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COVID Chronicles: Day 2

It is bewildering to me how wildly different children from the same gene pool can be in personality. Truly mind-boggling. Today, we started full-fledged “school work” in an effort to stay on top of things. I kept it light and simple and let the boys know that they were under no circumstances on a “time limit”, per se, but that the faster they completed their work, the faster they could make way for free-time. I knew two things going in:

  1. Connor would be overly enthusiastic and foam at the mouth to do all the things and,
  2. Gabe would all but do a sit-in to protest any and all things academic.

This is nothing new and is what it is, but Lord have MERCY, y’all — help me, help you.

Let me backtrack a bit and say that Con woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn asking when we would do classwork.

SIX O’FREAKING CLOCK IN THE MORNING, AND THIS KID WANTS TO DO HOMEWORK. AND IT AIN’T EVEN FOR A GRADE.

I let him know in no uncertain terms that if he did not release the death-grip on my cheeks and get out of my face that he would have zero homework and we’d move straight to naps (savage move). He grudgingly let go of my face and then asked for Pop Tarts and cereal. Kid doesn’t exactly take a hint.

So we finally got to what I thought was a more manageable time for homework shenanigans. Connor, ever eager, jumped right in and flew through five or six sheets (front & back) in about 15 minutes. And then there was Gabe. Bless him.

Gabe is not my homework fan. Having a double whammy of Sensory Processing Disorder & ADHD has left him wanting to do literally anything but anything classwork related. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just not his jam. It took him about forty-five minutes of complaining and the removal of screen privileges before he finally conceded and went through the multiplication motions. But he got it done and, after realizing momma ain’t playin’ around, decided that he would rip it off like a Band-Aid tomorrow to avoid losing further device time.

Gabe did do something today that pulled at my heartstrings, though. He’s such a sweet, goofy kid, anyway — but today… this was special. Like I said yesterday, Ev & I have been stressing over work and whatnot. We set off hard this morning/early afternoon trying to find some resolutions that would work best for the family, and I think Gabe knew we were overwhelmed. He went to the office letting us know that he’d prepared lunch for the whole family and was so proud. I gotta say, I was proud for him. Sometimes I have a hard time seeing him grow up, and then other times I see this little boy growing into a big guy and, gah. It just gets me right in my gut. It was nothing fancy, but man it felt like a million bucks. Just when you think your kids aren’t paying attention, you know?

Ham sandwiches, courtesy Chef Gabe.

He made everyone ham & cheese sandwiches and was in the process of grabbing drinks and chips when Ev & I made our way to the kitchen. He even thought to make Mason ham and cheese roll-ups rather than a big sandwich.

The rest of the day was spent playing, catching up on laundry, napping, watching dragonflies on the deck, and ending with baths and a ZOOM call with Connor’s teacher. She’s been calling her class to read them bedtime stories and to ask about the kids’ day and Connor LOVES it.

Watching dragonflies.

We’re currently watching old episodes of Scooby-Doo for the millionth time and are settling in for the night. I’m not sure what the day holds tomorrow. Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

I think of all the things I’m hoping to gain from all this COVID business is some patience and maybe a little boost on my faith. It’s been severely lacking for quite some time, and at no one’s fault but my own. I think we could probably all find some kind of life lesson from this situation if we open our minds to it — hard as that may be.

pc: Brooke Wilkerson of Coffee & Chaos (fb)

Going to get these feral children off to bed, now. Talk soon.

xoxo
Sarah

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Do They Know It’s Christmas?

Evidently not, or else they wouldn’t be poking one another in the eyes and hollering like banshees every .02 seconds.

Long time, no see friends! In case you’re wondering, I’m referring to my feral heathens precious moppets. I feel like if they had an adult’s understanding of the impending doom that is Christmas, that they’d make like a play and get their act together. But that is CLEARLY wishful (if not mythical) thinking.

