Yesterday, I finally started to come out of the funk I had been nursing for several days….much to my hubby’s delight.  Think he was tired of walking around on eggshells. 

I’m sure it helped that it was Wednesday which meant both kids were in school.  (Yay!) 

So I dropped the Monkey off at school and headed over to the Princess’ school to do my volunteer work.  Ahhh the hum of a copy machine in the quiet of a small room all by myself.  Last time I felt this peaceful was last week when I was sitting in a room hot gluing paper to fruit cocktail cans.

Does anyone else find it interesting (weird) that I am finding peace in one hour increments at an elementary school?  A place that for many years was the source of great stress?  Hmmm.  If I had a therapist, that would definitely be one of our talking points.

But who needs a therapist when you can just escape to your daughter’s school once a week and make use of a copy machine and a hot glue gun??

Anyhoo…..

I finished up at school and came back by the house to pick up the hubster.  He (finally) went to the doctor to see about his knee and the doc gave him some meds.  He was feeling better, but was still home from work, so we went to get some lunch.  And I had a list of errands a mile long to accomplish with no time to take him back home.

Translation:  I rushed around like a mad woman from one errand to the next while he sat in the car and waited on me.  I was spouting things like “I’m on borrowed time” and “I have to go to the glass shop today!!  Last place I want to take the Monkey is a glass  shop.” 

He didn’t say much more than, “Next time could you please park me out of the sun?”

We went to the mall because I was on a mission to find some boots.  I have been searching for a pair of brown boots for months.  I don’t understand why it is this difficult. 

Oh, I’ve found boots.  But just as soon as I find exactly the right pair, they either don’t have my size, or they cost $328. 

Don’t adjust your bifocals…..you read that correctly…..three hundred and twenty eight dollars.  FOR BOOTS!  Frye  boots to be exact.  And of course I’m drawn to them.  Of course. 

And those Frye people are pretty dang proud of their product.  Three hundred twenty-eight seems like a bargain compared to these:

And you wonder why 32, 487 people try to win some of these babies from the Pioneer Woman when she gives them away.  They want to win them, then turn around and sell them on the black market.  Obviously.

I came home bootless. 

I did, however, come home with this:

 Dictionaries.  From the Goodwill.  Only $2.49 each!

When I tossed them in the back, my hubby said, “What in the world did you buy?”

“Dictionaries.”  (Naturally)

When I told him what I was planning to do with them, he just looked at me and said, “Where do you come up with this stuff??  You have more ideas running around in that little head of yours…..”

He has NO idea.

rm

It’s been a rough weekend around these parts.  With some fun sprinkled in.

The fun?  Date night with my hubby.  Thanks to Aunt Emmy, we went out sans kids for the first time in months.  We even did dinner AND a movie!  It was really nice.

Except for the part where my hubby was limping everywhere we went.  He started having knee troubles last Wednesday.  By Sunday morning he could hardly walk without wanting to cry.  Not sure what’s going on there.

Anyhoo…

One of my kids was thrilled with the prospect of a three day weekend.  The other one….not so much.

The Princess was excited to stay home.  The Monkey was devastated.  He likes to go to school.  Wants  to go to school.  My only saving grace was that Daddy was going to be home too.  Except that he couldn’t really walk.  He did, however, grab the Monk as he ran by the recliner…..running away from me of course….and held on to him till I could get there.

I believe my children are in full rebellion mode.  In other words, ignore whatever mommy says and do whatever the heck you want to do.

I have been doing this mommy gig for almost six years now.  I take this job very seriously.  It has been my “career” choice and I don’t regret for a minute making that choice.

And, honestly, I feel like I’m doing a decent job.  Hey….I don’t ask my kids for much.  When it boils down to it, all I really want is for them to be kind, respectful, responsible and love others.

Not too much to ask, right?

So you can imagine how excited I was about a weekend of mommy torture. 

My angels’ first tactic?  Pretend they’re rocks.  Rocks can’t listen, you see, and so they pretend they are rocks and completely ignore anything I say.  Especially things like clean your room, or come pick up these toys.

Strategy number two:  If one of the mommy directives accidentally soaks in, just argue and argue and argue and “but mom” and “pretty puh-leeeeease” in an effort to wear mom down until she actually gives in.  And then when she doesn’t give in, stomp off muttering “you don’t LOVE me!” under your breath for effect.

