Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Everyone has a story to tell…

Wednesday, October 5th, 2011

I’ve always believed that everyone has a story to tell.  My blog is mine.  It’s where I share what’s going on in my life, my successes, my failures, my hopes, my dreams, my fears…and maybe even a few laughs.  I like to laugh.

Reader’s Digest believes everyone has a story, too.  In fact, they have created a contest.  It comes with a hefty payout.  $25,000 for the best story.

I’d like it to be mine.  And so I’ve been trying to figure out what story I want to tell.  In 150 words.  There’s the catch.  And it is quite the catch.  It’s hard to write something truly amazing in so few words.

You’ll have to read it.  And you’ll have to let me know what you think.  And vote.  Please vote.

PS.  It will be worth the visit.  I have a big reveal in the story…

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A really sweet honor…

Wednesday, June 22nd, 2011

It’s been a while since I’ve won an award.  In all honesty, I haven’t been competing for anything lately.  I have stopped entering contests.  I’m so focused on getting ahead and making the most of my time writing that I have just been writing for me…unless I’m writing for money which also benefits me.

So, imagine my surprise when I received a nice little direct message on Twitter from Keenie Beanie yesterday.  She told me she had a surprise for me on the blog.  And you know the way I think.  I was somehow hoping that there was something chocolate involved.

Close!

She gave me an award.  It’s the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award.  Wow.

I feel so…undeserving.  Especially since my own daughter told me just yesterday that I am mean.  And then she asked me for money.  And a ride.

So, to get an award…and such a yummy looking award…just what my wounded ego needed.  Thank you, Krys!

Per the instructions that come with said award, I have to reveal some facts about myself and then pass the award along.  Naturally, I’m struggling.  Is there anything that you don’t already know about me?

Okay.

Chocolate has always been my downfall.  In fact, it got me into a lot of trouble growing up.  I had to watch my sister after school and play mommy even though we were only three years apart.  To suggest that it resulted in friction was no exaggeration.

One afternoon for our snack I made chocolate pudding.  It was watery as all get out because it was supposed to be the cook kind.  My bad.  Not one to let chocolate go to waste, I drank mine down.  My sister refused.  She held it over her head and dropped it on the counter.  It splattered EVERYWHERE…even the ceiling.

I did what big sisters do.  I yelled that she needed to clean it up and then I locked myself in my bedroom to bawl and have a nervous breakdown.  Somehow, this would be my fault.

Months later when Mom discovered some missed splatters of chocolate pudding on the ceiling, it was.

I still like cook chocolate pudding.  I still like my sister.  And I still have nervous breakdowns when things get too overwhelming.  My definition of overwhelming has changed greatly since then.  And I rarely lock myself in my bedroom and cry anymore.

Was that revealing enough?  Sorry.  PMS is an ugly thing.  All I can think about right now is chocolate.  My poor thighs.

Now for those I must pass this honor along to…

It gets a little challenging since Krys is out the running.  She has always been there to love and support me online and IRL.  I especially like the IRL.  We Skype regularly and talk on the phone.  We text.  She’s become a real friend.  And I feel so very blessed.  Thank you, Krys, for everything.

That brings me to a woman I admire more than she will ever know.  I marvel at her raw honesty.  I thrill in her athletic endeavors.  And I love how she balances a long distance relationship with single parenting.  T, you are my hero!

Next, I have to pass this award to a woman who pushes herself to the limits in everything she does.  No one is more dedicated to working out.  No one is more devoted and determined to excel in a career.  And I can’t imagine anyone finding a more perfect match to share a life with.  Jolene, watching you evolve is a treat.  Thank you for sharing it with all of us.

My longtime blog buddy, Meredith, truly deserves this award.  She often shares recipes that make my mouth water and my butt grow bigger just from looking at the pictures she includes.  I still dream of that tirimisu cake.  Seriously.

One day, I stumbled across a relative I barely knew online.  And now she has become so much more.  She’s a friend and confidant.  Love you, Becky.  Read as she shares the reality of being an Army wife.

