushing sense of panic, I noticed that a piece of lettuce was "wrapped" around his tongue. Just before I stood to run to him, he suddenly regain composure and began chewing.

The damn kid was faking!

Then suddenly he stood straight up from his chair, a type of rigamortis set in, his shoulders were crunched up around his neck, and he began to walk a little like Frankenstein over to his father's chair.

In a squeaky high-pitched voice, he pleas with his father: "Don't eat us, we are living!"

My husband looks over at him like he is nuts; which he is. He continues to take a stab with his fork into a rather large chunk of lettuce and before he gets it to his mouth Julian smacks him on the side of the shoulder and pleas again: "Do not eat us - we are alive. STOP eating us!" This sends the fork bouncing onto my husbands plate.

At this point, Julian's eyeballs start rolling back into his head.

"We have not died yet. We are alive and you need to leave us alone. We want to be free!", he says in his 'I have been possessed by vegetables" still squeaky voice.

Yes, I am a parent of a son who has been possessed by a vegetable!

Julian soon realizes that his constant smacking of his dad's shoulder is losing it's humor-value and resorts to stealing the last few bits of salad from the table. Suddenly he whips the salad bowl off the table and starts running through the kitchen, into the game room, around through the hallway, and back into the kitchen all the while yelling "We are alive - We... ARE.... ALIIIIIIIIIVE!"

Okay, we're laughing; it's funny, but does it let it die there. Nope. Like I said, we are not average. Our urging for him to stop falls on deaf ears of his as he continues his jaunt through the house. So my husband and I decide to physically get involved. We "try" to chase after him.

All my kids have quick maneuvers when trying to escape, and this situation is no different. Julian is keen on our impending chase so he decides to open the front door and bolt while still yelling "We're alive, we're alive - don't EAT us!"

He has now taken this skit into the front lawn with mom and dad in tow. At this point, I'm less concerned with him than I am the antique glass salad bowl that my mother recently gave to me.

"Uh, mom - I'm sorry but the antique salad bowl you gave me was broken recently.", I imagine myself trying to explain to my mother over the phone.

"Uh why? Well, Julian was acting like a vegetable...... "
"Yes, a vegetable mom, and we were trying to chase him down in the front yard.... "
"Uh what was that? "
"Yes, he was running around the front yard acting like a vegetable."
"No mom, he does not need to see a psychologist, he was just acting."
"Anyway, we were trying to get the bowl away while he was screaming to be a FREE vegetable, and uh well... he tripped and the bowl went into the air while the lettuce went finally... uh.... free."

"NO MOM, for the second time he does not need to see a professional!"

I bring myself back to reality while huffing and puffing my way behind my husband, who is close behind Julian, and they're both heading towards the gate into the back yard. But not before he starts throwing lettuce out of the bowl and screaming: "Be FREE my friends, be FREE! I have saved you from the evil humans - NOW, BE FREE!"

I am so wondering what my neighbors are thinking now. Especially the old guy across the street who sits in his chair, in his garage, from sun up to sundown.

And I thought he was a bit strange.

Julian enters the back yard, still throwing lettuce and laughing hysterically like a lunatic. We are close behind him laughing just as hard, and after giving birth to four children naturally, the latter being 9 lbs. 2 ounces, my bladder is at the breaking point for it has absolute no support left to it after all the bouncing and laughing.

I will be doing "Depends" commercials sometime this year because of this moment.

Lettuce, cheese, cucumbers, and whatever, litter the yard in a splattered trail, from front to back yard, and there Julian lays in the middle of the back yard laughing so hard his face looks as if it would pop like a over-ripe zit! I'm sure the neighbors have written us all off as permanent crazy people as we land beside Julian laughing loudly in hysterics. He is still doing the "Be Free" mantra, just a little softer and more out of breath than before.

The rest of the girls are soon to follow after us with bewildered looks upon their faces trying to piece together what just happened. Nadia instantly joins in and begins to pick lettuce off the ground and throw it up in the air around Julian while telling him to "go home to his people - his vegetables - or to whoever you are".

Our two youngest girls are laughing and dancing in circles around the antique salad bowl as if they are caught in a hypnotic pagan ritual to the unseen vegetable spirits.

For a moment, we have forgotten about our life's responsibilities, our chores, and the last minute science projects that are coming due.

And the bowl survived it all.

Tales From The Trenches of Parenting First Giveaway Contest- But first you gotta make us laugh!

So I decided to breakdown and join the ranks of having a blog giveaways contest I wasn't quite sure this was a path that I wanted to go down just yet, but at the urging of my daughters, I finally gave in to the concept.

So the questions was: "What do we give away?"

Oh, there was a flurry of ideas from puppies to homemade children paintings. I'm thinking that PETA would be sitting on my doorstep with about a hundred protesters if the former was initiated, and that would not be too good for the neighbors (I think they're mad at me right now anyway). I'm way too attached to all my children's artwork, so that was a no-go. So, it was back to the drawing board (bad pun, I know).

My three year old wanted to "giveaway" some of her older clothes she had outgrown. She understands the value of Gymboree in EU condition like her mother does. It took me awhile to talk her out of that, and instead, donate them to someone who could really use them.

See, I'm teaching them something in this whole giveaway process as well.

"Good Mommy!"

Then the seven year old decided that WebKinz would be a good idea. I don't know about other mothers, but I am getting pretty damn burnout on hiking my butt to the mall to buy Webkinz for the girls and their various birthday parties they get invited to. Does every child in America own one of these "Beanie Baby" wannabe's?

Nix that idea!

Then my 11 year old hit it on the head! "Why don't we giveaway what we like to collect?", she suggests.

"What, I say - dirt?", I reply with a hint of sarcasm sprinkled with reality, in my tone.