And when they actually give in and do what I’ve asked them to do, they half-ass it.  (Sorry.  I don’t know a better way to describe it.)  This causes mommy to close her eyes and rub her forehead in an effort to keep her cool.

The icing on the cake comes about 8:15 pm when mommy is exhausted, mentally and physically, and she is tucking kids in.  And then Daddy looks over and says, “Did you write on mommy’s purse?”  (With a hot pink permanent marker.  White purse.)

And I lost it.

“But mommy!!  It wasn’t decorated!  Everything is better when it’s decorated!”  Even $50 leather purses, I suppose.

I did my best to stay calm, give the necessary speech and get the heck out of her room before I melt down right in front of her.

I come through the kitchen and throw the purse across the room.  “UN-*F*-ING BELIEVABLE!!”  (Sorry Dad.)  My hubby’s eyes are as big as saucers.  Mostly because I never use the *F* word.  I don’t really have issue with other people using it… that’s their thing.  I just don’t like the word.  And in the eight years my hubby and I have been together, he’s probably heard me say it maybe three times.  Maybe.

What I’m getting at is this…..I was seriously upset.  Mad, irritated, fed-up….call it what you will.  Had it been any other job besides my children, I quite possibly would have followed the *F* with “I QUIT!”

But I can’t quit.  Can’t and won’t. 

I was in a major funk.  My hubby doesn’t even know what to say to me.

I can’t help but think of a friend of mine who has four children, two of them a set of twin boys.  Her hubby is gone.  A lot.  Like goes to China for weeks for his job.  I once asked her how she did it.  She looked right at me and said, “Wine.”

And I considered this strategy very seriously this weekend.  Except that all I could think about was how a couple glasses of wine would make me feel the next day when my little darlings were waking me up at 7 am.  Because I’m a light weight.  So I went with chocolate instead.

Part of me is screaming, “WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING??  Maybe I should start applying for jobs at Starbucks!”

Part of me just wants to dig in and force them to bend to my will.  Like they will not BEAT ME! 

Sigh

So.  How was your weekend?

rm

Do any of you out there have a little bugger at your house?  I mean like a kid who gets something in their head and they bug you to DEATH until they either get what they want or finally give up?

(I literally just took a deep breath after typing that.)

Our Princess is our little bugger.  And boy is she resilient.  It takes everything in me to stand my ground with that kid.  And just when you think you’ve convinced her, she comes back.  My hubby can’t deal.  He has to leave the room.  His patience (or lack thereof) gets the best of him.

Our girl’s latest idea??  She wanted the old iPhone.  You know, the phone that my hubby handed down to me when my Blackberry crashed last week??  And then that iPhone was dying too??  And I had to make a scene in the AT&T store??

(Just when you thought you’d heard the last of my phone stories.)

So the hubby and I talked about it and decided it would be ok.  He said he could “lock it down” (whatever that means) so that she would be limited on what she could do with it.  Basically play games and listen to music.

Ahhh the music.  It wasn’t five minutes after handing over the phone to her that she started bugging about getting a Justin Bieber song downloaded to the thing.

Justin Bieber.

That little punk.

We battled with whether or not to let her get the song.  I even asked her what she thought to song was saying.  She thought I meant what were the actual words to the song and she quickly started singing:

“Bay-buh, bay-buh, bay-buh ohhhhh…like bay-buh, bay-buh”

She then said, “What does bay-buh mean anyway mom?”

(Lord help me.)

“Sis.  He’s not saying bay-buh.  He’s saying baby.”

“Why is he singing about a baby??”

(Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the Shepherds.)

We did give in and let her have the song after a very long talk about appropriate and all that stuff. 

So it has been Justin Bieber on repeat for the last three days.  Even the Monkey has been in to it.  “Sissy play Justin Beaver!!”

The only saving grace is that this is the iPhone that dies.  Pretty often.  So we do get a break here and there while the dang thing charges up.

But now that little punk is haunting my dreams…..literally.

The Monk came in to our room last night about 2:30 am.  Not sure why.  He didn’t say anything.  I just took him back to his room and put him back to bed.  My sleep was pretty much non-existent after that.  I have a hard time going back to sleep because I’m just laying there waiting for a kid to come back in and listening for their little steps hit the carpet of our room.

But at 4:30 it wasn’t steps I heard.  Uh-uh.  The Princess came in and said, “Mom, Barrett woke me up with that phone.”

As soon as she gets the words out of her mouth, I hear that Justin Beaver playing.  The Monkey standing in our doorway, holding the iPhone, shaking his little bootie and singing, “bay-buh, bay-buh…”

Mother of everything that is good and holy.

