The kids and I went to Target on Friday for…oh, who the hell knows what you ever need at Target, but you always walk out with stuff. You walk in for tampons and you walk out with a vacuum cleaner. It’s the magic of Target.

We had a great time at the store. The kids only walked into three or four people as opposed to the usual eight to ten, so I was riding pretty high. Then we went to the elevator bank to take the elevator down to our car. We hit the down button, and one opened up across the hall from us. Inside was a woman who looked to be in her sixties.

Here’s where it get weird. We starting running towards the elevator, and this woman rolls her eyes and sighs. I’m not talking a subtle little eyes-up-eyes-down-plus-shallow-breath move, I talking a full fledged eye- roll, with the head roll about one beat behind and following the direction of the eyes, and a big shoulders up and down sigh.

Now, I am past the point in my life where I let other people’s opinions intimidate me. There was a time, many years ago, when an eye roll from a stranger would make me feel so humiliated and certain I had done something to mess up this person’s day that I probably would have apologized for just being there.

Those days are long gone. I don’t have time to put up with that kind of shit.

So help me god there better not be a kid in there… (image via sxc)

So I looked her in the eyes, raised my eyebrows, and said, “WHAT?”

This woman walks off the elevator, turns back to me and says — and I quote — “I have a problem. I can’t be around children.”

Okay. Now, not only did she say this out loud, but she said it in front of my kids. I looked away from her and at my sweet, happy little goofballs. I was not going to let them feel “less than” just because this idiot had no mute button. I said, “That’s a shame,” and started pressing the hell out of the Close Doors button so we could get away from her.

Let’s take a moment, think back over what she said, and then come up with a few plausible scenarios for what her “problem” might be.

1. She is a registered sex offender.

This was Mike’s first choice, and it would make complete sense, except that if the conditions of your parole are so strict that you can’t even ride in an elevator with children and their mother, I don’t think that Target on a Friday afternoon should be your first choice for shopping. Might want to sign up for a little grocery delivery service. I hear Amazon Fresh is very good.

2. She has terrible child-related allergies.

Then absolutely she should not been stuck in close quarters with us. I have to take Claritin for my allergies so believe me, I know her pain! I mean, the headaches alone are almost unbearable. So I can see her reluctance to be close to us if children make her eyes water. Sometimes, they make mine water too, but it’s not so much from allergies as from a feeling of complete and utter defeat.

3. She loves them TOO MUCH.

“Oh man! I would love to get in that elevator with you, but I have this problem where I love children too much. It makes me a little light-headed and is sure to make us all uncomfortable. So please, take your tiny angels and leave me here. Now go…just go!”

Eh. Probably not.

Why, just look at the variety of people-moving options available to you! I recommend them highly. (image via sxc)

4. She’s a bitch.

And, we have option four. Based on the feeling I got from the whole interaction, I am going to say that it is a pretty safe bet that number four is our culprit. In which case I would again suggest Amazon Fresh (“for the sex offender or asshole in your life” — new slogan.) If you dislike children so much that you can’t be in an elevator with them and feel compelled to tell their mothers about it, you need to stay home. Please. Don’t inflict your poison on the rest of us normal assholes.

Anybody have something like this happen to them? Did you handle it with more class? Teach me.

The post Say what now? I have a weird experience at Target. appeared first on .

I am calling upon your vast resources and emphatic opinions to ask for some advice about how to feed my children.

My kids would like this for breakfast, thank you very much. (Image via sxc)

Some of you already know that I have some issues with food (you can catch up here.) I’ve struggled with Binge Eating Disorder since I was about 13, so at this point I am pretty messed up when it comes to food. I don’t mean to brag or anything, but when it comes to emotional issues related to pie, I am pretty much the best there is.

Now that I am responsible for feeding two little people, a lot of my issues are being brought to the forefront. I thought I understood how to eat food, because I can eat food like a motherfucker. But when it comes to giving other people what they need nutritionally while not adding emotions like guilt or neediness to it, I have no clue what I am doing.

