Trick or Treat Savings & Loan

When I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to have our mom buy a Barbie costume for me for Halloween.  You know the one...Barbie was garbed in a shocking pink, plastic dress that tied behind the neck with drawn on faux pearls and it came with a mask that smelled like animal carcass (or so I've been told...) that stayed on for about 12 minutes before the elastic snapped and your mom had to strap it to your head with an old shoelace.  The one that was made ENTIRELY of plastic and your parents held their breath as you skirted every staircase, brushing right past the neighbor's lit pumpkins, for fear you'd burst into flames or melt into a puddle of pink plastic right before their very eyes.  Nope, never got that pink Barbie costume. 

But now I know why.  They were expensive.  I've never understood paying more than $10 for a Halloween costume. It's against my religion. My storage area houses a Buick sized bin that contains a plethora of clearanced Halloween costumes from years past. When my kids start tossing around ideas of what to be for Halloween, I send them down to the bin. "But mom, the Cad Bane costume with super reflective head gear and laser blasting pistol isn't IN the bin" I remember growing up wanting nothing more than for my mother to buy me that plastic Barbie costume. She would retort with, "Can Barbie wear this pillowcase, threadbare towel, and make-shift cotton batting wig?" Why yes mom, that is exactly what I had in mind. But now I'm that mom. I refuse to give in to the hype of Halloween costume catalogs that show up in the mail (that I destroy before my children know of their existence) I refuse to be a patron of Halloween specialty stores for a variety of reasons (most important ones being they are fucking terrifying and horribly over-priced)  A few years ago my husband came home with store bought FULL PRICE Halloween costumes for the kids and I almost had heart failure.

Is it mean that I crush my children's childhood dreams of being a Clone Trooper or Lalaloopsy?  Probably.  But I just can't get on board with my children picking their costumes out MONTHS in advance and then dropping $40 on each one...and THEN changing their minds about what they desperately want to be.  Halloween costumes are insanely expensive.  And if you think about it, they are a colossal waste of money.  They are worn for a few hours at most, are cheap  pieces of shit that fall apart after visiting no more than six houses, are worn when it's DARK out so who the hell can even tell what the child is supposed to be, and for those of you in colder climates chances are your little princess or Jedi is going to be wearing their fluffy marshmallow coat, boots, hats, and mittens over their costumes anyway.  Why spend the money?  Or at least the insane amounts they want for some of those costumes. You can buy a whoooooooooooole lotta groceries with Halloween costume money.  The year my Mr. bought the costumes I just kept picturing the kids walking around as boneless skinless chicken breasts, pork loin, produce, and other necessary staple pantry items...when asked what my kids were dressing up as for Halloween that year, I'm quite certain I replied chicken cordon bleu with steamed vegetables, chicken alfredo lasagna with a mixed salad, and loaded baked potato soup.

So it may be mean of me to squash their visions but I DO buy Halloween costumes and then GENTLY steer my children in the direction of those costumes.  The ones happily housed in my Buick sized storage bin with pretty little clearance stickers on them.  I always make sure I buy costumes that I KNOW my kids would have a least a small amount of interest in.  I wouldn't buy a Thomas the Train in the hopes that my princess loving 4 year old would love it and want to sleep in it dreaming blissfully of Percy and Sir Topham Hatt.  I wouldn't buy a Harry Potter themed costume for my son who is convinced that he truly is a Jedi in training.  They usually get so excited by the costume overflow that they forget about the low quality high priced crap they saw at the store.  Who needs that when mom has a bucket FULL of low quality low priced crap right here???