I’m surprised my hubby’s blood pressure levels didn’t have him levitating right off the bed.

By the time I got the Monk back to his room and had taken the phone away from him, he was crying and screaming, “I WANT JUSTIN BEAVER!!”

Like I said.  Punk.

At this point, I had already given myself permission to have three cups of coffee this morning.  And I was still awake when he came back in at 5:40 saying, “I’m sick.”

Which he wasn’t.  And when I returned him to his room for the THIRD time, I found my phone in his bed. 

I think the hubby better figure out how to “lock down” everything electronic in this house for that Monkey. 

Sure hoping I can remember the “appropriate” talk I had with the Princess.  Think it might come in handy today when the boy who kept me up last night starts screaming at me to GET HIM SOME MILK and I want to use naughty language.

Have a great weekend ya’ll.

rm

PS   Here.  Enjoy this.  I’ve got it stuck in my head.  We might as well all suffer together. 

You’re welcome.

You won’t hear me say this often……yesterday morning was bliss.  Bliss.

(You won’t hear me say the morning part.  I am not a fan of mornings.)

(Don’t get me wrong….mornings are better than the alternative.  I appreciate every day that I’m given.  But I could still appreciate it about 10 am.)

I was dreading having to go to the Princess’ school as I was waking her up to get ready.  I don’t mind helping out….in fact, I love it.  But I was tired.  And I had already missed out on mommy Monday because of the “snow”.  All I really wanted to do was get both kids off to school, curl up in front of the fire and watch It’s a Brad, Brad World  on the DVR. 

Speaking of Brad…..anyone else out there feel a little bit guilty for watching Brad’s show??  I feel like I’m cheating on Rachel.  But how can you not love the guy?  I mean, come on….anyone who is willing to wear hot pink jeans, yellow shirt and a royal blue jacket on purpose  …….and with such a big smile on his face…..how can you not love that??  Not to mention the crying.  Oh my goodness.

I get the Monkey dropped off at school and head on over to Fin’s school to put in my time.

I am sitting on the floor in an empty room.  Well, empty as far as people go.  Apparently this room is some type of work-out room for the teachers.  There is a treadmill and a couple of weight machines.  There’s even a mini-trampoline!  I can’t tell you how much will power it took to keep from jumping on that thing. 

Only thing that stopped me was the memory of one of my friends in college jumping in to one of those ball pits at Chuck E Cheese and breaking her foot.  Seemed like a similar scenario just waiting to happen.

Anyhoo…..there I am, sitting in front of a giant stack of gallon-sized fruit cocktail cans with a hot glue gun and strips of paper.  My job:  cover said cans with the paper so they can be used to collect tickets at Family Fun Night.

I can’t describe to you how pleasant it was.  So peaceful.  So quiet.  No one screaming at me at the top of their lungs to PUT MY SOCKS ON, no one asking me for gogurt and fire chips for breakfast.  Not to mention being at school but not actually being responsible for a classroom full of kids.

It was heaven.

Sometimes I wish I had a job to go to where I spent eight hours  doing some menial task.  Like…..I don’t know…..making coffee at Starbucks. 

I’m not trying to say that the people who work at Starbucks aren’t important.  And I’m certain there are times when their job is completely stressful.  Most likely it’s the times that I come through their drive-thru. 

I utter the words latte’ and tall and vanilla and extra hot in completely  the wrong order. 

And the gal wearing the fancy headset, that possibly gives her a headache, must just shake her head and take a deep breath before she not-so-politely says, “So.  You want a tall, extra hot, vanilla latte’?

To which I very nicely respond into the speaker, “Um…that’s what I SAID!”

Sometimes, after they correct me on my ordering faux pas, I throw in at the last second, “Oh!  Can you make that decaf?”, just to piss ‘em off.

I actually had the head-set lady give me a little booklet at the window that explained how I should order my coffee.  My response to that may not have been so polite.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  It’s COFFEE.  Not foreign relations.

 *Sigh*

But I digress.  Today I’ve got my own little slice of heaven with my wonderful Monkey boy and my little nephew.  Nothing beats Mr. Baby time.  Plus adding Mr. Baby to the mix gives the Monk just one more excuse to come up with new ways to torture me. 

Opportunity for training. 

A-hem.

rm

 I promise…..cross my heart……this will be the last you have to hear about Cookie Monster. 

