you me and five bucks

Good Grief

2010-01-26T17:14:00.000-08:00

Probably the number one question I get asked is, "How's Lily?" And the number one response I give is, "Crazy, as usual." People probably think I'm exaggerating, or embellishing, as storytellers are wont to do. But really? My daughter is crazy. (This is where Steve would chime in, "She got it from her mama, she got it from her mama!") Not only is she a stubborn, hot-tempered little drama queen, but she's crazy obsessed with me. Like fatal attraction obsessed. Like, will scream bloody murder outside and stick her fingers underneath the door while I use the bathroom obsessed.

I'm not trying to give you TMI, but here's a bathroom story for you. I had to use the bathroom, you see. So, I thought I'd be slick and sneak away while she was engrossed in Sesame Street. Not two minutes after I closed the door did I hear her pitter patter down the hall. Uh oh, here comes trouble. Then she was at the door knocking. And when I didn't open up, she started with the tears, etc. This was not the ideal bathroom-using situation, but I blocked out her cries and just tried to handle my biz, as my brother would say.

Then it suddenly got quiet. Now, any parent knows that when your kid is quiet, your kid is up to something. I perked up my ears and I heard the bathroom trash bin rattle around. And here is where I entered the Five Stages of Good Grief.

1) Denial

She is NOT trying to get into the garbage can right now! I cracked open the door and peeked out to see that, oh yes she WAS trying to get into the garbage can. She doesn't know I see her, but once I bust her out, she'll stop real quick. "Lily! Do not touch." She looked over at me, then turned back to the garbage unfazed.

2) Anger

So I tried playing the disciplinarian. "Lily, NO! NO, Lily, that's dirty! Lily! Mommy said NO! LILY, I SAID NO! LILY!!!" I used my most commanding, threatening, no nonsense voice. I gave her the evil eye. I wagged my finger. She paused for a quick second, weighed her options, then kept on keeping on.

3) Bargaining

When it was evident that she knew I was in no position to physically stop her, I turned to pleading. "Lily, no sweetie. Noooooo. Do you want to watch Sesame Street? Go watch Elmo. Be a good girl, Lily. Okay, you can keep that Old Navy tag you dug out. Now go watch TV, honey."

4) Depression

Homegirl didn't hear a word I said. She knew there was nothing I could do at that particular moment. She had me right where she wanted me. I sat there, helpless, thinking, All I want is to handle my biz in peace for once in my life. Is that too much to ask? Why oh why didn't I close the bedroom door?

5) Acceptance

Then Lily pulled an old toothbrush out of the trash. "Lily, no! Dirty! Give that to Mommy!" I reached out my hand and she sprinted away as fast as her little legs could carry her. I sighed. Fine. Whatever. So what if she puts it in her mouth? She eats off the floor, what's the worst that could happen? I let it go and let her be.

Well, after one final "LILY, DON'T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOOOOOOOOOOOOOUTH!!" that echoed through the house...and fell on deaf ears, I'm sure.

Those Be Fightin' Words

2010-01-25T21:52:00.000-08:00

Do you have an iPhone? If you do, you've probably heard of the game app Words. Maybe you're addicted to it like my brother, who got Steve addicted, who got our nephew and a handful of our friends addicted. Steve's not into video games or sports, so I guess I really can't complain about the amount of time he's spends playing Words. I did have one warning for him though. When I found out that he could play against other random iPhone users, and that they could even text each other, I said to him, "Don't be trying to chat with any girls." What? It's standard protocol around here. I'm not trying to front - I'm crazy jealous and I'm not going to make any apologies. It is what it is.

Do you see where this is going?

So one day I go on Steve's phone to check out this Words game and see who he's playing. And here's what I see on the front page:

Panda played the word HUGS. Your move.

So I click on the game and see that four words have been played.

Steve started with UNWED. That was his first mistake right there.

Panda added WIFE. Yeah, he gots a wife, chick.

Steve added LOVE. Oh no he didn't.

Panda added HUG. Mutha effa.

