Notes to Weird Mothers

Mothers are weird. Not just I-have-barf-on-my-shirt-and-I-don't-care weird, but weird in other ways.

Ways like:

Sacrifice. I don't mean I'm giving up my glamorous day job as a model to stay home and check the newly potty trained toddler's briefs for racing stripes, if you know what I mean, but sacrifice as in, everything I do revolves/involves/is for my kids. Everything I do. That's right. And there's no Bryan Addams or Kevin Costner in tights either. Just me. Even the coffee I drink is for them. For their safety and well being. We sacrifice and dedicate and breathe for them.

And we like it.

Don't you find that weird?

I LIKE working an extra shift so I can buy snow cones at the corner snow cone hut once a week. (Yes, this kind of crazy spending involves strategic planning. Maybe you have jiggle room in your budget for snow cones, Nikes, or paying the utility bill. I do not).

I LIKE not buying myself a gym membership to whip my sorry patooty into shape so that I can afford swim lessons for the little tyke. I'm just going to name my muffin top, Gloria, and learn to love her, for she is squishy and quite dependable, even if she doesn't look good in mid-rise jeans anymore.

I LIKE using Suave shampoo instead of salon brands so that I can afford the organic milk, with which they will use on their organic cereal, leave on the table, and end up washing it down the sink anyway. That milk.

I LIKE spending my only day off sitting in the scorching heat while my pre-teen swims at a meet/middler has a dance recital/toddler takes over the playground.

I LIKE driving the minivan I said I'd never drive back in 2005 because it has room for my kids, plus their rowdy friends, instead of the Jeep Wrangler I only lust after slightly.

I LIKE learning new ways to hide the squash/zucchini/sweet potatoes in the nightly goulash.

I LIKE eating everybody else's leftover crusts of bread and calling it my breakfast.

I LIKE playing Star Wars Go-Fish twenty times a day and letting him win only sometimes.

I LIKE the sound of Spongebob Square Pants in the background while I cook dinner. For Sponge Bob is light hearted and makes me smile in spite of myself.

I LIKE pickles and cheese for lunch because there's only enough lunch meat left for one sandwich and someone will probably graciously save me the crusts anyway.

I LIKE knowing that someday my house will be clean and white and spotless, but also quiet and boring, and at the same time, hopefully not too miles away, my grandkids will be pooping and shouting and barfing and throwing fits in the craft aisle. I LIKE knowing that at those moments, my kids will be thinking, "I love my mom - how did she DO this? I'm going nuts!" and I will send them silent prayers of support and understanding, while I eat croissants and chocolate.

I LIKE that while my days are long and sometimes the same over and over, like Groundhog Day, but without the humor sometimes, the years are long and these child raising times are like childhood: gone all too quickly, never to come back.

So while I can, I sacrifice a little, Gloria and I. All too soon, we'll be alone and have plenty of time to go to the gym, eat a whole sandwich, and plate the zucchini lovingly on a crystal platter instead of hiding it in the creamy chicken casserole.

Until then, I'll just be weird.

my favorite household product

101 Uses for Baking Soda (-86 )


1. Facial scrub. Great for blackheads. Mix with orange juice for some extra vitamin C.


2. Instead of shampoo. 


3. Deodorize your wooden cutting boards. Sprinkle on, and use a wet sponge or cloth (sponges gross me out personally). 


4. Sprinkle on carpet or mattresses before vacuuming. 


5. A counter top scrub.


6. Dip your wet toothbrush in it for a natural tooth cleaner. Mix with peroxide for some extra oomph.


7.  Soak your feet in hot water and 1/2 cup baking soda. Then use a little more as a scrub. Swirl a little olive oil in there and you'll have exfoliated, soft toes.


8. Boost your laundry soap by adding 1/2 cup to your washer.


9. Sprinkle in your teenager's stinky shoes.


10.  Add a good amount to your batch of hard boiled eggs in the water. This is an amazing trick that totally works. The shells slip right off and you won't have dimpled, dented eggs that are only good for egg salad.


11. Deodorize your drains. 


12. Clean your microwave with it.


13. Keep an open box in your fridge for getting rid of last night's Kung Pao Shrimp leftovers. 


14.  Take a box camping. It's your toothpaste, hand scrub, pot scrub, all in one.


All for $1 a box. Go nuts, and buy three.