Or at least in the context of the Monkey’s birthday.

Unless, of course, he chooses Cookie Monster next year for his 4th birthday.  Then all bets are off.

I really took the easy way out with this birthday party.  These cupcakes were so simple to make.

Usually, I’m still in my pajamas on party day, madly putting the final touches on the birthday cake an hour before the party starts.

Not this time.  I was so on top of things I almost didn’t recognize myself.

(I also had an appointment with the tax lady the morning of the party, so pj’s at one o’clock in the afternoon really wasn’t an option.)

Could have had something to do with the fact that in addition to cake, I always serve food.  Finger foods and chips and dip and sometimes even a meal like burgers.  Guess I’m getting lazy in my old age because I didn’t serve a dang thing. 

Cupcakes, ice cream and drinks.

Pow.

(Sorry.  Don’t know where that came from.)

I felt a little guilty (shocking) because I flaked out on the Monkey.  But mostly I just enjoyed not being stressed.  And he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

Here’s how Cookie Monster got started:

 Complicated so far, right?

I’m sorry but that picture reminds me of Sid the Science Kid’s  hair on that PBS show.

 Ta-da! 

In case you’re wondering…..those are chocolate chip cookies under the cupcakes.

I had people think they were pancakes and some thought they were biscuits.

Come on people! 

Oh well.  The birthday Monkey was happy.

rm

PS  These little babies tasted good too.  I’m all about cute and all, but if they don’t taste good, I don’t serve them.  Which is why I don’t believe in fondant. 

Buttercream = good.  Fondant = bad.

(Sorry.  Random)

So I had this grand idea last night about….oh….nine o’clock, to write a Valentine poem for my little family.

Turns out I didn’t have it in me to put enough words together for a nice poem before the hour of 1 am.  At least not with words that rhyme.  And rhyming words are kind of necessary.  At least they are for me.  But I’m not literature-ly advanced enough to write one of those genius poems that don’t rhyme or make sense what-so-ever.

It is also especially hard to write poetry while watching the finale of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Reunion show.  Which in retrospect, may have been the issue all along. 

Part of the problem could have also been the fact that I was having a hard time coming up with something lovey-dovey to say about the Monk.  Ninety-five percent of our verbal exchanges yesterday involved him screaming at me at the top of his lungs……about important things of course.  Here.  Let me give you an example:

“Put my tag in!”   (his shirt)

“What do you say, son?”

“Put it in….BACK THERE!”

“Son, you need to ask mommy nice…”

“I SAID PUT THAT TAG BACK IN THERE PWEASE!  I SAID PUH-WEEEEEAAAASE-UH!!!!”

Ahem.

You see why I was plagued with writer’s block.  And it had started out so nicely…..

Roses are red, violets are blue
I love you valentines, all three of you.

So original right?

Should I come up with the rest of it I will certainly post it.  In the meantime, I thought I’d share the valentine gifts I made for the kid’s teachers.  A box of chocolates.  Except that they’re actually cupcakes!

And not in a box. 

On a plate.

If that doesn’t sound like me then I don’t know what does!!

Happy Valentine’s Day friends!!  Hope you have a great day!

rm

 PS  If you were really in the mood for a poem today and you just can’t stand the disappointment, here is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.  It’s about football, which has absolutely nothing to do with Valentine’s Day, but hey…..it rhymes.

So here’s how Monday started at our house….

The Monkey crying because his “school” was cancelled due to the snow.  The Princess crying because her school did not get cancelled.  Two kids crying before 7 am.  Neat.

And quite honestly, last night as the Monkey’s school rolled across the TV screen in the list of closings, Mommy wanted to cry too.  I think it would have been better if the Princess was going to be home with him.  At least then the Monk would have some entertainment. 

I told my hubby it felt like someone was cancelling Christmas one hour before midnight on Christmas Eve.

To which he said, “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to stay home with these kids.”

I didn’t say anything, but my face  said, “Bite me.”

(Sorry.  That was rude.)

We had a busy weekend with the Monkey’s birthday party.  Cookie Monster was a big success.  I promise I will post pics later this week. 

We were sitting around by the fire Saturday evening while the kids were playing with the new birthday haul.  I was doing my best to watch Keeping up With the Kardashians.  It was one of those Kardashian’s 16th birthday and she was trying to talk her mom out of having her sweet sixteen in the Bahamas.  (Really??)  It was a back and forth fight about too big vs too simple.  Riveting.