Them I noticed that homegirl also sent Steve a text. "Is there a theme going on here?" Oh hell to the nah!

Poor, unsuspecting Steve comes out of the room and I POUNCE.

Me: Who the hell is Panda and why is she all texting you?

Steve: Huh? Who?

Me: PANDA. You're playing her on Words.

Steve: Oh. Some random player.

Me: Why do you guys have this love theme going on?

Steve: Love theme? Whatever. Just calm down...

Me: I'm serious! Even SHE thinks there's a theme. Why is she texting you?

Steve: She texted me? I didn't see a text.

Me: Sure you didn't. I told you not to be talking to any girls.

Steve: How do you know 'Panda' is a girl.

Me: Helloooo, 'Panda'?? That's totally a girl.

Steve: But there's lightning bolts. It could be a guy.

Me: I don't think so.

Steve: Babe, it's just a game. I didn't see any text. And those are just the words that came from the letters we were dealt.

Me: I don't care what letters you got, don't be spelling love words with some chick.

Steve: *exasperated sigh*

Now don't be all feeling sorry for Steve. He knew what he was getting himself into from day one with me. But you can go ahead and feel sorry for Panda, because Steve forfeited the game right after his exasperated sigh, and she/he was probably all, "Damn, was it something I said?"

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

2010-01-14T16:35:00.000-08:00

So, I never told you this, but X had his first girlfriend a few months ago. I wanted to let some time pass before I talked about it, and I don't want to be all up in his business, but it was kind of crazy how I reacted to it all.

First of all, it's annoying having a teenager. I mean, it's bad enough when they start giving you attitude and treat you like you're the most exasperating person in the history of the world. But then I have to start chauffeuring him around? Like I don't have better things to do with my time? And I have to drag my crazy toddler along with me who loathes being in the car?

So all of a sudden X gets an active social life, trying to hang out with his friends every chance he gets. I'm driving all over town taking him to the movies, to the mall, to Sweet Sixteen parties and all that. And he starts talking about people I never heard of before. And he starts telling me about girls. No big deal.

But then I pick him up one night and he tells me about a girl he met at the party. Then he goes on to chat it up with her every day. Next thing I know, he's trying to go on his first date. As in, first date ever in his life. They hang out at a football game, Steve picks him up afterward, and on the way home they pick up ice cream.

So there I am doing my little happy dance for a surprise ice cream cone when he starts telling me about his date. How he put his arm around her. How they held hands. And I'm sitting there, robotically eating my ice cream, but I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then a few days later he asks her to be his girlfriend. And, no joke, I cry.

Yes, I realize that's totally ridiculous. And yes, I feel like a lame ass. But, DUDE. In the span of like two weeks, my son had his first date, first girlfriend, and first kiss? My head was spinning. I mean, his first date/girlfriend/kiss in his sophomore year? That's not bad at all. But, couldn't he take it down a notch? Let me catch my breath real quick?

Talking to Steve about it later that night I realized it was just the pain of letting go. The realization that my little boy is not really a little boy anymore. That these are his first steps of breaking out from under my wing. That I needed to cut the damn umbilical cord already. So, yeah, I loosened my grip a bit.

Then about a week later they broke up. And I cried again. What? It was my baby's first heartbreak. I know, don't look at me like that. As Steve would say, I'm a Smother Mother.

The Last Laugh

2009-12-21T10:35:00.000-08:00

Steve and I enjoy expressing our disapproval and exasperation over how lame some TV commercials are these days. It's like a favorite pastime for old married folk who fall asleep on the couch by 9:30 on a Friday night. We can't stand those dumbass White Gold commercials. They seriously make me cringe; I usually avert my eyes when those commercials play. And stop already with those Swifter commercials with the stalker mops and brooms. The first one was tolerable I guess, but now it's just embarrassing. And I love Old Navy, but those commercials with the mannequins are so lame. Really? Talking mannequins?

So the other day Steve was waiting in line at Old Navy, behind a lady with a stroller. A man approaches Steve and the lady, and says, "Are you in line?"

