My #1 Fear

Warning- I’m about to get a bit political.

I readily admit to having quite a few fears- heights, bridges, spiders. Spiders are usually top of my list, but lately even those 8 legged monsters are coming in second place to something bigger. My biggest fear of this past year has been the climate change issue. More specifically, the people who don’t see climate change as a real issue.

It is a concept that I cannot wrap my mind around. How can a person be presented with overwhelming scientific evidence and just deny it all? An outstanding number of politicians outright refute facts and figures for….what?

Okay, I’m not that naive. I know what.

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Even that I don’t understand though. What good will billions of dollars do when half of the world in under water and the other half is burning? We all drink the same water, whether it comes from an Evian bottle or the kitchen sink. And a fancy beach house in Miami isn’t worth much when it’s sitting on the bottom on the Atlantic ocean.

The truth of it all is that the facts are in, and it’s not looking good. The level of CO2 in the air is astronomical. Senator Jeff Sessions, from Alabama, recently referred to carbon dioxide as “plant food”. This is partially true, but what this senator is either failing, or refusing, to recognize is that trees are not a hungry little league team at an all you can eat pizza buffet. Pumping more of it into the air isn’t going to force plants to consume more of it. It all has to go somewhere and most of it ends up hanging around, slowly warming the earth and changing weather patterns.

Where I’m currently living, we’re experiencing a severe drought, with no end in sight. I can’t remember the last time L.A. received a substantial amount of rain. Back in my hometown, in Pennsylvania, they dug themselves out of a brutal winter only to be ushered into one of the stormiest summers that area has seen in a while. And this is just the start. If we continue carrying on the way we have been, it’s going to get worse. As people have put it before, it’s not really global warming. It’s more like global weirdening. The weather will become more intense and many areas will start experiencing weather that they haven’t before. A lot like The Day After Tomorrow, just not quite so abrupt.

One last big complaint- can we please stop with the endless repetitions of, “I’m not a scientist, but…”? Go ahead and complete that sentence with whatever ignorant bullshit statement helps kick the can even further down the road. You know, I’m not a doctor, BUT I’ve dealt with plenty of assholes in my life, so why not trust me with your next prostate exam? Sound logic right?

The problem now is that the can has been kicked so far down the road that we can see the bright yellow DEAD END sign, hanging from the barbed wire fence. This seems to be crisis number one in the world, yet people are still putting it on the back burner. Yes, there are many important issues currently being debated in our society, with some making great progressive strides. But what good is any of that if, in the end, we have no world to live on?

There is no Ph.D after my name. I don’t have any solutions, besides the obvious- recycle, conserve water, walk where we can. What I do have, though, is common sense. Well, enough of it to listen to those who are smarter than me: those people that do have a doctorate and have devoted their lives to these issues. People like Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Bill Nye, and Michael Oppenheimer. People whose only agenda is preservation of the human race.

We can’t afford to keep doing nothing. Every time a person calls climate change a hoax or political agenda, we all suffer. If we keep denying the problem, and trying to pass off to the next generation, there eventually won’t be another generation to pass it to.

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Can we please call it something else?

Over the last few weeks, a new affliction has caught my interest and I am pretty sure I have it. Now, I haven’t had this disorder confirmed by a certified medical professional. Like most of America, I’m using the internet to self diagnose. I will admit to being a bit of a hypochondriac (also self diagnosed, but I’ve gotten reliable second opinions on this one and they all agree), and while it seems unlikely that I have a brain tumor or restless leg syndrome, this affliction hits close to home.

It’s the socially debilitating disorder known as Resting Bitch Face (RBF). When I first saw a friend link to an article about this, I thought it was kind of funny and laughed it off. But then another article showed up in my news feed….and another…..and another. I have come to find that this is actually a real thing and there are some repercussions that come with it- people think you’re always mad and/or unapproachable, you constantly get asked if you’re okay or tell you to smile more.

The thing about RBF is it’s hard to know you have it unless someone tells you that you have it, Until someone clues you into the fact that your face often looks like you’re being forced to watch a Chelsea Lately marathon, you walk around oblivious,

As I said before, I have come to the realization, on my own, that I have Resting Bitch Face. None of my friends or family have ever said an unkind word about my face (for which I am thankful), so maybe I just have a mild case? The symptoms and reactions are there though, and it’s something I have become extremely conscious of, especially when meeting new people.