Then a news alert scrolled across the bottom of the screen…..Whitney Houston had died.

Instantly I was whipped back in time.  Seventh grade.  My birthday.  My parents took all of us, and my friend Nicole, to see Whitney in concert.  If I remember correctly, Nicole and I were wearing high top Converse.  In fact, we were wearing one of our own and one of each other’s.  That’s right.  Mismatched Converse.  The epitome of cool. 

We had floor seats, which sounds great, unless you’re in seventh grade and not very tall, and everyone in front of you is standing up the entire time.  We pretty much spent the whole concert standing on our chairs so we could see.  I will never forget her singing “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.” 

And then seeing her in The Bodyguard.  My grandparents took our entire family to see that movie one Christmas when we were visiting them in Arizona.  It seemed like a pretty grown up movie to me at the time.  And a little awkward with your parents and grandparents sitting next to you in the theatre. 

That lady had a hard life.  Unfortunately, most of it by her choice.  So much talent……

Of course, Twitter was buzzing with the news and I think a tweet by Barbra Streisand said it best:

I feel for Whitney’s family…..especially  for her daughter.  A tragic loss.  A talented woman gone too soon.

But….

Without even an ounce of disrespect…..

Since her death, there have been hours of media coverage about Whitney.  Hours. 

And I can’t help but think:  What about the soldiers who lost their lives today and not one minute of television has been devoted to them. 

I guess it’s just the way our world works.  It just doesn’t seem fair to me. 

So…..to all of the soldier’s families out there who have lost their loved ones…..I’m sorry for your loss.  I thank you for yours and your loved one’s service to our country.

My little five minutes of “air time” devoted to you.

Rest in peace.

rm

Well, the good news is the Monkey is no longer obsessed with the Scooby Doo pj’s.

The bad news??  He is now fixated on a pair of Wall-E pj’s.  He has now literally had them on for 36 hours. 

Which does mean that he wore them to pick up his sister from school yesterday.  But he stayed in the car.  And I, being parent of the year and all, did make him wear a coat and socks.  Knee-high socks that he wears with his “Harley boots.” 

Yeah.

It’s a big day at our house.  I am getting ready for the Monkey’s birthday party tomorrow.  The Cookie Monster birthday that was supposed to happen two weeks ago.

But then one of his Mimis was in Costa Rica on a mission trip.  And then it was supposed to happen last week, but instead, we were in the midst of germ-a-palooza.

And Mommy wished  she were in Costa Rica.

So finally, the poor kid gets to have his birthday party and his Cookie Monster cupcakes.  And it’s supposed to be a glorious 49 degrees, cloudy and rainy here in Okie Dokie.  Yay!

Another little piece of good news…..my new phone comes today!!

Ahh the celebratory end to a hard-fought battle.  Still feeling pretty awesome about that.

 I think I’m most excited about having Instagram on my phone.  I’ve always been a little jealous of those photos on other people’s tweets. 

Jelly no more! 

In honor of my new access to Instagram and in honor of New York Fashion Week…..here is a picture of the dress my hubby got me for Valentine’s Day:

(I am insanely jealous of people who get to go to NYFW.  I’m living vicariously through their tweets right now.  Some day.)

I do realize that Valentine’s Day has not happened yet.  But one of the (many) things I love about my hubby is that he is a man that knows what he wants.  And when he wants something, he wants to go on ahead and get it.  So last week when he started quizzing me about what we were doing for Valentine’s Day, I knew I was about to score.  He had something in mind that he wanted and so did I. 

I got this adorable dress from Manda Lou’s Boutique in Clinton.  And I didn’t even have to go there!  She shipped it right to my door.  Check out her Facebook page…..she is really good about posting pics of her merchandise which makes it soooo easy to shop away!

Hope you all have a fabulous Friday and a great weekend!

rm

The monkey in my house (AKA, my son) has started displaying some in-ter-esting behaviors. 

He has gone from having absolutely zero interest in TV, movies or cartoons, to being completely obsessed with Shrek Forever After.  He watches it over and over and over.

He has watched it so many times that he now calls his sister “rumple-stinky-pants” and calls himself  ”ree-donk-u-lous.”

The Monkey has also developed some sort of obsession with pajamas.  Scooby Do pajamas to be more specific. 

And I don’t mean he just wants to wear his “Scoobs”, as he calls them, to bed every night.  Uh-uh….he wants to wear them all.  Of.  The. Time.  He has actually worn other pj’s to bed, then got up and changed in to his Scoobs to wear for the day.