They reply yes. Then the man says, totally deadpan, "But they're not real," and points in front of them.

Steve and the lady turn to look, only to see that they've been standing behind a small cluster of Old Navy mannequins the whole time. I like to imagine the mannequins thinking, Who's lame now, suckaaaa?

Touché, Old Navy, touché.

Mmmmm, Whatcha Say?

2009-12-05T16:45:00.000-08:00

So the other day I was busy being at the beck and call of certain bossy little girl, when I randomly got a text from Steve: "Hey...I love you so much."

That made my day, yo. I love getting texts like that, knowing that he's thinking about me. And I'm not an affectionate type of girl, but when he got home later that day, I was feeling a little lovey dovey. Which, for me, means that I didn't push him away when he tried to hug me.

Me: Hey, what made you send me that text earlier?

Him: I was thinking of you.

Me: What made you think of me?

Him: I was listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend.

Me: WHAT?!?!

And then I lunged at him. True story. And while I was tackling him, he tried to explain.

Him: Wait, no! That's not what I meant! I was listening to that song and thinking how I would NEVER cheat on you!

Me: Yeah right.

Him: It's true!

Me: Don't you know it's never a good idea to lead with, "I thought of you while listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend"? Cuz you know I'm not gonna hear anything you say after that, fool.

Him: True dat. My bad.

Make Yourself Uncomfortable

2009-12-01T08:26:00.000-08:00

I asked some friends recently, "How comfortable is 'too comfortable' in a relationship?"

So, whenever I'm feeling especially whiny, I've been known to complain that Steve doesn't compliment me enough. But really? I'm not giving him much to work with these days. Half the time I'm walking around with crusty baby food in my hair and on my clothes, and I usually don't even bother wiping it off anymore because five minutes later grubby little hands will be all up on me again. Lily's grubby little hands, that is. Not Steve's. Well, sometimes Steve's too. And that's why I feel like it doesn't matter that my daily uniform at home is PJ's and permanent bed head. That I don't shave my legs unless they're going to make a public appearance. That I probably share way too much info about my bodily fluids and functions with my husband. I've always heard it's good for a wife to maintain a little bit of mystery, make my man believe that I was born with two separate, perfectly shaped eyebrows and that my skin naturally smells like cucumber melon. But the jig is up. Steve has seen it all...and it hasn't scared him away.

I like that I'm comfortable enough around Steve to be myself, warts and all. But I do think there is a such thing as "too comfortable," and I think I crossed that line six years and 25 lbs. ago. I could step up my game a little bit. Close the door when I use the bathroom. Run a brush through my hair. Something. Help him remember that I'm a bad mamma jamma, not just a pajama drama mama.

My Space

2009-11-25T17:00:00.000-08:00

I love checking out other people's work spaces - desks, offices, studios. It's like getting a little peek into their world. Do their desks look like a hurricane blew through, or are they anal retentive like me where there's a place for everything and every thing's in its place? It's interesting to see what little personal mementos they keep nearby. Who is featured in their photo frames? What's their taste in art? What things might they have around that motivate or inspire them? Do they like to keep a vase of fresh flowers on their desk, or motivational quotes hanging on the walls, or a board filled with magazine cut outs.

I think everyone should have stuff in their workspace that inspires and motivates them.

Last weekend I redid my space.

I moved to a little nook off the kitchen since it was they only place left in the house for me. But I like it because I'm next to the huge sliding door that leads to our backyard, so lots of natural light.

My wall o' coffee. I'm obsessed with coffee, if you couldn't already tell from the name of this website. I love collecting coffee art and hanging it around my desk to inspire me in my writing. Like my own private coffee shop.

So, everything in my space is there for a reason.

The basket is the exact shade of my favorite color

I'm not particularly fond of flowers, except when arranged into a little nosegay. I like 'em, but not enough to bother with fresh flowers, hence the fake topiary. Still pretty.

I carry my calendar and notebook with me at all times. I am obsessed with calendars and notebooks. For real.

