Kool-aid for Sale!!!

                                                   

I decided the one disadvantage to owning an iPhone is that my kids think they own it. The second I pick them up after work they're on my phone. It's not "Hi Mom! I missed you!" It's "Mom... can I see your phone?"

I was ok with Angry Birds, Tiger Woods Golf and even some what ok with Talking Tom; the annoying cat that repeats everything you say in an extremely annoying voice. But lately I keep getting this message: "Your Siamese cat is finished breeding" and I'm thinking, what in the hell are my kids playing, and how much did this cost me??

Apparently, the iPhone app creators, a.k.a. people with no life, have come up with a pet shop game that allows you to breed animals and sell their offspring to make a profit for the pet shop. I was a little worried I was going to witness the actual conception and delivery part of the Siamese cat litter, but luckily, that isn't part of the game.

What is this world coming too? When I was a kid I worked hard for my entertainment and money. I had to go outside, find a REAL cat on the side of the road, wait 2 minutes for it to get raped by some homeless ally cat, and then try to sell those kittens for a REAL profit. My kids are lazy and have no ambition. Tonight, I'm going to make them sell Kool-Aid on the side of the road and teach them what real kids do!

I'm an entrepreneur in the makings....

When I grow up and I’m successful, I’m going to build an adult only store. Ok all you pervy mc pervasons, not THAT kind of adult only store…. I’m talking like an adult only Walmart kind of store. Except higher class, and with smarter/better looking door greeters. And they’d probably wear pink vests rather than blue. OH! And instead of the lame smiley face, the mascot would be a unicorn.

Anyway, the reason behind my genius idea simply stems from having taken 2 boys to the grocery and/or department store ONE too many times. Is it just me? Or does anyone else turn into the “Mom from Hell” at the store? This is just a snippet of my last outing with my kids: “Carter! Stop putting your brother in a choke hold! Gunner! Stop looking up the mannequins skirts! BOYS!! If you touch ONE MORE THING we are NOT going to McDonalds after this!” (A completely empty threat however, because they know as much as I do, I’m not cooking dinner after this escapade.)

The front doors of my store will say, “NO CHILDREN ALLOWED!!” It will be a store for parents to shop in peace, without having to; A. Yell at their own kids and B. criticize other parents for letting their children scream at the top of their lungs in the middle of the store without beating them in public.

Think of how much money you will save by shopping at Adults R Us. -yes I just thought of that name mid blog post- There will be no kids throwing extra food or toys in your shopping cart. I swear my kids can meticulously place these items in the cart that I seriously don’t realize they are there until I check my receipt at home only to realize I’ve just purchased a $24.95 As Seen On TV item. Oh wait, that was the time I purchased a Shakeweight…. Scratch that, my bad!!

I’ll be collecting donations for my store starting today. Some of you Debbie Downers out there will tell me this is what online shopping is for. Don’t tear down my dreams; just give me your money!

Kudos My Hero, Leaving all the Best.....

My blog posts tend to have a lingering sense of negativity to them. Maybe it's because I'm still holding a grudge in life for never winning anything at the silent auction games all these years. I always guess the highest price and when I so call "win" the stupid thing, they want me to pay for it. That's lame!  Is this not the price is right??

Oh well, who knows where the negative side of me stems from. All I know is it's gotten me this far in life. Why change now?

But through my thick headedness and cynicism, I do have a soft spot or two in my heart. And right now, one of those soft spots is taking charge of my thoughts.

When I was a little girl, my favorite movie in the entire world was Winnie the Pooh. And my favorite place to watch it was cuddled up next to my Gramps. The day the VHS of my favorite movie broke was the worst day of any four year olds life! But Gramps came to the rescue and fixed the tape good as new! A hero was born in my eyes that day and 23 years later, I still see him as that. My hero. And not just becuase he fixed my Winnie the Pooh tape, but because he is by far one of the best men I know.

I've never left the presence of my Gramps without the chance to have heard one of his life stories. The man can talk about himself for hours. (right now my mom is singing, "Oh Lord it's hard to be humble") But even after hearing the same stories over and over, I never get tired of listening to him and soaking in his words of wisdom. Or listening to him recite some sort of poem that makes no sense to me, but sounds so perfect because of the way it can flow so effortlessly out of his mouth.

Over the past few years I've watched my Gramps battle cancer. I've watched him remain strong and encourage us as family members that everything would be ok. And through the ups and downs of the long road called cancer, he has continued to stay positive. Never getting down for a second. I think of how many times a day I mumble under my breath at how tired I am, or how bad I have it when in reality, I have it so easy.

I could go on and on about the times spent on the front porch swing watching humming birds with Gramps. Or the memories of him playing his elaborate collection of guitars and singing "every-time I go to town, them boys keep kickin my dog around" or some other old folk song he enjoyed.

I've gone through some pretty challenging trials in my life, and made some poor choices through them. My gramps has always been there to offer his advice without directing any judgment towards me and has always chosen to stand behind me and support me 100% in any decision I make. There have been so many times I've needed a shoulder to cry on and Gramps is always there to listen. And these days, if he gets tired of listening to me complain, he can just turn off his hearing aids!! ;) I am honored to have such a great man as a grandpa. You get better soon!! Love you Gramps!!

Another postcard from chimpanzees....

A friend invited me to the zoo a while ago. I hate the zoo. If I were to describe what the Hogle Zoo smells like, I'd say it stinks like a big ball of stinky elephant dung rolled in camel spit and pooped on by a chimpanzee who ate bad Mexican food the night before.