If I have an RBF look on my face, it’s not because I am mad or trying to ward off conversation. It may be because I am lost in thought a lot and just never think about how that looks to outsiders. I start thinking about one thing, which leads to something else, and before I know it, I’ve gone down the rabbit hole. I like to think of it as Mom A.D.D. I’m not thinking about anything upsetting or super serious. I’m just thinking and not quite tuned in to everyone around me.

It may also be because when I’m talking to people, I’m actively listening, yet constantly thinking about how I am going to add to the conversation- can I relate? am I going to offend? what’s the right word to use so I don’t sound completely uneducated? I like to make sure the other person/people know I’m engaged and not just throwing out cliched responses. Sometimes it comes more naturally than others.

It might also boil down to the fact that I’m a stay at home mom to a daughter with more energy then that damn bunny, and a son that has had molars erupting for the last month. Sleep in our house is not a guarantee, and after what feels like the 90th trip across the hall to reinsert the binky, smiling is just sometimes, unfortunately, a sporadic event.

I’m trying though, so don’t count me out! If I’m not absorbed in my own grey matter, I do make an effort to keep a smile on my face, in hopes that others know that I am an approachable human being. I honestly love meeting new people and striking up random conversation. I’ve just been cursed with a few personal quirks that seem out to sabotage me.

The best thing you can do if you see me, or anyone else for that matter, displaying a Resting BItch Face is just smile. Chances are you’ll get a genuine smile right back!

 

P.S.- I have now set up a Facebook page and Twitter account for the blog. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ll be alerted to my sporadic posts. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll get that plus some other random thoughts that are better suited for a more immediate forum :)

 

If you listen to nothing else I say…

My previous post got me thinking about how I want my kids to view themselves, and the world around them. Like pretty much all kids, I know my “been there, done that” advice is going to be as wanted as Gary Busey performing your next root canal. All kids, at some point in their invincible youth, will get it in their heads that their way is far superior to mom or dad’s, and we have little choice but to sit back and let them learn through trial and error. Alas, the cycle continues throughout the generations….

Knowing all that, I still compiled a list of things that I hope to pass onto my 2 little hard headed, bundles of joy and frustration. Things that I wish I could have had in the back of my mind through junior high and high school, to make those endless, rough days just a smidgen easier. So, in honor of my 31st trip around the sun next month, here are the 31 things I hope my children will always remember. 

1.) Forgive and forget is a horrible phrase, don’t use it. Forgive, yes. Forget, never. Remember, learn, and grow from it. 
2.) Be nostalgic for the past, but don’t live in it. 
3.) Know the difference between being skeptical and being cynical.
4.) Don’t be ashamed of what or who you love.
5.) Just because somebody comes to you with a problem doesn’t mean they want you to solve it. Sometimes all a person needs is for you to listen and try to understand.
6.) Don’t let the number in your bank account dictate your happiness.
7.) That said, have a savings account. Your mechanic will ALWAYS find something wrong.
8.) The hardest thing in the world to rebuild is trust. If someone gives it to you, don’t break it.
9.) Learn how to be single and enjoy it. Boy/Girlfriends don’t make the world go around.
10.) Older generations will always have a “When I was your age…” story. Let them tell it.
11.) Texts and e-mails are nice, but don’t forget that there is joy in hand written letters and phone calls.
12.) Diets suck! Take care of your body.
13.) Don’t swear in front of your grandparents or little kids. Both have the power to put you in your place and render you speechless.
14.) Never feel tied down by your hometown. There is a big world out there. Go see it!
15.) If you like someone, tell them.
16.) Try new food. You’ll be surprised by what you like.
17.) Be kind to people, even if they aren’t kind to you.
18.) Reality television is not reality. 
19.) If you don’t know something, ask.
20.) Doesn’t matter if you’re a guy or girl, everyone should know the pleasure of a good pedicure.
21.) Knowing, and using, proper English can take you far.
22.) The perfect partner will make you laugh, think, and grow without trying.
23.) When in doubt, it’s usually best to keep your mind open and mouth shut.
24.) Never apologize for the way you feel. Emotions are natural and meant to be experienced.
25.) Compliment often, criticize rarely, insult never.
26.) Enjoy and appreciate people for who they are. There is beauty in our differences.
27.) It’s pointless to hold grudges. The only thing they accomplish is making you bitter.
28.) You are not defined by your failures or successes, but by your spirit and compassion for others.
29.) Take time to learn about politics so that you know who and what you’re voting for.
30.) You will never find true beauty in a cosmetics aisle.
31.)Last, and most importantly, there will never be anyone, in the history of music, who will ever come close to being as great as Freddie Mercury.

