Pillsbury Cookie Perfection

I spent 5 hours on Saturday baking Christmas cookies with my mom, sister and husband while Monkey Man played Minecraft and called out the occasional, "I'm hungry!" or "I'm thirsty!" or "I just farted!" We baked chocolate chip cookies, butter cookies, snickerdoodles, m&m cookies and ricotta cheese cookies (they sound weird and gross but they are dee-lish-us!).

Hubby and I were in charge of the M&M cookies and they came out flat and hard.  Totally edible with a big glass of milk, but not worthy or giving to a neighbor or teacher. Their presentation screamed more cardboard with red and green circles rather than chewy, delicious confections with m&m surprises.   My sister's specialty is the ricotta cheese cookie and after rolling about 120 balls and baking three cookies sheets of said balls, she realized she forgot to put the ricotta cheese in the ricotta cheese cookies.  Oops.

Next year, I'm sticking with the much-loved Pillsbury sugar cookie.  No mess, all ingredients included even if there is a preservative here or there, 8-10 minutes and Merry Christmas!

Welcome to the Scholastic Crap Fair

‘Tis the season for America’s children to come to school with envelopes, baggies and fistfuls of dollars just waiting to get into the doors of their schools’ Scholastic Book Fair, or as I like to call it, “Book Fair with a table of crap that all the kids want.”

I LOVE the book fair.  I would easily let Monkey Man buy whatever he wants, provided it has a front cover, back cover and pages in between with words on them.  You know, books. But these kids walk into a wonderland of books and target the crap table.  Erasers and pencils.  Okay, fine, we all need erasers and pencils, but the pencils are always the kind that write too light or when sharpened, the funky plastic design peels off.  Then there are pens that light up or have other distracting fluffy, feathery things on them.  And we all know that it’s always the children that need the least number of distractions that make a beeline for those.  A big hit at the Book Fair is pointers with fingers on the ends in which to poke the sh*& out of their little brother or mother or to inevitably turn into a weapon of some sort.  Then there are the book marks.  Don’t even get me started on book marks.  Why would one pay for a strip of paper when there are perfectly good scraps of paper lying around our homes just begging to be repurposed as a book mark?

I volunteered to help today at the Book Fair.  As a parent, I love the book fair and giving Monkey Man the opportunity to shop for BOOKS.  As a teacher, I know the Book Fair sucks.  One teacher taking a class of young children to a store, armed with blank checks or not enough money to buy even the crappiest of crap on that table?  Children standing tugging on teacher’s arm asking if they have enough money while little Jimmy spins in circles and Annie calls from across the room that she really has to go to the bathroom.  Teachers need back up at the Book Fair.

I was there to help the Kindergarten class and then Monkey Man’s 2^nd grade class.  Kindergarten really needs budgeting advice, standing there all wide-eyed with paper and coins having no idea how to use these objects in exchange for other objects, so I was happy to help.  One boy said to me, “I have 5 bucks. Can I get this book?”  I looked at the price and told him in a super-excited mommy voice, “Yes, it’s 5 dollars, so you have the exact amount!”  He said, “Nooo, I have 5 BUCKS.”  See why teachers need backup?

Then Monkey Man’s class came in.  He smiled at me and I waved him over.  I told him he could pick a few books and show me.  He asked me how much he could spend (we have taught him about budgeting and he is very budget conscious.  He's either going to be well-prepared for adulthood or crazy cheap).  I told him he could shop then show me what he wanted and we would decide.  While he shopped, I sweetly helped the other children with the, “Hi, do you need some help?” and a, “Let’s see, sweetie, if you have enough money,” and a “Good choice!  You are all set!”  While I was in the middle of my helping-other-children-kindness, Monkey Man came over to me with a chocolate bar eraser. 