With classic rolled eyeballs that she has perfected into an art worthy of an Oscar, she replies with that same sense of sarcasm:

"Nooooo Moooom. I'm talking about the Barbie Collectibles. Why don't we get one of those and give it away on your blog?"

Now that made my semi-overgrown eyebrows perk up! That was a decent idea. Again, I had to sit on it for awhile before the whole "giveaway" thing felt okay to do. I was feeling like I was bribing people to read because of the giveaway. I know that's what I'm doing, but accepting it takes some time to do.

As a dear friend said to me recently: "Snap out of it and check your ego at the door - just go with it!" It was wise advice that was, once again, ringing through my brain in my moment of unfounded uncertainty.

So, here we go - Tales From the Trenches of Parenting 1st Giveaway Contest.

What's the prize?

It is the latest Pink Label "Hello Kitty" Collectible Barbie; brand new in her unopened box. I chose it because the seven year old was a bit in the dumps over my passing up on her furry friends idea. And since she loves Hello Kitty so much, this was a compromise she could accept. She just had a hard time wanting to keep the doll for herself!

How to get her:

First: Subscribe to my RSS feed, or follow me; or grab my badge to the right and put it on your blog :)

Second: Leave a comment telling me how you think I'm a goddess - Juuuust kidding!

No Really, just leave a comment in the form of a simple, humorous, but reasonably clean joke. Joke's will be read by four very excited children to see which joke they like best. Make them good, you have tough judges to please!

Third: Live in one of the 50 states of the U.S.A.

Do these things, and you will have a chance to win the Hello Kitty Barbie Collectible Doll.

Contest ends May 6, 2009 at 11:00 p.m.

Winner will be announced shortly thereafter. Or however long it takes me to get the kids off the floor from laughing so hard and so long, and tell me who they liked the best.

The winner's name, blogsite, AND joke will be posted in a blog. And whomever that is, I would really love if you would be able to write a short blog on my blog on how or why you came up with the joke you did.

I want to spread the laughter around!


It's just THAT simple folks.

Oh - And be sure to tell ALL your friends, and your Twitter buddies, and your Plurk friends, and........ you get the idea.

Sincerely looking forward to laughing my butt off through this contest.


UPDATE: Wanted to let people know that Melissa from rockanddrool.com has officially won the contest. Thanks to those who participated - I don't know if I'll do this again, LOL!

Remembering Columbine

On the anniversary of the Columbine shootings, I just received a phone call from my children's school that a parent brought a gun into the high school. The high school is right next door to our elementary school here. A lockdown ensued as a result of the incident.

The parent was arrested and put in custody, but I was left with anger and grief still the same. I remember to this day watching Columbine unfold before me when the twins were only a year and a half. I worried and grieved along with those parents even though hundreds of miles separated. It still felt as if it was in my own backyard because I was a parent too.

Today, I am left feeling the same fear and bewilderment that I imagine they felt then. I am left with the same anger and asking myself now, as I did then, why do our children still have to be put in these bizarre predicaments?

What has gone so wrong with our society that some have little, to no regard for the safety and well being of individuals under the age of 18? It seems that no matter how many laws we put on the books, it makes them no safer than they were the day that Columbine happened. And how is that it was a 61 year old parent that brought the gun into our local school just to "test out the security". What was she thinking? She's a parent herself!

I sit here wondering what my children may be feeling because I cannot be with them at this moment. They are completely removed from my arms of protection that I have so diligently wrapped around them since the day they were born, and I cannot do a effing thing about it!

It is these moments that make me a more paranoid parent. It is these moments that make me so damn mad that my own children cannot have the life of freedom that I experienced when I was their age. It is this moment that I cry again for those who lost their lives, or had their lives irrevocably altered at Columbine.

PhotoHunt - Purple

Keeping in the spirit of Earth Day.

Join The PhotoHunt

Earth Day 2009 - Pensacola, FL

No Shirt, No Shoes, No BRA - No Service

In the spirit of noticing unique people while out dining at a restaurant, I thought I might add to the list of the strange, weird, and bizarre seen in public. May I say that the title of this blog pretty much says it all. The fact that my family had to laugh hysterical all through our dinner of BBQ, beans, and macaroni and cheese without choking is another matter.

All tact went out the window this evening.

All I can say is that there are still individuals left in the world that neither possess a mirror or any strain of common sense. The fact that my cat has more common sense in his dead toenail says enough about this woman.

My kids loved her as they haven't seen anything quite so revealing or left them with such uncontrollable giggles - ever! I think my three year old summed it up pretty well when she said:

"Mom, she sure has big ta-ta's and she needs to strap em in!"

I know the quality is not as well as it should be, and iPhone needs to seriously work on this, but her shirt was as thin as rice paper and if fully shown, would be consider quite pornographic.

Another classic moment brought to you by the Redneck Rivera.

From Paradise With Love

I awoke to paradise this morning. No, I did not win the lottery yesterday and sneak down to Aruba overnight, which in itself is paradise, but just a different kind. Nope, never left my house, but still the same, it was paradise.

My alarm was blaring at 6:45 to tell my old tired butt to climb out of bed and get my even more tired kids ready for another day in the public school system. But this morning, I awoke to something completely different. I was greeted with.....

Breakfast!

I stumbled into the hallway smelling the sweet aroma of just made coffee. I took a look back and saw that my husband was still sound asleep, and snoring in the ear of our three year old who looked as peaceful as a new flower in the morning dew sleeping beside her dad.

I ventured further toward the kitchen, forgetting about awakening the crew, only to find my 11 year old twins busily running back and forth in the kitchen. The varied smells began to enter my eager nostrils as I looked closer and could see them flipping, frying, and scrambling away. There before me also laid a complete set table for six. It was complete with salt, pepper, pure maple syrup, and homemade blackberry syrup (I taught them well didn't I!).