Like the great Ferris Bueller said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” (If you have reached the age of 18 and I have not shown you that movie, I have failed as a parent and we must rectify that at once!)

10 years from now

I have never been totally happy with my body. Once I hit seventh grade, so did the hormones and things just have never been the same. At almost 31 years of age, my skin breaks out like a teenager’s. My once white blonde hair has darkened into a thick mass of mousy, dirty blonde frizz. My pigeon toed feet often bow to the cruel mistress of gravity, which usually leads to me sporting some interesting bruises. And like most people these days, my belly could do without 30-40 pounds of accumulated snicker bars, french fries and late night college pizza parties.

The last couple months though I can slowly feel my mindset changing. I’m embracing my body in ways I didn’t think I would ever be able to. There are 2 big reasons I can credit this change of heart to-

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E and Little J don’t give a crap about what I look like. Every now and then E will ask about the big red “boo boo” on my face, and Little J delights in smacking around my spare tire(s) when I lay on the floor with him. But to them, I’m not a fat, klutzy, acne ridden ball of frizziness. I’m just mommy. I’m the bubble blower, the peanut butter sandwich chef, the chauffeur to the park, the story reader, a finder of lost treasures, and every now and then the time-out warden. 

I was briefly reminded of my excessive curves the other week in the Kohl’s dressing room. I had been putting off getting a new swim suit for a few years. We rarely went swimming back in Pennsylvania. But with the beautiful California weather, we’ve started to frequent the beach and our apartment complex has a pool, so a swim suit is a must. So I sucked it up (and in) and crammed myself into a few selections. 

Looking in the mirror was slightly depressing to say the least. Big arms, muffin top, jiggly thighs; all pasty white and covered in stretch marks. I was mentally vowing to spend the summer in my comfy t-shirts and capri pants when my tunnel vision faded and I saw what else was in the mirror. Two other faces were right there with me, giggling and making goofy faces as they experimented with the 3 way mirrors. That’s when I thought ‘What will we be doing in 10 years?’

In 10 years, E will be 15 (insert inconsolable mom sobbing here). She won’t be clinging to the side of the pool in her orange floaties, trying to splash me and wanting to push her little brother in his little blow up boat. I’ll probably be outside a very similar dressing room, trying my best to reassure her that she looks great in a swim suit and that it doesn’t matter that her chest is soooooo small/big, she’s beautiful no matter what (just make sure everything is properly covered for your father’s peace of mind). I won’t be lumbering to the pool overloaded with her toys, towels, snacks, and sunglasses. I’ll be nagging her to remember sunscreen, as she rushes off to meet her friends.

In 10 years, Little J will be 11 (gonna need another box of tissues here). He’s not going to hug me tight as we dance around in the water, or be able to be put in a floating bubble. He’s going to be doing canon balls off a high dive and nearly give me a heart attack when he experiments with how long he can hold his breath in the deep end. He’s not going to watch his sister’s every move and laugh his head off at her fountain impressions. Girls will be declared “icky” as he and his buddies engage in endless dunking contests. 

“Hey baby, what do you think of this one?”

E breaks away from the mirror for a second and nods. “I like it.”

“Yeah? I do too.”

I will not be ashamed of my body. It’s far from perfect, but it’s the only one my children know, inside and out. I will happily don my swim suit to splash, laugh, and enjoy the these once in a lifetime chances, with the greatest creations ever. In 10 years I will probably add wrinkles, grey hair, and onset arthritis to my list of complaints, but not regrets. 

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L.A. Lessons

Today marks 3 months that I’ve been in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I feel like I am starting to get a sense of what’s going on here. There are a few things that will take a little longer to, if ever, get used to. For a girl that hadn’t seen the beach since her honeymoon 7 years ago, now knowing that the beach is only 15 minutes away is still a concept I am trying to wrap my head around. And my heart just breaks seeing so many homeless people, on what feels like every corner. It’s a sight I don’t think I’ll ever consider the norm.