Even though *I* never got to be plastic pink highly flammable Barbie for Halloween, I'm ok with it.  Because a few years later I DID get to wear my older sister's hand-me-down Miss America costume, complete with pipe cleaner tiara and glittered banner.  My mom made some killer costumes for us growing up...several of which she still has.  And although I DO have sewing skills, my clearance shopping skills are better.  My kids still get to dress up in some sweet ass costumes.  Considering what I have to spend each year on candy for the little neighborhood urchins (and myself because I hoard and eat half of it before October 31st even arrives) I can't be dropping $40 on ONE freaking costume, I just can't do it.  So as some parents rework their monthly budgets, revamp their household energy usage, and vow to eat nothing but ramen to ensure that Junior gets to be Boba Fett, we'll still be eating just as well as we ever do, keeping the thermostat at a comfortable temperature, and my kids will be proudly trick or treating in their costumes that I rescued from the floor at Target and purchased for 90% off.



Pintastic? Not so much...

My name is Anne and I'm a Pinterest junkie.  I have spent many hours mindlessly, blissfully scrolling through page after page of recipes, home decor, crafts, nail polish art and hairstyles that would make Frederic Fekkai jealous...that is if anyone could REALLY do that shit.

I will say that I have found MANY useful things on Pinterest, for example did you know that if you cut up a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser and drop a few pieces in your toilet that bald headed genius cleans that shit for you (literally)?     Or the perfect way to hang a picture is to use painters tape to line up the holes?  Amazing...my walls no longer look like a firing squad went ballistic in my living room.

I have found fantastic recipes as well.  Cake batter pancakes?  Hell to the yeah bitches!!  Salted caramel pretzel bark?  Sweet baby Jesus...if you haven't tried that there is something fundamentally wrong with you.  Not even kidding.  I mean seriously, if a recipe calls for TWO STICKS of butter you know it has to be fanfuckingtastic.  I love you all SO much I'll share the link because you need to make this.  And eat it all.  Immediately.  And then make more and send it to me.  It's almost my birthday.  And you love me.  Trust me. If you aren't already on your way to the store I'm a little pissed off.

But for each fabulously useful or delicious thing I've found, I've stumbled across ten times as many things that did not bring me to a near orgasmic state.  Quite the opposite in fact.  I'll admit I've looked a few things and wondered who the hell could REALLY do that or make that?  But then logic is brushed aside by pure stubbornness because if anyone can do it goddammit, it'll be ME.  I'll show all of those naysayers and make my fingernails look like an argyle covered work of art while braising a pork tenderloin, making no sew pillows for my couch, and creating breathtaking wall art for my baby's nursery...while breastfeeding...and doing a needlepoint...and mod podging SOMETHING. Yeah, not so much...

Here I am going to share with you some of my most epic Pinterest fails...the ones that I'm willing to admit to, anyway...

Homemade ice cream in a baggie...

Yeah, I should have run for the hills as soon as I realized exactly WHAT needed to happen with this here recipe.  BUT I was gigantically pregnant (and clearly oxygen was not flowing to my brain properly) we had just moved, my kids were bored out of their ever loving minds, and I wanted to spend quality time with my kids before spawn #4 arrived.  All of the above = recipe for disaster.

I should have just called a halt to proceedings when the 7 year old insisted that HE be the one to pour the half and half into the first ziploc.  Bet you can guess how THAT turned out huh?  Good thing I bought two containers of half and half.  So the 11 year old poured while the 7 year old mopped up the floor and bitched about how life isn't fair, homemade ice cream sucks, why can't we just go to McDonalds, and that mom is the devil (not certain about that part but sure sounded like it)  So THEN the 4 year old said she wanted to get the ice...well, she has a hard enough time getting ice out of the ice maker and into a cup so getting it into a floppy, uncooperative plastic bag was soooooooo not gonna happen.  But I was too fat, cranky, hot and miserable to fight her and we were having bonding time dammit.  So fast forward to 48 bazillion ice cubes all over the floor...so now I have a crying 4 year old standing in a puddle, a bitching 7 year old on his hands and knees basically just pushing half and half everywhere, and the 11 year old standing over them laughing.  I SHOULD have just called a halt to the project right then and there.  But we were fucking bonding and I was going to make homemade ice cream with my babies dammit. WITH SPRINKLES  And then came the shaking...well, if you put three children together and shaking a giant ziploc bag full of liquid is the activity of choice OF COURSE they are going to fight over it and OF COURSE the fucking bags are going to explode in the ensuing battle.  So does homemade ice cream actually turn out?  No idea...my floors are STILL sticky and the 7 year old was grinning ear to ear as I handed out cones from McDonalds.