Don’t get me wrong — I love Christmas. This year, however, I’m having a hard time getting into the spirit, and I’m placing all of the blame on the crap-fest that has been 2019. That and the break-neck speeds at which this year zoomed past. We’re a week away from Christmas and, just short of having our tree and lights up, I’m nowhere near ready. I’m feeling somewhat like what the product of Scrooge and the Grinch would be — and it ain’t pretty, y’all.

I’m using this post, however, as a last-ditch effort to get over my damn self and embrace the beauty that is holiday magic.

It is, after all, a truly wonderful time of year if you go about it the right way. And there are so many things that I have to be thankful for. Don’t worry — I won’t go full Hallmark card on y’all. ūüėČ

As I said earlier, this year has been hard. Actually, adulthood has been hard. But if that ain’t life then I simply don’t know what is. I’ve recently come to a very hard self-realization that I have a hard time letting things go. Not like “holding a grudge” letting things go, just “trying to sort crap out” letting things go. I like to have life figured out and, let’s face it, that will simply never happen. None of us really ever have life all panned out, no matter what our social media presence allows.

We’re all just winging it — granted, some better than others. But what I do have figured out is this:

  • The love I have for my kids and their big, generous hearts. Though little urchins they may be, they all really do have sweet hearts that are just beating to be loved and to love. Their compassion can truly be overwhelming at times and I am so, SO proud of them for having spirits of giving.
  • I have a home that can be warmed and cooled at my will (thanks to living in Louisiana, my thermostat is permanently set on “freak out”), and that it is covered from the elements.
  • We may not have tons of gifts under the tree, and the ones that are there (or will be there because: toddler) are given with a heart of love and received with hearts of thanks.
  • I have a tribe that consists of friends and family that I know have my back at the end of every. single. day.
  • My health, which has been iffy this year, is still with me. I’m more thankful for that than I ever have been in my life.
  • My ability to find humor in utter BS, while it is indeed on edge these days, is still ever-present with the help of snark and sarcasm.
  • I have a job that helps pay the bills and that has allowed me the opportunity to meet some of the nicest, most humble humans.
  • I have the sweet, sweet knowledge of what truly makes this magical time of year pure magic, and it didn’t come with ribbons or tags, or in packages, boxes or bags.

I am far from perfect, y’all. So, so far. I am horribly flawed and, yes, often times Grinch-like. I sometimes forget the Reason for the Season and allow myself to get tied up and bogged down in Christmastime commercialism. But, at the end of the day, I know the sweetest gift came down in the form of a beautiful baby whose life would be the ULTIMATE gift to a world full of hate and venom. And for that reason, and that reason alone, can I be truly grateful for all of the things that make my existence this “hot mess express” that I know as life.

I wish you all a very, very happy Christmas and a wonderful New Year.

xoxo
Sarah

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Elf on the Shelf? Hell to the No.

Okay, guys. I’m going to go ahead and preface by saying I’m no Scrooge and I am not bashing any of you parents who have gone the Elf on the Shelf route.¬† I think the actual little Elf, itself, is precious and I understand that the idea behind it is¬†less so¬†teaching kids proper behavior and¬†more so¬†good, festive fun.¬† This post is mostly targeted at myself and my inability to properly “mom”.¬† With that said…

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Mother of three boys and ruler of utter chaos, here.¬† I know most of you have 2+ children, are rulers of your own chaotic kingdoms, and are still able to fulfill your Elf Shelf duties.¬† I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious of those time-management skills.¬† And while I love my boys and the insanity they bring (that’s a lie.¬† I am not a fan of the madness), I am the queen of absentmindedness.¬† Case in point:

I struggle to remember what needs to be put on my grocery list.¬† If I remember what needs to be written down, I forget to remember to put it in my purse.¬† And if I remember to put it in my bag, the list will, inevitably, somehow get left behind in my car.¬† And¬†if,¬†IF, that list actually makes it’s way into the grocery store, a breeze will steal it away in a last-ditch effort to give my attempt at organization the ultimate middle finger.