I am Jami Gertz

So my little Gianni-Be-Good, my Moose, my Pooky Head, my four year old whoIbirthedwithouttheuseofdrugsthankyouverymuchcanIgetanamen? had his teeth pulled yesterday.   Those teeth.  Those FREAKING teeth that have been plaguing us for two years finally had to go.

There were sobs and tears and yelling and hitting.
From me.
At home.
Cuz I didn't go.
I left that to the Daddy because I figured I gestated him and birthed him (withouttheuseofdrugsthankyouverymuchcanIgetanamen?) so Daddy could do the dentist thing and we'd pretty much be even.  More or less.

When he came home he was puffy eyed and sniffly and seemed out of it due to the drugs and wanted ice cream.
Daddy I mean.

Gianni looked like a rugby playing hockey pro.

And he had a blood mustache.

A BLOOD MUSTACHE.

He looked like a four year old vampire.
Not pretty.  Not right.  Very, very wrong on every level.

Remember the wee vampire in Lost Boys, Laddie, the one that comes crashing up through the bed and Star shouts, "He's just a little boy!" even though he looks like he's going to feast on everyone's throat, or maybe he just looks like any typical small child who doesn't want to go to bed?  Yeah, that one.  My baby looked like him.  Except his parents don't look like Star or Michael and we don't turn spaghetti into maggots and we don't fly and we don't hang out with Keifer at least not outside our minds and I really REALLY miss Corey Haim now.  Curses.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yes.  The guilt we feel as parents for the loss of my baby's baby teeth.  If you were hoping to get Parent of the Year Awards this year, you're welcome for narrowing down the competition.  Mike and I have officially dropped out of the running.

So we did what every self respecting parent does when they realize they've totally messed up their kid and want to redeem themselves:  they leave $10 from the tooth fairy instead of the usual fifty cents.
Parenting by Bribes - it's how we roll.  If you give Mommy a kiss, I'll give you cake.  If you snuggle Daddy, he'll buy you some Legos.  If you don't ever leave me and go to college, I'll buy you a pony.  Things like that.

So now poor Pooky Head has no front teeth (no corn on the cob!  no honeycrisp apples!  no ribs!  no fruitcake!  no taffy!  no defending himself against rabid wolverines!) and he will be wasting the afternoon at the dollar store spending like a drunken sailor, lighting cigars for fellow toddlers with his greenbacks, and buying toys that will break the second we get them in the car.

And hopefully we will get used to the gummy-I-look-like-a-hundred-year-old-man-without-his-dentures-in look.  Also the dried-shrunken-apple-head look.
After all we have a good two years to get used to it.

And maybe the last Twilight movie will be casting small vampires.

R.I.P.

Here lie:


the laptop


the camera


the camera in my cell phone


the cell phone.



They led good lives.

They all died this week.

Yes.  One week.  Maybe it was two.  But still.

What the heck is going on?

I'm scared to turn on the oven, my dish washer, my dryer, my car.  My hair dryer, my coffee maker, my blender.  Gee, I have a lot more electronics than I thought.

Also, I nearly chopped off my finger the other day.

It's been a weird week.

If anyone wants to contribute to the Plug Melyssa Back In Fund, now would be a good time.  I'm typing on an eleven year old dinosaur of a computer and begging my cell to come back to life.  Breathe, darn you! breathe!  Talk to me, Claudia! (that's my cell's name).  Say something!  Anything!  Please don't die!  Mr Darcy (that's my laptop), please don't leave me! Snappy (camera), please work again and I'll dedicate the time to giving you a better name!

Sniff.  Sob.  Weep.

Can we live as a one-computer house hold?  How am I supposed to waste time on Pinterest and Facebook write for a living when my kids keep insisting on doing their math and homeschooling themselves??  It's a conundrum.  A pickle.

I'd post a picture to go with this obituary, but I can't.  Cuz my camera broke.  You may have heard.

There will be a viewing, wake and burial this weekend.  You're all invited.

Please bring armfuls of brownies.

That is all.

