Tuesday, October 28, 2008


So, because I'm cheap and somewhat health concious, I don't buy treats or sweets. The kids tend to bring enough candy through the door that there's usually something in the house that'll serve as the occasional bribe.

But once a year, round about this time, I begin to dream of Reeses and Baby Ruths. Paydays if I can find them, peanut M&Ms and York Peppermint patties. At some point in my childhood, I think I got left on an Oldsmobile dashboard with some chocolate and it melted into my DNA. I love it. It makes me whole.

So round about this time, I have to figure out a way to buy the candy I like, and then not part with it. This year, as in years past, I will tell myself the following choco-lies...

1) We're sure to have hundreds of Trick or Treaters this year.
2) Not too many of them will go for the microwave popcorn option I give them
3) Children in the neighborhood will be scarred for life if I run out of candy
4) Extra candy can be frozen and brought out for the occasional treat

With these handy self-deceptions, and a large supply of the suprisingly popular microwave popcorn bags, I'll have a nice stash of "leftover" candy to last me to the next candy-based holiday. 'Cause I wouldn't want any of it to go to waste, or for the kids to eat too much. So I'll just plow through a pound while watching Doctor Who and life will be good.

And, can I just say to all the candy manufactures out there, there's nothing actually fun about a "fun size"d piece of candy. For them to actually be fun, they'd be the size of my head.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Watch your language!

Check out Steven Pinker's facinating discussion of language as a window into human nature. A real treat for language buffs.


Friday, October 24, 2008


While trying to come up with something pithy to subject you to, I was chatting with my sister, who shared with me the following.

A friend of hers has been battling cancer for a couple years and today, the specialists she was seeing have sent her home to spend her last days in hospice care. She's 41, and she's got three little kids at home, who will remember their mother sick, if they remember her at all.

So, if you're reading this, please take a moment and appreciate what you have. Your health, your family, your friends, your intellect, your passions, your talent, your hobbies... whatever thrills you...whatever makes you smile...whatever you'd rather be doing than reading this. Or in my case writing this.

Cheap is the new black

So all of the folks out there buying "green" things are missing a huge point that true mommunists have always known. Cheap has always been the best way to be green.

Every thing I don't buy doesn't need to be shipped, packaged, stored or disposed of AT ALL.

Every thing I buy used (every piece of clothing or toy I've ever purchased for my children) or get hand-me-down is completely re-used until my kids outgrow it and I bring it right back to the fabulous folk at my favorite local thrift store. I've basically leased all of my children's things.

That said, I may be running into a problem with food. For some reason, when I present my children with leftovers repeatedly and they don't eat them night after night, I still somehow I feel as though I've gotten my money's worth. This might be crossing line. Hmmmmmm

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Music for the masses 2

Forgot to post some of my current favorites.

Barenaked Ladies -- Popcorn


Justin Robert -- Airplane of food

Justin Roberts -- Willy was a Whale

Justin Roberts -- Pop Fly

And my all-time favorites, They Might Be Giants

Music for the masses

Unlike mothers in democracies, I do not subject myself to bad music. When my kids were really little, I once had a mother tell me "Oh, just you wait until they make you take them to see the Wiggles in concert!"

I'm sorry? Who's the grown up? Who drives the car? Who has the credit card? That's right, it's ME, which means my kids can't MAKE me do anything. And I'll join Sarah Palin on a moose hunt before I pay money to be annoyed.

On the Wiggles' front, my brother told me that one of the Wiggles was really sick. Me being me of course, I said "Wassa matter? Did da wittle Wiggle have tickelitis?" Nope. Apparently Greg Page (the yellow one) has Orthostatic intolerance and means he may have trouble with walking, balance, speech, and coordination.

I'm such a jerk.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

At 7 AM...

My son woke up screaming for daddy, who'd already left for work. My day went downhill from there.

I tried to help, he kept screaming.
I let him scream, he kept screaming.
I called my husband, he kept screaming.
I put out Honey Nut Cheerios, and all was well.

So, to the folks over at General Mills, I've got no idea what you put in those things, but bless you.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Childhood sucks

Well, to be more specific, my daughter sucks... her thumb. Since I don't know of any adults who suck their thumb, I figured she'd probably kick the habit at some point. Sadly, just went to see the dentist who says she's concerned about my daughter's upper pallate and her front teeth. I've talked to her about it, and she's trying to quit, but the thought of quitting makes her upset, and when she's upset, she sucks her thumb, so it's a bit of a sick-sucking-cycle.

Anyone out there have thoughts that don't end in hysterical sobbing? Something that my daughter could try would be good too.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Loosing my marbles...

Confession time,

Like any good mommunist, the currency in my country is completely useless outside my domain. For being helpful and good, my children earn ....marbles. I make my children work for marbles.

Two for really great behavior and doing things without being asked. One if I only have to ask once. None if we have a run in, and for drop down drag out fights, I take marbles away.

If you save up lots of marbles, you get something special, like a trip to the movies.

They thrill my children so much I'm beginning to think I should take part of my salary in marbles. Or maybe jacks and rubber balls. Either would probably be better in this economy.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Welcome to the Counter-cultural revolution...

Hey there,

I'm unsure exactly when this started happening, but when did parents start treating their children like they were breakable? Or like they were perfect? They're either special, or they have special needs. Why can't our kids just be kids?

So I'm launching a revolution, a let's let our kids get dirty and screw up once in a while. Let's let them fail. Let's let them pick their own clothes and look ridiculous. I'm going to call this movement Mommunism. Why? Cause I'm the mommy and I said so.

I can't actually take credit for any of these ideas, most of them came from my mother, whom I'll be able to quote freely, because the likelyhood of her reading a blog are non-existant.

So, to start my mother had a couple sayings that have brought me great joy over the years, and I'd like to share them with you.

--- Whenever my mother finished introducing her three kids, she'd smile at us and add...
"I had more, but they whined"

--- When my mother didn't want to be disturbed, she'd envoke the "Smoke or Blood" rule, which was that unless there was smoke or blood, she didn't want to be bothered.

-- My mother once came home to a sink full of dishes. She didn't say a word, she just walked over to the sink and started tossing them across the room. Made quite an impact, literally. (She later admitted that she picked her least favorite ones out first)

So please! Let's continue this movement. Please post your favorite mommunist quotes, and share your best kid stories. Because we're the mommies and we said so, that's why.