“Mom, can I get this?” I turned from Nicest Mom and Book Fair Helper to Now It’s Time to Deal with My OWN Child: “NO!” and then proceeded to re-channel my sweet mommy-helper voice to continue helping little Joey

Thanks for shopping kids, and have a super fantastic day!  Except, you, Monkey Man.  We already went over the rules this morning about buying crap at the book fair.  But I guess I’ve taught you to ask questions, can’t hurt to try, what’s the worst someone will say, no?  So yeah, good job, but you’re still not getting an eraser.

Memo from Mom

To: First Lady Michelle Obama

Re: United Cafeterias of America and their Right to Bear Snacks

Dearest Mrs. Obama, 

I have a Quick Quiz: Which one of these foods does not belong?

A. Hot dog   B. Mozzarella sticks  C. Sauteed Swiss chard   D. Nachos

If you picked “C”, ding ding ding!  We got a winna’!  A quick glance at my son’s school lunch menu for the month reads “Hot dog on a wheat bun with peaches” and “Mozzarella sticks with baby carrots” and “Macaroni and cheese with sautéed Swiss chard.”  There are several things wrong with these selections:

1. A wheat bun makes not the hot dog healthy.
2. Adding a fruit and vegetable to each entrée is a nice try, but it cannot offset the fact that they are serving snacks from every circus and baseball game and calling it lunch.
3. SWISS FREAKIN’ CHARD?? I don’t even know if I would eat that!  The mac n’ cheese? Well, of course!  But Swiss Chard? By the way, what IS Swiss Chard? 

Ah, but you remedied the situation, as that was September’s menu.  Now enter October 2012 and it’s a whole new ballgame in America’s cafeterias.  There was an “AHA!” moment and cafeteria food-service companies across the nation are now not allowed to serve four mozzarella sticks to our ever-expanding waistlined children.  We’re down to two fried cheese sticks because of the carbs.  Oh, the upheaval at our school!  Outcries from parents, “Only TWO mozzarella sticks?  How could you do this to our babies?”   

Even Pizza Fridays – as in EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME – is pizza two Fridays in October.  And Tony’s Cheese Pizza is now called Tony’s Cheese WHEAT Crust Pizza.  I guess Tony got in on the act, too, and realized, “Crap.  I’m never gonna sell this nasty frozen pizza unless I throw a little wheat flour in the crust.”  Mrs. Obama, I really do like you.  But taking away Pizza Fridays?  You are killing our kids’ childhoods.  How will they reminisce about all those Fridays spent eating cardboard pizza in the cafeteria?  It’s just not fair.

Apparently, the schools are offsetting this mall-food deficiency by offering “unlimited” fruits and vegetables making it sound like upon entering the school cafeteria you will feel as though you’ve stepped into a European open-air market with apples, peaches, bananas, grapes, and broccoli falling at your feet!   However, word on the street is nary an apple is present.  But the ice cream freezer is plugged in and raring to go!  And the cookies and chips are lined up on the counter beckoning the children with their sugary and salty delightfulness.  I’m not quite sure where you were for this part of the meeting when snacks were discussed.  Perhaps you stepped out for a moment to take a First Lady tinkle and Mr. Corporate Lobbyist Frito-Lay and his sidekick Nabisco stepped in? Because I don't know how you wiped out the high-fat, cholesterol-filled, battered and fried mozzarella stick but the sugar-filled cookies and chips fried in saturated fats loaded with calories remain on our cafeteria counters. 

I will continue to send my son in with his lunch on most days of the week preferring not to pay money for garbage disguised as nutritious food.  He’ll complain to me about how I don’t love him because I send in a half of a whole wheat bagel or whole grain pasta accompanied by fruit, baby carrots or graham crackers.  But as mean as I am, I will help Tony turn a profit every now and then because I simply cannot let my child not know what it’s like to grow up eating crappy cafeteria pizza.  It’s a rite of passage even if it only happens once or twice a month nowadays.

Stuffed with Incentive

This is bribery at its finest.  You see, I live with Alex P. Keaton.  However, money-hungry Monkey Man is a much cooler dressed version of Michael J. Fox’s character in “Family Ties.” My Alex wears Converse sneakers and would look at me like I lost my done-mind if I attempted to put a tie around his neck.