Handprint family tree...
                        

SO cute, right?  Yeah...not the one we did.  It looked like my children were having seizures just as they were pressing their hands onto the paper.  OR have giant man-hands.  Or both.  We ended up with Godzilla-esque, rainbow smears across our family tree.  I figured that the end result would lead people to question our DNA even further so it never made it into the frame.

DIY ruffled baby shoes...
                                         

TO.DIE.FOR.CUTENESS.  I gasped when I found this one.  And rubbed my giant belly and smiled blissfully at the thoughts of my sweet baby girl toddling around in the precious little shoes that I would make for her.  I would make her some in every color, of every fabric, to match every little outfit hanging in her closet...with bows, and buttons, and flowers.  Let me just say that I MAKE CLOTHES FOR OTHER PEOPLE.  They PAY ME to sew for them.  I should have had this one nailed, right?  Something went horribly, terribly wrong.  Epically wrong (is that a word?  it should be...fuck you red squiggly line spell check)  They were not the cute itty bitty samplings of ruffly goodness you see posted above.  Mine would have fit perfectly...if my little princess had been born with 12 inch wide, webbed, flipper feet. Thankfully she was not...

Rainbow Pinwheel Cookies...
                          

When Dr. Seuss' birthday rolled around, I thought these would be SO cute for my daughter to bring in to share with her preschool class, along with a copy of The Lorax.  These are so very Seussical and mine were going to look EXACTLY.LIKE.THAT  I was going to be THAT mom...the one who walks in with my rainbow pinwheel cookies on a plate and triumphantly present them to the children who will jump around me cheering and shouting my name.  Luckily I did not tell the preschooler of my plans because they failed.  Epically so. (used it twice so now it's totally a word)  I wish I had taken a picture, but in hindsight it's probably for the best.  They were unappetizing piles of discolored turds.  Mine were not the perfectly coiled, twirled, and sprinkled puffs of color.  Mine looked like a unicorn had snacked on a Care Bear and then shit the whole mess out onto a cookie sheet and threw on some sprinkles for good measure.  Not pretty.  And if you know anything about colors, you know that all of the above colors mixed together do NOT make anything appealing, further solidifying the shit-like resemblance.  So I COULD have brought them in along with the book "Everybody Poops" but I didn't think that her teachers would appreciate that.

I have had other disasters that would make Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart cringe in horror.  Painting nails in a checkerboard pattern is NOT that easy, not all cute little mod-podged, be-ribboned, buttoned frames turn out quite so attractive (unless you tell people the preschooler made it...THEN it's adorable), certain homemade sauces are NOT meant to look like curdled, spoiled baby formula, it IS possible to burn off your own fingerprints, I won't tell you about the hairstyle I tried on my 11 year old...we're still waiting for the bald spot to grow back in, and if a project LITERALLY has your blood, sweat, and tears all over it...don't hang it on your wall.  I'm just proud of myself for actually trying some of the things I've pinned.  I've spent hours upon hours upon hours on pinterest (great way to pass the time during a 3 am feeding) and I feel like I should have something to show for it.  So while many projects have failed miserably, it's not going to stop me from wasting hours of my life pinning things, ideas, and recipes that may or may not EVER happen.  So here's to Pinterest, all of the time I've wasted pinning, and the projects that made me feel horribly worthless and inept aren't going to keep me down.  Pin on and someday I WILL find success...

P-I-L-E....PRESIDENT...