I left my phone at home Friday.¬† Actually, I thought I’d left it on the roof of my car and lost it to the great outdoors.¬† However, my husband was kind enough to send me a picture of it via messenger of it sitting on the bathtub.¬† Because that’s CLEARLY where it belongs.¬† (FACE. PALM.)¬† Once I finally retrieved it, I realized I’d forgotten my wallet at the office.¬† With my debit card, checkbook, and license in it.¬† And also, my Burt’s Bees which, obviously, is infinitely more important than say, MY LICENSE.

I forgot to take my keys out of the front door last night after I’d unlocked it to get my heathens inside.¬† After a frantic thirty minutes of searching for the “lost” keys the next morning, I found them on my way out said front door to search my vehicle.¬† Y’all.¬† I can’t make this crap up.

So do you guys really¬†think I need to attempt to remember to move an elf every damned day of my life?¬† No?¬† I didn’t think so.

seriously?!¬† this would be part of their christmas gifts.¬† have y’all priced foil lately?!

Listen, I’m from a generation where we didn’t need a rogue North Pole spy to remind us to behave —¬†especially¬†during the holidays.¬† We fully relied on, and were totally okay with, being told¬†once¬†that Santa, an old man who knew our every flippin’ move, could see us 24/7.¬† We didn’t need to see that Christmas-y creepiness to believe it — our parents took full advantage of our fear and innocence¬†stupidity.¬† Nothing was ever moved, there were no elaborate schemes, and mom didn’t have to bold-faced lie to us with an outrageous story-line about why an Elf had or hadn’t been moved because THERE WAS NO FREAKING ELF NARC.

As a product of the eighties, I distinctly remember belting Alvin & the Chipmunk’s version of, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” on my Fisher-Price cassette player every day of my existence when I was a kid.¬† Yes, even then I was that obnoxious person who played Christmas songs on loop all year ’round.¬† There was no doubt in my mind that I risked “losing it all” if I didn’t get my act together.¬† My parents didn’t have to waste precious hours of sleep and ungodly amounts of aluminum foil to keep us in check.¬† The simple white-lie of Santa’s existence was enough to go on.

And I get it.¬† These days, kids literally (think they)¬†need¬†elaborate plots and twists and turns.¬† Most of these kids have everything on demand — and I’m not even talking about the bratty ones.¬† No, today is very much an on-demand kind of life.¬† So maybe the purest form of Christmas magic is simply fading into the background.¬† I remember the excitement of driving around neighborhoods just to look at lights and decorations.¬† These days?¬† That simple kind of happiness just doesn’t exist.¬† I can’t even say that¬†my kids are ovely-excited at the prospect of light searching.¬† Sure, they love the festive twinkling of lights that only come once a year.¬† But does it thrill them?¬† Not the way it did when¬†we¬†were kids.¬† Now, if there aren’t a couple of inflated Nutcrackers in addition to the lights, it’s just… “meh”.

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I guess I’m just too old-fashioned, and too absent-minded, to fully appreciate the newness that is Elf on the Shelf.¬† Or, perhaps, I’m just stuck on the simpler magic.¬† The things that left me breathless.¬† The things that, growing up, I couldn’t wait to share with my own little ones.

I suppose, though, that traditions are fine but are sometimes meant to be broken or bent.¬† Not only that, traditions are best when they’re made or reinvented with the ones you love.¬† Rest assured, there is no hate for the Elf and his (or her) antics, and if y’all could package up some extra energy and Ginko Biloba and send it my way, that’d be swell.¬† ūüėČ

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Ten Ways Children Are Like the Government

Growing up, I was so blessed to have parents who not only discussed with us current events and political/moral beliefs, but who also allowed us to have our own opinions — no matter how laughable or illogical those opinions happened to be. The same could be said with their methodology of parenting, though; nothing was off-limits as far as discussing why things were the way they were. We didn’t have to agree with their standards, we just had to respect them. Having since grown up, I realize that we, as kids, did respect our parents for this — even though it wasn’t necessarily a conscious effort. We recognized from early ages the work and effort our parents put in to our raising and, even though we obviously saw them from a childlike standpoint, my siblings and I developed strong work ethics and values.

