Girl Scout Cookies arrived today! Ah, sweet nectar. The once a year treat is anticipated for months until at last you get to tear into that box and sample the goods. Mr. Pigs apparently has a different philosophy on the cookies. He brought in four boxes: 2 Do-Si-Dos, 1 Samoa, and 1 Tagalong. I scooped up three boxes and began tearing into the ends. It was this action which began the debate.
Mr. Pigs: What are you doing?!
Me: Tasting the cookies!
Mr. Pigs: All of them?? At once?
Me: Of course. How else do you eat them....one box at a time?
Mr. Pigs: Uh, yeah?
I think this is weird. It seems to me that you can enjoy the spectrum of Girl Scout Cookies at one time, not just get through one box before quenching the urge for another kind. I like variety. Which is why in an hour or two, I'm certain I will be re-enjoying my array of Girl Scout delights with a big bowl of Neapolitan Breyer's Ice Cream.
Did I mention my weight gain? I'll just keep that to myself.
Mr. Pigs also mentioned that back when he was a bachelor type, he'd buy Girl Scout Cookies at work and that the box wouldn't make it home (15 minute commute) with any left in the box. What kind of self-control is that? I mean, they only come ONCE A YEAR. This is clearly a hoarding opportunity, not a wolf-down-the-whole-box situation.
Speaking of hoarding, I am extremely good at it. I've talked about this with certain other friends who suffer the same condition, and once it's out in the open, it's all good. It goes like this: If I'm in a restaurant and someone suggests sharing, say, an appetizer, I get completely paranoid that I'm not going to get my share. Now, if you have already had The Conversation with your friend and you are both admitted Hoarders, then it's easy: you pre-divide the food and no one gets hurt. But, if you're with a friend with whom you have not had the conversation, it's stressful. I don't know what I think is going to happen if I don't get my share of the ooey, gooey, melty Pizookie with runny ice cream on top, but it's probably something drastic. Mr. Pigs is not a hoarder by nature and has learned to move out of my way when I get food possessive. I don't know how he can remain all laid back about shared food. I must have some serious caveman instinct left in me.
When I was a kid, there is a slight chance that it may have come off looking a bit selfish. Okay, it looked bad, really bad. I used to sneak any form of snack cake, Ring Ding, Star Crunch, Twinkie, you name it, one at a time up to my room, where I would stash them stealthily into my yellow pencil box. When we would have opportunities to buy or receive candy, mine would outlast my sister's by months and months. In the annals of family history, there was a reserve of Easter M&M's that I had hoarded for a good while and I got wind that my sister might be after them. To solve this problem, I publicly sneezed and spit into the container, making them mine forevermore. It was not until the moment that the cake was brought out to all of my friends at my 13th birthday party that Katie and I realized that mom had missed that incident, as she had decorated my cake with a big number 13 made out of those very M&M's.
So, where does that leave us? I am a paranoid food hoarder who married a passive binge eater. I no longer hide food in my room, but I do get mad if Mr. Pigs eats the last one of something that I like. He's good to ask now before polishing something off. I will keep a careful eye on him for the remainder of Girl Scout Cookie season, as there is no way to know when his bingeful urges could return and run amok. I wonder which of us is higher on the crazy scale? I have a pretty good guess.
**Name that reference for two points.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Mysterious...
On Saturday, I made five dozen chocolate chip cookies. I'm not entirely sure what has happened, but somehow there is only one cookie left in the jar. I think perhaps I should blame this on Gus.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Flash!
Fact: When one becomes great with child, one's boobs tend to grow. Kind of a lot.
Note: When one is used to having smallish boobs, this can, on occasion, create awkward situations.
Point: Be careful taking your actively writhing toddler to a water babies swim lesson in a two year old shrunken maternity tankini when in this endowed condition.
Query: I wonder how long my boob had been hanging out of my bathing suit when I looked down and noticed it 25 minutes into the 30 minute lesson?
Note: When one is used to having smallish boobs, this can, on occasion, create awkward situations.
Point: Be careful taking your actively writhing toddler to a water babies swim lesson in a two year old shrunken maternity tankini when in this endowed condition.