And finally, to Laura.  I know you are struggling.  Just know that you will never struggle alone.  We all share the love and the burden.  Thank you for being there when I needed you most.  Please let me return the favor.  Mwah!

Come back tomorrow for my happiness post about my latest endeavor.  I’ve been writing from home for days.  You knew it was coming.

Posted in Just Sharing | 9 Comments »

This month…think pink!

Friday, October 8th, 2010

This month as we honor those who have survived breast cancer and support those who are fighting the fight, spread the word.  Wear pink.  Don your ribbons.  Let them know they aren’t alone.

The Pink Glove Dance started in Portland Oregon and inspired so many others.  Enjoy their sequel.  I could say more, but words fail me.  And they spread the message so much more eloquently than I could.  (I’m too busy crying Pink Glove Dance tears…)

Posted in Just Sharing | 7 Comments »

Yahoo! and Stand Up to Cancer…

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

I received a notice from the Yahoo! Mother Board about a new cause Yahoo! is supporting and I just had to share:

Help Yahoo! as we stand up to cancer and donate $100,000 to cancer research. All you have to do is click “like” on omg!’s Facebook page and omg! will donate $1 to Stand Up to Cancer. http://www.facebook.com/omgfromyahoo

Once again I am honored to be affiliated with such an amazing company.  Please help me by taking a moment out of your weekend to “like” the page.  And if you would, share on Facebook and Tweet about it.

As many of us have been affected by cancer, it is nice to have such a simple way to raise awareness and funds.

Thank you!

PS.  And if you haven’t signed up to win a pillow, leave a comment on the Fat Friday Giveaway post.

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Let your voice be heard…

Saturday, March 27th, 2010

Okay, so I read Pippi’s post Thursday and it inspired me.  She shared this list that she had found from another blogger.  And I thought about how many stories were contained in this list.  So, read through it…and leave a comment.  I’ll share stories about the ones that seemed most interesting to you.

Here it is…

Pippi scratched out the items on the list that she’s done in her life…

Me…I’m gonna bullet them…

• Graduated High School
• Kissed someone.

Smoked cigarettes.
Got so drunk you passed out. PUKED  (**Nope.  I puked.  For the better part of a day.  Hence my feelings toward Goldschlager.)

• Rode every ride at an amusement park. I GET NAUSEATED EASILY  (Huh.  I have a stomach of steel…normally.)
• Collected something really stupid. HMMMM – LET ME THINK ABOUT THAT  (lots of stupid things…not always my idea…in my defense)
• Gone to a rock concert.
• Helped someone.
• Gone fishing
• Watched four movies in one night.
• Gone long periods of time with out sleep. PIPPI NEEDS HER SLEEP. I WOULD NOT LAST A NIGHT IN VEGAS w/MINDY & GANG (Nicki, since we’re apparently referring to ourselves int he third person, can function on almost no sleep.  And I’ve proven it.)
• Lied to someone.
• Been dumped.

Snorted cocaine.

• Failed a class.  (College.  Statistics.  And my mother bought his condo.)

Smoked weed.
Dealt drugs.

• Taken a college level course.  (I even took enough to graduate…twice!)

Been in a car accident.

• Been in a tornado.  (I was 12, home alone with my little sister…)
• Watched someone die.
• Been to a funeral.
• Burned yourself. (accidentally)

Ran a marathon. I RAN A HALF MARATHON IN 1:39:49! (Kudos, Pip!  But…why?)

• Your parents got divorced.   (separated)
• Cried yourself to sleep.
• Spent over $200 in one day.
• Flown on a plane.
• Cheated on someone.
• Been cheated on. HMMM, DON’T KNOW  (Knowing isn’t any easier…)

Written a 10 page letter.
Gone skiing.
Been sailing.

• Cut yourself.
• Had a best friend.
• Lost someone you loved. GRANDPARENTS  (Practically everyone I loved…)

Shoplifted something.
Had detention.