Monkey Man will do just about anything for money.  He has written books and sold them to his grandparents for $9 a pop.  He sweeps the floors for 4 minutes and expects $2.   He will happily sell every toy he owns to make a few bucks.  He asked us to sell his superhero and Star Wars action figures online and we give him the earnings.  I love it because it clears out the toys that he doesn’t use.  He loves it because he can roll around in his singles and cackle with joy.  Thank God this child is not aware of “Gentlemen’s Clubs” yet.  He would be armed and ready.

However, stuffed animals do not sell online or anywhere.  Nobody wants someone else’s dusty stuffed animals that were sneezed on, slobbered on and very possibly puked on.  But our problem, like many child-filled households, is that Monkey Man has the equivalent of the San Diego Zoo in his toy chest.  He loves all of them, but some of them are buried and forgotten, just collecting dust that makes me have to buy more Allegra.  Here is where my brilliant idea occurs:

Pay Monkey Man for his stuffed animals so that I can donate them! Yes!  I’m a genius! Our school has a clothing drive coming up and they accept stuffed animals.  I can get these cute and fuzzy guys outta here for a small fee.  For every animal I pay for, Monkey Man donates one out of the kindness of his heart.  It’s called incentive, people!  He understands what it means to donate and help people, but I get many more from him when I give him a financial incentive. 

Choose your price: I paid him $1 a piece, but some kids might accept a quarter or $.50.  Trust me, if I could’ve gotten away with a quarter, I would have.  Monkey Man turned on his heels when I suggested it and said, “No deal.  I want $2,” then he said something into his blue tooth and rolled his eyes.  I brought it up to $.50 and as Pawn Stars has taught him, he held at $1.  I fully expect him to become a hostage negotiator or a lawyer.

With a little creativity and good old-fashioned bribery, those kids will clear out their toys chests in no time. 

Thought for the Day

Just in case you are wondering, it IS okay to use your treadmill (or other piece of exercise equipment) as a drying rack when you do actually use said piece of exercise equipment.  So go ahead, dry away!

Polly Want a Cracker...Or a Parrot

Ironically, this conversation had both Monkey Man and me talking like 2 brightly colored, tropical birds.

Monkey Man: I'm saving money for a parrot.

Me: We are not getting a parrot.

Monkey Man: But I'm saving money for a parrot.

Me: We are not getting a parrot. Walt (our dog) would eat a parrot and I will not have any other animals except a dog in my house. (side note: birds and fish freak me out for some strange reason.  And I see no point in reptiles or amphibians as "pets" nor do I see a hamster, guinea pig or other rodent as a pet).

Monkey Man: But I'm SAVING money for a parrot!

Me: That's fine.  But we are never getting a parrot.

Monkey Man: But I AM SAVING MONEY for a parrot!

Me: (Exhausted) It's good to have goals.

Monkey Man's perseverance will serve him very well one day.  One day when he is not in this house anymore driving me crazy.

The Great (Disney) Depression

Walt Disney World is like no other place in the world.  A beautiful castle, fairies, pirates and princesses are awaiting your arrival.  They snicker and cackle as they invite you to buy their cheap, plastic toys for $18 when you know damn well you can buy that sword at the dollar store for a buck.  But still, it’s magical.  Or at least that’s what the “pixie dust” they put in their Magic Kingdom Main Street Bakery brownies makes you believe.

We visited Walt Disney World two weeks ago and followed it up with a voyage on the Disney Fantasy Cruise to St. Maarten and St. Thomas.  This was our 6^th Disney Cruise (Monkey Man’s 3^rd) and my 26^th time visiting Walt Disney World.  Monkey Man has been to Walt Disney World 6 times, so yes, we have definitely drank the Kool-Aid and hit the big ol’ bong of Disney pixie dust.