That said, we were kids and made mistakes. Our parents allowed us to make those mistakes and we knew fully that there would be varied degrees of consequences when those missteps were brought to light. A lot of these occurrences were brought to light by discussing with us similarly-happening current events/politics and the outcomes that came from the choices that had been put into motion. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for those life-lessons; it’s something that my husband and I are subsequently (attempting to) instill into our own children. Now with that said — the one thing my parents never fully explained to me that, sweet Lord, I wish they would have, was how BLOODY FRUSTRATING it would be to develop and mold our children into productive, decent, non-life-sucking individuals.

Y’ALL. I. CAN. NOT. EVEN.

What’s more, since becoming a parent and a more involved adult, it’s occurred to me how similar raising small children and sorting through political garbage tends to be. Seriously, it’s baffling. Is it because our children are politically geared and diplomatically minded? Anyone who has ever listened to an argument between two or more ankle-biters know that that’s not the case. No, it’s because politicians and their individual agendas have become so mundane and juvenile. Think back to the latest presidential election if you aren’t catching what I’m throwing. I couldn’t watch or listen to the debates half the time because of how much they sounded like my kids’ arguments. No joke, sometimes I replaced the words “foreign affairs” with “sneezed on my pizza” and the comparison was uncanny.

I’ve decided to share with you all my epiphany, so sit back and enjoy my list of “Ten Ways Children Are Like the Government”.

Blue Red Fourth Of July Quote Pinterest Graphic

  1. Someone is always watching you.
    Never was I so paranoid — until I had children. These days it’s a miracle if I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder. Forget about “Big Brother”; it’s “Tiny Terror” that you should really be worried about.
  2. They argue even when they know they’re wrong.
    I tell my husband regularly that if our kids don’t grow up to be successful lawyers I’m going to be pissed. Seriously, these kids would argue with Jesus. My two oldest boys argued recently over whether the name of breakfast was “banana blueberry pancakes” or “blueberry banana”. Facepalm, guys. Face. Palm.

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  3. There’s a lot of name-calling.
    Look, I could be okay with this part if the names being called were at least witty or came from a place of some intelligence. But no. My kids dig down deep and go low and it doesn’t even have to MAKE SENSE. That’s the worst part. My kids were both in tears the other day because they both called each other, “Mick McBootyFace”. I cannot make this shit up, y’all.
  4. Denial, denial, denial.
    A few days ago I walked into our bathroom to get something or other. I don’t remember what. But that’s not important. What is important, is that upon walking into our bathroom, I noticed my once white and turquoise bath mat was stained a gross shade of mud. Naturally, both suspects adamantly denied having even been near the bathroom. One even blamed his sleeping (infant!) brother. Not today, Satan!
  5. They’re wildly out of touch with reality.
    And I’m not just talking about the Santa & Tooth Fairy stories we pump into our kids. No, kids in general, like most politicians, have zero sense of time & zero sense of reality. Case in point: Connor said we bought our house for $50 and a four-wheeler trade. Gabe threw in that if there weren’t so many of us that we could have a DeLorean or a motorcycle with a sidecar. SAY WHAAAA? Adulthood is going to hit these kids hard.

    kids2

  6. You never have a shortage of bed partners.
    Okay, so at least the only thing I’m catching from my bed partners is an occasional black eye or the flu. Nevertheless, co-sleeping can be a beeyatch and I’ve got a dislocated shoulder to prove it.
  7. Whatever it is, it’s never their fault.
    Oh, sure. You might have witnessed your kid dump an entire gallon of milk onto the floor because he was attempting to impersonate Captain Underpants. But was it his fault? According to him, no. Why? Oh, it could be anything. The floor made him slip; his foot was itchy; he got too “into character”.
  8. Things aren’t always what they seem.
    It’s quiet in the house? They’re all “sleeping”? Think again. They know they’ve got you where they want you… and they’re coming for you. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he? HE’S GOT THAT WATER GUN AGAIN, DOESN’T HE?!”
  9. It’s all a big mess.
    Nobody is ever on the same page, we’re always running thirty minutes late, and we’ve misplaced homework or doctors’ excuses for the millionth time. Our house is clean, but only because our closets aren’t, and if we can distract you with something over-the-top to keep you from seeing what a shambles our lives are then, dang it, that’s what we’re going to do.