There are plenty of things though that I am acclimating to and am coming to expect from the locals. Here are a few-

1.) Let’s get this one out of the way. Everything you’ve heard about driving in Los Angeles is true. The traffic is horrendous. If you want to drive on a highway between the hours of 3pm and 7pm, best of luck getting anywhere in a timely fashion. Where I am used to calculating that going 3 miles will take about 5 minutes, it is now more like 3 miles can turn into a 15-20 minute car trip.

You’re best bet for beating the traffic around here is to a.) be an L.A. native that knows the ins and outs of the city by heart, or b.) install a free phone app called Waze. Waze has been my co-pilot since my arrival. If not for Waze, I don’t know if I’d be confident to venture further than our street. It not only navigates but, thanks to other “Wazers” on the road, it updates you on the traffic, road closures, construction zones, and even where you can find the cheapest gas. I’ll stop now before it starts turning into an advertisement. My point- the traffic really does suck!

2.) The people here are actually some of the nicest I’ve ever met. You think Los Angeles and you start getting ideas of celebrities, upscale boutiques, and just a kind of snooty-better-than-you atmosphere. I was pretty anxious at the idea of fitting in. Truth is, I’ve only witnessed a handful of jackasses. Mostly everyone that I’ve come in contact with has been perfectly pleasant and helpful, until you put them behind the wheel of a vehicle….

3.) People in L.A. love their horns. The aforementioned niceness turns into every man for their self once they turn the ignition, and patience is NOT a virtue. Take a nanosecond to realize the light is green- BEEP! Stop for an elderly lady at the crosswalk- BEEP! BEEP! Slow down to make a left turn- BEEEEEEEEEEP! You really can’t win. The good part of it all though is, with so many other cars whizzing by all the time, you’re not always certain if someone is beeping the horn at you. So maybe ignorance truly is bliss in this instance.

4.) Keeping with the driving theme, parking lines are more of a suggestion rather than a boundary. For probably about 80% of the population, you could paint the lines bright orange, with runway lights, and they’d still take up 2 or 3 spaces.

5.) Nobody returns shopping carts. In any store parking lot, you find carts in every nook and cranny, except the sanctioned cart corrals. Though most carts just get left in an empty parking space, to the annoyance of newly arriving customers, some people go as far as pushing them all the way home. Where we live, it’s about a 5 minute walk to a couple various stores. It’s not uncommon to find a CVS or Trader Joe’s cart outside the apartment complex. Some of the bigger chain stores equip their carts with devices that lock the cart wheels if it passes a certain perimeter, and you end up finding abandoned, disabled carts along the sidewalks.

Despite it’s obvious flaws, I really am enjoying Los Angeles. It’s very different from where I come from, but in a good way. Well, mostly in a good way. There’s still a ton of stuff out there that we haven’t experienced yet and many more lessons to learn on our way to becoming Angelenos. One Los Angeles fact that I will never concede to though- 70 degrees is NOT cold!1

Happily Grounded

E will be 5 at the end of February this year. Last night we hit an important milestone- her first grounding. She is, as you may have guessed, not a perfect little angel. But, in the past, nothing ever warranted a long term punishment. She’d get the the traditional time-out in her room, denied an special treat or shortened park outings. We never had to issue a prolonged punishment though.

Last night changed that. She had a meltdown of cataclysmic proportions and, as luck would have it, I was on my own for it. It all started over where I had decided to hang a picture. She wanted it in the hallway and I chose the bathroom. It was all downhill from there. There was pushing, screaming, flailing, askew glasses- she pulled out all the stops. Then, to put a cherry on top of this melodramatic milkshake, she sits in her room and randomly screams, “Help me! Help me!” As I gave Little J his bottle, and counted to 1000, I prayed the police wouldn’t show up at our door.

I eventually had to call my husband and ask him to come home early from work. My temper had reached critical mass and I just couldn’t handle much more on my own. It all turned out okay of course. He got home and by that time her banshee shrieks had died down to meager whimpers. We talked about expected behaviour and all that jazz, and then at the end gave her her sentence- No TV or iPad until we said so. All things considered, she took it well. Tears flowed, but she acknowledged that she understood.

