Who Cares? I DO!

I am boycotting.  I boycott a lot of things that don't really matter to anyone but me.  Here are a few:

1.  Tarzan's Treehouse. It used to be The Swiss Family Robinson's Treehouse in Disneyland.  I refuse to climb it now that it's been redone.  One day I will get over it for the sake of my children blah blah, but until then, I find it an abomination.

2.  Mr. Pibb. Anyone who thinks it's a Dr. Pepper replacement clearly practices taste-bud-abstinence. I am tired of the furrowed brows every time I am offered it in place of DP and I pick Coke instead.  

3.  OB Tampons.  You have got to be kidding me with the whole no-applicator thing.  Their trademark "Just try OB and you'll see!" should be replaced by the less-catchy but more appropriate "Just try OB and become Lady MacBeth!"

4.  Five for Fighting.  Stop whining, grow a pair, and prove that you're more manly than Kermit the Frog.

5. "Water for Elephants."  How does this movie exist outside of a Conan O'Brien sketch? A Depression-Era drama about a boy in his late teens who is orphaned after a car wreck kills his parents and is forced to hop a circus train where he rooms with a dwarf and a dog, falls in love with a married horse performer, and escapes the circus with several animals to start his own circus.  Who is taking this seriously?!  

I would rather wear an OB tampon as I climb Tarzan's Treehouse while sipping a Mr. Pibb and listening to Five for Fighting than waste a minute of my life watching "Water for Elephants."  This declaration has therefore sealed my fate that the first boycott I break will be for that sham of a film.  Lord help me not to own the DVD.

Laundry or Rubbish?

I got ready to face the world one day last week and felt a bit frumpy. It didn't help that I had dug into my panty drawer and found myself with a fistful of spares. I couldn't believe that I let myself get down to my back-up underwears! Do you have back-ups? My desperado chonies are pairs of panties that are almost unwearable. I would never want to be seen in them, but they are better than going commando, or re-wearing a dirty pair. There are three pair in my drawer because, being The Queen of Good Intentions, although I mean to do the laundry once I've hit the spares, doesn't mean I remember to do it. But on this day, I donned my for-utility-only granny-p's, started a load of delicates, and hoisted the kids into the car for a Target jaunt.

We had quite a few things to buy at Target and as the cart began fill, the slippage started. Anyone who owns back-ups knows what slippage is because it is the curse of the spare pair - no elastic left in the waistband. With each step in the store I could feel my chonies shimmy down a little more... and a little more... until I was sure that you could see a rib of rolled underwear laying across the middle of my butt. I was mortified!! Panty line shmanty line, this felt like the Great Wall of China fortified across my derrière! The solution may seem simple to you: go to the bathroom and adjust! I really wanted to and I tried!! I wheeled my cart of goods over to the bathroom, but it was closed for cleaning. And if you're a mom, you know the hassle of the public restroom with kids and babies, so you'll sympathize with my resolve to get a move on, grab my last few items, and cash out immediately.

The attempt at immediacy, however, was my downfall. Walking faster only aided gravity and within two minutes my undies were off. I could feel them sliding down my legs and the only thing to stop them was the mercy of my pants crotch, which kept them from becoming anklets. My gait became awkward, as if my legs were bound for some sort of picnic race. I left Target conquered by the underwear that I thought would be the day's salvation, but that had betrayed and defeated me.

I threw them away in disgust when I got home (after quite an uncomfortable drive, might I add) and hurriedly finished the laundry. All has been right with the world since then. But there are still two pair that lurk beneath the pile of acceptable undergarments, and I worry that if I should throw those two away, can I live spare-less? How will I know that I am overdue on laundry without the horror of a day with spares jolting me into laundry reality? Maybe I should buy 10 more pairs? I can't go for THAT long without doing laundry... I hope.

Small World

I'm making a special lunch for a picnic with a friend tomorrow and my chicken wrap recipe calls for one anchovy fillet.  Gack.  But I've tasted this before and it's so good - I just pretend there's no canned fish once I've added it.  Although can I say that whenever I make this, I inevitably end up with an old can of decomposing anchovies in the back of my fridge because I just can't throw the whole tin away once I've used the one fillet.  Maybe I need to search for anchovy recipes on allrecipes.com.  I can't believe I even considered that possibility just now...

