What did YOU do today?

As a mother, I do not have the privelege of participating in my annual reviews, I do not receive salary raises, or bonuses, or certificates of achievement, or even a "good job" from the boss - or anyone else in the office, for that matter. When The Mr. recieves a salary raise, or a Christmas bonus, or a play-off bonus, or a compliment at work, he doesn't rush home, pat me on the back, and say, "Well done, woman. Here is your share of my raise, because everyone knows that behind every good man is an even better woman. Let's get a babysitter and go out to eat so you don't have to cook and clean tonight. In fact, why don't you take part of my bonus and buy those sexy Laboutin pumps you've been wanting to buy." Nope. Nada. Never even going to happen (although hopefully the Mr. got that little hint back there......)


For those reasons alone, I feel it is perfectly appropriate to pat myself on the back (which is actually my polite yet smug way of saying I FEEL LIKE BRAGGING, BECAUSE I CAN.) What did you make your children for their after-school snack?? 'Cause this is what I made for mine:









Beat that, suckaz!

I have the artistic talent of a fly.

When school first started, I could not think of a single thing to send in Blake's lunch, except Lunchables (ew, gross!) I searched blogs and websites and cookbooks and the library; I stumbled upon genius: Bentos (for definitions, or better yet, pictures, go here, here and here - this last one seems the most authentic, culturally speaking.)

Unfortunately, I lack the artistic abilities that come naturally to some people - like my sister-in-law Emily, who is so artistic that everything she touches turns to gold......except, of course, for the food she eats, and the people she loves, but you get my point, right? So this is the best that I could come up with (I think I got better with each one?)

I first bought the cheap plastic divided containers, but found that it was too much space - Blake never finished even half of it, and it just didn't look as pretty if every square centimeter wasn't full of food! I was checking out Pottery Barn Kids (my favorite kids store, evah!) and found their Spencer Storage Containers at 75% off! I was in Bento heaven! I also found that Blake was very into packing his own lunch, now that I had these fun, colorful containers, and creative ways to serve him his food (I really like the cupcake pan idea, I just can't imagine any child NOT eating their lunch when served that way!) I also thought a bit more outside the box, no pun intended, when it came to his menu choices - he HATES sandwiches (seriously, the day I sent olives and cute little pb&j cutouts, he ONLY ate the olives (which, aside from carrots, is the only vegetable I can get him to eat.....oh, wait, don't tell me. Olives are actually fruits.) Apparently, my disguise wasn't creative enough.)

Now I just need to work up the motivation to make three sets every night, and let my other two sons eat their "school lunch bentos"!

Donuts.

snow day noun \‘sno-, ‘da\ : a day reserved for sleeping in and accomplishing absolutely nothing. snow days (pl)

Examples of SNOW DAY:

Snow days are boring; I decided to take my sons to experience their first “donut.”

Snow days are to mothers as overtime is to employees.

I dislike snow days.

Origin of SNOW DAY:

Middle English, from Old English too lazy to shovel (akin to procrastination, excuses, aversion.)

First Known Use:

20th century, shortly after the release of the first color television.

Point Of Interest:

“Donuts” in mini-vans are LAAAAMMMMMEEE!

What am I grateful for?

My boys. Two fun quotes from this past holiday:

"I need to grow more eyebrows." This is what Maxwell whispered to me as he sat on my lap watching, wait for it................Tangled. The only thing that could have made it better? If he had said that when "Eugene" was doing the Smolder.

"I LOVE this! This museum is AWEsome!" Courtesy of Blake, while riding the flight simulator at the Air and Space Museum. (Yes, my worst nightmare is that my children will hate museums.)


That's it folks.

I usually have the patience of a turtle.....

Actually, if you know me well enough, that statement might make you laugh. Indeed, I have what I refer to as a Zero Tolerance Policy, or ZTP. That's right. I allow for Zero, zip, nada, when it comes to time-wasting. You do NOT waste my time. Or your time. And you do NOT cut me off in traffic. Ok, so nothing will actually happen if you cut me off, but watch out if you're wasting my time. Things might get ug-uh-lee. Why am I bringing up my ZTP this morning, you ask?