Query: I wonder how long my boob had been hanging out of my bathing suit when I looked down and noticed it 25 minutes into the 30 minute lesson?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Some Thoughts About Yesterday
1. You should always shave your legs. In the past, I have been a proponent of leg hair growth, fur for warmth, and even the great curl challenge, but I retract my earlier statements. You should shave your legs, even in winter.
2. Your mom is right: it is important to wear nice underwear. Just because it covers both cheeks with nary a wedgie doesn't mean that there's not a stray elastic boinger, a stretched place across your crack, or a suspicious stain. You think it's safe to wear those bad boys under your sweat pants on the weekend. Not always, my friend.
3. If, perchance, your OB tells you that he believes it necessary for you to go to the ER on a Sunday, it probably is. However, instead of groaning about having to go, use that time to consider that you could be stuck there for 8 or more hours. Consider your hair. Have you washed it? Are you wearing your scrunchy from middle school? Are the little wing pieces over your ears sticking straight out like a bird in flight? Review. Also take a gander at stray hairs. The two poking out of your chin will bother you for the entire day and you will have no tweezers. You will be certain that all the doctors, nurses, and techs are looking at your two erupting chin hairs.
4. Upon admittance into the ER, be sure to stare at all the people and memorize their appearances. You will be hearing them - and their stories of injury - from your ER bed for the next several hours. The stories are much more entertaining when you can envision their skin-tight denim capris, tassled flip flops, halter top, and waist length mullet. ("Are hound ain't never bit no one before!")
5. Try not to panic when the time comes to pee in a cup and the problem is that your pee-er isn't working. If you wait long enough, your thighs will begin to quiver, your aim will become iffy, and you will surely pee on your own hand. Okay, there is nothing positive to reflect on that incident.
6. Be grateful for the first three diagnoses of appendicitis. Why? Because after envisioning abdominal surgery while pregnant, then healing pregnant with a 16 month old hanging on you, the actual diagnosis of hydronephrosis with kidney stones won't seem half bad.
7. Take a book. Always take a good, long book. And if anyone needs a good recommendation, I quite enjoyed The Overachievers: The Secret Lives of Driven Kids, by Alexandra Robbins on Sunday. All of it.
2. Your mom is right: it is important to wear nice underwear. Just because it covers both cheeks with nary a wedgie doesn't mean that there's not a stray elastic boinger, a stretched place across your crack, or a suspicious stain. You think it's safe to wear those bad boys under your sweat pants on the weekend. Not always, my friend.
3. If, perchance, your OB tells you that he believes it necessary for you to go to the ER on a Sunday, it probably is. However, instead of groaning about having to go, use that time to consider that you could be stuck there for 8 or more hours. Consider your hair. Have you washed it? Are you wearing your scrunchy from middle school? Are the little wing pieces over your ears sticking straight out like a bird in flight? Review. Also take a gander at stray hairs. The two poking out of your chin will bother you for the entire day and you will have no tweezers. You will be certain that all the doctors, nurses, and techs are looking at your two erupting chin hairs.
4. Upon admittance into the ER, be sure to stare at all the people and memorize their appearances. You will be hearing them - and their stories of injury - from your ER bed for the next several hours. The stories are much more entertaining when you can envision their skin-tight denim capris, tassled flip flops, halter top, and waist length mullet. ("Are hound ain't never bit no one before!")
5. Try not to panic when the time comes to pee in a cup and the problem is that your pee-er isn't working. If you wait long enough, your thighs will begin to quiver, your aim will become iffy, and you will surely pee on your own hand. Okay, there is nothing positive to reflect on that incident.
6. Be grateful for the first three diagnoses of appendicitis. Why? Because after envisioning abdominal surgery while pregnant, then healing pregnant with a 16 month old hanging on you, the actual diagnosis of hydronephrosis with kidney stones won't seem half bad.
7. Take a book. Always take a good, long book. And if anyone needs a good recommendation, I quite enjoyed The Overachievers: The Secret Lives of Driven Kids, by Alexandra Robbins on Sunday. All of it.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Do I miss it? A little maybe.
Overheard in "my" classroom Thursday:
[Girl darts into room and zooms by my seat] "Oh my gosh! You're pretty! I'm jealous!" [Girl dashes away in fourth grade blur.]