Today's scenario...I am sitting in my dining room with child #2 supervising while he writes out thank you notes from his birthday party.  When I announced that this activity must take place, he reminded me that he "said thank you when I opened the presents".  Yeah, duh.  Call me crazy or old fashioned, but I'm a firm believer in handwritten thank you notes.  But now I wish I wasn't.  Fuck it, yep, he DID say thank as he opened them.  As far as I'm concerned that is enough because this is fucking torture.  I want to take  his pencil out of his hands and stab myself in the eyes repeatedly.  I want to take this stack of fucking Star Wars themed thank you notes and slice them up and down various parts of my body inflicting horrendous paper cuts.  And then I would roll around in lemon juice just for good measure.  Then I will overenthusiastically lick the adhesive on the envelopes in the hopes that they are poisoned and will take me out of my misery.

Getting my son to do anything other than stage a battle with action figures, legos, and qtips is like getting a Republican and a Democrat to agree that Obama is doing a great job.  If I need to engage him in an activity that requires any sort of reading or writing I have to give myself a mental pep talk for hours leading up to the task.  I promise myself that I will be patient with him, use gentle reminders and soft, calming tones.  That typically lasts for about 12 seconds.  Some of my biggest frustrations are (but not limited to)...

Attention span:

He has none.  Now this is the same kid who can set up aforementioned battle and spend literally HOURS pretending the Republic is attacking the Clones (or however the hell it goes)  A pile of legos can be given undivided attention for a full day.  But if it requires reading, writing, or anything involving school he shuts down.  Practicing reading flash cards results in him rolling around on the kitchen floor, last time he was down there he was thrilled to find a stray french fry under the oven....THAT captivated his attention for at least 10 minutes.  While we have been sitting here in the dining room (we're now at over 90 minutes...with a lunch break and 5 bathroom breaks) he has thrown himself off his chair no fewer than a dozen times, blown 17 raspberries onto his arm, picked his nose with his pencil at least 5 times, crawled under the table a few times, and has tried to engage me in discussions about everything from the recipe I am using for dinner tonight to whether or not dinosaurs could run faster than his dad's motorcycle.

Patience:

I have none.  I will fully admit that.  And yes, I am a teacher.  However, I teach older students who, a large majority of the time, can be left to their own devices.  I super suck at working with younger children.  I especially super suck at working with my own young children.  I find myself grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw when we are doing something that SHOULD be a relatively easy task.  Or at least *I* think it should be easy.  Not really sure what the hell is wrong with my kids.  Idiots.

Basic skills:

I really shouldn't even comment on this because I will likely piss off other parents and educators of young minds everywhere. I do NOT like working with my children in kindergarten and first grade.  It is painful. It is frustrating. And yes, at times it makes me feel like I have FAILED my children intellectually...I feel like I should have taught them all of this before entering school, it's not for lack of trying, I found a Star Wars character that corresponds with EVERY GODDAMN LETTER of the alphabet  to help my son learn his letters...and even that didn't work, it held his interest for about 12 seconds longer than the 47 ABC books we have so that was kind of a downer for me...thankfully he has learned his letters and now, heaven help me, we're working on reading....working with beginning readers on basic reading skills SUCKS MY BIG WHITE ASS...

"buddy...you JUST read that word on the last page....and the 12 pages before that...and in every fucking book we've EVER.READ"

"just sound it out...one letter at a time...that word RIGHT.THERE...don't look at me, look at the BOOK" (trying really hard not to increase the volume of my voice)

"yep, sound it out...**IN MY HEAD: DUDE ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?????***...um, buddy P-I-L-E does not spell PRESIDENT"  Funny thing was, with that one, he was on the right track with sounding it out great, put all of the letters/sounds together and then SOMEHOW it morphed into PRESIDENT.  Fuck...well Dan Quayle DID kind of help run the country for a while so maybe he does have a chance?

It's just such a slow, painful process...GOD BLESS elementary school teachers.  I should have made it a habit to send in a bottle of SOMETHING for each of my child's teachers every Friday.  Seriously.  They must have the patience of saints, whereas I should likely have my children taken away from me because I can't even make it through a goddamn Little Critter book without wanting to cause bodily harm.

