Life According to Me

The pantry is cleaned and organized... for now.  It's been a while since I've made it to the back of the shelves. A couple cans of Spaghetti O's that expired in 2007 are proof. Not sure I remember anyone even liking Spaghetti O's? While in there, purging, I discovered something about myself. I am a crappy grocery shopper. Extra crispy, crappy. My pantry is stocked like a fall out shelter for the random and obscure . There's cans(notice this is plural??!) of coconut milk, panko bread crumbs, smoked oysters, mac and cheese, chipotle peppers in adobo, black licorice extract, lavender extract... And 10 cans of italian stewed tomatoes?! Whatever I was planning on making never came to fruition..... MANY TIMES Someone needs to put down the Bon Appétit....and walk away quickly....now.....forever.

The mailman hates us.  Really, I think he positively loathes us.  We never collect our mail. Well, maybe "never" is a slightly exaggerated word.  Hmmmm. Nope.  I believe "never" is pretty accurate .  Our mailbox is one of those little community "mail apartments"  and it is eight houses up the street from mine. When I was  a kid, our mailbox was on/attached/connected to   our house.  Those were the days.... Mailman Russ....has had it.  In the mail box he leaves us a note. A very official looking note. I can tell he's fantastically pissed, because the words are written in all caps, and he has pressed so hard with the pen he almost broke through the skin of the paper. YOU!! CAN!! GET!! ALL!! OF!! YOUR!! MAIL!! AT!! THE!! POST!! OFFICE!! So.  Nothing changes.  We still suck.  And never check our mail.

I am a Mom. My purse contains fruit snacks, granola bars, hand sanitizer, and crumbs. My car contains gum wrappers, Monster cans, Star Wars guys and crumbs. My pockets contain the broken arm of a Star Wars guy, his light saber, a small rock and crumbs. My brain contains tonights dinner menu, the grocery list, a memo to return a movie(i'll still forget) and crumbs. My belly contains coffee, Monster, wine, dark chocolate and crumbs. My life contains chaos, fun, frustration, happiness, disappointment, love... and of course....crumbs.

Kid two is receiving and award at school. The award is for "Honesty". His teacher sent home a note stating this fact. At the bottom she wrote: "Honesty" I do not tell them. The meaning of this footnote is lost upon me, as I holler... " HEY!!! YOUR"RE GETTING THE HONESTY AWARD ! WHOOOOOHOOOOO!!" "I am ??! Cool!" Little celebration dance around the room... I, then have another look at the at the personal message..... and understand it. Crap. It's a secret. A surprise. Shhhhhh. SHE DOESN'T TELL THEM. Crap. Crap. Crap! I panic, and give him this brilliant advice.... "You aren't supposed to know! Don't tell anyone you know!! If someone asks, tell them you don't know!!! Lie about knowing. ..!" Way to go,  Abe Lincoln.

I'm rarely a back seat passenger in my own car. I drew the short straw, and found myself in the third row of my gigantic suv. What I discovered horrified me. This place also known as "the way back", is Kid One's domain. It's his lair. He sits in the middle like " The Navigator " with his iPod on, headphones in, and checked out of this universe. There is a rule in mi coche. I announce it in my very best flight attendant voice.... "Upon departing, please take all personal items with you. This includes any food wrappers or drink receptacles. Thank You." My discovery has brought me to the conclusion, that Kid One has never.... probably never, ever , heard the exit speech. There are burger wrappers, fruit snack wrappers, gum wrappers, ancient, petrified french fries. Crumpled homework papers, shoes, and a hat collection. DVD's, a cap gun, mechanical pencils.... It's like "under his bed" decided to live in my car. ...

Daylight savings. How does one hour breed such disarray?! It takes me a couple of weeks to get it right...to acclimate. Falling back. Feels like bliss, gaining those 60 minutes in slumberland. But it's dark by four. Starting dinner at three is sacrilege! PLUS it feels slightly pathetic havng a glass of wine before five o'clock. Springing forward. That precious hour gone . Stolen. Monday feels like Tokyo and I am Godzilla. Just a big, angry lizard-monster-thing plowing through the day. It stays lighter later, and and this is a delight, but it makes me feel like a slacker. Before I know it, it's 7 o'clock, and dinner is still at the grocery store. Damn. Cereal it is. If it's good enough for breakfast, it's good enough for dinner. There I am, in the the kitchen, shaking the box, calling kiddie kiddie kiddies ! Hmmm....this feels familiar....

Here's why we're not getting a dog....or a hermit crab or sea monkeys. If you follow these postings you know we have cat. He lives outside. While he is clever and resourceful at finding things to munch on, we do feed him. Well... I feed him.  And that brings me to my point. It's been at least a week since one of the kids has feed EL Gato.  I've been doing the job. Kid one is online, saving the world from zombies. Kid two is organizing his toy buckets. "Ummm...did anyone feed Oreo today?" Or yesterday or the day before or EVER??? Silence. I can hear their thoughts knocking around in their heads.... Finally, kid one is brave enough to speak. " I did it the other day." Ahhh...yes. Let the finger pointing begin . Not wanting to be left out of the carnival game, kid two throws in his buck fifty. "Well, I do it all the time." Really??? Cuz I'd bet my next hair appointment that you are bot...