I braced myself for a backlash this morning. Usually her first words in the morning are “Can I watch my show?” and I reluctantly change the channel from my HGTV renovation show to the Disney Channel. Today though, not one word about turning on the TV. She asked once or twice about the iPad, but accepted my Nos and went back to her toys. It’s been quite a peaceful day. She’s rediscovering her toys and I love eavesdropping on her imaginative play. Her elephant family has earnestly been trying to get it’s baby back from an angry bird and Batman and Robin have solved a few crimes.

It’s been pretty good on my end of things too. Besides dealing with cell phone frustrations in the morning (a story for another time), my stress level has been pretty even. The quiet house makes for a much needed change. I was afraid that this would be more of a punishment on me than her- constant nagging and whining to watch her shows or play on the iPad. It’s in fact been the exact opposite and I think we’re both quite enjoying the grounding.

It’s also making me feel pretty confident that I’m on the right track as a parent. I tend to be very wishy washy when it comes to discipline sometimes. I let her get away with more than I should or give one too many chances. It really is hard to tell your own child NO or take away anything. But seeing how she has been today just makes me realize how worth it really is to be that “mean mommy” and put your foot down. Not saying that I enjoy punishing her. I would of course prefer it if she didn’t fight with me at all, but, contrary to what others may think, I do have a sense of reality. I’m an optimist, not a fantasist.

Maybe with a hiatus from children’s programming, I can finally shake the soundtrack of kid songs I’ve had circling in my head.

Mind of a Child

I am envious of my daughter, E, for many reasons. At 4 years old, she is still in that sweet and innocent stage. She hasn’t gone to public school yet and had some cynical brat tell her Santa isn’t real or been approached by some smart ass, asking her to spell “I cup”. Her greatest ambition is too consume as many ice pops as humanly possible and become the Incredible Hulk. As many times as I tell her that it’s really not good if her stomach gets big and turns green, she always just laughs and says, “Mommy, you’re so silly!” The one thing that stands out most about her though, and the thing I envy, is that she considers every kid a friend.

Whenever we are getting ready to go to the park, she always wants to bring something new to show to her friends. We’re still relatively new to the area and don’t really know anyone, outside of my husband’s work. So when we go to the park there is inevitably a new group of never-before-seen kids running around. But to her, they’re all her friends. And for those brief hours of our outing, they truly are. She has this amazing ability to just insert herself into a group of people and flourish. She never gets bossy or controlling. She goes along with whatever activity is already in progress, and 99% of the time she remembers her manners.

I’m in awe of this. I was never like that. I’m still not like that. I was an awkward child who preferred to quietly read, or play on my own. Going into middle and high school, I had a handful of friends that I ate lunch with and prayed would be in the same class as me, so that during partner projects I wasn’t the outcast saddling some duo with a third wheel. I came out of my shell a bit in college. I purposely chose a college 4 hours away so that I could immerse myself in a new environment and group of people. I wanted the ability to have a fresh canvas and not be with people who knew me as the klutzy, social outcast from elementary school.

And it worked. I came out of my shell a little bit and met some wonderful people who not only accepted me, in spite of my quirks, but loved me because of them. It’s really hard reflecting back on those 4 years, when we were all within the same town, never really more than 5 minutes from each other. Now we’re literally spread all over the country. We still keep in touch, and when we’re together it’s almost like a year or so hasn’t passed between gatherings. But it will never be the same as being a dorm door or 2 away from each other.  After college, I  moved back to my hometown where I still had a network of friends and family. While I missed my college gang, I at least had others to spend time with and keep some sense of a social life. It may have been a small social life that consisted more of basket bingos and home parties, and not so many bars and clubs, but still, it was something.

Now it’s my turn to play the part of new kid in town and I can’t decide which is worse- making friends as an awkward kid or making friends as a socially acceptable awkward adult. As a kid, who your parents were friends with kind of dictated who you were friends with. I find myself doing the exact opposite these days. When we go to the park, I find myself hoping that one of my adorable kids can help me spark a connection with another mom. It works, but only for short term small talk- “How old is your little one?” “So cute, don’t you just love that age?” “Oh, but don’t you miss this?” I’m certainly not under the delusion that I’ll have some deep, personal connection with another mom, as I scoop out what feels like the 50th fistful of sand from Little J’s mouth and make sure my eyes are following the correct yellow shirt around the park. But it’d be nice if, at the end of playtime, someone would say “Hey let’s ditch the diaper bags for actual purses and meet up for coffee sometime.”  Unfortunately, I don’t see myself having that sort of confidence at the moment.  I don’t know if it’s the “small fish in a big pond” mentality that I still have going, but I always feel slightly intimidated and inferior on some level. It feels like if I would propose more than small talk, such as a lunch or play date, it would make me seem desperate for any adult interaction (though really, I am). Where if someone else would suggest it, it means I’m accepted and considered equal.