I like to keep my favorite books on hand for inspiration. The Bible because my faith (however fickle) is important to me. Books about the craft of writing and a few of my favorite novels. Then I have a collection of books about women in fashion since I study fashion like art. But also, I admire these women because of how strong they are and how hard they work at doin' their thang.

And there on the shelf below are more notebooks and calendars. It's a sickness, I tell you.

Here I have two of my favorite rummage sale pieces. I love buying things at rummage sales because you can find pieces at great prices that are rare and have character. The topiary, desk chair, and blue armchair in the pictures above are also all from rummage sales.

On the shelves on the left side of my desk is where I keep all my stationary...yet another obsession of mine. As much as I love email, nothing beats a handwritten note. I also prefer paper calendars over electronic and good old fashioned books over the Kindle. Sometimes it's good not to be plugged in all the damn time.

I'd love to see your work space. Maybe even feature it here. Leave a link in the comments, or email me at si@youmeandfivebucks.com.

Girls Night Out

2009-11-24T17:21:00.000-08:00

A much needed night out with the girls. Starbucks was packed, so we brought our coffee over to the bookstore down the way. The only open spot in the whole place was tucked in the corner, surrounded by people quietly reading and tapping away on their laptops. We tried our best not to be disruptive, but we're pretty sure they probably all hated us as we giggled and took camera phone pictures of each other and pretty much just acted a fool. Good times.

Mixed Messages

2009-11-18T11:22:00.000-08:00

So, I heard good things about Google Voice and decided to sign up. A while back we disconnected our home phone to save money since we only really use our cell phones anyway. But there are times you'd rather not give out your cell number (hello, bill collectors!), so a free Google Voice number can come in handy. It actually has a lot of cool features. Like, Google can try to reach you at different numbers - home, work, cell - while the caller holds. And when Google reaches you, you decide if you want to accept the call or not. If you send the call to voicemail, you can listen to the message as it's being recorded and still have the option of taking the call. But the coolest feature is that it can transcribe your voicemails and email them to you. Steve and I decided to test it out.

This is the message Steve left:

"Hi, leaving a message to test this out. So what you gonna say wiggidy whack, can you spell this out? Huh? Huh? I don't know. We'll see. We'll see if you can transcribe, mutha effa!"

And this is what Google Voice heard:

"Hi, leaving a message to test this out. So what you're gonna say we kitty back east of the house. I don't know, hopefully, so if you get a chance guys. Let it and."

Looks like Google Voice needs an Urban Dictionary.

Does This Bag Make My Butt Look Small?

2009-11-16T23:53:00.000-08:00

So, I got a new Coach bag for my anniversary-slash-birthday present. It's quite ginormous, but I love love love it. I need a bag that can carry all my notebooks and other junk, plus still have room to throw in snacks and diapers for Bugaboo. I don't know how girls carry around those little bags that can barely hold a Blackberry. I tried carrying a small bag once or twice, but I've come to face the fact that I'm turning into one of those little ol' ladies with the big ol' bags filled with every single thing they own, things they need to carry at all times JUST IN CASE. The one thing you leave at home is the one thing you'll end up needing, for real. That's the bag lady motto.

Anyway, everyone knows big bags are great for making you look smaller by comparison.

Fab Five: Birthday Wishes

2009-11-09T16:47:00.000-08:00

Little plans for the big day:

1) Pancakes in bed. I love me some pancakes. Aunt Jemima only. Silver dollar size.

2) Me time. I'm taking myself on a date to see Coco Before Chanel.

3) Daydream and plan. It's kind of a milestone birthday. And though I pride myself on my cynicism and facetiousness, I do partake of high cheese factor activities now and then.

4) Sushi dinner with the hubby and kids.

5) Baskin Robbins ice cream cake. White cake, pralines and cream ice cream.

I made sure Steve got the memo.

Me: Is it lame that I'm telling you exactly what I want on my birthday?

Him: Nope, makes my job easier!

Me: That's what I thought.

Daddy Daycare #2

2009-11-05T15:01:00.000-08:00

Seriously? You couldn't take her other shoe off?

