I shouldn't have had some of those M&Ms

T'was the month after Christmas, and all through the house,Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the chocolate I'd tasteAt the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber),
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheeseAnd the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirtAnd prepared once again to do battle with dirt...I said to myself, as I only can,You can't spend a summer, disguised as a man!"
So, away with the last of the sour cream dip.Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.Every last bit of food that I like must be banishedTill all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a biscuit, not even a lick.I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie.I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore...But isn't that what January is for?Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.

Found the above on another blog couldn't resist it. Even though no one reads this blog. Maybe, I'll tell my Mom about it. And Mama will read it and then send me a feedback asking me the purpose of this. And I won't have the faintest idea what to answer.

The Best Potty Training Tool - EVER!

When my daughter was just a few days away from turning two years old we decided it was potty training time. Being a first time mom I was full of good intentions. Many were sabotaged by my dear friend Shannon. You see, Shannon was an experienced mother. After all, by the time I had my first, she had two daughters. So my aim to keep her away from sugary cereal? Sabotaged. The saboteur... Shannon of course. The weapon of choice.... Frootloops. My other good intention was keeping my delicate child safe from popcorn. Yeah, you guessed it.

But as it came to chocolate I had her swear that she wouldn't introduce my daughter to that. Shannon did keep her promise and boy am I glad she did. Because it became (upon her suggestion) a potty training tool. Every time my little flower went to the bathroom she could choose 1 mini baking m&m. And only if she correctly told me the color. And if she did a big potty she got five of those little morsels. The result? Potty training in record time. And she learned all her colors to boot.

As my friend Catherine stated : she'd potty train for chocolate any day too.

So how does this picture posting thing work anyway...

Studies in the morning. More later. I hear footsteps and this is all my little secret.

So I'm 'Old School'...

Grocery stores are marvelous places to observe people. One not only gets a front row seat in their kitchen (or lack thereof), one also has a chance to study behavior. People are often stressed and tired when there and so the behavior reflects that. Take the case of two young parents out shopping with their three year old daughter. The little girl, probably tired herself after a long day, did what all three year old children do. She kept taking items of the shelves 'just like Mommy and Daddy'. And mommy finally bent down, tore the latest acquisition out of her daughters' hands with an exasperated " Haven't I fucking told you not to keep doing that?"

Really?

Its not as though I don't cuss. The "f" word in particular is such a versatile expression. But in front of your child and even to your own child?

I had a long conversation with the husband of a close friend of mine. Turns out we have similar parenting opinions. And one thing he said really hit home... Not because it was so novel. But because he put it so succinctly. 'America is wallowing in and promoting mediocrity. The classic 'nail on the head' statement, if you ask me. Well, no one is, but anyway. Take trash like all those reality shows. Take American Idol or America's got Talent. eeeeep....

No wonder so many parents are joining the ever burgeoning ranks of homeschoolers because they cannot, in good conscience, sentence and condemn their children to those halls of ignorance. Public Schools.

Monday Monday Monday!

So Monday came after all and we are back to our comfortable routine.

The little hiccup of the morning came in the form of my sensitive first born. We use a wonderful vocabulary book called "Wordly Wise" Vol. 4. And part of each lesson includes reading a few paragraphs and answering subsequent questions. Well, she did quite poorly. Now mind you, I have a high standard for her. She is so smart and about a grade level ahead but the work today was shoddy. I suspect she was listening to the story I was reading to her brother rather than focusing on her work and it showed. Some of the sentences weren't even sentences. I pointed out each mistake and told her they needed to be redone. I also pointed out that she clearly couldn't have re-read the sentences after writing them because she would have immediately noticed the problems. Of course my daughter promptly burst into tears. She is competitive and hates not getting something right or not being praised. It may sound heartless but I flat out told her that I wasn't her cheerleading squad but her teacher and assigned her the work as homework to be completed by Friday.

Mom's a bitch.

And I wear that title with pride.

My mom was/is a bitch too. Frankly in my book that's praise. We women have to be bitches at times. My mom could be a real bitch and although I really hated her at times (especially when I was a rebellious teen) I am really grateful now.

My son too is beginning to see me as less of a cheerleader now. He is four. Time to man up. I refuse to praise a lousy artistic endevour. You know, the kind where they scribble something together in a few minutes and expect you to treat it like the latest Dali. Na ahhh. If I see something I know he put effort into and did his very best that's different. I am sure, if anyone were to ever read this blog I'd get an earful about quashing my childrens' creative development.

Das ist mir auch ganz egal....
(Figure that one out)

Sunday = Vegging out, fun and nagging little feelings of guilt

Sunday...that one little word means so much. Family time, relaxing, fun. And in the back of my mind the nagging little voice that can't be silenced. It whispers about Monday being the next day. I chides me for neglecting all the things I know I should do to make the coming week easier. Things like making a menu, shopping and cooking. Things that, when I do them, do make a world of difference. But instead I potter around, we eat a late breakfast and at 1 PM I am still in pjs. Sheesh. And you know what... I love it. I went to bed last night only at 12:40 AM. Was I industriously preparing lessons or ironing? Goodness no! I was experimenting with different aircraft in my beloved HAWX game to see which one can get me completing the the oil refinery mission. I love the weaponry I get with the Raven but the craft doesn't handle as well. The 'Frog' wasn't on my 'love-it' list. I think I am leaning towards the COSAIR. Dandy little thing handles like a corvette. Listing to me... I am 40 for Pete's and talking like a 17 year old game addict.

Gotta go and get a little prune out of the tub. By now he is probably saponifying....