The two of them had conspired to get up before the rest and make breakfast this morning. Was it my birthday? Was this some kind of holiday that I had forgotten about through all my daily busy work? No..... it was just a plain and simple Friday morning that the twins had turned into paradise.

I was speechless and in awe at their art of graceful dancing from one counter top to the stove, to the refrigerator, and back. They finally noticed me standing there with my mouth sitting on the floor and chirped a fine "Morning Mom - we made breakfast!", Julian said, giving me a quick glance as he poured the eggs into the frying pan and Nadia carefully placed blueberry pancakes upon a platter.

All I could manage was a stupid "Wow!". You think after seeing all of this upon my arising that I could have mustered something a bit more stupendous than "wow". I guess I was impressed beyond what words could actually describe at this moment.

I ran to wake Toni as I could see that their culinary stupefaction would soon be set upon the table for all to feast upon. But before I could go, Julian decided to inform me of his art of making scrambled eggs:

"Mom, you must add at least one tablespoon of butter to the pan prior to scrambling eggs. It makes them taste much better, plus it helps keep them from sticking complete to the pan. Plus, you never turn the heat too high because it is about time... not temperature.", he says in his matter-of-fact way.

Who the hell did I wake up to this morning?
Am I dreaming?
Is Food Network filming me with a hidden camera for some reality show?

So I say another stupid thing: "Have you been listening to Martha Stewart?", as I bend over smelling the sweet aroma of fresh made sausage and eggs.

Then he says it. I can't believe he freaking says it: "No mom, I just listened and watched you."

The tears well up in my eyes as I lean over to kiss them both upon their foreheads and for a brief moment I remember how little they once were, but how they have grown.

Then Nadia looks up at me and starts to guide me to the table while saying, "You sit down, we'll get Toni and dad up."

I'm in paradise, I know it. Because it has all happened and I remember every bit of it before even one drop of coffee has touched my lips.

And with that being said, Julian suddenly whips a cup of coffee before me as I sit.

God bless these children - and God bless me for having them!

Damn! What Will They Think Of Next?

This is an actual birthing simulator that is being used in England. If you think this is strange, you should see the life size version that one can purchase for $35,000. It actually comes with four sets of umbilical cords to boot.

At least this version is a little cleaner than in real life. But does it scream when you use it? And if so, is there a volume control?

Let's Talk Popcorn -But Not The Kind You Eat

I've been stuck in the house for the past two days while my bathroom ceilings are being "redone". They have that tacky popcorn ceiling texture that was sprayed on by lazy construction workers cause it's not as labor intensive to put it on like texture ceilings are. Well, I'm getting the stinking texture ceilings now.

I am kinda getting use to the new plastic wrap curtains that line my bathroom walls, accented with sky blue painters tape. It's the so tres chic meets roll me over and gag me look! Let's not talk about the girls shower curtain we will now have to replace cause he ripped it off the hooks in a few places. And he said it would be okay if I left it hanging up; grrrrrrr.

In my honest and experienced opinion; popcorn ceilings are pure crap and a total waste of time and money. The Chinese must have come up with the idea of popcorn ceilings just like they have the toxic drywall that has been installed in over 100,000 homes of late and has to be ripped out just like my ceilings.

Well, it had to be redone cause frankly, the stuff was peeling off and hanging above our heads, occasionally dropping on my daughter's as she took a shower. The bathrooms were beginning to take on that Jerry Springer "I live in a trailer park" look and it was completely creeping me out.

So the guy has been showing up at 7:30 in the morning, which causes everyone to have to get up an hour earlier around here so that no one is caught in their skivvies while rubbing off that yellow crud you get in your eyes when you first wake up. Nia lives in her princess dress these days so we don't have to worry about her.

I'm dragging my half-asleep ass to the door while still in a sleep stupor trying to shove my first cup of coffee down my throat so I can deal with all the scraping, whirring and thunderous sounds of mud being stirrred in my garage before my nervous system is even half functioning! I manage a flash of a quick fake smile as he enters the house, that translates to a "I'm so glad you're here to turn my seemingly pleasant morning into another migraine headache!"

Shit like this should not be happening this early in the morning!

But it's been an all day process, and I am praying that I will see some end to it today. He was kind enough to pick us up a new door knob that my husband had to take off one of the hall doors last week. Some clever goober thought it was a good idea to put a knob on that locks on the inside of the closet! So my baby girl thought it would be fun to lock herself inside the closet; only she couldn't figure out how to unlock it from the inside once she was in there. Toni was her partner in crime, and I am sure she talked Nia into doing it cause.... that's her job!

"Daaaaaadddddeeeeee!", cried her muffled screams from inside the closet.

"Mom, mom, Nia locked herself inside the closet!" "She can't get out and I can't get her out either!", Toni comes yelling, and half laughing across the house.

So my husband has to find something from his vast collection of tools from one of his four toolboxes. They're all a complete mess, even though he religiously "organizes" them, so it takes him awhile to find the appropriate utensils to remove one bad ass door knob. Toni and I keep Nia company with rounds of tunes from the movie, Enchanted. Pretending to be the character Giselle, she begins: "Why do you smelllllllll like pork chops!" she's sings creatively (the words are suppose to be "How do you know she loves you"), to the top of her lungs as she sits while old videos and worn out games fall upon her head. Why do my kids do this?

My husband takes apart the door knob, breaking it in the process (nothing is ever done simply in our house), thus producing a slightly pale, but very happy three year old. That door sported a yellow barricade on it that reminds one of a police crime scene in progress.