Hint, Hint

2009-11-04T13:39:00.000-08:00

Just what exactly are you getting at, Weight Watchers? That I'd eat BOTH quesadillas if you didn't explicitly instruct me not to?

Yeah, you're right.

Decade

2009-11-03T16:38:00.000-08:00

2 years as BFF's + 6 years as BF/GF + 2 years as hubby and wife = 10 of the happiest years of my life.

That Funny Honey of Mine

2009-11-02T17:14:00.001-08:00

The other day Steve and I were lounging on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. He stopped at some guy movie.

Him: This is such a good movie!

Me: Dude, how many times are you gonna watch this movie?

Him: No, fool, you're getting mixed up with 300. This is Gladiator.

Me: Oh. Still boring.

Him: There's Russell Crowe. He's a good guy. His name is Something-Maximus.

Me: Gluteus Maximus?

Him (in all seriousness): Yeah, I think so.

Me: Hahahaha!

Him: What?

Me: Gluteus maximus means "butt," you fool.

Like a scene straight out of Beavis and Butt-Head Get Married.

Same Ol', Same Ol'

2009-10-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

I set a reminder on my TV for Blues Clues.

For the episode where Steve leaves for college, which I never seen.

Except Lily was asleep.

And my teenage son was like, "Did you just set a reminder for Blues Clues? For yourself?"

What? I needed closure. I never accepted Joe.

And when Steve said goodbye, I got a little teary-eyed.

Yeah, I've been gone a month, but the crazy is pretty much the same 'round here.

Daddy Daycare #1

2009-09-24T21:13:00.000-07:00

For a while we stopped using bibs for Bugaboo. She wasn't getting all that messy, and she would always pull them off anyway. But over the past couple of months she started needing at least three costume changes a day because of her less than ideal eating habits. As in, rubbing food in her eyes, through her hair, in her ears. Pouring drinks down her shirt and into her lap...anywhere but in her mouth. So we bought some bibs that go over her head like a shirt so she can't pull them off. They work really well. When I remember to wash them. And when I forget? I come home to this...

I better not forget to buy diapers or I'm afraid what office supplies Daddy might resort to next.

She Who Shall Not Be Named

2009-09-20T00:13:00.000-07:00

Been quite busy. At the beck and call of a certain someone. Not naming any names or anything. But she's the cute one with the pigtails. (Baby's first pigtails!)

Outside In

2009-09-09T22:55:00.000-07:00

This morning, while at the hospital waiting for the doctor, I noticed these cool ceiling panels. I couldn't stop gazing at them. All around me doctors and nurses were bustling around, machines were beeping, life was buzzing. My mind was filled with things to do, places to go, and people to see. But those ceiling panels brought a little of the peacefulness of outside, inside. It felt like the good ol' days when I used to lay on the grass under a shady tree and just chill out. It was nice while it lasted cuz life is a bit more crazy than usual these days.

I need those panels for my house and office for the days when I just can't get away.

Super Woman

2009-09-02T21:01:00.001-07:00

I can't remember if I mentioned here before how my brother introduced Steve and I to Prison Break, and how we immediately got hooked. How we would watch four episodes a night, and how we finished four seasons in like two weeks or something crazy like that. And it was no secret that a big draw for me was Wentworth Miller, a man so very handsome that he booted Zac Efron from the number one spot in my heart real quick like. I mean, number one imaginary boyfriend spot in my heart, since my hubby has the real world number one spot of course.

My brother has since introduced us to Heroes. Yes, we know we're late jumping on the bandwagon. The guy at Blockbuster even chastised us - "You're barely starting now?" - when we went to rent the first DVD. I actually did try to watch the very first episode when the series premiered way back when, but I stopped watching at the first sight of a chopped off head. I'm a scaredy cat, remember? But Steve really wanted me to start watching the DVDs with him, so I just cover my eyes a lot and he tells me when it's safe to open them. Can I just say how much I love Hiro? He is the most adorable thing ever.

Me: So, of all the Heroes, what power would you want?