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  10. No one ever really knows what’s going on.
    We’re all just winging it, guys. Doing the best we can day by day. So long as everyone is fed, (fully) clothed, & dry shampooed, I can deal. Did we throw out the permission slip instead of the two-year-old water bill? Probably. Did I make a grocery list and leave it sitting on the kitchen counter (again)? You betcha. Are my kids going to need therapy in adulthood? Psh — I’m not paying for it.

I’m just trying to raise kids who won’t grow up to be entitled man-children. If they grow to be successful and happy, then I’ve done my job. If they end up being life-suckers? See numbers 4 & 7.

However, if they grow up to be politicians…. eh, can’t say I didn’t see it coming.

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Final Countdown

We’re in the process of some life-changes in the Paul household.¬† Read: I’m studying for my insurance license exam until I can get back to school.¬† Because of this, household chores are being re-delegated according to age, capability, and efficiency level.¬† My boys have done piddly chores here and there, but nothing chore chart worthy since I’ve been a stay-at-home-mom for so long.¬† I mean, hell — I get most everything done during the day (or week), so by the time they come home, tasks are slim pickins.¬† Don’t get me wrong — they’ve been exposed to yard work, laundry, and garbage detail; slackin’ is not allowed here!¬† But now that we’re looking at life and schedule changes, more daily chores added are pretty much a must.¬† I’m not staying up until midnight only to get up at 5AM every freaking day of my life.

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I’ve looked at lists on Pinterest of “age appropriate” chores for the boys and have modified accordingly.¬† Adjustments will likely still be made, but baby steps are the best steps in figuring out who is best at what and who can stand some improvement in other tasks.

One chore that both boys have been assigned is folding, putting away, and sorting their own laundry.¬† This is one chore that neither of them mind doing as it allows them some TV time — provided they stay on task and get the job done quickly and neatly.¬† This has gone off without a hitch…. mostly.¬† As with most things, there is one flaw that, by God, I’ll have hammered out by the time I’m employed.¬† Both Gabe and Connor have a SUPER annoying habit of showing off their (lack) of basketball skills by throwing their socks and underwear in the general direction of the washer.¬† Only their socks and underwear, and¬†only in the general direction.

I don’t know if y’all know this but… I’m a big girl.¬† I’m also thirty going on one hundred.¬† My appliance climbing days are DEFINITELY behind me. But, since I’d prefer to not continuously repair or re-buy equipment attachments or hoses,¬†I’m the one climbing behind the washer and/or dryer to retrieve the wayward foot and butt covers.¬† This wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t happening daily or if they weren’t running out of undergarments.¬† Really, I guess “issue” is the wrong word.¬† Nuisance, perhaps?¬† Because it isn’t the end of the world, obviously — just a pain in the ass.¬† Nevertheless, two straight weeks of me crawling my mom hips and carb-loving arse over and behind the washing machine has left me desperate for a solution.

I thought and thought about how I could get their attention that would get the message across loud and clear but without going full Ozzy Osbourne Crazy Train.¬† I considered making them do jumping jacks every time they missed the desired target, but they enjoy exercising and the goal, here, is for them to put aside their Kobe Bryant tendencies — not encourage them.

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I thought about acting like I was stuck between the wall and dryer, but I am 99.9% certain they’d take advantage of that situation.

And then one day it hit me.¬† CANTEEN MONEY.¬† Canteen cash is like gold around these here parts and I’m not above making a dollar for a large Diet Coke, no ice, from McDonalds (a dolla ten, y’all!).¬† I only ever give each of them a dollar for canteen anyway, so this works out perfectly.¬† Monday through Thursday they have an opportunity to keep their canteen money.¬† Every time I have to hoist myself to the back of the washer/dryer, they lose a quarter.¬† They’re fast learners, so each had seventy-five cents to take to canteen this past Friday.