(And yes, I let him wear his pj’s when we are at home.  Why not?)

(Well, there was that one day that I let him wear them to pick the Princess up from school.  Had to wake him up from his nap and he was Mr. Cranky Pants.  And I didn’t have the energy to fight him.  But I made him wear a jacket.  And socks.)

He is serious about those pajamas. 

He ran through here the other day screaming, “Gotta go potty!!  Don’t want to POOP IN MY SCOOBS!!!”

Oy.

One of the more unpleasant features of this new personality is the mega-meltdown, screaming, red-faced fit.  If even the slightest little thing doesn’t go his way, he turns in to some unrecognizable…….THING……and nothing consoles him.

Except some time in his room kicking and screaming and working it all out.  Ever heard the phrase, “Katie bar the door”?  Well in this case, it’s “mommy hold the door” until he suddenly becomes silent  and a little voice from the other side of the door says, “Mommy??  I apology.  For screaming at you.”

Lord help me.

If only I could figure out how that little brain of his works. 

Why, when he’s the guilty tooter, he looks around and says, “Who’s poopy??”

Why he assumes, when looking at the reading material in our bathroom, that the investment magazine with the suit and tie on the front is his dad’s and the “What to Expect the First Year” book is mine.

(Not that we invest anything.  Our bank just sends them to us.  Apparently without looking at our actual accounts first.)

(And yes, we are well past the first year, but I just can’t let go of that book.  There is an entire section, buried somewhere in the middle, dedicated to First Aid and illness.  Because (God forbid) I need to know what to do for a bleeding head wound, I will automatically think to go the bathroom and look it up in that book.  Most likely I’ll just call Aunt Emmy….AKA….our resident medical expert.)

(Ummm….Aunt Emmy has actually had to run down the street to our house for a bleeding head wound.  And drive us to the emergency room.  And that book in the bathroom never entered my mind.)

Why 75% of the words that come out of his mouth are pure whine. 

Maybe (*crossing fingers*) it’s just a phase and not personality. 

(Especially the melt-down monster part.)

I do have to say that there are things about him right now that I hope are not a phase……

Like the fact that he still wants me to sit down and “snuggle up wiff me.”

*Sigh*

I could go on but there is something resembling a blond headed barnacle attached to my leg, whining about play-doh and about to pull me over if I don’t PAY SOME ATTENTION TO HIM.”

rm

I’m going to start  with a random thought:

OMGsh!  Is that Daisy Duke on Young and the Restless?? Not as Daisy Duke, of course, but as Chelsea’s mother. If I watched that I show I could tell you.  If.

I’m a sweet person.  Pretty easy going.  It takes a whooooollllleee lot to make me angry. 

It happened today.

I have no doubt you’re sick to death of hearing about my phone issues.  I’m sick to death of it myself.

Let me tell ya. 

I really don’t have the energy to go through the entire story but the gist of it goes something like this:

Blackberry died.  Hubby’s old iPhone won’t stay charged.  I’m not “eligible” for an upgrade. 

Those AT&T people want to charge me $250.99 for a comparable phone. 

(What’s with the 99 cents?)

All I have to say to that  is hahahahahahahaha….no way in heck.

After an hour and a half of my KID FREE DAY, a store manager who never showed his face and two calls to the corporate office, I got my way.  Which did NOT include $250 or 99 cents.

That’s right.

All it took was me holding up the line of about six people, very loudly accusing the manager of not showing his face because he forgot his pants today, and telling Mr. Corporate that I was taking my $350 of monthly AT&T business elsewhere and voila!!

New iPhone to be delivered to my house in 1-3 days.

This isn’t interesting anymore, is it.

I have to be completely honest……it felt pretty dang good to flex my kick-ass business woman muscles.  Felt even better to know they were still there!  I was afraid the mommy muscles had taken over and turned everything else in to goosh.  One of these days I’m going to run out of kids to watch and I’m pretty sure the hubster has a few expectations about my job status when that time comes.

For now though, I’m back in mommy mode and I’m avoiding a very long “to-do” list. 

Hope you all are having an equally exciting Wednesday!

And should you find yourself  in need of  a problem solver extraordinaire who has the punch of Steven Seagal with a little mommy softness thrown in, give me a shout.

Hmmm…..maybe a new branch of the Mommy’s Shoes brand……

And I’d do it for free.

Which is actually not a very solid business model. 

Never mind.

rm