• Skipped school.
• Got in trouble for something you didn’t do.
• Stolen books from the library.  (It was an accident.  I moved…)
• Gone to a different country.  (several: Mexico, Canada, France, Italy
• Dropped out of school. (leave of absence…)

Been in a mental hospital.

• Watched the “Harry Potter” movies. HANGS HEAD (Proudly read the entire series.  Even more proud when the kids read it by themselves…BEFORE watching the movies.)
• Had an online diary. DOES MY BLOG COUNT? (Ditto…)
• Fired a gun. HOW ABOUT AN AIRSOFT GUN?  (Air soft, bb, and paintball…Ahhh, good times in The Bubble.  And a good story…)

Gambled in a casino.

• Had a yard sale.

And a lemonade stand. A VIRTUAL ONE
Actually made money at the lemonade stand. $265 FOR MINDY

• Been in a school play.

Been fired from a job.
Taken a lie detector test.
Swam with dolphins.

• Gone to sea world.

Attempted suicide.

• Voted for American/Australian Idol.  (Sorry, Kelly.  I was rooting for Justin…)
• Written poetry.
• Read more than 20 books a year.  month…
• Gone to Europe.
• Loved someone you couldn’t have. HMMMM, DEFINE LOVE  (Or shouldn’t have…)

Wondered about your sexuality. DOES LESBIAN PORN COUNT?

• Used a coloring book over age 12.
• Had surgery.
• Had stitches. and staples…
• Taken a taxi.

Seen the Washington Monument.
Had more than 5 IM’s/online conversations going at once.
Overdosed.
Had a drug or alcohol problem.

• Been in a fist fight.
• Suffered any form of abuse.
• Had a hamster.
• Petted a wild animal.
• Used a credit card.

Gone surfing in California.

• Did “spirit day” at school.
• Dyed your hair. JUST TO HIDE THE GRAYS  (Just to hide the whites…)
• Got a tattoo. SHHH (VERY DISCREET)  (seriously…)
• Had something pierced. EARS
• Got straight A’s.
• Been on the Honor Roll.

Known someone with HIV or AIDS.
Taken pictures with a webcam. WITH BF *WINK*

• Started a fire. IN A FIREPLACE

Had a party while your parents weren’t home.
Gotten caught having a party while they were gone.

Okay…so my life has not been dull.  I like it that way.  And I intend to keep it that way.  I’m off to a good start.

So…what do you want to know about?  Or maybe you’d like to share your own stories.  I love other people’s stories…

PS. I really did write a lot today.  You can read my post raising a teenage daughter over on Deep South Moms, or if you want to read about the lengths I’m going to in order to get my body wedding ready, stop by Wedding Journeys.

Posted in Just Sharing | 6 Comments »

A little backstory…

Friday, March 26th, 2010

When people ask of my birth, I joke about being imported.  I tell everyone it sounds so much more exotic than simply being adopted.  And if you know me, then you know I can never be too simple.  God forbid that you should accuse me of being run of the mill or ordinary…you might never live it down.  *ahem*

So, the truth of my existence is that I am adopted.  It’s something I’ve always known.  My mom, the woman who raised me, always read me a children’s book while I was little that explained what adoption was.  The book was called “The Chosen Baby.”  It was designed to make me feel special, loved, and wanted.  There are some indications it may have worked too well…like that time with my little sister.

As so frequently happens, my parents were able to have a child on their own about two and a half years after adopting me.  And Allison was feisty…still is.  One day she was very angry with me over goodness knows what.  She was about 8 years old.  And she spoke words meant to strike a mortal blow.

Allison:  Well, you’re not even their real child!

me: Well, at least they wanted me.  They got stuck with you!

Yes, I had comebacks even then.  And she ran off crying.  (Told you I can make people cry using just my words…)

As I grew older, and like any normal kid, I wanted to know about my family.  I wanted some history.  I wanted to know what I was.  There would be projects in school where we studied various cultures and were supposed to research our origins.  Only…I didn’t have any history.  Unlike HIM, who is proud to be Irish, I had nothing.  I grasped at any straws I was given.