I’m putting all this out there to be honest with myself. I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party (as much as I would love an excuse for cupcakes right now) or play on people’s sympathies. The words of Eleanor Roosevelt keep ringing in my head- “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I know this is true and I’m not trying to change who I am to fit in with the Hollywood scene. And I’m trying to keep a sense of perspective. We’ve only been here for 3 months and I have to give myself more time and more opportunities to meet people. It’s a big city. I know I won’t be friendless forever. Good things come to those that wait right? ( I have no clue who said that.)

On the other hand, 3 months is a long time to go with minimal adult contact and the Doc McStuffins soundtrack stuck on repeat mode in my brain….

The beginning….maybe the end?

I’m going to just put this out here and do what you will with it- I tend to start many things and never finish or follow up on them. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a few successes. I finished high school and college, both in the average time span you would expect. The gig of wife and mother is still going strong. And, sans one major health scare, our cat still affectionately tolerates me, even though his breakfast is consistently late.

Those I think are pretty big, credible successes. But if one were to take a peek under my metaphorical rug, they would find plenty of orphaned projects/ideas/plans. Endeavors such as my attempt at being a Thirty-One consultant, going back to school for a new degree, numerous diet and exercise plans. It probably isn’t too surprising then when I say that this isn’t my first blog. There have been several others started in the past, and they all end up the same. I spend a lot of time picking out the right color, layout, and font. I eagerly start my first post, pouring out thoughts, anecdotes, and things I like/dislike/loathe. I might even come back a few days later and post a SECOND entry! And that’s about where I teeter out.

It’s not that I don’t like writing, because I really do enjoy the creative process. My major in college was Communication, with the intent of being a journalist. And I think I had a way with words when it came to writing. If you don’t count my first failed semester, my grades were good and I consistently received positive feedback from my professors. I’m not trying to pass myself off as the next Hemingway or anything, but just saying it was something I enjoyed and did well. Alas, like so many other things, I didn’t stick with it after I graduated. I applied for many jobs in my field, but nothing ever came through. I ended up settling for a job that was out of my field, but at least my degree was needed for it. The job was okay, but the most creative bit of writing I got to do was describing children’s behaviour in my weekly progress notes. Not exactly what I had pictured. None of that really matters at the moment though. Just trying to paint a picture of the path that got me to the present day.

What all my ramblings here are leading up to is that fact that I have a history of not following through with things, and many I regret. One big regret being that I stopped writing. I want to get back into in some form, hence this blog. I’m not devoting it to any one thing in particular. I just want a place to put down some thoughts, feelings, humorous stories of my kids (henceforth known as E, my daughter, and Little J, my son and future rap star) and husband. I want a place that I can come back to days, weeks, months later and reflect on what is going on and hopefully grow from it. I want to start holding myself to a higher standard on certain things, mainly the way I look at myself. I think I’m pretty cool (which totally means I’m a huge nerd), but I know I can be better- a better wife, better mother, better vessel for my soul (does that sound too cheesy?).

I’ll leave you with a short story that took place yesterday morning, that is still making me giggle-

Little J is demanding his breakfast and our pantry is severely under-stocked until the afternoon when I can get to the store. E is thoroughly enjoying a rainbow sprinkle doughnut and I open up a jar of pureed prunes (SEVERELY under-stocked) for Little J. As I start to give him the first spoonful, my darling husband walks by and checks out the food.

DH~ “Is that chocolate?”
Me~”Yes, Gerber makes chocolate baby food now.”
(I thought I put enough sarcasm behind this statement, but I apparently had not.)
DH~ “For God’s sake, you give E a mound of dyed sugar and now your going to give him chocolate sauce?!”
Me~ “Are you serious? It’s not chocolate, it’s prunes!”
DH~ *makes disgusted face* “Ugh, that might actually be worse,” and walks off.

Being around tiny humans 24/7 is draining my sarcasm skills.