So I'm grateful for the new door knob, but not the leftover popcorn that now adorns every square inch of floor space on the north side of the house. Nadia was offered the lucky task of vacuuming it up yesterday, but it's back today again. I cannot wait to see her eyeballs roll when she sees this. Let's not mention how six people have been reduced to using just one bathroom; Julian's. Okay, it's not pretty, but we have no choice.

God, he is such a little dictator with his bathroom too. He's been running around since yesterday afternoon dictating policy on who cleans what in his bathroom if everyone is going to have to use it. He sounds more and more like is father everyday. The girls have to keep the countertop and mirror cleaned, I have to mop and sweep, and dad has to make sure the tub is clean. And NO ONE is to touch his "special" brown towels in his bathroom closet. Those are his special towels and he doesn't want them messed up with girl stuf,f or my husbands leftover razor stubble from the mornings shave.

What have I raised!

So I sit here with my ears stuffed with cottonballs because the mixer is so loud and Nia has her computer game volume turned on so loud that China is now rocking out to her dress up game program. I don't really care about either for the moment. I just want my bathrooms back looking somewhat inhabitable without little white foosies falling on our heads giving us the appearance of a some mysterious and exotic mushrooms growing on our heads.

I have just been informed that it will take at least one more day to do the ceilings. Julian is not going to be happy. I've also been told that I will have to paint it once it's done; this guy doesn't do painting.

I have now added painting the bathroom of my ever growing to-do list of:

1. starting a new business
2. coordinating a yard sale with three years of stuff to get rid of
3. creatively restructuring our budget so that we can even live in this place
4. designing and making raised bed gardens from scratch
5. teaching everyone how to garden without killing the food we need to eat this summer
6. how to keep curtains on the wall without Nia thinking they are vines to swing from
7. how to fill the holes she left after she pulled the last curtain rod out of the wall
8. how to fill the hole she left in another door after climbing to get her Valentines candy
9. making my husbands new website and his blog and keeping up with my blog
10. monitoring all my kids science projects which now encompass three rooms of the house

The question is: what color should I pick?

I'm Hormonal - Now Go Away!

How is that at my age, when I get a surge in hormones, they complete control my life for 2-3 days a month. This stuff just isn't normal folks. When it hits, I completely shut down. Everything becomes black, black, black, and I think that everything is going to hell in a cheap Wal-Mart's "Made In China" basket. What's worse is that I have no idea what has hit me until I'm foaming at the mouth, I feel like I'm carrying a ball of lead weight in the pit of my stomach, and I am pissed off about EVERYTHING! Then I sit down and cry because I know what I'm in for for the next few days. Pure hell and misery!

I change into a totally different person that my own family does not even recognize, and God bless them, they try hard to accommodate me through the whole ordeal. God is having second thoughts about why he brought me into this world when I get this way; so I am for the record. I am just a grumpy, moody, crabby-to-the-max, crying, hibernating in my bedroom mess! No one, and nothing can console me when I'm like this. Not even that irresistible piece of chocolate that Nadia repeatedly tip toe's into my room to give me without ever saying a word. It seems that she is the only one who relates to my plight because she knows that monthly curse will be upon her soon, and she's unconsciously telling me NOW what she'll need THEN when it does happens to her.

Either that or she's trying to find anything that will keep me from crying in random intervals.

The usual hum-drum daily tasks suddenly become a colossal behemoth undertaking. I get stuck in the muck of hormones, and I can't seem to function to wipe my own tushy in the bathroom. Well, not that bad, but you get the idea.


"Mom, what's for dinner", one of the kids ask.

"I don't know! I can't think - I hate the kitchen! I want to repaint it; it sucks! I can't cook in there, it's too dark!' "And curtains, why can't I still not find the right curtains for the kitchen?" "Why is there a glass in the sink. Can't anyone put their dishes in the dash washer?" "I can't cook until the floor is swept; where's the broom?", I ramble on and on.

"Mom, can we just get back to the discussion of dinner?", the child ask again trying to keep me focused.

"You wanna cook tonight?" I turn to say to one of the twins. *

"How about pizza mom?" one of them pleas with begging brown eyes, knowing it will be much easier to order out, than to hear me babble about cooking any longer.

"Sure, I'll call." I reply with a sense of relief that I have been relieved of one less duty to perform cause I'm doing good to even breathe at the moment. I am hormonal, and should not be in the presence of cooking utensils today. Especially when the hubby decides to chirp about why I didn't do ALL the housework in one day.

"Because today was NOT the freaking day to be doing IT - OKAY!!!!" I blurt out while foaming at the mouth as he slowly backs himself out of the room, cause I know I must be showing fangs by now.

I think I must be going through some pre-premenopausal symptoms but going to my mom for advice on this subject is pointless because she had all those important reproductive parts removed by the time she was my age and she doesn't remember going through menopause.

Thanks Mom!

By the way, you can tell you are getting older when you begin to whine about your health a lot. I'm wondering when I'll hit the "aches and pains" conversational phase of my life, while glued to that Cracker Barrel rocking chair I bought when the twins were born.

I thought getting older was about entering the "age of wisdom", not the age of "will you shut up about your hip surgery already!".

Frankly, I think the title PMS should be changed to a less politically correct, more honest description because there is nothing "Pre" about hormones happening before, during, and after, and happening every month whenever they damn well feel like it. Like:

• just before an important event in your life;
• or during a chaotic or catastrophic moment you are having with your family or neighbors,
• or after you've just won the lottery and not sure how to spend the money so you spend it all as fast as you can because freaking the hormones "told you to do it".

It should be given the new title of HCBS - Hormonal Crazy Bitch Syndrome, and every woman should qualify for FREE therapy because of it.

Where do I sign up!