My ophthalmologist suggested at one time that given the shape of my eyes and my cheekbones that I might be Iroquois Indian.  Well, I ran with it and read everything I could about the Iroquois.  Now, of course, I realize that given the nature of my adoption, I could be anything or come from anywhere.

See, this story emerged as I aged…

Apparently, my biological parents were engaged and the minute my mother announced her pregnancy…he bolted.  So, rather than have an abortion, (thank you!) she opted to go live with a relative until I was born.  Her obstetrician was my mom’s cousin.  And that’s how the private adoption was negotiated.

You would think that since my cousin was the physician who helped bring me into the world that I would have more clues about my past.  I don’t.  He passed away many years ago.  All I have is a name.  And…every time I have registered on an adoption website…and there have been many…I wonder if I’m even spelling it right.

The name…the one my mom saw on the adoption papers and carried in her soul until I was almost a mother myself…was Mary Ann Petrashune.

I have a birth certificate, but it has the names of my adopted parents, not my biological parents.  I know I was born in St. Anthony’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida on July 7, 1972.  (It always seemed like a lucky thing to be born with so many 7s.)  And, since my kids both had Mongolian spots on their lower backs when they were young and we know the ex’s heritage, we know that I am not completely Caucasian.  See, told you I was exotic.

HE has been very supportive of my efforts to find my past, get some history, discover my heritage.  Maybe it’s because his history means so much to him.  Maybe it’s simply because he cares for me so deeply and he wants me to have everything.  Whatever the reason, I was still surprised when he spoke to me the other night as we were lying there in bed.

He was wrapped around me, like always.  And his arm tightened about my waist briefly before he spoke.

HIM: I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

me: About what?

HIM: Your other family.

I knew what he meant.  I had explained to him that sometimes it bothered me that my family was so small.  I told him that it wasn’t that I wanted a replacement family.  It wasn’t that I felt like I had missed out on anything by being raised by my adoptive parents.  They were all I had ever known.  They loved me and cared for me and never treated me differently than their biological child.  It wasn’t that at all.  It would simply be nice to have someone that I looked like or a medical history or any history.

HIM: I think that when we have some money we should hire a private investigator.  They will have more success than the adoption sites.

And I looked at him, amazed.  It still surprises me the things he thinks about.  And I didn’t know what to say.  So, I spoke from the heart.

me: I love you.  That would be nice.  Thank you.

So, there it is.  Maybe someday I will have an answer to life’s mysteries.  Maybe I’ll know whose eyes I have.  Maybe I’ll see where that nose came from.  Maybe I’ll have family stories about coming over on the Mayflower or being related to some writer or just anything.  Maybe they’ll be a huge disappointment like Joe Dirt’s family was.  It’s a risk I don’t mind taking.

I’m not looking for a new mom.  I have a great one already.  I’m not looking for a new family.  I love the one I have.  Still, I have a lot of love.  And if that was an option, I’d embrace it.  And if it’s not…could I at least get some medical history, please?

Quick Karma:

• nothing can bring you peace but yourself
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 22 Comments »

Just trying to make a difference…

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

Sometimes it’s so easy to get bogged down in life that I lose track of who I am, the person I want to be.  And I hate being all self-centered.  We all are, to an extent.  We have to be somewhat focused on ourselves and our lives in order to accomplish our goals.  At the same time, to put blinders on to others’ needs is the danger.

And I have been so focused lately on all that I have to accomplish, that I’ve been a really bad blog friend.  I’ve been working to get my life in order, my house in order, and that’s meant that I’ve neglected people who have always been there for me.  Sorry, blog family.

The good news is that after yesterday, I’m practically together, so I can be better again.  It wasn’t so long ago that I wrote this post about all the things that needed doing.  I was pretty vague…because if I was really specific, my head would have popped off.  Still, we have been so productive lately that I’m pretty happy with all our accomplishments.

