So.
It's 2p.m. on a Saturday and my self confidence is diminishing- quickly.
I did not have an opportunity to work out on Thursday or Friday, so my plan was to run run run on Saturday morning and then go about my day all revived and full of energy and down a few calories.
Without getting too into the details, my stomach has been hurting lately, so my work out was not what I had hoped. I could only manage 10 minutes on the treadmill.
Then I took Party-P to a birthday party. The party was great. However, the gift I brought for the little two year old boy was lacking a bit (read: a lot). As P was playing with the birthday boy's toys I realized the boy already had the gift I bought for him. As we were heading home I peaked in the goody bag- it was leaps and bounds better than the actual gift I gave him.
In my defense I am generally a great gift giver.
When I know a gift giving occasion is approaching, I really pay attention to the person and what is going on in their lives. I put thought into gifts I give. I research- yes research- the best gifts. I am not a last minute shopper when it comes to gifts. Well, gifts for the non-toddler lot.
Upon returning home from the party, I realized the recent painting project I took on this past week, looked streaky in places. I have no energy to fix it.
So instead, I ate the mini Kit Kat out of P’s amazing goody bag. Like stealing candy from a toddler. A sleeping toddler.
At this point I will blame the shoddy, streaky look on the cheap paint from Ace, although someone had to put it on the wall. That someone was me, so I guess I'm at least partially responsible.
Finally, and perhaps the most sad of all, I think I want to see the new Tom Cruise movie. This is something I would have admitted freely in Tom's pre-couch pouncing days. Now? I'm slightly ashamed. Yes, I saw Tropic Thunder. No I did not like it. Yes, I know I am in the minority.
I wonder if P's goody bag has any mini Reese's Peanut butter cups...
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Bears Repeating
Confession: This is an unoriginal, but entertaining, blog topic.
I would not classify Parker as a picky eater. He does not like chicken as a general rule (weird, I know, but not picky there are plenty non-chicken related foods. I admit chicken nuggets/tenders are popular among the kid population and if he liked them things may be a bit easier, but Pman says no to nuggets.)
He can handle food that is a little spicy, but if something is too spicy he makes a hurty face and tries to scratch the hot off his tongue.
Psizzle will not eat the same thing two days in a row, unless that thing is fruit loops, in which case there is never enough.
Dips of any variety are right up his alley, but ONLY if you let him do the dipping. He has no interest in you dipping his food for him in an effort to keep things sanitary. He wants to do it his own darn self, so back off.
Broccoli is fine, but only if it is plain. No and I mean no cheese sauce. And NO peas ever. Don’t try to put them in soup or pasta. He will find them and pick them out. Sort of ironic, no?
He likes fruit.
Well. He likes fruit while we weave in and out of the produce section at our local Giant. Once those goodies are in the car they begin to lose their appeal (ha! get it? a peal?). By the time they have made it all the way to our fridge they are downright vile and don't you dare even cut up an apple and put it on his plate in the morning!
Today at the store, he reached, stretched and whined in the general direction of the strawberries. I search through to find the least moldy plastic container and put it in the cart.
More stretching, reaching and louder whining from Pfunk.
I pulled out a large steriodberry from the container and gave it to him. I wipe it on my sweaty gym shirt first. That means it's clean and sanitary, right?
An old lady, who I otherwise would have instantly liked because she sort of reminded me of my Magraw, said, "He shouldn’t eat that. You really should wash it first."
I muttered back, "Well you do what you do and I'll do what I do."
Harsh I know, but I mean really. I see people do dumb stuff on a daily basis. I hear people at the gym exchange a series of untruths and falsehoods disguised as a conversation, and do I correct them?
Nay.
I figure they are either dumb and not worth my time, or maybe they are just trying to get through a workout and get home for a nice glass of wine.
I know the fruit is not as clean in the store as it will be after I get it home and wash it (and then let it rot in my fridge for a week).
My son wants a strawberry over a cookie, so I'm taking this opportunity and running with it. It's healthy and will keep him quiet. Yes, I know he is trying to digest the green stemmy part, I am ok with it and I promise to not call you with a report when he inevitably poops it out.
Finally, P will be 2 in about 15 days. He loves to "cook". Just today when we got home from the beach and were de-sanded as best we could be, he looked at me and said, "cook?!"
Sure thing. Happy to oblige my little Pmeister.
My sister got P a kitchen for his birthday. When she went shopping at Toys R Us for the kitchen, somehow the salesMAN found out this kitchen was for a boy. He commented that my sister and mother were in the wrong aisle as that they were looking at kitchens which were, of course, a girls toy.
My mom said something about Gordon Ramsey being able to kick the salesman's ass and that was that.
I mean really. A girl toy?!
I would not classify Parker as a picky eater. He does not like chicken as a general rule (weird, I know, but not picky there are plenty non-chicken related foods. I admit chicken nuggets/tenders are popular among the kid population and if he liked them things may be a bit easier, but Pman says no to nuggets.)
He can handle food that is a little spicy, but if something is too spicy he makes a hurty face and tries to scratch the hot off his tongue.
Psizzle will not eat the same thing two days in a row, unless that thing is fruit loops, in which case there is never enough.
Dips of any variety are right up his alley, but ONLY if you let him do the dipping. He has no interest in you dipping his food for him in an effort to keep things sanitary. He wants to do it his own darn self, so back off.
Broccoli is fine, but only if it is plain. No and I mean no cheese sauce. And NO peas ever. Don’t try to put them in soup or pasta. He will find them and pick them out. Sort of ironic, no?
He likes fruit.
Well. He likes fruit while we weave in and out of the produce section at our local Giant. Once those goodies are in the car they begin to lose their appeal (ha! get it? a peal?). By the time they have made it all the way to our fridge they are downright vile and don't you dare even cut up an apple and put it on his plate in the morning!
Today at the store, he reached, stretched and whined in the general direction of the strawberries. I search through to find the least moldy plastic container and put it in the cart.
More stretching, reaching and louder whining from Pfunk.
I pulled out a large steriodberry from the container and gave it to him. I wipe it on my sweaty gym shirt first. That means it's clean and sanitary, right?
An old lady, who I otherwise would have instantly liked because she sort of reminded me of my Magraw, said, "He shouldn’t eat that. You really should wash it first."
I muttered back, "Well you do what you do and I'll do what I do."
Harsh I know, but I mean really. I see people do dumb stuff on a daily basis. I hear people at the gym exchange a series of untruths and falsehoods disguised as a conversation, and do I correct them?
Nay.
I figure they are either dumb and not worth my time, or maybe they are just trying to get through a workout and get home for a nice glass of wine.
I know the fruit is not as clean in the store as it will be after I get it home and wash it (and then let it rot in my fridge for a week).
My son wants a strawberry over a cookie, so I'm taking this opportunity and running with it. It's healthy and will keep him quiet. Yes, I know he is trying to digest the green stemmy part, I am ok with it and I promise to not call you with a report when he inevitably poops it out.
Finally, P will be 2 in about 15 days. He loves to "cook". Just today when we got home from the beach and were de-sanded as best we could be, he looked at me and said, "cook?!"
Sure thing. Happy to oblige my little Pmeister.
My sister got P a kitchen for his birthday. When she went shopping at Toys R Us for the kitchen, somehow the salesMAN found out this kitchen was for a boy. He commented that my sister and mother were in the wrong aisle as that they were looking at kitchens which were, of course, a girls toy.
My mom said something about Gordon Ramsey being able to kick the salesman's ass and that was that.
I mean really. A girl toy?!
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