*(Disclaimer: The twins are almost 12 and fully capable of making dinner because they have been trained up since they were seven to handle themselves in the kitchen. I do not leave my kids unprepared in the kitchen, and I monitor them at all times when they are cooking.
I am NOT that stupid).

A Flower For Madeline

In Memory of Madeline Spohr

Madeline Spohr
November 11, 2007 - April 7, 2009

Please Show Your Support In Lieu of the March Of Dimes
HERE

My First Product Review and Recommendation

So we went on a bike ride yesterday morning for four hours with our three year old, "Princess Penelope Poopsie", in tow in the bike trailer cause frankly, it was a damn fine morning to do so. My crotch literally feels right now, like it did the day I gave birth to that same three year old. Even though I was numb from the waist down from morphine and shots of local anesthesia, I know eminent pain is going to follow suit after the "high" has long disappeared.

Anyway.... I threw my legs over my trusty Cannondale bike and as I rode I began to think about how long I've had this bike and the fact that the last time I really did any real riding on this thing was when the twins were about a year old. Yes, I have literally ridden this thing less than 10 times since then. But I can still ride like the best of em; or so I thought!

I have had this thing for a long time; about 13 years to be exact. I don't feel so bad for paying so much for it back then, because it has lasted just fine being stored up in several garages and storage centers since then.

So we've moved a lot in 11 years; so freaking what!

I'm thinking how smooth the brakes still are; how cushy the seat still is (at that point in time it was - but NOT four hours later); and what good overall condition this sucker is in. It started me thinking as I rode about all the product reviews and recommendations that I see on many, oh so many blogs these days.

This ride got me thinking about doing my own reviews/recommendations based on what I know to be tried and true. Sometimes, who needs to know about all the new shit; there's so much of it that it's getting too confusing to keep up with anymore. We need someone who has maneuvered through the many years it takes to prove that some of this established stuff is still worth purchasing.

Mine recommendations are based on being well used and time tested by four Neanderthal-like kids, ages 3-11, one neurotic dad, and one constantly tired out, half-insane mom. Think of a "Samsonite" product test on about..... 6 shots of espresso; and then we'll review it to see if still intact, usable, or worth the few extra bucks we need to extract from our ever-shrinking wallets these days.

I'll let you be the judge.


Graco Tot-Loc Chair

This sucker has been a life and a space saver for us. We have had this since the twins were about a year old. Let me tell you, we use to drag around those over-sized white elephants called "high chairs" until I found this on a now defunct website called baby.com. We use to have two of them until my husband thought one of them was best left in a Chinese restaurant in Dothan, Alabama. That place is now defunct too.

These hook up nice and easy to just about any table. Just make sure it's not one of those flimsy type tables like one we owned one time. It wasn't that tall, thank God, cause Julian's butt hit the floor with a big thud. He actually laughed and wanted to do it again. I, on the other hand, was laying beside him in the corner, sucking my thumb and suffering from a mild heart attack from the ordeal.

They are also great to take along to just about any restaurant of your choice. If the table there seems flimsy too, just take another chair and scoot it under the Tot-Loc chair, stuff your designer hobo bag between the two and you're good to go - or eat - or whatever. Just don't plan on taking them to one of those four or five star places. They don't take kindly to rearranging the china and crystal to make room for a portable high chair on their over-priced, frou-frou linen tablecloths. In fact, if the place doesn't supply high chairs, you're better off using it at home with some pizza delivery.

But in a place that does supply them. Remember, if you don't have one of these, come prepared with a whole pack of disinfectant wipes! Hell, bring three or four packs because, I don't know about you, but I did catch that episode on 20/20 (I think that was it), about all the freaking germs on public high chairs. Just the thought of a few E-Coli strains crawling on my toddler's fingers makes me wish I could fit my kids into these things until they were 18!

Actually, that would be a pretty damn funny sight to see; especially on high school graduation day!

But these are easy to clean; just take them outside, pour some bleach over it and hose it down. Nothing to disassemble, and no instructions to hunt out of some unused drawer in the house to figure how to put the freaking high chair back together - safely. They come with a 3-way locking waist strap that no little bugger can wriggle their way out of. It also easily folds flat for those last minute trips to a restaurant when mom or dad happens to burn dinner that night.

You can see by the pictures that these have stood the test of time of 11 years and four kids. It was actually in pristine condition up until a year ago when our three year old decided to "redecorate" it a bit. She said she was tired of the "wallpaper" and wanted to change it to just pink. Well, ripping it off does change it, but not necessarily for the better. Since we needed for at least another year, and we just happen to be out of hot pink duct tape that day, he opted for packing tape left over from one of our moves. At least we can still see the design a little longer just for memories sake.

I highly recommend this for any mother or father looking for an alternative to the cumbersome space-hog high chairs. I might I add that high chairs still haven't come in any decent design themes that I would proudly display in my kitchen or dining room. These Tot-Loc chairs will run you anywhere from $20-$50 depending on make and model, and who is having a sale or not. Ebay would be your best bet.

By the way, the old white elephants we had were left behind in one of the storage centers that the bike also sat in.


Weleda Calendula Diaper Rash Cream

This all started from, what else, a bad case of diaper rash. The twins were about 1 (again), and they both decided they would get the worse, and really, the only case of diaper rash at the same time. Remember, if you have multiples, it's ALWAYS about over coming challenges - double, triple time (well, you get the idea)!

Well I spent a couple of days slathering that Desitin stuff all over their tiny little butts, and managing to get more on me than them. God that stuff is so hard to get off. Takes about a half a bar of soap to clean it off my hands and then I had to turn around and spread more gobs of the stuff on them, and then spend another half hour or so getting it off of me; constantly repeating this process for two days. This was doing nothing to rid them of the burning butt curse, and it was wasting an enormous amount of time as well.