• found a renter!
• still losing weight…slowly
• moved in completely
• sold furniture
• remodeled my closet (more on that later)
• carpet stretched in kids’ rooms
• replaced oven
• repaired vacuum
• painted the columns in the great room
• installed shelves in Rachel’s closet
• new lock for storage shed
• new towel hooks in kids’ bath

Now, if we could make some headway on these wedding plans, I’d die happy.

Well, regardless…I’m feeling the need to make retribution for my recent short comings.  And here’s how I’m going to do it…

One among us has a monumental occasion to celebrate.  That’s right…Mindy at Single Mom Says is about to celebrate her 40th birthday.  She’s mother to four girls.  And like so many of us, she’s been struggling lately.  Her birthday wish, the one thing she would like more than anything, is to celebrate her birthday weekend in Las Vegas.

I would love to do my part to make that possible.  For me, simply donating isn’t enough.  I want to encourage everyone to send a couple bucks…more if you’d like…much more if you can.

Sure, times are tough.  If, however, you live like you have enough…then somehow you will.  It’s a truth I have discovered from my own life.  So, if you are looking at your budget and thinking that you can’t even afford to drop a couple of bucks, ask yourself what you’d be willing to give up to make a difference in someone’s life.

I’m giving up my guilty pleasure on Friday.  That’s the one day that I have to leave the house early to get to the corporate office, so I treat myself to breakfast at Chick-fil-A.  And then, because I had to leave the house early, I usually forget to pack a lunch…so I have to buy my meal.  This Friday, I’m going to be extra conscious, pack a lunch, and eat breakfast at home.It doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice so that I can do for someone so deserving, someone who has offered me so much support and understanding when I was struggling.

This is what paying it forward is all about.  We reach out and do something for someone who can’t do it on their own.  So, please dig deep.  Pay it forward, and pass this post on.

Here’s how to contribute…

1. Go to PayPal.
2. Click on ’send money’
3. Click on ‘personal’
4. Click on ‘gift’
5. Type in Pippi’s email address: cdk1972@gmail.com
6. Enter amount of contribution.
7. Pippi has promised to send an email to show she received the contribution.
8. Give yourself a pat on the back.  Way to create some good Karma, instantly.

I’ll update you regularly while we try to reach our goal.  Mindy, I see Vegas in your future, girl!  You’ll have to tell me all about their Margaritaville.

Quick Karma:

• give away what you love most (money, love, gratitude)
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 7 Comments »

Celebrating my guilty pleasure…

Friday, March 5th, 2010

March is America Reads month.  And if there’s anything I’m likely to encourage or participate in, aside from the consumption of large quantities of chocolate, it’s reading.  Yes, around my house…we love books!

I know that my passion began when I was young.  Very vividly, I recall my mother reading to me at night.  Sometimes my parents took turns.  My favorite books, I saved, knowing that one day I would share them with my own children.  There were a few Golden Books…Where Did the Baby go?.  I kept fairy tale collections and Aesop’s Fables.

Winters in the Adirondacks meant lots of time indoors.  And so I would curl up with a good book, devour one a day, sometimes more.  Then, in high school, while studying French, I was introduced to quite possibly one of the most important books of all…The Little Prince. And now I own three copies of it in two languages.

Friends who have children that struggle to get them to read have asked how I instilled such a love of reading in my kids.  And I think it was a combination of things.  I always kept their books out at their level, right near their toys.  But what probably made the biggest impression was that I would read to them every night.

There’s something to be said for curling up in a rocking chair for half an hour each night with a child that’s all soft and warm and smelling of baby shampoo.  I’d let Rachel, now 15, pick out three books to read.  We had our favorites.  To this day, I can still recite Goodnight Moon almost verbatim.  Rachel would giggle incessantly while insisting I read faster Dr. Seuss’ famous tongue twister, Fox in Socks. And we would rock and rock while enjoying Love You Forever.