I'm A Veterinarian Cuz I Don't Eat Meat

"There's no food in your food."  - Joan Cusack in Say Anything.


"I think this horse has turned..." - O Brother, Where Art Thou?


This post is brought to you by Food, Inc, FoodMatters, The Omnivore's Dilemma, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, several other books/magazines/documentaries, and my own conscience. Any resemblance to your eating habits is entirely coincidental. 


First of all, yes, this will be a slightly serious blog (scramble to get out now if you must, Chicken BobBabyPants) and no, I am not giving up meat and going vegan.  Although if the payoff is to have Shania Twain's rocking abs, then I may reconsider.


But I am going to try to change the way I eat and shop and cook and I need you guys, my little sweetie muckins, to keep me accountable and maybe even join me in my journey.


I don't mind eating meat.  I'm an animal lover as much as the next gal; I have my doggy, Mr. Milo Farts-A-Lot, and I've had horses and chickens and kitty cats, but I'm not hypocritical about killing and butchering and eating Bessie the bovine.  I love all meats really; besides the boring ol' chicken breast I've had goat, bear, bison, alligator, lamb, octopus, and I don't really turn up my nose at anything someone feels like cooking for me.  After all, I don't understand why us white bred (or is it bread? haha!) Americans will snarf down a hamburger or a chicken nugget but make gagging sounds over other animals.  Have you ever looked into a big old cow's brown eyes?  They're stinking adorable.  Chickens are snuggly little fuzzy cuties.  If you can eat that you have no business getting all appalled at munching on some lamb chops.  But that's not my point.  Where was I?  I have no idea.  Right.  


Meat.  


After living the last year in a group home where we ate only meat people gave us or the food bank sold us I have been more diligent than ever to get that @#$#%^ out of our system now.  We were eating frozen chicken that didn't come with labels.  Just huge unmarked fowls from some nameless factory.  Rolls of ground beef (or horse, who the heck knew).  Anyway, it gave me the creeps to eat it but eat it we did.  You put enough Rooster sauce on something and it's gonna be tasty.


Now that we're back to being able to shop the way I want, I still haven't made that leap to buying organic meat.  It's so unbelievably expensive!  No, wait.  It's not.  It's just that compared to the mass produced nastiness you can buy for a couple greenbacks a pound, it's expensive.  But have we really sunk so low, folks, that we would buy steak at the Dollar Tree?  


I'm not kidding.  They had it last week.


After learning that our chicken we buy is soaked in chlorine to get the bacteria to die and the beef is treated with ammonia for the same reason, I'm not sure I want to eat it again.  There's so much feces in our meat that I'd like to quit thinking about it now.  I mean, I'm a mom; I've dealt with poop on epic levels.  But I draw the line at eating it.  You do know that you have to cook meat to certain temperatures not because it's dangerous to eat the meat itself under cooked, but because you need to kill off all that lovely poop so you can eat it and not get sick.


I knew about soybeans and corn and GMOs.  I knew about organic dairy and I've been buying that for years.  I knew about free range chickens and I much prefer handing over my wrinkly dollars bills to a neighbor down the road for eggs.  But I've buried my head in the sand, so to speak, about the meat.


Now I'm not really talking about going vegetarian.  I love a medium rare steak.  I love chicken.  A meal without meat feels incomplete.  But I certainly can't afford to feed it to my family of five seven days a week.


So what Mike and I are proposing to the girls is to be meat free four days a week.  And on the three where we can have it, it'll be the good stuff.  This will be harder for them at lunch because I'm going to stop buying nuggets and fish sticks, which is their lunchtime staple food.  What about lunch meat?  I'm gonna assume that mechanically separated animal parts smooshed back together probably isn't super natural.  Who knows how many different turkeys are smashed into one paper thin slice?  We can't have peanut butter remember, due to G's allergies.  No one cares for the almond stuff.  There may be a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches in the Williams' future.  Ideas, please?


Is it really so bad?  Well, you could ask the workers who work at these plants (only 13 in the nation and they control the whole industry.  Fifty years ago there were thousands.  Isn't that weird?  How powerful are they?) but most are illegal and aren't going to talk to you. 