I had pulled out our newest copy of Homeopathy for Pregnancy, Birth, and Your Baby's First Year (another recommendation as well), looking for an alternative to this crap I was using. It suggested I use calendula for a diaper rash. So I was off with the twins as fast as I could, hobbling down three flights of stairs at our apartment, holding two babies, two diaper bags, and my purse somewhere in between. I think my car keys were in my teeth.

"No, my husband could not help me cause he was in class that day".

At the local Whole Foods market, I came upon a nice smelling diaper rash cream made by Weleda. It had calendula as the main ingredient and it was just about the only thing I saw in the category I was needing. I bought two of the biggest tubes they had; after all, I have two fire engine red asses to deal with here.

I got home and gave them the typical "eliminate the rash" bath, then gently dried them, then covered their bare butts with about three coats of this stuff. My God! By that evening, 3/4 of their rash was gone! Not just light, but dead freaking gone!

I was sold from right then. I have never used anything since. I have used it until the tube was cracking and leaking from the edges; never wasting a drop. It has worked with minor burns the kids got from helping me cook, and also through Nadia's anti-underwear phase when she was three. But that is an entirely different story and a weird toddler phase.

I have sold so many moms on this stuff that I should actually own a piece of the company. Isn't that called stock or something???? Anyway, it is another time tested product that no mom with small kids should be without. It costs about $8-$10 depending on the size of tube you get. Unfortunately, it's only available at health food stores at the moment because I think Desitin has cornered the market here with the corporate-run pharmacies.


Hylands's Homeopathic Chamomile Tablets or Homeopathic Teething Tablets - 30x dosage

Let me say this first about this product: you will be giving this to your kids AND to yourself until the day they leave for college! I was quite skeptical of these when my husband brought it home to me one day when the twins first started teething. After all, how on earth could these little white tablets end all their pain and suffering? I was freaking amazed at how well it ended the fussies over teething, plus it knocked their ass out just when nap time rolled around.

I cannot tell you the amount of moms that have literally bowed to me, or hugged me and cried after I turned them onto this stuff. I recently went to a house where this mom was trying to show me an antique china cabinet while tending to a hysterical child suffering from teething. We've all been there and so we know the scene, so I really don't have to go into detail since we are all really trying to block it from our memories.

But I told her about these tablets and where to get them. Though I didn't buy the cabinet, she still sent me an email raving about how wonderful this stuff was. She also told me she went back and bought out every single bottle that the Walgreen's had in stock. I guess she was pretty desperate.

They are relatively easy and very safe to use. Take the tablets and crush them between two fingers and rub them on the gum's of small children. As they grow and can swallow easier, they can take them under the tongue until they melt (takes about 1 minute). The cost depends on where you buy them. Go for the big 125 tablet bottle or you'll find yourself running out to the pharmacy every other day to keep an ample supply in your house.

As I said, they are not JUST for teething. This stuff is great for the terrible two's phase, or as in my case, the terrible three's. The moment you recognize the tantrum coming on, give them a few of these; it'll turn them into the child that you fantasized having all during your pregnancy. You can adjust the dosage according to the tantrum level. Just don't give them the whole freaking bottle out of extreme desperation!

See, the main ingredient, chamomile, is a natural calming element. It is completely safe for all ages. Hell, I've had a few bad days where I've taken about a tablespoon and I'm feeling like Fairy Foo-Foo and happy as a lark! And it comes in handy too on those days that your hubby comes home extra cranky from work. Martini's are so 1960's.

Now, I have to go and sit on a bag of ice for awhile as you contemplate these few reviews and recommendations. Sitting here and writing this has become quite uncomfortable as I am opting to hang, by my feet, from the ceiling fan right now as oppose to sitting or standing at the moment.

Please feel free to leave your comment and your experiences with these, it will help a whole lot of stressed out moms who are looking for ways to make life less like an insane asylum at their homes.

Oh, another recommendation; no four hour bike rides unless they come up with a seat that has adjustable air pockets than can be modified to the length of your bike tour. Or, until you've reached crotch-callous riding status!

A Plug For My Nephew

You won't see me doing any of these very often, but this I just can't pass the opportunity to do so.

I am plugging someone. It's personal okay; it's my nephew, Brandon. But it is not because he is my nephew that I am doing it (okay, maybe it is - so what!), it is because I truly believe in promoting personal passion and drive that has remained so consistent since the boy's budding personality emerged so soon after he was born.

Though the years and miles have separated us, he has never, ever left my heart and he has never ceased to amaze me in what he can do or create.

Okay, gotta get to the point cause I have tears coming down my face now.

If you are anywhere near Phoenix, AZ, please run to the Stray Cat Theatre to see Columbinus, and check out this controversal, but 5-star rated performance. It is the story of the Columbine shootings, which we are very near the anniversary of. It is serious theatre for serious reflection of a very painful time in our history. Brandon plays Eric Harris.

I'm very proud of my nephew.

The Easter Bunny Ego

Why does Easter look more and more like Christmas every year? I was out looking for those cheep (ha, ha), plastic Easter eggs to fill with pastel colored chocolate candy for my daughter's upcoming Easter egg hunt at school for Thursday. That's when it dawns on me that I am looking at this ever increasing amount of junk available for Easter. How many different ways are there to make a Easter basket from China? It's like a freaking pastel Christmas now!

As I contemplate the holiday further, I'm beginning to think that the Easter Bunny has hired a PR crew to compete with Santa over who is going to have the bigger holiday now. I begin daydreaming of their conversation, and it goes something like this:

The Scene:

The Easter Bunny has a fat, half-smoked cigar in his mouth as he's yelling a variety of spiced up expletives at some post-college grad over how he should be better promoted at Easter.

Ring, ring....