I’m not above taking candy from a baby my kids, guys. This is especially true if it means I won’t get stuck in a place tighter than pleather leggings from the clearance rack at WalMart.¬† But I digress.

Other than our battle with “The Case of the Missing Skivvies”, chore completion and delegation is going pretty smoothly.¬† I’ll admit, I was planning for the worst.¬† Both boys like to help, but as with any new strategy, things get bad before they get better.¬† Luckily, there have been little-to-no hiccups and I’ve only had to issue threats of death a handful of times.¬† My night-caps have drastically decreased in volume and we’re making it to bed by 10:00 instead of 10:30 (BABY STEPS).¬† Also, my voice is slowly coming back from all of the Death Metal-esque yelling that took place ALL OF LAST WEEK.¬† Side eye to you, Eureka Math.

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Tonight I’m shooting for a 9:45 bedtime and only refolding the towels once.¬† Fingers crossed, y’all.¬† Fingers crossed.

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When Did Crayons Stop Being Basic?

The other night, I sat with my kindergartner as he did homework.¬† The assignment was a worksheet on differentiating between “left & right” on which he would draw/color on a pair of hands (I’ve included a link to the activity here).¬† I loved the activity and so did he; it kept his attention and allowed some creativity while also providing direction.¬† Everything would have gone off without a hitch. . . until¬†crayons.¬† Seriously, y’all — when did crayons get so extra?!¬† They’re fancier now than I’ll ever be (and have ever¬†been).¬† After five minutes of trying to find a non-pink red and a non-purple blue, I was left feeling miffed and, to some degree, pretty basic.¬† Honest to God, I don’t even have that many colors in my¬†wardrobe.¬† And who the hell is coming up with these color names??¬† Is this an actual job?¬† Can people apply for this?¬† Because I can pull random words out of my butt to describe color shades, too.

“Uh, yes — I’m here to interview for Obscure Crayon Moniker Giver/Administrative Assistant.”¬†¬†Dumb.

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courtesy of babyblues.com rick kirkman/jerry scott

In all seriousness, though — when we were kids (back in the day), color names were pretty straight-forward or at least let you know in which direction the color was headed.

“Strawberry shortcake red?¬† Eh… that’ll be pink-ish.”

“Celestial blue?¬† Kind of purple-ish.”

These days?¬† Our kids are left to use fifty-eleven sheets of scrap paper in order to figure out which red is actually red.¬† Razzmatazz?¬† Flamingo Pink (RED)??¬†¬†Big Dip’o Ruby?!¬† Look, I can get past the ridiculous names.¬† And I love that there are so many color options available for crafts and general coloring.¬† But why isn’t there a box of crayons strictly for school purposes?¬† I’m talking ordinary, no-nonsense, no mystery basic. freaking. colors.¬† Red. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. DANDELION.¬† My five year old doesn’t need these millenial-derived, newfangled, pieces of wax mumbo jumbo.¬† He’s still learning that everyday colors are combined to make other great shades — why confuse the situation?¬† Why waste time?

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“Just grab the crayon that says ‘red’, Sarah, geez.”¬† Don’t think we didn’t try that.¬† It wasn’t red!¬† It was a dark pink with a red tint.¬† We wound up using .¬† Not even kidding.

And don’t get me started on PlaySkool or CraZArt brands (although, what can you expect from brands who purposely misspell their names).¬† Hot Chili Pepper — red wrapper, dark brown (almost black) wax: colors like mud.¬† Red Clay — orangeish wrapper, red wax: it’s freaking pink.¬† But I digress.

