Friday, June 22, 2012

I have to vent...

I like striped shirts. I know I’m not skinny therefore not allowed to wear horizontal stripes, but I’ve decided that’s too bad. If the site of me wearing a striped shirt or sweater is just too much for you to bear, please avert your eyes.

There, I got that off my chest. Now I am officially allowed to buy & wear it if I like it, thankyouverymuch.

Friday, June 15, 2012


Oh another day and another day of terrible meals made by me. Well there not actually meals, more like a little bit of this, a little bit of that; a couple kids eat this and a couple of us eat that, and the poor husband gets this.

I don’t cook well is a major understatement. Yes, I can follow recipes and instructions, but a major part of the issue is putting meals together and picking out what to actually make. Something that won’t take forever in the kitchen and use our monthly income to fund. Something I won’t have to force not only my kids to eat, but force myself to eat too.

Those simple meals in the magazines are just not for my family. Not only do I have none of the ingredients ever on hand, I have never even heard of most of them! Skip! So then I turn to my inspiration, Pinterest. Now I’m getting somewhere…overwhelmed! Before I know it, I have wasted 7 hours on the computer looking for things to cook when I should actually be cooking something! So now it’s another grilled cheese & tomato soup night or hot dogs & macaroni-n-cheese.

I’m frustrated. My kids are hungry. I’m hungry. I’m sure my husband is hungry too. I try to think about what I ate growing up. Let’s see…grilled cheese & tomato soup, hot dogs & macaroni-n-cheese, sometimes my mom would throw some spaghetti & sauce in the mix. I see a pattern…my mom was not a cook, I am not a cook, my kids don’t know how to eat a real meal. This is not good. I have to make a change.

I’m thinking real hard. I get out all of my pristine cookbooks that I received as wedding gifts…10 years ago…the binding cracking since they’ve never been opened. All of these different types of cooking methods, cuts of meat, vegetables and breads…oh my. The more I read the recipes, the more mad I get at my family because I know they would never eat these meals. What picky eaters they are! They should be punished! I’m already thinking of the discipline in my mind when it’s so far from reality.

And then it’s as if someone hit me on the head with one of my rarely-used, but very expensive non-stick pans! KISS…"Keep It Simple, Stupid". I think I heard that in church when I was younger. Would my family eat eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and stay filled up until lunch? Yes. Would they eat fruit, lunchmeat and pretzels and stay filled up until dinner? Yes. Would they eat any vegetable and chicken and maybe potatoes and be happy? Yes. And if they needed a snack during the day or dessert at night, would they be happy with some yogurt or more fruit? Yes. Oh my goodness. I may be on to something. Could I actually switch things around a little like some oatmeal here or a bagel there for breakfast? Astounding! Could we maybe eat a quesadilla for lunch with a salad on the side or even some broccoli soup with some good bread? Amazing! What about maybe some steak or chicken fajitas for dinner with grilled vegetables? Drum roll please, yes we can!!!

I should market my meal plan, I’m really on to something! I should sell those cookbooks in a yard sale and read one of the kids’ school lunch menu to get some real solutions. Once again, the problem is clear

…I’m my own worst enemy

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Typical toddler, pushy parent…

It’s summertime and the kids are off school. They beg to let them stay up late since it’s summer break. I sympathize and let them stay up later. They wake up at their normal break of dawn time and we are off to the amusement park.

Hurry up, run to the kids’ area, don’t want to waste 5 seconds of time walking when we could be riding a ride. No, we’ve got to get our money’s worth out of these passes.

Let’s all ride this roller coaster as a family, even though one of the kids doesn’t like those kind of rides…no, you have to, we’re going to do this as a family. As we stand in the long line in the 90 degree heat, I get mad that he pukes from a mixture of heat & anxiety. Seriously? How could he ruin this moment, oh and I let him know I feel this way, all of us let him know that. Like the poor kid timed it and got sick on purpose, right.

I don’t understand why all three of the kids are whining that they’re hungry and their feet hurt. I told them to eat before we left and can’t they understand that I packed food for us to eat in the van after we’re done at the park? Don’t they know how I plan things by now? And why oh why do they keep asking to play those $5 games that they’re never going to win the dollar store prize because all the games are rigged? How could they be sucked in to all the marketing and gimmicks, when I’m clearly not.

Hmmm, could it be that they are tired? Could it be that I should have planned better and communicated better? Wait, could it be that they are little kids and this is how children act and I need to handle them & myself better?

Why do I feel that we have to race around and try to fit it all in to this tiny amount of time? I’m mad that I still haven’t learned that the kids respond kindly when I am kind and they are mad devils when I act like a mad devil.

…I’m my own worst enemy

Monday, June 11, 2012

It's about time...

I just started writing a blog, wait, I actually just started reading blogs not that long ago…I’m a couple years behind.

I’ve only been texting and using a smartphone for just over a year…I’m a couple years behind.

I have finally come to terms with my unruly curly hair, full-sized curvy body and non-creative, not-too-bright self…quite a few years behind.

But really, who I am racing against? Whose timetable am I trying to follow? Any time is the right time, when it’s right. My friends have the latest gadgets and styles, and sometimes I find myself worrying that if I don’t get in on the bandwagon that I’m missing out on something. Who’s pressuring me?

…I’m my own worst enemy