"Yeah Hurbert, got a few things to run by you that might make me bigger than Santa plus bring a few extra bucks..... Yeah, they already know that I'm cute and fuzzy, but what am I suppose to live on between me, the 11 misses, and 56 rug-bunnies running around eating all the carrots and grub in our hole? Them kids ain't cheap you know!", he growls while puffing smoke rings into the air, with legs crossed on his powdered blue leather executive chair.

"I already know that I'm bigger and cuter than Santa, so why the hell ain't I more popular than the frosty covered, archaic snowcone?", he screams over the phone amid a blanket of smoke covered candy covered chocolate eggs, and dog-eared autographed bunny photos.

The Easter Bunny continues his ego-laden conversation:

"What! You wanna pair me with some cute little yellow chickens again?...... No, no, no - the 80's called and they want those stupid chirpy things back already. I need an image that mirrors today's techno savvy kids. I need my own bunny XBox 360 Live game! Yeah, that's it! Call Bill Gates - tell them we need a Easter Bunny does Resident Evil type video game! I need guns - BIG ONES! Ones that shoot..... CANDY! Yeah, make it a game that shoots stinking candy.... NO, stinking rotten Easter eggs at Santa and his imbecile little moldy-looking elves running around! Yeah, that'll make me more famous, AND target a new market that'll be blurry-eyed from eliminating that overrated fat guy in a tacky red suit!"

As he talks, the Easter Bunny is using a bulls-eye of Santa as target practice with a air-soft gun that shoots partly melted, cinnamon-flavored Red Hots, instead of plastic pellets. The bulls-eye is clean; the wall, the ceiling, and floors are not. Neither is the rather large picture of his fuzzy offspring that sits at the corner of his pine-shaved desk.

"What's that you say?...... We could get sued! Sued by who; freaking Madison Avenue - screw Madison Avenue! Who owns Santa? Nobody does, that's WHO! ....... Uh huh..... Uh huh...... Oh, you think that candidate for Jenny Craig is gonna come out of hibernation to come down here and file a freaking law suit against ME? Well then, bring it on! Does the fat guy know how many times I can kick my hind legs per second?...... No... I didn't think so. I'll bounce that red-nose loving pinhead all the way back to Antarctica, or wherever the hell he comes from!"

"So what's the next issue?" he says while stuffing his pink mouth with stale, sugar coated marshmallow chickens.

"What about the cigar?...... GET RID OF IT! Your full of more goo than a Cadbury's Egg if you think I'm giving up my cigars! They're Cuban; you know much I gotta pay to have Cuban cigars smuggled into my bunny hole?..... I don't care that smoking is faux pas, or whatever fancy-smancy politically correct cliche' you wanna throw on it! Hell, Arnold smokes cigars, and EVERYBODY loves Arnold! I mean, he's The Terminator...... Uh huh..... Uh huh.... They stink you say! So what! Just make sure kids get nose plugs in their baskets this year. Hell, throw in a couple for the parents while you're at it!"

"I got a savvy idea. What about alcohol? How about a beer in every basket this year? Let's get started on a fruit flavored Bunny Beer, PRONTO! I hear kids are drinking at younger ages now anyway..... No?..... Might not be good for a 3 year old to have Bunny Beer along with a chocolate bunny?..... Uh huh.... Parents may protest at Wal-Mart? Well, maybe you're right; Wal-Mart is my biggest supporter and we don't want to piss them off, now do we?..... No, I am not out of touch with reality...... Yes, I did take my meds this morning. I have a nervous disorder..... I'm not crazy you know!...... Uh huh..... I get it - I have an image to uphold, and there might be a boycott of me, and we don't want THAT to happen cause I'm pure and white and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!"

Easter Bunny leans over to his desk and slugs down a gulp of his half cold carrot latte and boisterously proclaims:

"I get it, I'm a family man myself. The missy's and I don't want to give our kids anything that might harm them either, or start a downward spiral towards addiction at five years old. Speaking of which - maybe the family and I should do a promotional tour around the country so that parents can relate to that sense of family thing I got going? What do you mean that might not be such a good idea?...... I can only take one wife; why?..... It might not look too good to be traveling around with 11 wives; why?..... Polygamy? What the hell is that? Well, what's wrong with having that many wives?..... Offend some people; who?..... Just about EVERYONE!...... If we do it, I can only take one wife?..... Well what the hell do I do with the other ten?..... Buy them something?..... Okay, I see where you're coming from. I'll just go out and buy the bunch some blackberries. You moron, they EAT them, not TALK to them!.... Oh, there are telephones called Blackberries? Oh, okay..... never mind."

"Hey, if we can't do the promotional tour thing, can we at least get me one of those naughty and nice lists like Santa has?"

Click!

"Hello..... helloooooo!"


So I grab the last few 12 packs of Easter eggs that are on sale at CVS, a few special cookies for the kids lunches on Thursday, some special goodies for the kids to hunt for on Sunday, and head to the checkout line with a little grin on my face. I may be different from other parents, but I'm not going to be joining the "Easter Bunny" this year by competing with Santa. I haven't quite joined the lines of other parents vying for the latest over-stuffed Easter baskets lining the walls of Wal-Mart each year, and I don't think I ever will.

I believe in simplifying:

• hunting a few eggs,
• some chocolate,
• a day in the park with family,
• and a big fat dinner, followed by a nap to top it off.

After all, that's what the lagging economy is teaching us this year: less is more.

Take that and stuff in your "basket" Mr. Easter Bunny Man!

Small Thoughts By Toni:

"Grandma's always know how to ride a bike, but sometimes forget what they've had for breakfast."

State of My Family Union

So I've been down lately over the state of the economy, my bills, and the affect it's having on my family. It doesn't help that it's been raining cats, dogs, and a few frogs lately. I could never live in Seattle no matter how green and beautiful it is there.