There are a few schools of thought when it comes to “treats” and children. One is the old school “finish your dinner and then you can have dessert” way of doing it. We do that sometimes. But I hate making dinner into something that has to be choked down so that you can get to “the good stuff.” I don’t believe in cleaning your plate — I always encourage the kids to eat until they are full, and then stop. And since my children are not stupid, that means that they get a few bites into their dinner, insist that they are full, and then wait till the plates are scraped to ask for dessert. You win this time, Wile E. Coyote…

Another is the new age Cookie Monster “A Cookie Is A Sometimes Food”  approach. I have also tried this. Turns out, it is really hard to define when “sometimes” is. Because really, isn’t every time some time? Sadly, Cookie Monster is of no help with these kinds of existential questions. I think he’d be on the kids’ side, anyway.

And then there is the idea of not giving any power to treats by making them a part of every day eating. That sounds awesome in theory, but my children are five-years-old. If we went with this, we’d be having ice cream for dinner with a side of cinnamon roll (you know, to make sure we get in our fiber.)

So what the hell do I do?! Treats every day? Treats only sometimes because that’s why they are called “treats?” Don’t call them “treats” at all because there are no good or bad foods?

I really think I am losing my mind.

I asked my friends once how often they thought it was okay for kids to have ice cream, because my kids are obsessed with it and want some every day. Quick side note, ice cream also happens to be my number one trigger food. So…thanks, god. That’s super hilarious. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Thanks for nothing, you cookie-eating bastard. (Image via wikipedia)

Anyway, my friends kind of shrugged their shoulders and said, “I don’t know. Whenever. Every day.” This blew my mind, because in my messed up crazy head, ice cream is something you restrict. It is not something you have “whenever.” And that, I realized, is where I am putting my craziness on my kids, and I really don’t want to do that.

Right now, my kids are blissfully ignorant of my food issues and the fact that people have issues with food at all. We don’t use the word “fat” in my house. We don’t focus on appearances — in fact, I rarely look in the mirror (That explains a lot, thinks everyone who knows me.)

Now that they are getting older, I have to talk with them about choices…and I am terrified that I am going to mess this up. A few months ago, one of my kids woke up before the rest of us, went into the kitchen, and snuck a cookie. That broke my goddamn heart. We talked about it and I reminded them that if they want a cookie all they have to do is ask, but that’s not exactly true, is it? Because there are times where I say no.

I would really, really like to know what you guys do and what your advice is.

Help me, internet friends. Lay some truth on me.

******

OH! And speaking of Truths, I finally realized what shape my post-twins lower abdomen flap reminds me of:

Got the image? Good. You’re welcome. (Image via doodlipoop.com)

The post Guide me, Internet. I need treat advice. appeared first on .

I did get some wonderful cards from the kids that they made at preschool. They are so awesome, I have to share them. Please note that the only things they got right here are my favorite color and my eye color. And I do have fun playing with Megan.

Enjoy.

See why I love these little weirdos?

The post Mother’s Day, I Hardly Knew Ye appeared first on .

Fear singing and anger singing are very different animals, however. For example, let’s say I am going for a walk. I find a nice, shady spot to sit and relax. I hear a buzzing sound, look up, and realize that a huge hornet’s nest is hanging from a branch right above me. The hornets are awake, and appear to be mobilizing. This is what I might start singing, to no apparent tune or melody:

“Holy shit there’s hornets up there,

they don’t look real square,

in fact they look pissed,

I best get my ass out of here before they kill me to death.”

Doesn’t rhyme? Has no rhythm? Doesn’t have to. It’s fear singing.

Now anger singing is much more melodic. I usually anger sing when I am moments from completely flipping my lid. Yesterday morning was an excellent example of this: both kids were having melt-downs before school. One because I wouldn’t let them have more juice, and the other because they didn’t want to wear underpants.

At one point, I had one child on either side of me, screaming and yelling and crying, mere inches away from my ears. And so, I broke into song.

“Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,

A long ways from home.”

Singing about how his kids won’t stop stomping on his penis. Image via sxc

I tend to go “negro spiritual” when I am about to lose it (I also like “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and “There Is A Balm In Gilead.”) Bursting into song at the moment of losing it has the benefit of both a) stunning your children into momentary silence, and b) letting you pretend you aren’t yelling at them, because you’re not — you’re singing.

Give it a try! And please report back with both song choice and results.