It was different when Keenan came along.  He spent six weeks in the NICU before he was big enough and healthy enough to join the family.  My time at the hospital was spent holding him, no small feat with all the tubes and wires, while reading to him.  Naturally, I began with The Little Prince.  And once he had heard it in both languages, he was well enough to come home.

To this day, our study is filled with book shelves, and those shelves are loaded with books.  Asking me to get rid of them would be like asking me to saw off a limb or end a treasured friendship.  I surround myself with all manner of books.  There are those meant for self-improvement, home improvement, and improved writing.  I keep the classics, though I haven’t necessarily enjoyed all of them.  *cough Moby Dick cough*  And I load up on my guilty pleasures, a combination of contemporary fiction and romance novels.  Ahh, escapism at its finest.

The kids have picked up my habit and have their own collections, books that while heavy, have made it through every move we’ve made.  They, too, appreciate a quiet night curled up with a book.

Only my quiet book nights are different now.  Now, when I curl up, inevitably the kids do, too.  And it must seem strange to the outsider looking in, seeing the three of us sharing the living room or my bedroom, all sprawled out reading, but not speaking.  These are moments of bonding, moments to be cherished.

Too quickly the kids were too big for my lap and the old rocking chair.  Too soon they stopped wanting to be read to and instead wanted to read to themselves.  They never stopped asking, however, for my book suggestions…even as their own tastes developed.

We still go to the library on a regular basis.  And I watch with pride as Rachel selects an impossible number of books.  And I remember with amazement the summer Keenan devoured the non-fiction section of the library, starting with ancient civilizations and ending in wars.

See, a love of reading is something to be nurtured.  It begins as a lit match and should become a blazing inferno after carefully being fed the necessary tools.  Books are a comfort, a hobby, a tool.  And it has long been my contention that if the kids can read, they can accomplish anything.

So, this month, begin a healthy new habit, one that you don’t have to feel badly about.  Take time to read.  If you have kids to read to, all the better.  Feed the flame.

Oh, and if you’re wondering how I came to discover that this is America Reads month…thank the Yahoo! Mother Board.  They are responsible for keeping me in the know.

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And in the epic fail category: dinner!

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

Certainly by now, if you’ve been reading me any length of time, you have picked up on the importance of meals around our place.  And so, Tuesday was big in the meal department.  It started Monday night with Rachel murmuring to me before she fell asleep.

Rachel: Mommy, let’s do breakfast in the morning.

Now usually when she says that it means that she wants me to take her to Panera.  And I wasn’t in the mood to drive her to school or get up that early to be ready or anything that little outing might entail.

Rachel: So, maybe you could make some eggs.  We have lots of eggs.

And she was right.  The only problem was that I didn’t know how many eggs I had…exactly.  See, on Friday, while I was doing my weekend grocery shopping, the eggs collapsed on themselves while I was checking out.  They fell out of the container and into the basket and I was scooping eggs while people stared me down angrily.  (Charlotte is not one of the warmer, sensitive, sweeter southern states like you see on television.  My guess…too many northerners.  And you can tell I’m a northerner because otherwise…I would’ve used the term ‘Yankee.’)

Still, I wanted to make the girl happy.  And she wasn’t really asking a lot.  So, I woke up early yesterday to maintain my routine and add ‘make breakfast’ to the agenda.  I thought it was going to be this lovely morning bonding.  Instead, Rachel sat at the counter reading The Last Song, the Nicholas Sparks novel Kimberly lent me…but I haven’t had time to read yet.  And I cooked in my big blue bathrobe.

Soon, I was singing.  And when I realized she was still ignoring me, I added a dance.  And when I realized that she was still ignoring me, I sang and danced over to her.  What did she notice?

Rachel: Mom!  You are such a freak.  You realize you’re still holding the knife, right?

me: Uh huh.

And then I made some comment about how she was saddled with me for a mother, to which she appropriately responded by listing friends who wished they had me for a mother.  Good, Rachel.  Nice compliment.