Each time we visit, I cannot help but to get goosebumps.  Sometimes the goosebumps are from heatstroke because we go in July or August, but usually they are from the sheer wonder and excitement of this magical place.  Since Monkey Man has been with us, it is even better.  He absolutely loves to see the characters, take pictures with them and give them hugs.  I know Disney sucks my hard-earned money from me, but it is so worth being piss poor upon our return home to see that kid’s face light up when Goofy dances with him.

And I fall for their sappy crap every time, too.  When I hear “When you wish upon a star…” pumping through the speakers in Fantasyland, I actually believe it.  For a fleeting moment, I think, “Yes! If I wish upon a star that Rick Springfield will ride Space Mountain with me, it really WILL come true!”  And when I also take my picture with Mickey, I am completely unaware that there is a 5’2” 20 year-old college girl in that suit.  Hell no!  It IS Mickey Mouse!

It simply is the happiest place on earth.  Children sleep-deprived and kept running for 16 hours a day on Mickey Ice Cream Bars and Goofy’s Sour Power Candy.  Exhausted little ones curled into their parents on the Disney bus ride back to the resort trying to seek warmth on a bus that has its air conditioner set to 55 degrees while dreaming of Tinkerbell and Donald Duck.  There is nothing like stroking Monkey Man’s hair as he sits on my lap all drooly and sleeping and adorable knowing that he had the greatest day ever and tomorrow will be just as good or even better.

And the cruise? The cruise is like Disney World on crack, and that’s meant in the nicest, best crack comparison possible.  In addition to bumping into Disney characters everywhere you turn, you get tropical islands, too!  Had enough of Goofy’s shenanigans? Have a rum punch on St. Thomas that is 99.99% rum and will have you thinking that YOU are, in fact, Goofy.  Seriously, people, nobody knows how to make a mixed drink like those that live in the islands. 

And the Disney Cruise has FREE CHILD CARE!!!  Well, free as in you paid $5,000 for a cruise 3 months ago and this was included.  The Oceaneer’s Club & Lab are open from 9 a.m. until midnight.  Hundreds of children all in a Disney craze wrangled by insane counselors who choose to be at sea with these kids for months on end.  What could be better for Mom and Dad?  Monkey Man had a great time attending special activities and my husband and I even sent him on his way when we wanted to see a Big People’s show or string more than 3 words together to each other.

My bed was made 2 times a day on the cruise.  Chocolates awaited my arrival on my pillow each evening and cookies and milk were delivered to my stateroom within minutes of a phone call.  Upon entering the dining room one night, we were greeted by all of the servers with applause, and Monkey Man beamed while marching on beat to their clapping.  When the atrium lobby band played, I didn’t think twice to sing out loud and dance while I passed them en route to the restroom from dinner.  I enjoyed wine with dinner almost every night and totally rocked an 80s Name That Tune Game.  The cruise was fun and carefree, two things adults need a lot more of in our lives.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, back to reality, etc.  And the kids know this.  On the last night of our Disney Fantasy cruise, the last evening of our 13-night Disney land and sea adventure, Monkey Man cried.  He figured out how Disney builds you up during your stay, makes you feel like a prince or a princess, gives you this highly unrealistic thought that, just maybe, this IS reality.  Then BAM!  Time to go home! 

No more waking up and spending 12 hours in an amusement park with your entire extended family.  No more leisurely afternoons spent swimming, playing pool games, and eating ice cream 3 times a day.  Back to waking up and forcing fruits and vegetables down Monkey Man's throat to make up for 13 days of vitamin deficiency.  Back to cooking lackluster meals instead of having a 4 course-dinner every evening in a pretty dress with a show and walk around the cruise ship to follow.  Yeah, Monkey Man.  I totally get it.  He cried those tears while I choked them back.  I was sad for him because this is a kids’ dream and if I could have stayed with him on that cruise ship forever, I would have gladly done so in a heartbeat.  I was sad for me because I really, really hate to cook and the thought of grocery shopping was making my heart break.  Clearly, no one is greeting me at my front door asking me to be their guest.

So thank you Disney for not only giving us wonderful family memories, but for providing the Great Disney Depression that never fails to follow.