Steve: Um...flying! How 'bout you?

Me: I don't know. At first I thought that one chic's power of persuasion. But then I thought, who do I need to persuade that badly?

Steve: True dat.

Me: I definitely don't want Niki's split personality. What kind of power is that anyway?

Steve: You already have that power, babe.

Touché.

Scaredy Cat

2009-08-31T15:50:00.000-07:00

So, I had an experience at the dentist on Saturday.

Let me just preface this story by admitting up front that I'm a scaredy cat. I know this. I'm scared of the typical stuff like bugs and mice, of the dark and of scary night time noises. I cover my eyes and mute the volume if even just the preview for a scary movie pops up on TV, and my legs tingle with fear whenever I step foot on a balcony or drive across an overpass. We all have our little fears, right?

I do, however, have a not so little phobia of needles. This fear is pretty legit since I usually get stabbed no less than three times for simple blood tests because they can never find my veins. The nurses like to joke, "Do you have any veins in there?" Every single time. While they dig the needle around in my arm. Hardy har har. When I went into labor I was retaining water like a mo fo and then they really couldn't find my veins, so they had to poke me up and down my arms, hands, and even my feet! Finally they had to use one of the main veins in my wrist, which is an uncommon and painful procedure, so they had to stick me with one needle to numb the pain of the second needle!

Still, it's not unusual to be scared of needles. But combine my fear of needles with my claustrophobia? That's when I get street rat crazy, for real.

I'm crazy claustrophobic. Crazy like I think I'm going to suffocate even if I just have a stuffy nose. Crazy like, while flying back from my honeymoon in Hawaii, all I kept thinking was, "I can't breathe. I can't breathe! There's not enough air in here for all of us! Every one's breathing up all the air!" and "Are the flight attendants trained to handle someone who is about to freak the eff out? Cuz I don't think they're ready for me."

Fear of needles plus fear of suffocation equals irrational fear of the dentist. I normally avoid the dentist at all costs unless I'm literally crippled with pain, and even then I've been known to take Valium before my appointments so I can calm the eff down. That kind of irrational. One time I had a deep cleaning done and on my way out the receptionist asked me, "So, how'd it go?" To her surprise, tears started rolling down my cheeks. A bit dramatic, no? Welcome to Steve's world.

So, I had to get some fillings done on Saturday. I was cool in the days leading up to my appointment, and on the drive over that morning, and even as they sat me in the chair. But as soon as they started applying the topical cream to numb my mouth, my brain started shouting, "Needle coming! Needle coming! Mayday!" Admittedly, the actual pain of the needle is practically nothing. But the thought of the needle is what gets me every time. So, as the dentist started poking around, I tried to distract myself. Tried to think of something else, anything else. But all I could think was, "Needle. Long, sharp needle. Long, sharp needle piercing my gums." And then water from the air/water thingy kept pooling up a little in my throat, making me feel like I was drowning. Suffocating! Nevermind that I could still breathe perfectly well through my nose. And that's when my arms started tingling, a sure sign that things were about to get ugly. But just as it was getting down to T-minus two seconds to street rat crazy, it was all over.

On my way home, Steve texted me, "How'd it go?" Then a split second later, "Don't cry."

I Even Embarrass Myself Sometimes

2009-08-27T23:03:00.000-07:00

I called Steve while on my way to meet him for Bugaboo's doctor appointment.

Me: Where are you?

Him: Still at home, getting ready to go.

Me: Oh good! I forgot her immunization card.

Him: Good thing I didn't leave yet. Where is it?

Me: It's either in the safe or in my Troy Bolton suitcase.

In my defense, it was a gift.

Did I Do That?

2009-08-26T21:38:00.000-07:00

So the other day I sent an email to my boss. When she responded, I scrolled down through the email thread to refresh my memory on a few points, when I saw a link to my other blog randomly sitting amidst the back and forth replies. My mind screamed out WTF?! and I had a mini panic attack.

How did that get on there?? Oh my gosh, please tell me she didn't notice it. Tell me she didn't notice it! She didn't notice it. She would have mentioned something, right? She totally didn't notice it.