*****************

IF YOU HAVE A SECOND,

Would you please vote for me (I know, I know, I’m sorry) in ParentMap Magazine’s annual Golden Teddy Awards? I was one of the winners for Favorite Blog last year, and I would really love a repeat. Here’s what you do:

Go HERE.

Scroll down to the Blog question…I already voted (not for me, that would be tacky, but I’m kinda tacky, so I totally did, sorry I lied) so now I can’t go back and see what number question it is, but it’s in there. Then enter in

Pile of Babies

http://www.pileofbabies.com

In return, you get naming rights for Kim Kardashian and Kanye West’s baby. No for realsies. They are totally cool with it.

Thank you!!!

Have a great weekend!!!

The post When I sing, I sing in anger. Or fear. Or both. appeared first on .

Image via sxc

Let me tell you what my kids eat for lunch at school every day: a ham and cheese sandwich, milk, and an apple or a banana. Maybe grapes or strawberries if we’re feeling frisky.

AAAAAAAAAND that’s all we got, folks. I know that there are parents who are able to provide a variety of options (completely nut-free, of course) for their child every day. Mike and I are not among them. This is not only because we are a) lazy and b) out of ideas, but also because our children are not culinary adventurers. These are children who throw a fit at the idea of going to a restaurant that doesn’t serve mac and cheese. They aren’t exactly craving options. There’s no “Not this tired old pasta dish again” going on at my house.

We figure that as long as we can get away with giving them the same thing day after day, we’ve struck gold and are going to go with it.

There’s a certain pressure you feel, however, with school lunches. Hearing about all of the wonderful food other parents provide for the kids each day makes me feel a little shitty for about a minute before I remember how much work that must be. And even if it isn’t a lot of work, it’s more than NO work at all, which is where are happily residing right now.

I do think, however, that some parents take it too far. For example, take this advice from gvparent.com:

Presentation counts

Kids love to open their lunchbox to brightly-wrapped treats. Whether you turn to creative bag designs or colored plastic wrap, this fun packaging makes unwrapping lunch like unwrapping presents. Adding stickers and special notes can make eating even more fun.

Holy shitballs, people. Presentation? For school lunches? My only form of presentation is cutting the crusts off their sandwiches, and I only remember to do that half the time.

Want to know what my lunches looked like growing up?

BAM.

Oh yeah. Drink it in, bitches. What we have here is your classic brown paper bag, usually damp for no apparent reason by the time you got it at lunch. Inside, you would find a sad little peanut butter and jelly sandwich, squashed flat so your sandwich was now about as thick and filling as your New Kids On The Block folder. Accompanying that would be a warm container of grape juice (apple if you were lucky) along with a brown banana.

And you know what? WE ATE IT. You know why? CUZ WE WERE HUNGRY.

So no, my children will not experience giraffes made of cheddar cheese or Eiffel Towers made from salsa…though if you can pull off that last one, my hat is off to you.

Here are some examples from Parenting.com. The article was titled, “20 Easy Bento Lunch Boxes.” Yeah…easy. I think Parenting.com needs to go make another robot out of driftwood collected from their local beach and stop judging me.

I don’t what kind of sample platter this is supposed to be, but I say no.

For fuck’s sake, people. That kiwi is carved into a flower. And how do you bend a sandwich that way? The answer: practice. Lots of late night, just-you-and-memories-of-past-failures-and-a-bottle-of-gin practice.

Thanks for cutting a hole out of the bread, which is the best part of the sandwich. Also, what exactly are the eyes made of? I’m going with meticulously carved and sized pieces of STOP IT.

Enjoy what is apparently a pile of ham slices made to look like a pig. It’s the circle of life, son. Mommy loves you.

Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for art. In this case, that means serving your child two balls of rice with half an ounce of cheese and six raisins for lunch. But if that doesn’t float your boat, you can always have the asparagus or the tomatoes! Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Sometimes, you guys, a child’s happiness is not worth the means to get there. Sometimes an extra half hour of sleep in the morning or an extra hour of The Voice at night trumps the laugh of a child at seeing a panda made of quinoa and tabbouleh or whatever the hell good moms feed their kids.

As for me, I’ll be eating baloney sandwiches in hell one day, where not a single strand of carrot confetti is to be found.

The post I’m gonna carve this fruit into NO: School lunches, the lazy way appeared first on .