Shrug. I didn't quite know what to say, but it's not the worst thing that happened to me all day!
[Girl darts into room and zooms by my seat] "Oh my gosh! You're pretty! I'm jealous!" [Girl dashes away in fourth grade blur.]
Shrug. I didn't quite know what to say, but it's not the worst thing that happened to me all day!
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Pigs' Steal o' the Day
If there is a Belk near you and you have children, you simply must go check out their clearance racks. I was shocked to find a veritable plethora of boys' toddler clothes from winter marked 75% off. More than the price reduction, I was astounded to see actual racks of boys' clothes! In almost every store I've been to, there are approximately 32 racks of adorable girls' clothes one token rack of boys' clothes, usually mixed in with girl stuff! It's outrageous, I tell you, if you're actually making the effort to dress your little boy in a dapper manner.
I present to you....Piglet's Fall Wardrobe 2008:
2 sweaters
3 pairs of pants
4 polo shirts
2 jackets
1 London Fog four in one coat
2 pairs of pajamas
I present to you....Piglet's Fall Wardrobe 2008:
2 sweaters
3 pairs of pants
4 polo shirts
2 jackets
1 London Fog four in one coat
2 pairs of pajamas
The retail value on this pile 'o clothes was $306. Pigs' price was $63.07. I'm as happy as a pig in mud after that purchase.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Just Another Day
9:05 am: Remove clothing, get into shower. Piglet happily bangs on shower door trying to "catch" the water running down the glass. "Wa wa! Wa wa!" he screams in bliss. I try to wash and rinse as fast as possible because I know this will be short-lived that I can keep him in my line of sight.
9:07 am: Piglet grows bored and disappears into closet. Is strangely quiet. Attempt singing Itsy Bitsy Spider and playing Peek-a-Boo in hopes of luring him out to no avail. Shave, rinse, shave rinse. Hurry up, hurry up.
9:10 am: Piglet emerges from the closet, triumphant. As I dry off, I peer behind his beaming face to see the entire contents of Mr. Pigs' t-shirt and swimsuit shelf unfolded and stuffed into my delicates basket. He is super duper proud of this effort.
9: 20 am: Clothes refolded and stacked neatly on shelf under Piglet's watchful eye. Hand Piglet nice, safe ball to play with. "GALL!" he cries and runs off to bedroom, leaving me to hastily get dressed. Suspicious silence falls again.
9:23 am: Peek into bedroom. Contents of both Mr. Pigs' "White Sock Drawer" and Mr. Pigs' "Non-White Sock Drawer" [remember he's an engineer] have been enthusiastically strewn all over the bedroom. Piglet grins and pulls another pair of socks apart from their mates. "Uh oh!" he says with a gappy toothed grin. He notices my wet hair and begins patting his head, his own sign language for hairbrush. I sigh and hand him my hairbrush and begin to pick up socks. After brushing his hair, he decides to help in the Great Sock Endeavor and stuffs socks haphazardly into the wrong drawers and without their mates. [Horrors!]
9:26 am: Close drawers and stand up. Locate dog in bed and pull him out to entertain Piglet. Make bed neatly. Reclaim hairbrush and begin to dry hair. Piglet trots back into closet in search of his "gall".
9:35 am: Hair is dry. Piglet emerges from closet with clothes basket reserved for darks. He has taken the liberty of adding the whites to the load and is happily pushing it across the floor. He likes to push things. Decided to put on make up while he pushed basket around bedroom.
9:37 am: Piglet pushes the basket back into the bathroom, completely void of the clothes that had fully occupied it two minutes before. I peeked into the bedroom. Dirty clothes dangled out of our two bottom dresser drawers, carefully closed around the sleeves and pant legs that didn't quite fit. Gus stared innocently from the floor, his tail thumping the floor, pleased that this time it wasn't he who had done the bad deed.
9:41 am: The clothes carefully sorted from the clean ones in the drawer, I returned the basket to the closet and walked Piglet back to the bedroom to start him on some toys. I stared, confused, at the lump besmirching my freshly made bed. The lump shifted its weight and soft licking sounds could be heard beneath the rumpled covers. Deep breaths.