I convinced myself that she didn't notice the link, and then I promptly forgot about all about it.

You have an inkling where this is headed, don't you?

So I was at a work thing, chatting with her about this and that.

Boss Lady: So, I read your blog.

Blink. Blink blink.

Cue nervous laughter.

Me: You did?

Boss Lady: Yeah, I thought you were trying to show me something. I thought you were linking to something having to do with your presentation.

And cue guilty rambling.

Me: Oh my gosh no I don't know how that got there it wasn't in the sent message but then I saw it in your response and I was like "how did that get there" and I have no idea how that got there but I totally didn't mean to send that link to you.

Boss Lady: Well, I read through some of it...

Me: Shoot me now.

Boss Lady: What?

Me: What? Oh, nothing.

Boss Lady: Anyway, I'm totally with you.

Me: You are?

Bossy Lady: Right there with you.

Me: Really? Cuz I feel like you're totally gonna fire me. Since that blog is about having a fickle faith. And I work at your Catholic school. And I'm your Religious Activities Coordinator. I would totally fire me.

Except I didn't actually say that last part because I'm not trying to give her any ideas. Also, I don't think I deserve to be fired. Secretly and unfairly judged perhaps, but not fired.

Lesson of the day: anything you write on the internet can and will be read by the very person you hope doesn't read it. I wonder how/if that will affect what I write going forward.

Women's Intuition

2009-08-25T20:57:00.000-07:00

So the other day during my weekly visit to Target - my most favorite place in the whole world, my happy place - I came across the new Hollywood Intuition by Jaye Hersh section and immediately started salivating. High fashion for low income. Yes please!

The bags were cute, the necklaces were stylish, I loved the scarves...but the studded bracelets? I HAD to have them. They were sold out, naturally. I could only gaze longingly at a picture of them hanging on the wall. I may or may not have went searching for them at one or two or three other Targets. I might have called around harassing Target employees with "please check the racks" and "did you look in the stock room?" and "but the website says you have some in stock!" It's possible that I got so desperate that I ended up buying the designer version of the bracelet, thus defeating the whole purpose of "designer style at guilt-free prices."

Or something like that.

Anti-Mom Antic #10

2009-08-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

So Bugaboo has been eating mushy baby food for over six months now and she's so over it. Been there, done that. Now she only wants food she can actually sink her teeth into. However, for some strange reason she doesn't want anything to do with the little Gerber jars of diced carrots or pre-packaged meals for toddlers. And since four out of the literally five meals I cook for the boys are not appropriate for her wee baby palate, it wasn't looking good for me. I may have mentioned once or fifty times how I loathe cooking. So, faced with the prospect of having to cook not one, but TWO meals each night, I seriously contemplated feeding her Cheerios and bananas until she was ready for steak. But in the end I sucked it up and thought to myself, WWMomsD?

I bought some raw veggies, which is an experience in and of itself as the only veggies my family is used to is of the canned and/or frozen variety. Then I went online to learn how to prepare them. Yes, Google teaches me how to steam veggies and hard boil eggs. And since I don't even have the equipment to bake a cake much less for stove top steaming, and since microwaving was the easiest method resulting in the least dishes, I went the microwave route.

I threw a few carrot sticks in a bowl, added a dash of water, covered with plastic wrap, and popped it in the microwave. Set for five minutes. It didn't take long for sizzling sounds to start up. I wasn't concerned. Then I heard some popping. And when I finally rushed over to the microwave, I saw a flame AND my life flash before my eyes! Fortunately for me and any innocent bystanders in the vicinity, the flame extinguished as soon as I turned off the microwave. But the bowl and the carrots were goners.

Since Bugaboo still had to eat, I tried again. But, I kid you not, I was shaking in my boots the whole time. This time I heated them up in thirty second intervals while peeking out from behind the fridge in case they burst out in flames again. But the carrots were steamed to perfection and no (additional) bowls or people were harmed in the process.

And Bugaboo was none the wiser.