Sometimes I think that a hundred years from now, scientists are really going to shake their goatee-d heads and mutter about our stupidity.  Why are we questioning the onslaught of cancers and autism and ADD and diabetes and all of these maladies that are so on the rise, it's disgusting?  I can picture them saying as they nibble on a real tomato and not the kind that's been unnaturally ripened with methane gasses, "can't believe our ancestors couldn't figure out they were killing themselves...raising money for cures while they consumed huge quantities of pesticides, bleaches, GMOs, antibiotics...what a bunch of morons..."


Am I overreacting?  What do you think?  Does Tyson deserve our respect as long as their chickens are pumped full of so much food their legs can't support them and they've never seen daylight?  I have a soft spot for chickies...my sister had a brood as a kid and they all had names.  She also had a chicken hat that she wore in public just to humiliate me but that's another story for another day.


So what do you think?  Should Mike take up hunting?  Is organic milk not enough, should we go to raw?  Can we do this pseudo vegetarianism?  Will I lose weight?  Will I become an annoying person who refuses to eat at other people's houses and has weird restrictions that really make everyone want to smack me?  Will I have to wear patterned tights and put my four year old in a sling and only shop at fair trade markets?  Will I have to brew my own beer and go to story time and march in protests?  Will I start looking at clothing tags next?  I don't look good in patterned tights and Birkenstocks...  Will I start hanging out with the recyclers?  Cuz I stink at recycling and I think they'll vote me off the island eventually.  I have zero desire to own an electric car.  Can a liberal eater still vote Republican?   


Who's with me?


Criminy, I really want a flippin' hamburger now.   Get it?  Flippin' burgers??  HAHAHA!

I have a problem.

My name is Melyssa and I am a thrift store addict.

*hi, melyssa!*

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I do.

I brake for yard sales.

Some house wives dream of running away with the I Can't Believe it's Not Butter! guy and going to some tropical local where they can sip drinks in coconuts with little umbrellas.

I dream of running away and becoming an American Picker.

I admit I have a disease.

Picker's disease.

Recently I was with Anna (my little picker in training) and we were at Goodwill looking for Halloween costumes. Yes, we dress up, which in some circles requires us to surrender our Christian homeschooling card for a month.  Anyway, I purchased this for Anna, being blinded by the price tag - a mere $3.99! for original art work! of a ballerina! - and I didn't look too closely.

It's certainly one of a kind.

Original.

Perhaps less Dega...more Dali?

Dem four legged ballerinas are hard to come by.  She must have had an frightful time getting into a company!  I admire her persistence.  Also, the man with no legs; I can't imagine what he went through trying to find a partner.  No-legs-man with four-legged-girl = match made in ballet heaven.

Either that, or I'm looking at it all wrong and she doesn't have four legs, she only has two legs which evidently both sprout of her right hip (youch) and the man is only a man from the torso up.  He's like a centaur except instead of stately horse legs he got saddled with lady gams with bad turn-out and no ability to point.

So, it may not have been the purchase of the year.  But it has character, by golly! I sorta want to see more from this artist.  A three armed gymnast perhaps?  A two headed figure skater?  Let us have a moment of silence for extra limbed performing artists out there.  We appreciate you.  We really do.  Although we're not sure where you go to buy tights.

How Cheap Are You Part II

13.  Baking soda makes a nifty facial scrub.  Actually, you can do anything with baking soda practically:  wash kitchen counters, use as a shampoo, use as a toothpaste, deodorize your garbage disposal/sink/fridge/shoes, add to your laundry, and of course, cook with it.  And it costs like, under a buck.

14.  Olive oil mixed with a little Castor oil makes an excellent face wash. It takes off make-up like magic - yes, even contraband Mary Kay lipstick!  Get a little empty bottle, fill with about 3/4 olive oil, and top with Castor oil (look for it in the laxatives aisle).  With the remaining Castor oil, if you happen to be ten months pregnant, drink with orange juice.  This will cause you to be violently ill and give you P.T.S.D. whenever you see orange juice for the rest of your life, but if you're lucky, your little baby squatter will evacuate the premises.  Not mine, but I tend to have disobedient babes, even in the womb.  Anywho.  Back to the face wash:  put a dollop in your palm, massage into skin, and use a very hot washcloth to wipe off.  If you have super oily skin, my friend Aerie says to up the Castor oil content and add some tea tree oil.  Castor oil is surprisingly drying, so don't be scared that you will have pizza face.