Why people enjoy walking side by side with others to look at caged and smelly animals is beyond me. And to make it worse, I always get stuck next to the crazy mom who has her kids on a leash when we are looking at the zebras and have to hear things like this: "no Windsong Bird Feather, (her granola childs name) Zebras are white with BLACK stripes!" Or "oh look Mary Jane! The Zebras are playing leap frog!" 

With my heightened sense of stress overwhelming me because I feel like I'm literally in Hell, it takes every ounce of energy to not slap that mom in the face then tell little innocent Mary Jane that those Zebras are NOT playing leap frog, they are making a baby. A little stinky zebra baby! So it too can live in a cage and have no privacy too poop, sleep, eat and play "leap frog."

Please don't think I'm some big "animal rights" hippie now. I just REALLY don't like the zoo. My kids won't be missing out either, they can watch the same thing from the comfort of my 68 degree home that smells like a cinnamon scentsy on Animal Planet! 

Diet Schmiet!!

There aren't too many things I'd say I'm successful at. In fact, the only thing I can even think of I am successful at is spending money on things I don't need. Like the shake weight, zumba for the Wii, protein shake mix..... Are you seeing a pattern? (although I'd totally buy a thighmaster if I ever run into one again! That Suzanne Summers had some hot legs!)

I've never been a very disciplined person. I've never had the motivation to run a marathon or climb Mt. Everest, hell; it's an accomplishment to climb my stairs! But I do get on these crazy health kicks from time to time and think "hey! I'm gonna work out and get healthy!" I'll lay in bed at night and plan my meals for the next day, and even convince myself I am going to wake up early and work out. Below is an outline of how those days pan out:

5:00 rolls around, my alarm goes off. "It won't kill me if I only work out for 45 minutes instead of an hour, I'll just hit snooze once.... 9 minutes later "a half hour is better than nothing!" snooze again.... 9 minutes later "Forget the gym" I think. "I'll do it after work." I hit snooze 3 more times, finally force myself out of bed, and get ready in record breaking time. I do however, remember I'm on a diet so I grab something healthy and head out for work.

By noon I've only managed to snack on 8 unsalted almonds and a string cheese so I reward myself with piece of grilled chicken and side salad and maybe a Hershey Kiss for lunch. By the time 5:00 rolls around, people are literally questioning if that loud noise is from my stomach, or the organ in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I stop at the gas station and spend $25.00 on anything and everything in sight because if I don't eat NOW I just might die of starvation! Ethiopians have eaten more than me today! The gas station attendant can see the desperation in my eyes and gives me an extra Slim Jim for free.

I make it home just in time for the guilt of the drive home binge to set in and decide to cancel the Papa Johns order I placed on my way home and settle for whatever it is my neighbor Saunie has made, because there's no way I'm eating that salad for dinner I’d planned out the night before!

By bed time I've either spent the entire night at the baseball park or laid on the oversized lovesack and watched Dexter all night and completely forgotten about my plans for the gym. I crawl in to bed determined tomorrow will be a better day......

5:00 rolls around, the alarm goes off, and instead of snooze, I just reset the whole damn thing to 6:30. Wake up, get ready and grab a package of Hostess White Powdered Donuts (which I'm convinced are laced with crack) and a diet coke from the Mav, because dieting is for the birds!!

My arms hurt!

Is it just me or does anyone else lay in bed at night playing on their phones? Checking the last Facebook or twitter comments for the night, finishing a game of words with friends etc.... Like you just might not sleep as well if you don't see that someones posted that their kid took a crap on the "big boy potty" before you doze of into a nights slumber. And all the while you've already taken your contacts out, forcing your arms to scrunch up to the equivalent of a Velociraptor to get your phone close enough to see it, just to drop it on your face a couple times.

Heaven forbid you sit up to finish the ever so unimportant task you're putting more effort into than you do all day at work. Right? 

As my arms begin to feel as if they may either; A. Stay in this awkward position forever or B. Fall off, I decide I like the length of my wingspan. I send a couple of texts, check my email and set my alarm, just in time to drop my phone on my head one more time! 

Please tell me I'm not alone in this. And if I am, welp, I've done more embarrassing things and I don't really care! 

In your FACE June Cleaver!!

It’s no wonder I hate dramatic people. If I cried as a child my dad would beat me. Ok, maybe not beat me, but he sure as crap wasn’t going to put up with any sort of whining. Unfortunately my kids have to put up with me having the same approach at parenting. When they fall down and get hurt I’m yelling at them to rub some dirt on it, or to suck it up and be a man! Yes, I know they are only 9 and 5. I’m the mom in the stands at a baseball game that screams “There’s no crying in baseball!” Which would be ok, but I have a bad habit of yelling that at other people’s children too. The opposing team is never excluded from this either.

I’m ok with the weird stares from other parents as I tell my kid to walk it off after being pegged in the head with a baseball. I may not be the best role model to my kids, or even be very sympathetic but my kids like me.  At the end of Carter’s baseball game a few weeks ago, my mom and I brought the kids pizza and cupcakes to celebrate their win. One of the other players said to Carter, “your mom is so awesome!” Carters reply to this was “yeah, I know! And she’s not even 30!”  

Who knows what will happen to their opinion of me 3 years from now when I turn the big 3-0. At that point Carter will be close to being a teenager and will hate me anyway. But for now, I’ve got 3 years left of my children reminding the world I’m not 30. Let’s just hope not too many of them are very good at math and figure out how young I was when I had Carter…