The Mini Van Soap Box

I'm quite certain that if the Easter Bunny was real....He would be sitting in his office right now, discussing with his staff how much of a total asshole I am - and how best to take me out.

After church on Sunday, we went to lunch with my folks - hugs and kisses goodbye and then got in the car to drive home. As I pulled out of the parking lot I said to her "So, what do you want to do today sweetie?"

She looked at me like I was a complete idiot...."Um...eggs Mama"

Oh. Shit.

Right. It's Easter. And the Easter Bunny comes on Easter. And hides eggs. And gives baskets full of crap.

So, in a moment of total brilliance, I blamed the LACK of hidden eggs and baskets and goodies ON the Easter Bunny. I'm totally not kidding you. I simply explained that the Easter Bunny probably thought that she was in Texas with me for the funeral and assumed she wouldn't be home for Easter, so skipped our house this year. "But I'll bet you'll get TWO Easter baskets next year!" I said.

And you know what? It worked. Like a charm. She wasn't mad - or even upset at all.

"Really?!?! Two baskets? Cool!"

And that was it. Easiest. Child. Ever. That, or she's brilliant and has learned at an early age how to double her haul.

Is it wrong to blame a childhood idol for my mistakes? Probably. However, the guilt I have over not having this kid in Sunday School - I've never really talked about the Easter Bunny all that much. I want to make sure I have some church stuff in her, before I let Easter become the "chocolate bunny" holiday. Furthermore....I've been a bit flighty this last week. Not to mention, I really think my husband should at least take a little bit of the blame on this one.

All excuses, I'll admit. And I totally draw the line at blaming Santa. That's just cruel. Not to mention, fiscally stupid. There's no WAY I could double up the next year.

P.S. This is just part one of the story. Next week you'll get "Why Grandparents Suck - Blaming the Easter Bunny Part 2" This is what happens when your parents find out you screwed over their grandchild for Easter.

Driving home after buying mayonnaise.

Me: "Hey, this Saturday is our Anniversary isn't it?"
Him: "Oh, yea? Yea - I guess it is."
Me: "How long have we been married?"
Him: "Nine years?"
Me: "Um...no. Dork. Six Years."
Him: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yes, I'm sure. You take her age, and add two."

Him: "I don't think that's right"
Me: "Yea, I was just thinking that. But I know nine years isn't right either"
Him: "Cause if you take her age and add two, we've been married for six and a half...and that's a stupid time to celebrate an anniversary"
Me: "Yea. That's like celebrating a month of going out in high school. Who celebrates six and a half years?
Him: "I think its seven years"
Me: "Ok. That sounds good. Let's go with seven"

I am often in awe of the genius of marketing. How someone can package and sell something so effectively, that even though we KNOW we don't need or even want one, we'll buy it anyway, because we honestly think it'll make our lives better.

This has to be the number one motto of the warehouse store. I don't know what it is in your area, but here, it's Costco. And I've yet to meet anyone who can "run in real quick for milk".

Today was that day for us. We haven't been in forever, because quite frankly we can't get back out again with our shirts on. But we needed to stockpile on a few things - and we were heading in that direction anyway.

We actually gave ourselves a pep talk before we left the house. Stay clear of the middle area....that's where they hit you with movies, books and toys. Watch out for the lady on every turn giving away free food. Sharp left at the pastry department. And under no circumstances are we to walk into the electronic section.

But even with the pep talk and the directions - somehow when I come face to face with a 96 pound tub of mayonnaise...I have to have it. I don't need, nor do I WANT that much mayo....but at only $4.97 for 96 pounds it's a steal...and I'll feel as though I'm extremely special for owning this mayonnaise. All my friends will be jealous. They'll come from miles and miles just to see my mayo.


So, instead of just getting diet coke....we had to rearrange the entire garage to make room for our haul.

Wanna come over and see my mayo?

Few years ago when I started this little thing, I gave myself a few rules.

Rule #1. I don't post pictures of my kid. That's not a dig at people that do...It's just I have an extremely over active imagination and I can't control who reads here...and I'm quite certain that there is a crazy stalker out there that is looking for a kid that looks exactly like mine and will be able to tell my exact GPS coordinates from one picture.

Rule #2. I don't talk crap about my family. Well, not like serious crap.

Good rules I think. One gives me piece of mind - and the other keeps my ass out of trouble.

About 16 of us had all flown into San Antonio for my Grandmothers funeral (it was a beautiful service by the way) and we were all sitting around the pool at the hotel, drinking and visiting - and someone (and quite honestly I couldn't even tell you who it was at this point) said something kind of stupid and I said something to the effect of..."Damn it...I always said I wouldn't blog about you people!!!"

Well, my older sister was sitting right next to me.

Apparently, she's the exception to my rule...and pointed it out to me.

So, I've gone back and read a bit over the last year or so.

And she's right. I do talk about her a lot.

I'm SURE it's because she's tougher skinned than all of the rest.

And NOT because she just does weirder stuff than all the rest.

As a side note, my mother explained to me this weekend that I was, in fact, allowed to talk about serious crap on here. As long as it was NICE crap about her, and BAD crap about me.

I don't think I'll be asking them to guest post at any time in the future....You are sure to get stories of the SWAT team knocking on the door....or the time I accidentally took all the water out of the pool.

the very loud pop yesterday coming from the general D.C. Metro area yesterday...

Don't concern yourself.

It was just my brain. Exploding all over the pharmacy counter.

You see, as ya'll already know, my doctors have me medicated on this and that for these migraines. And I'm blessed in at least the fact that my insurance, while although won't pay but $10 dollars towards a dental cleaning, will pay for a good portion of my medications.

So, you can imagine my surprise when trying to pick up my monthly prescription....Only about 12 hours before I need to get on a plane to travel back home to San Antonio to meet family for my Grandmothers funeral...that should the pharmacist tell me that I owe him $400.

Pop.

I would love to tell you that I kept my cool under pressure...that I calmly and rationally explained to the newbie that this simply was not the case, and if he could please go back and recheck the files.

But instead I cried like 4 year old little girl that was denied ice cream at her own birthday party.

Turns out that my insurance WILL cover my migraine medication....It was simply a case of THIS pharmacist trying to give me medications that BELONGED TO SOMEONE ELSE.