As I opened the box this evening to get my fish can, I was puzzled. On the box it said it was packed for Star Fine Foods from Fresno, CA (woot woot!).  But to the left of that info was printed "Product of Peru."  And then it read "Packed in Morocco."  What?  That covers half the world!  For some canned, ridiculously small fish? 

Behold, I have in my refrigerator door the evidence of a global economy: anchovies.

Easter Bunny

We totally do the Easter Bunny!  Do you?  As a Christian, there's so much pressure about these holidays that celebrate Jesus and have pretend characters also attached to them.  Will you "do Santa" when "Jesus is the Reason for the Season?"  Should your kids be excited about the Easter Bunny and forsake all affection for Christ in lieu of chocolate eggs in pastel?  As much as I am being sarcastic about these questions, they really are deep conversations that The Hubs and I have had.  We tried to do Santa (it didn't really work, which is a post for another time... December, perhaps?) but the Easter Bunny has been a bigger success in our home, largely due to the Easter egg hunt on Easter morning, I think.  I copied the idea from my Aunt Rene`, who would hide the foil-wrapped eggs around the house and my cousins would hunt them when they woke up.  Cute and simple - my favorite recipe.

Last night when we got home from hanging with The Fam in Fresburg (as my dad calls it), I crashed on the couch immediately after watching the fourth quarter of Denver vs. Oklahoma - so sad for Denver!  They almost had it!! - probably because The Hubs always wants to watch the recap on Sports Center and I could care less.  But this morning I awoke to a distraught Pinkalicious who was out of her room before 7-0-0 (preschool code for 7am) and saw that "THE EASTER BUNNY NEVER CAME!!!!"  Once again, Quality Mom has struck leaving her daughter's love of pretend friends in her wake.  Hubs got Pinks back into bed and I scrambled for the bag of foiled eggs.  10 minutes later, they were no where to be found! Gripes!!  So at 6:45, The Hubs went zooming to the store while I scribbled a note on construction paper from the Easter Bunny.  Here it is:

Dear Monkey Boy and Pinkalicious,

When I came to your house tonight, there was Miss Elizabeth,
And I had no idea how much fun she was to talk with!
We danced around the room to our hearts' delight.
The playing and laughing lasted all night!
And before we knew it morning had come.
And on no! My job here was not yet done!!
But before I could get started hiding my eggs galore,
You came out of your room!You opened the door!
All my magic is gone. I am just a stuffed bunny.
Until 7:10, you must do something funny:
Lay in your bed with your dad and your brother.
When the coast is all clear, then will come your dear mother
To tell you it's time, the chocolate's here just for you!
Thank you, Sweet Pinkalicious!
I love you!

I left it outside her door with one of her bunnies and her plastic eggs from the school hunt just as Hubs was walking in the door with the candy at 6:58!!  He grabbed Mr. Monkey and went into her room with the stuff while I quickly hid the eggs and dove back into bed (completely forgetting my instructions in the note), texting The Hubs that I was done.  They came out and saw the chocolate trail and basket, woke me up, and started the hunt.

I was sure Miss Analytical would lecture me about my obvious handwriting on the note, and the garage door sound before Dad came into her room, but no!!  It was a mile-a-minute recap of the adventures with Party Hardy Easter Bunny who loves the cat, Miss Elizabeth, and they love to dance and they spent all their time last night having fun and then I broke the magic and the bunny couldn't do my eggs so I had to wait while she did and maybe she wanted to marry Miss Elizabeth and I don't think my stuffed bunny could do it so a stranger probably maybe broke into our house and hid all the eggs or maybe it was The Easter Bunny for reals because she loves us so much and loves Miss Elizabeth and look at all my chocolate and I will leave the blue ones for MonkeyBoy.

Holy Cow!!!!!!  A Success!!!!!!!!!!!  It is amazing to what lengths we will go to keep a promise to our child, and equally amazing that it can bring as much delight to us as to our child to see it fulfilled!

Happy (initially) Secular Easter Celebration 
to you all!! 

May we never define our days by mythical characters, but by Truth! Yet may we always celebrate with chocolate! =)