Rain just intensifies my negative emotions!

I have to give a big thanks to my Twitter and blog buddies who have lifted my spirits here and there. Special thanks goes to Tara and turning me on to Blip.fm, and to my Aunt Edna for all the funnies she emails me daily. Point is, even though life is complicated for most of us right now, there are rays of sunshine all around you if you choose to look. People overseas are suffering the same plight as this country as my friend from Scotland tells me all the time, and it all seems so bazarre and overwhelming to absorb sometimes.

When one gets "stuck" in this kind of muck, it becomes very hard to see what is actually going good in one's life. One of our cars went down and I'm waiting for the Honda Odyssey to go next as we have already sunk almost $6000 having various major repairs done to it in the past 2 1/2 years. It's a piece of junk I tell you.

I'm still paying off huge amounts of medical bills from when my son was sick for two months in the latter part of last year. And I sit among a pile of bills trying to balance this against that and hoping it all works out in the end. But I realize that I'm not the only one doing this. I keep thinking to myself; "I could be one of those losing my house". It still all makes me a bit cranky and crazy as the kids could tell you.

I grew up in a family that chose to pretend on the outside that everything was fine and dandy, while the inside of the family unit was falling apart at the seams. I'm sure many of you know what I'm talking about. Now, I wear my emotions more on my sleeve and refuse to hide anything... almost. So if you see me crying at the grocery store because I have to choose between a healthier organic choice for my kids (and it IS about the kids), and a box of chemical-laden crap because of the size of my bank account lately, maybe... just maybe, you'll understand what some of us are going through.

Then I read from a fellow celebrity Tweeter about this: Food Safety and Modernization Act of 2009 (H.R. 875). This is a bill creating much controversy (if you read between it's loosely knitted wording), over whether we'll be able to have our own backyard gardens, or do any organic gardening at all!

Our family has never been into major extravagances, but eating healthy food has always had it's priorities in our life. I get a bigger high out of driving 3 hours to Whole Foods than I do going five miles down the road to the mall. We are, in fact, a family of "Foodie's". But when it gets to the point that people can't afford the high prices of food and decide to make their own garden, and someone at the big "M" agricultural corporation starts pushing to make it so strict so no one can make one so they can wrap the entire food market thing, I get reeeeeally pissed off!

This just started my downward spiral this week. That, and the fact that Dish Network called me last night to tell me I was three stinking days late on my payment and if I didn't pay it within the week, they would turn it off. Now I pay this bill el' pronto at the first of every month; well the second to be precise. So I called them. Their response is that "it is due on the 27th of the month". Okay, so according to them, I am 7 freaking days late. I can understand a phone call after 15 days, but seven! Come on, are they getting that desperate too?

This doesn't bring any happy, happy, joy, joy into my life either. Panic starts to set it, and when that happens, it breeds faster than rabbits on Viagra. I can't seem to get past the thought of the world crashing around you, and my lungs cease to function properly. And when I panic, I panic badly; it seem to ooze from every pore and it's colored coded as to what level I am at at the moment. It was inching toward bright orange last night.

I start rummaging through rooms while itemizing what can be sold and what can be kept. The kids thought we we're moving when I started this. I just tell them I'm planning to clear clutter via the yard sale. But kids are far more intuitive than we give them credit for. They KNOW something is wrong, thus the endless questions begin because they themselves, are reacting to my panic and eventually create their own in the process.

But their panic creates a kind of creative chaos that I envy and am in constant awe of. They are soon jumping off of beds and trying on every single piece of clothing in the drawers (Toni and Nia). Then either starting an incredible and senseless conversation, or catching the infectious giggles over something as simple as floating dish soap bubbles from the sink (Nadia and Julian).

What I realize is that I am not putting things into perspective. Life is handing me more lemons than I can make lemonade from, and instead of organizing these lemons in their proper place, I've chosen to let them clutter the floor of my life instead.

Things COULD be a lot worse!

So I wake up today to a sky full of sun and brightness instead of rain, and a different perspective on life. I should take this as a message from God that gloom does not last forever, unless you choose it to. I have my family, plus some extended family that I have recently connected with that bring love and joy into my life. So what that I don't have friends close by to share a cup of coffee with every morning; I have made new ones by having this blog and we share our cups of cyber-java each day. My girlfriends are spread far and wide, but on days like this, they are in my living room sharing their hugs and advice with abundance.

I have four incredible kids that seem to patiently put up with a mother who changes emotions as much as we change our underwear. I marvel in their cleverness to rise above adversity, and how much more smarter they are than when I was at their age. It is priceless when Nadia's face suddenly beams as she has overcome her latest math issues last night, by working through the problem patiently and diligently. I have more to learn from them than they do from me.

I have a roof over our heads, food in the refrigerator, and we are without major medical issues. The house is clean, the laundry is done, and no one broke anything this week (except my 20+ year old scarf that Nia ripped a huge hole in last night). I take a deep breath and realize that though the bills still exist, so does my relationship with myself and my family, and those I have come to know in the recent months. Now which is more important?

So today I will make a picnic lunch and take Nia to the park for some much needed playtime in the sun. I will gather some some more items to sell on Craigslist and for my yard sale, but now, they are just meaningless "possessions" that can be purchased again somewhere down the road if need be. My most important items are those I feed, love, and nurture daily. Possessions do not love you back - they only drag you down.

With regards to that stupid HR 825 bill, I'm still making my backyard garden regardless. If they want to take me on somewhere down the road for a stinking tomato plant, then we'll deal with that when the situation arises. I'll just sit back and eat my favorite ice cream as they rip the suckers out themselves!

Now, anyone for peanut butter ice cream with Reese's cups in it?