15.  If you still need moisturizer after that (I do, because evidently I am a crone), I recommend what Genesis and I recently found at a fancy pants beauty store: Epinsencial protective face balm for babies.  It's awesome and only $6 if you can find it.  It has the cute lil Eric Carle caterpillar on the front and is free of parabens and petroleum and full of organic aloe, licorice and zinc.  Yes, I did just take balm from babies.

16.  If you have a fine at the local library there are several ways to avoid it:  write a scathing letter to the librarian because it was not REALLY your fault that you returned a book to the wrong library, make sure every member of your family has their own card so you can rotate them when a fine gets high (works especially well if you have a family of ten like I do), or bring in canned goods to work off your debt (I guess if they don't have that particular program then they will just look at you like you have grass growing out of your ears, but it's worth a shot).

17.  Use vinegar to mop your floor.  Make sure you have pickles on hand for when people tromp through and muse, 'Man, I could really go for a pickle right now for some reason...'

18.  Vinegar is also good for hair.  Also makes you want pickles.

19.  When your fruit juice bottle gets down about a 1/3 of the way, fill with water. Repeat until the juice is so watery no one wants juice anymore, thus freeing up space in the grocery budget for Cheezits.

20.  Hide Cheezits in your closet so they last longer.

21.  Reuse gift bags.  It's especially fun to bring a gift to a house warming party in a Victoria's Secret bag, or a wrap a teen boy's present in a It's A Boy! bag.

22.  I used to carefully peel off the stamps that hadn't been postmarked over to reuse.  But I hardly get anything with actual stamps on them these days.

23.  Find friendly homeschool teens who will give your kid lessons for something - anything - for a fraction of the price that you would pay from anyone else.  I like to pretend this is helping them as well, but it's really for selfish reasons that I want my kids to ride horses and play piano.

24.  Buy the absolute cheapest curtain rods, used cameras, window blinds, and picture frames you can find, just to name a few.  These will fall apart, break, hang crooked, be the wrong size, and never work, causing you to work on your patience and inner peace.  You can't put a price on that.  You can add to the fury control by driving twice as far to get these gems as you would to buy the ones that actually fit and work properly.  Don't forget to buy the curtains down a size from what you really need in order to save $3 so you can work on your not-cussing skills, and if the camera you buy is the fourth piece of junk you've bought your daughter leaving her to look at you with large, sad brown eyes and say with a tremor in her squeaky little voice, 'It's OK, Mommy...thanks for trying...I'll just draw the picture from memory...' then that'll really keep you from being prideful and uppity.

25.  Garlic is cheap and good for just about anything.  Sore throats, bad stomachs, coughs, vampires, and unwanted drop-in visitors.  My husband is Italian and therefore finds it better than my old perfume, BCBG.  Who incidentally, decided to let me be vile and stinky by discontinuing the only perfume in history that I love.  If I smell like garlic from now until eternity, take it up with Max Azzria.

How Cheap Are You?

Saving money is an art form.  I thought I was good at it, but it turns out I am simply good at not spending it.  This  alone does NOT, in fact, mean I have heaps and heaps of the stuff under my floor boards.  Alas.  But here are some ways I've found to save a buck and you're welcome, little students, for the tips:

1.  If you rinse off the toddler's boogers from the paper towel you used to blow his nose, you can totally use the same paper towel to wipe the table.  Who's with me?  Can I get an amen?  Hello?

2.  If you are in the J.C. Penney dressing room and you are the only one there and you find a Mary Kay lipstick on the floor, go ahead and keep it.  Now, now, don't get all weird on me; wipe that bad boy off with a tissue (or that same paper towel) and plop it in your purse.  Your Magenta lips will thank you someday when you need a little pick-me-up.  I think I just heard the sound of divorce papers rustling...honey?  HONEY!  Fine.  I'll throw it away.  But do you KNOW how expensive Mary Kay is?  I was only thinking of our cosmetic budget after all.