No joke, I’d buy the crap out of a 24-count box of primary/pastel colors even if the name on the box were “Basic Bitch Edition”.¬† I DON’T EVEN CARE.¬† I’m a busy mom of three boys. I don’t have time to play musical chairs, crayon edition.¬† Adding to that — I’m frugal as hell.¬† I’ve been told to “just throw the extra colors away”.¬† How about I throw you away, Susan?¬† Because I paid $1.98 for this box of shenanigans and I intend on my kids eventually using these crayons — even if it means I use $4 worth of paper and ink for coloring sheets.

courtesy: scarymommy.com

Do your littles get frustrated when they accidentally mis-color an assignment?¬† I think that’s where most of my “angst” is coming from, personally.¬† Connor is very much a “must be the right color/shape/number/etc” for his homework and gets plumb beside himself when he can’t fix the mistake.¬† Gabe has colored pencils that are erasable and has been letting Con use them for homework time which helps — although the colored pencils aren’t as “deceptive” as the colors.¬†¬†Where are my teachers at?¬† Parents of pre-schoolers/kinders?¬† Obviously, this is not so much a big deal as it is a nuisance, but what are your opinions?¬† Are there boxes of regular shades and I’ve just been missing them?¬† Comment below!

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What the Fork

Lately, we have been experiencing a shortage of silverware — forks, in particular.¬† We’ve an abundance of butter knives and spoons, but the forks?¬† Pftttt.¬† They have gone amiss.¬† As I’m sure I’ve mentioned in the past, there is no chore I hate more than standing at a sink washing dishes.¬† So naturally, I decided to get to the bottom of the matter recently when I washed the same four utensils three times over the course of the day.¬† My Nancy Drew sleuthing brought me to this conclusion: my kids, upon scraping their plates, are also discarding our flipping forks.¬† Why?¬† Because they’re imps and they hate me.

Okay, so that’s a little dramatic.¬† Really, it’s because they’re children and they are not paying attention.¬† Nevertheless, we’re down to four pieces of this particular kind of utensil and I can’t deal.

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“Geez, just go buy some more forks, Sarah”, you might be thinking.¬† Ah, but it isn’t that simple.¬† You see, we’re a bunch of weirdos, and weirdos have to use specific eating apparatuses.¬† These things can be neither too thin nor too bulky, too plain nor too ornate.¬† They cannot be easily bent (read: husbands) nor can they be too hard too manipulate (read: kiddos).¬† The silverware set that I purchased a few years back was PERFECT.¬† The weight wasn’t off (tell me that’s not important — I dare you) and the handles were the perfect thickness.¬† Bonus: it was bought at Target for $19.99.¬† In short: this set was EVERYTHING.¬† And guess what?¬† They’ve discontinued that line.¬† Because why the hell not.

I’m the kind of person who has eleventy-hundred movies and/or series on her Netflix cue but only watches the same five or six that never let her down.¬† So, of course, I’m going to keep nose-diving into my first world problems and get all stupid over forks.¬† Obviously, I will eventually have to purchase another set.¬† And if Target would get it together and re-instate this particular set, then I’d be ready and raring to go.¬† But nooo.

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Don’t worry, y’all — I’m not nearly as on myself as I sound; most of the above has been said in jest.¬† But honestly, while most decor and utensil options come to me pretty naturally, this whole fork/spoon/knife thing has me frustrated.¬† I’ve looked at several options and I cannot find any that aren’t either A) over-the-top expensive or, B) something everyone will like.¬† My husband isn’t a particularly big guy, but he has big hands and doesn’t like to use small utensils.¬† My kids I’m not so worried about as I’ve recently bought them some colored, plastic tableware that I won’t flip my lid over when and if they’re accidentally thrown out.¬† I, myself, don’t care so much about the size as I do the thickness; I don’t like using anything bulky.¬† So here’s my question, dear readers: what brands are you using and what are the pros/cons of your favorite utensils?¬† I know I’m not the only one here who agonizes over tableware, so dish (pun absolutely intended).

I suppose I should be relieved that they aren’t throwing away entire dishes, although a few weeks ago a very bleary-eyed Connor nearly chucked his bowl that he’d been eating oatmeal out of.¬† He realized his error before I even got the chance to say anything, however, and begrudgingly grabbed it out of the trashcan.¬† “Ugh, mom”, he said.¬† “Why’d you let me do that?!”, he asked.

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“Because why the hell not”,¬†I mentally argued.¬†¬†“Why the hell not?!”