Soon, she was off to school, I was off to work, and she had a great hot homemade breakfast on her belly.  Score!  Mother of the Year, here I come!

Well, lunch was really great.  For me.  I ate with the new guy.  He met me…ah, the romance…in the food court.  And we ate a rushed lunch, during which time I had a startling revelation.

me: Want a chicken nugget?

And I gasped before he gave a response.

NG: No thank you.  What’s wrong?

me: I’m notoriously food selfish.  I really must like you!

He laughed.  And I think he thought I was joking.  Alas, you don’t get thighs like these from sharing.  Silly, new guy!  Yet, I can see why he would be confused.  He always comments about reasons that he knows he likes me.  Like…the other night when I told him how much I appreciate his texts.

NG: I hate texting.  And yet I text you all the time.  I really must like you.

So, there’s that.  Yay, me!

Then came dinner.  Rachel was supposed to cook.  She told me she would before she left for school.  Only then, I received a text from her Jennie, aka Ashley.  Rachel needed to stay after for tutoring and could I pick her up?  Tutoring.  That dedicated girl, so devoted to her grades.  Right.  Justin had to be staying after.  Still, there was a chance she might learn some geometry.  Sure, I’d pick her up.

Well, we arrived home just after 5pm.  I think we can all agree that this is not late by normal standards.  Only…I didn’t eat all my lunch.  And I didn’t get a snack because I let Kimberly talk me out of it…by text.  (Okay, and I was a bit distracted today with the new guy popping up unexpectedly here and there, but I mostly want to blame Kimberly…because it makes me feel better.  Sorry, Kimberly!)  Rachel was starving because of…tutoring.  And Keenan, well, we found him locked out of the apartment, waiting for us in the cold.  Needless to say, dinner needed to be ready…five minutes ago.

I was so proud of my grocery shopping over the weekend.  I had purchased everything we needed for the week.  Or so I thought.  Because soon it was evident that we couldn’t have drumsticks because I had bought thighs, that we would be dead before the thighs could become rosemary roasted chicken and potatoes, and that no one was interested in pork chops at the moment.  Hmmm.  That left hot dogs.  I hate hot dogs.  It wasn’t always that way, but I spent an entire summer eating them EVERY day because it was quick and painless and meant that I didn’t miss out on much pool time.  (I was twelve!)  And now…not the biggest fan of dogs.

Let’s face it.  Meals aren’t simply about consuming calories.  There’s more to hunger than ingesting food.  No, food must speak to the soul.  It must fulfill a deeper need, a greater hunger, in order for satisfaction to occur.  Well, to bastardize a song by Mick Jagger… we didn’t get no satisfaction.

Yup.  The milk was bad, so no side of cheesy noodles.  I made it as far as boiling the macaroni part of the deluxe mac and cheese, only to realize the pouch expired almost three months ago.  I thought I was being resourceful by using the Bertoli Vodka sauce on it instead…yet the children were less than impressed.

Rachel: It looks like prison food.

And she was kinda right.  I had cooked the hot dogs in a skillet since I was out of clean sauce pans and the thought of cleaning one only to dirty it immediately required too much effort in my haste to finish cooking.

We ate.  And we looked at each other.  It was, of course, Rachel who said what we were all thinking.

Rachel: Uh. That sucked.  I’m not full.  I’m not satisfied.

So, I went to the pantry.  And I grabbed my secret stash, the one that should have been in a case labeled ‘break glass in case of emergency.’  Let’s face it, we were there.  I doled out the huge Hershey bars that I had saved for s’mores.  There would be plenty of time to get more before we needed them.  It was, at best, a last ditch effort to salvage the meal.  Still, something of a fail.

I suppose I can comfort myself in the knowledge that thankfully, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  And I can further comfort myself in the knowledge that another breakfast is right around the corner.  Yet, it is very little comfort that I will once again have to play totally beyond myself to get up at the butt crack of dawn to cook breakfast.  Ahhh, redemption at its finest.

Quick Karma:

• don’t skip breakfast
  

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