3.  If you have a guest house that numerous people have stayed in and you are responsible for cleaning that guest house and you find a facial moisturizer in that same guest house, go ahead and keep it.  I mean, even if you could figure out who it had originally belonged to, it's not so important that you would be obligated to mail it back to them, right?  I mean, it would be shameful to waste.  How many Olays had to be oiled to get that consistency and creamy texture anyway?

4.   Clothes pins make excellent baggy clips for things like chips and half full bags of frozen peas and such.

5.  I've tried the no shampooing thing.  Yes, this is a thing.  Evidently, us Americans especially wash our hair freakishly often and use really bad things on our hair to do it.  Besides, anything that involves getting my hair wet as infrequently as possible and is free to do,  I am all in.  At least until 6 weeks later when I start to resemble Ali Sheedy in The Breakfast Club.  I finally gave in and that crazy soft hair you get from a creamy conditioner was heavenly indeed.  So although I can't do the no 'poo thing, I do love the dry shampoo you can get at Walmart for a mere $4.77.

6.  Never order drinks when you go out to eat.

7.  Or just never go out to eat.

8.  Have at least one short, undersized child who can wear the same size clothes for years on end until they fall apart.  Sorry, Roosky.  Maybe someday you'll grow and you can have a new skirt or something.

9.  Buy all your family's clothes used.  Even socks.  I draw the line at underwear.  Oh OK, fine, my husband drew the line at underwear.  Not only did I hear the divorce papers rustling, I heard the pen scratching along the paper as he signed em.

10.  Make food from scratch.  I've only used a cake mix once, and it made me mad.  Add eggs?  Oil?  Are you kidding me?  How is this easier?  If I had eggs and oil I wouldn't need a mix, would I?  So, Betty Crocker, you what?  Added the baking powder in for me?  Wow, that's a real time saver right there...Pfft.

11.  You could do like my friend, Mariah, who gets an adrenaline rush from the adventure of running out of gas because she sticks like glue to her fuel budget no matter what.  Then she calls the cops, and get this, they come pick her up.   Yep.  Every time.  When I run out of gas in the middle of the Utah nowhere, with three small children, one dog, and an ever decreasing in size bladder, and I call the cops, what do you think they do?  Oh, they come by all right.  They come by to say 'Hope you figure this out soon.  Give us a call if no one comes to get you by dark.'  Never mind that I don't know a soul in Utah. Never mind that I have used bad language in front of my impressionable youngsters who now need therapy.  Never mind that I had to pee in a Dixie Cup in the back of the van, also causing more reasons for the youngsters needing therapy.  Never mind that while I managed to squeak out a 911 call, I get no cell reception in Utah.  Never mind that this was the same trip that evidently was put together by Satan himself, involving huge freak snow storms, shut down highways, no visibility, no husband to calm my frazzled nerves, a raging yeast infection, and a drive that shoulda taken 1-2 days taking 4.  I don't wanna talk about this anymore.  The point is, maybe you can save a buck by running out of gas.  I, sadly, cannot.

12.  You can reuse tea bags.  This will not fly in my house because my inner city youths have a British granny inside their tough looking exterior, and not only are they tea lovers, but they have now discovered loose tea.  You just haven't lived until you've heard a 6 foot tall black teenager holler across the house,

'YO!!  What dog took my tea ball, man???  You young bulls better be keeping outta my Lemon Ginseng Honey FrouFrou or I be takin you down!'

That's at least Part One of my money saving tips.  Just call me the Yoda of the thrift shop.  Teach you, I will.

money, money, money

So this is yet another post about nothing, just random and strange musings, this time about the almighty dollar. I was watching Oprah this morning as a good little stay-at-home mom does (actually it's the first episode of watched of that show in months and months but she had chefs on and I love those brilliant people!) and she was doing this show on saving money because of the recession (who really needs a reason to save money though? Well, besides Oprah I mean). Enough with the parenthesis already, right? Sorry. Anyway, I always watch those types of money saving shows and read the money saving articles and peruse the money saving books, looking for even more ways to shave the ol' budget. It's just amazing to me though some of the things they come up with. Stop getting takeout five times a week? Are you joking? Make your own coffee instead of buying a $4 latte every morning? Who does that anyway? Do we really need someone to tell us to downsize the house and cars and entertainment? Seriously? It boggles my super-thrift mind. I have yet to actually hear about something that could save me some bucks (except for those coupon cutting ladies who basically get their groceries for free: that still confuses me too much to try). Oops, more paranthesis. I have been cheap, cheap, cheap since I was a kid. Here's are some excerpts from my diary I kept as an eight year old in case you don't believe me:

7-3-86
'Today we went to the bank and I put in $11.17! Now I have $88.17!'