9:44 am: Dog evicted from bed and bedroom, I nodded, satisfied, at the neat bed and turned to finish my make up and hair. "Jay Jay! Jay Jay!" Though my child refuses to watch television, he has become enamored with the Jay Jay the Jetplane books and has just made the connection that I can make Jay Jay appear on the television screen as though by magic. I would be thrilled if he would watch it for a mere 10 minutes, but 20 seconds is about his limit.
9:50 am: Jay Jay playing on the TV, I finished up my primping and headed out to collect Piglet who was miraculously still standing in front of the TV. Except Jay Jay was long gone and many complicated menu screens covered my TV. The menu screens seemed to be in French, making it very challenging to back out of them correctly and locate the English setting.
10:00 am: By ten we were ready to go. Me, dressed. Piglet, dressed. Teeth brushed, hair fixed, shoes on. Ready to greet the world for a new day!
9:07 am: Piglet grows bored and disappears into closet. Is strangely quiet. Attempt singing Itsy Bitsy Spider and playing Peek-a-Boo in hopes of luring him out to no avail. Shave, rinse, shave rinse. Hurry up, hurry up.
9:10 am: Piglet emerges from the closet, triumphant. As I dry off, I peer behind his beaming face to see the entire contents of Mr. Pigs' t-shirt and swimsuit shelf unfolded and stuffed into my delicates basket. He is super duper proud of this effort.
9: 20 am: Clothes refolded and stacked neatly on shelf under Piglet's watchful eye. Hand Piglet nice, safe ball to play with. "GALL!" he cries and runs off to bedroom, leaving me to hastily get dressed. Suspicious silence falls again.
9:23 am: Peek into bedroom. Contents of both Mr. Pigs' "White Sock Drawer" and Mr. Pigs' "Non-White Sock Drawer" [remember he's an engineer] have been enthusiastically strewn all over the bedroom. Piglet grins and pulls another pair of socks apart from their mates. "Uh oh!" he says with a gappy toothed grin. He notices my wet hair and begins patting his head, his own sign language for hairbrush. I sigh and hand him my hairbrush and begin to pick up socks. After brushing his hair, he decides to help in the Great Sock Endeavor and stuffs socks haphazardly into the wrong drawers and without their mates. [Horrors!]
9:26 am: Close drawers and stand up. Locate dog in bed and pull him out to entertain Piglet. Make bed neatly. Reclaim hairbrush and begin to dry hair. Piglet trots back into closet in search of his "gall".
9:35 am: Hair is dry. Piglet emerges from closet with clothes basket reserved for darks. He has taken the liberty of adding the whites to the load and is happily pushing it across the floor. He likes to push things. Decided to put on make up while he pushed basket around bedroom.
9:37 am: Piglet pushes the basket back into the bathroom, completely void of the clothes that had fully occupied it two minutes before. I peeked into the bedroom. Dirty clothes dangled out of our two bottom dresser drawers, carefully closed around the sleeves and pant legs that didn't quite fit. Gus stared innocently from the floor, his tail thumping the floor, pleased that this time it wasn't he who had done the bad deed.
9:41 am: The clothes carefully sorted from the clean ones in the drawer, I returned the basket to the closet and walked Piglet back to the bedroom to start him on some toys. I stared, confused, at the lump besmirching my freshly made bed. The lump shifted its weight and soft licking sounds could be heard beneath the rumpled covers. Deep breaths.
9:44 am: Dog evicted from bed and bedroom, I nodded, satisfied, at the neat bed and turned to finish my make up and hair. "Jay Jay! Jay Jay!" Though my child refuses to watch television, he has become enamored with the Jay Jay the Jetplane books and has just made the connection that I can make Jay Jay appear on the television screen as though by magic. I would be thrilled if he would watch it for a mere 10 minutes, but 20 seconds is about his limit.
9:50 am: Jay Jay playing on the TV, I finished up my primping and headed out to collect Piglet who was miraculously still standing in front of the TV. Except Jay Jay was long gone and many complicated menu screens covered my TV. The menu screens seemed to be in French, making it very challenging to back out of them correctly and locate the English setting.
10:00 am: By ten we were ready to go. Me, dressed. Piglet, dressed. Teeth brushed, hair fixed, shoes on. Ready to greet the world for a new day!
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