PLEASE tell me I'm not the only one???  I made it through with my oldest and she's now making straight A's and cries in heap of disappointed hormones if she gets a B.  I know things will be different with my son, he just doesn't seem to care.  He just can't be bothered but I KNOW he needs the basics to get by in life.  His teachers can't do it all unfortunately...or CAN THEY?????  Can I give up completely?  Just kidding...kind of....

No such thing...

I am a firm believer in "there is no such thing as a stupid question"  If I'm ever asked something that could possibly be considered a stupid question, yes, I may look at you like you have a penis growing out of your forehead but I will comply and answer, even if on the inside I think you're an idiot.  We are taught as children that if we want to learn something or are curious about something, we should ASK someone for enlightenment.  When did that stop being ok?  Can't adults ask questions too?

Case in point...since I'm recently knocked up, I started frequenting a few forums on a well known "baby/mom/pregnancy" oriented website.  Recently a mom there posted that she was not cut out for said forums basically because the other moms were fucking idiots.  She could not BELIEVE that some of us (actually the vast majority of moms who participate on the forum) are so uneducated as to ask such basic questions that could EASILY be found in other sources in which to educate ourselves.  Kind of thinking she has no friends in real life, no one likes her and she has no choice but to resort to books and google because no one talks to her.  So she wanted to make herself sound holier than thou and super smart because she opts to defer to the written word of so-called "experts" instead of discussing the ins and outs of pregnancy/childbirth/motherhood with other moms who have DONE IT BEFORE or are experiencing the same thing at the same time.

Don't know about you all but I like to find people who know what I'm talking about.  Like EXACTLY what I'm talking about...

"should this shit be coming out of my nipples right now?"

" is my stomach this huge because the baby is growing so rapidly or because I have such bad gas I could clear my entire neighborhood in one fart?"

"so hemorroids basically feel like a cluster of grapes coming out of my ass, right?"

Pretty sure I COULD google those things or MAYBE find them in a book, but I like talking to real women who have been there, done that.  I guess the fact that I (and many other moms) like this method of "learning" makes us uneducated shmucks.  Apparently we're all drooling idiots for wanting real time answers and responses to our concerns, no matter how repetitive or ridiculous...

"Should a foot be hanging out of my crotch right now?"

"If I push hard enough to get this stubborn poop out will the baby come out too?"

"What the FUCK!?!?!  Did I just sneeze out of my vajeej???  What is this HUGE snot looking thing??"

All valid questions...some people may read them and wonder, REALLY?  Is she serious?  But for those of us who have been through even one pregnancy knows that SO many fucked up things are going on with your body as you house your little parasite that you NEED to be able to ask someone.  You NEED to know that you are #1: not dying, #2: harming your parasite, or #3: not crazy.  Believe it or not, doctors do NOT know everything and SURPRISE SURPRISE...they've been known to give conflicting information before!  GASP!   For example, it's typically frowned upon to drink during pregnancy...pretty common knowledge.  However, imagine MY shock and oh-so-pleasant surprise when my midwife damn near prescribed a small glass of red wine a night to chill out my super spaz baby, fucking awesome.  I was told I should shy away from body shots and tequila mixers but a small glass of Pinot Noir was ok...score.  And imagine my pleasant surprise to find out (upon asking a seemingly "uneducated dipshit" question on aforementioned forum) that MANY moms have imbibed in a bit of wine during pregnancy.  Didn't find THAT in a book, bitch!

So my point is...there is no such thing as a stupid question ESPECIALLY when you're pregnant.  Get your information where ever you can, from whoever is willing to share (want to get moms talking?  ask about pregnancy, labor, & delivery!)  I'm all about googling too, but sometimes information that one finds on the internet is downright terrifying...so if you have to ASK someone, no matter HOW STUPID you think the question is, ask away!!!  Odds are pretty good that there is another mom (or several) who had the same question!  So you may be doing many a favor by having the balls to ask "is it normal to piss my pants everytime I sneeze?"