...and 6-14-86
'I am going to buy a colt from Jim and Carolyn for $153! It's a very good buy!'

...and 7-6-86
'I bought my cousin, Cacie, a bear from Ron's Box Store for $3.'

...and 9-23-86
'I got the cutest clip board from BiMart for .88! And a whole bunch of shoes for Barbie for .89!'

I could go on and on, but you get the drift and it's somewhat embarrassing besides.

I am the woman who has a drawer full of used ziplocks that I shake the crumbs out of and save, pieces of aluminum foil that I fold into nice symmetrical squares and reuse, and yup, even the twist ties get a second and third and forty-eleventy life at my house. Lately it's the paper towels. Did you know they are totally not kidding about Brawny?! You really can rinse them and reuse them! I know! This is exciting stuff. Except for those of you who are so bored you're drooling on the computer right now. The only problem is, no one else in my house does this, so I'm chasing kids around yelling, 'Don't throw that away! I can rinse off the egg and spilled juice and snot and we can use that paper towel to wash your face!' For some reason, this does not thrill my kids the way it does me. I had visions and daydreams about never buying another roll of paper towels again. Alas. It was not meant to be, but at least they're bought less often.

I have had a job and a checking account since I was eight. I really did buy that horse. All with my own money and then I fed and sheltered him all with my own money for years. Then I sold him to pay for pointe shoes and tutus. Oh, and that job I had as an eight year old? Some do-gooder turned me into Child Protective Services. For crying out loud. I was seriously annoyed. Laid off before the age of ten. I am obsessed with thrift stores and flea markets and garage sales. If I kept a diary today it would be full of all my good buys and written on Brawny paper towels. I wear shoes from the boy's department because they fit better and are half the price of woman's tennies. Besides the paper towel debacle, I wash plastic forks and spoons and reuse them for years. I drove my sister nuts when I was pregnant because she would bring over plastic table wear so I wouldn't have to wash it and thus save me some work. Then I'd load it all up in my dishwasher and she'd stare at me and say, 'I don't think you get the point...' If it gets cold in my house, I toss everyone a blanket, cuz they're paid for. I am also the woman who will go to three different groceries so I can get the best buys on absolutely everything. Cheese at Safeway, canned foods at WalMart, coffee at Big Lots, clearance produce at King Soopers, etc. Of course I probably use more gas that way, but don't rain on my parade, ok? The vast majority of my clothing is used and when Mike told me he didn't want to wear a shirt I bought him because I bought it used, back when we were dating, I almost broke up with him right then and there. I tell my kids they can have a new pair of jeans when they stop growing or when they get a job, whichever comes first. We smuggle in our own candy and drinks to the $1 theater and although I don't plan on stopping, I do recall Cora being about 5 years old and telling me, 'Don't worry, Mommy, if the theater police ask me why I have this stuff, I'll just tell them I am allergic to their stuff!' Maybe I am turning my kids into desperados, instead of teaching them that money doesn't grow on trees. You mean your children don't have nightmares about being chased by theater police? Oh well, with the cash I save through the years I'll have enough to pay for their therapy.

Lest you think I have it all figured out (what? you weren't thinking that? the drool is getting out of control and you're thinking about that instead?) I don't. We live check to check; such is the life and sacrifice of a stay-at-home mom. Mike is waiting patiently for the day when I pull out my secret brain surgeon degree and yell, "Surprise!" but until then, my love, it's recycled paper goods and dinners called 'goulash.' That's a fancy word for 'whatever's in the crisper drawer mixed with some eggs and a half a box of pasta.' Recipe to follow? No? Your loss.

I know I'm not the only one, people! Let me know how you can rival me in the thrift department!