I got a pretty good laugh this morning at, wait for it..............the school drop-off. If you've ever seen a status update on Facebook around 8:30am or 3:40pm, you probably think laughter at, near, or around these times is highly improbable. I HATE dropping off the kids, and I REALLY HATE picking them up after school. I am usually irate because someone (usually more than just one person, I might add,) has stopped their vehicle, gotten out and then proceeded to chat with friends and neighbors. All while their vehicle is blocking traffic - not even kidding. While I enjoy socializing (believe me, I don't think that is a waste of time,) I think that right after school when 300 other parents are also trying to pick up their 2.1 children, might not be the right time to be doing it. Anyway, that is the past, and I have started to accept the things that I cannot change (AH.HA.HA.HA.) This is how I found this morning's scenario so entertaining. Several people that I either know, or have seen around a lot, because, hey (and yes, totally stuck in the 80s dad who I see EVERY MORNING with your hair the exact same, in your same bright yellow jacket and your single diamond earring, I am speaking of you) you can't NOT develop some kind of relationship with these people you see every day, when I look like I just got out of bed because.... guess what? I just got out of bed. Anyway, back to the scenario. I turn the corner of my street, only to catch a woman I obviously don't know well, taking a corner at a speed sure to wear exactly 1.2 inches off her tire tread. Now this woman, or so I thought, has always seemed very um, I can't think of the word, but I have never seen this woman raise her voice, have never seen her laugh uncontrollably, or jump up and down with excitement, and I have never, NEVER seen her be late. So imagine my surprise when I look at the clock and realize that she is in fact probably driving her child to school (she almost ALWAYS walks) because the bell is going to ring in exactly two minutes. I guess she isn't as demure as I thought she was. As I approach the school, there is a LOT of traffic. Well, more than the usual "late" crowd anyway - which yes, I am the PRESIDENT of! I recognize another Mom whom I occasionally socialize with and sometimes, if I'm in really top-form - I beat at the games we play (that's right - I saw you this morning - dropping her off late, mwahahaha,) mostly because she tried (ok, she succeeded) to pull a left-hand turn that almost, almost cut someone off. I continued to watch (while still obeying the "rules" of morning drop-off) as more cars flowed in, and yes, this included the 80s guy, who pulled past us and then tried to cross the street, while a white mini-van tried to pass all of us, doing about 90mph, while the "rule-followers" tried to pull back out of line so that we, the rest of the "rule-followers" could pull up and drop our kids off - anyone remember cutting in line as children? Well, guess what? It continues into adulthood. Who knew? So while the blue explorer and the white mini-van duke it out over who is going to give whom the right-of-way, and the 80s dude is trying to not get run over by either one of them, the second Mom I know flips on her blinker and coolly slides into the front spot. Okay, so it didn't look cool, it looked a bit more frantic. I suppose it didn't surprise me to see that Mom number 2 is as equally ruthless and competitive at the drop-off thing as she is when playing board games. Now cue the background noise during this whole 30 second debacle: "Let's drive safely, now. Safe *BRING* driving,*BRING* everyone. Let's drive safely." - courtesy of Mr. Simpson (the gym teacher), who was apparently watching the same thing I was. Now why was I laughing? Because for the first time this year, I was NOT the bad driver. I was NOT going to be the parent who got in an accident or ran someone over. So thank you, Mom numbers 1 & 2, 80s dude, white mini-van and ford explorer for making me not feel so bad about my past driving :)

To Aurelia, on her birthday.

When the first person dies, you should remarry....and other deep thoughts.

My six year old son has been pondering life lately. Today, he has shared a great many concerns he has about life. As I was washing the dishes (and he was cleaning out the bowl from making blueberry muffins,) he said, "Grandpa needs to marry someone." "Oh," I asked, "and why is that?" "Because the first person is dead," is his simple answer. While it came as a bit of a shock to hear my mother referred to as "the first person," several other thoughts went through my head......"is the dishwasher full enough to start?" "why can't my seventeen year old brother figure out what my six year old son has already figured out?" "I hope they have mandatory all day kindergarten by the time Maxwell goes to school next year." "I wonder if Project Runway will make me want to vomit again, like last time." "I should have Blake call Grandpa and share his bit o' wisdom." "Is it time for bed yet?"




I digress.


He then shared with me the high standards he holds his Uncle Morgan to. How he is going to be just like Uncle Morgan, who is going to go to college, then get married and then maybe even have kids (does anyone else see anything vital missing from that equation? hmmmm?) Did I mention that Blake thinks Uncle Morgan is smarter than me? That Uncle Morgan knows everything? Gosh, I hope Uncle Morgan doesn't disappoint Blake.....or any of us for that matter :)


In his quest to share his knowledge, the next topic he wishes to discuss is, "There was a kid who brought a donut for lunch and he made such a big mess that he had to sit at the Manners Table." Now I have to stop here, because I need to lend you a little insight as to my frame of mind at the time. I had reluctantly put down the third and final book in the Hunger Games series to do the dishes. When Blake insists that he isn't allowed to bring donuts for lunch, I reply, "Yes, you can." He immediately and somewhat haughtily retorts, "NO! I can't!" "Yes, you can! I am your mother, I said you could take a donut with your lunch! I am your mother!" comes my equally rebellious response. Now that I know there is a manners table, alarms start going off in my head. What? The Capitol can't do that! You're only first graders! Who came up with that? President Coin? We live in the United States, the land of freedom...........Blake claims that whoever has to sit at the Manners Table has to sit there and is no longer allowed to eat. Curse you, President Snow!

I think I should go finish that book, which will hopefully put my mind at ease. I wouldn't want my child to think I am some kind of anarchist, haha!