Child of Mine.....

I used to think that my child was special and unique with his own quirks and habits that were unlike any other.  Apparently I was mistaken.  Oh, don’t get me wrong he does have a certain something that sets him apart from the rest, for example his good looks and sense of humor.  Thank goodness he takes after his mother.

No, I’m talking about those habits and behaviors that pretty much EVERY kid falls prey to.  I try to correct, reprimand and almost-threaten him to improve these behaviors to no avail.  “Child of mine, can you please hang your jacket up on the nice hook that I have provided instead of throwing it on the floor.”  It has become glaringly apparent that most kids will whine and complain about what’s for dinner, bedtime, wearing clean clothes, having to wear shoes outside and not just their socks, not wearing the clothes they want to wear to school to bed the night before, brushing their teeth, washing their hands and the list just goes on and on.  I sound like a broken record every day….oh my goodness I sound like my mother!  (Well, that’s not entirely a bad thing.)

One thing he is good at is hugs.  I’ll take a good hug any day.  That almost makes up for the whining.  (I said almost!)

Retail Checkout Whine

Since when did checking out at a retail shop become such a hassle?  I’m not even talking about the people who still have the audacity to write checks and have to show 25 pieces of ID just to get the check approved.  I’m talking about all the information the salespeople are “required” to ask of us customers to put into their “system.”

My good friend Lori S and I were discussing this several days ago.  All we want to do is go into the store and buy the jeans that are supposed to make our ass look good and then we get hit with a list of questions before our credit card, debit card or cash is even accepted to complete the transaction.  “Name, address, zip code, phone number, list the addresses for every residence of the last five years, name of first born, family pet, garage code….”  I mean really???  All of this for a clothing purchase?  It is so ridiculous no wonder people shop online!

For pure entertainment the next time I purchase something in a store that requires any of the above information here is what my answers will be:  Name – “Ida Know” Address –“ 123 Anywhere You Aren’t Crescent” Zip Code “12345.”  I realize they won’t accept this, but what would you do?  So, I will just smile, hand over my debit card and take it like a woman.

When Eeyore Marries Tigger

I had the startling realization the other day that I have married Tigger.  Oh bother.  It’s not that I’m always “the glass is half-empty” kind of girl, I do have moments of complete positivity that would blind you if you got too close.  However, I do not always “look on the bright side” and yet that is all my husband seems capable of doing.  I don’t know whether to wring his neck in frustration or learn to let go of my pessimism and follow him to the sunny side of the street.  We have had set backs and issues that are common to any marriage or just two people trying to eke out a happy existence in our crazy world.  I think everyone is against us and my husband sees right through the issue to the potential solution and nine times out of ten he is right.  You would think I would learn by now, but there is something in my DNA that keeps me grounded in my “Eeyore mode” while he bounces around in a happy Tigger like manner.  Somehow we make this work between us and I’m very thankful for that.

 Maybe having a Tigger in my life is exactly what I need.

Confessions of a First Class Worrier

I worry.  Non-stop.  I’ve elevated it to an art form.  Some people dabble in the odd moment of uncertainty or need to reflect on a particular issue, but I have mastered this subject into a full-fledged degree.  You see, my thinking is that if I worry about something enough than I have covered all my bases and the thing I initially started worrying about never comes to fruition.  It’s the moment I let go and  exhale that all hell breaks loose.

And I worry about the dumbest things.  Will I get a good seat at the movie theatre, will I be able to get into the proper lane at the right time on my morning commute, is my house clean enough, is my cat well-adjusted, does my son have any idea how much I love him?  Excessive worrying is almost like a sport or a work out for me.  You would think I would be exhausted by now, but I seem to get a sick type of adrenaline from it.

Oh, sorry I started worrying that I was losing my audience for a moment there and started to drift off to sleep.  I think I need some caffeine and some sugar.  I hope the coffee is warm enough, I hope they didn’t run out of vanilla creamer.  I hope they have the chocolate donuts with the sprinkles, what if they ran out.....

Curse You Miss Clairol

The box said "Nice and Easy" but that was just an empty promise.  All those boxes boasted thick, luscious looking, well-colored hair.  They taunted me from the hair care aisle and I fell into the trap of thinking "Yes, I want to look like I have "striking highlights" and off to the check out lane I went.

In college we colored our hair all the time, however we were too drunk/tired/stressed to notice that we looked like hell.  I haven't colored my own hair in eons, but I figured if I can dry it, curl it and braid it why not color it?  The proof was staring at me in the mirror about 20 minutes later.

The orange shade looked particularly lovely against the pale blue backdrop of my bathroom wall.  I went from room to room checking my hair out in different lights, mirrors and various outfits.  I definitely did not have "striking highlights." I was Crayola Orange (kind of a mix between Mango Tango and Neon Carrot with bits of my yucky brown caught in between.)

$11.98 for the box, plus $36 to fix it professionally (and add the $9.99 for the bottle of Relax Riesling) and this was no bargain.

From now on only my stylist and I will know what color I truly am.

Pot Luck Paranoia

One question I know I will never be asked in casual conversation at a party is "Did you bring that delicious _________________ (insert typical pot luck fare here: dip/spread/pastry/what-have-you)?" 
This will not happen.  How do I know?  I am struck by Pot Luck Paranoia.  Oh, it's out there sister and trust me more people are afflicted by it than you know. 

During any type of gathering where people bring food there is always that one mystery dish that no one is really taking a chance on dipping their chip into or piling it on their plates.  Perhaps one daring soul has tried the mystery dish and behind a not-so-subtle backhand they tell their friend to "definitely avoid the mystery dish."  Confession:  I made the mystery dish.  I skulk around the table making conversation and subtly scooping out half of the mystery dish onto my plate so it looks like SOMEONE at this party has tried my concoction.  I normally chase this down with a good riesling (might I suggest "Relax Riesling" in the lovely navy blue bottle.)  I try not to feel like the kid on the playground that no one will play with, I mean it's just food after all.  I really want to be a part of the cool group of kids who can cook.  Everyone is "ooohing and ahhhing" over the great food and my dish looks like it's in solitary.

Back to the recipe book and stock up on another navy blue bottle.  I've got one week to the next pot luck.  If you know how to make me look like one of the cool kids at the food table, feel free to share.  There's only so much paranoia I can take people!

"I'm Bored" - Whine # 37

"I'm bored."
"There's nothing to do."

The two phrases that make every parent shudder and squeeze their eyes shut tight before they respond.
My son recently had two days off of school.  School, it's not just a good idea, it's a lifesaver!  When we were kids were were not allowed to say, "I'm bored."  If you said those two words when we were kids you quickly found yourself cleaning the house from top to bottom with a toothbrush, while our parents sat back and grinned saying "How's that for being bored?"

We had to use our, wait for it....IMAGINATIONS!  You can't buy an imagination, there's no app for one and you can't check it out of the library. We are all equipped with one (it's located right beside the sense of humor) but our "Entertain Me Every Second" world has created kids who are sorely lacking in imaginations.  I triple-dog-dare-you to hide the DS, the ipad, the wii, the Xbox etc. away for one weekend and make your kids play with other three dimensional people. Arm them with some empty boxes, sheets or what have you and let them find their imaginations.

It may not be a bad idea to arm yourself with a few extra toothbrushes.