You know that saying on the box of Girl Scout cookies? What can a cookie do? I”ll tell you what it can do.
It can make your co-workers hate you. They come to work to make money, not spend it. Posting that order form on the office fridge with a colorful handwritten note from your kid begging them to support her Girl Scout troop is just plain mean … and genius.
It can make your husband want to kick you out of the house. When the garage is taken over with stacked up boxes of cookies, that he is obviously required to help you carry, get ready to hear the bitching about “why we have to do this”. You know why? Because my kid saw a picture of a fox coin purse and a star gazer water bottle that I could buy at The Dollar Store but instead will help her sell 256 boxes of cookies to earn. She’s also under the impression that the Beats by Dre headphones and Ipad Mini are actually attainable. Why do I have a feeling the Girl Scout powers-that-be don’t even possess these prizes? Oh, because you have to sell 1500 boxes to get them.
Cookie season will make you destroy your diet and feed your family like crap for weeks. Not only are those Samoas a convenient (and delicious breakfast), and not only have you realized that Thin Mints must be eaten in full sleeve increments, but since you spend your entire afternoon making cookie runs, you’re fried by 6:30 and know the only way to give yourself a chance in hell of getting baths and bedtime done before 11pm is by hitting up the drive thru or ordering pizza.
There is one pretty cool discovery I made about what a cookie can do though. Apparently if you need to swap some flavors with a mom, and ask another mom to pick up her order at your house, you can end up with 2 friends in your kitchen on a Wednesday morning! Hellllloooooo? Social time! If even only for 30 minutes, you can feel like there’s a life outside of school drop offs, softball practices and hocking cookies out of my trunk. Until 2:45pm.
Ahhh, Saturday morning. Guess I’ll roll out of bed at 10 am. Hmmm I’m hungry. Bacon….. pancakes …. bacon!!! Honey, wake up. Let’s go to Denny’s in sweat pants and a hoody.
Saturday morning! We should get an early start. Here’s your warm oatmeal and some fresh fruit for breakfast. Wash it down with this delicious organic milk. What fun adventure can we take our little one on today? Something to nourish your mind. The zoo? The park? A Gymboree class? I love our Saturdays together as a family!
Ok, I’m up! I’m up damn it! Here, watch Sponge Bob while I get your breakfast. Fruity Pebbles for you … microwaved pancakes for you. We should probably get you guys out of the house before you unleash the Hurricane of action figures and toilet paper. Let’s go run some errands and then I’ll take you guys to Chick-Fil-A to run in the play area and possibly pick up Rotavirus.
Ugh, stop jabbing your elbow into my boob. No, you can’t have a friend over today – have you seen what this house looks like? Is that poop I smell? Everyone out! Out of my bed! Coffee. Must have coffee. Ok already, I heard you! Cereal, cereal, cereal. We all heard you. Here, take the whole damn box. Whatever, eat the Twizzlers then. Did I ever change that poop diaper? Is it Monday yet?
My entire motive for starting this blog was to make people laugh. Being able to laugh at the frustrations, the messes and the grossness of parenting is what gets me through most days. This past week I’ve dealt with little girl – nobody likes me – so and so is bossy drama. There have been 1 am calls of eyes-wide-open, screaming night terrors. Now as I make notes for this post at 2 am I’ve been trying to pinpoint WTF is making my baby scream, twist and flail inconsolably for the past hour. Seriously, this shit isn’t funny. This sucks.
Somehow though, in between thrashing and head-butting I find myself pressing my nose against the softest baby cheek and smelling her sweet skin. Soon I’ll head back to the 4 inches of my bed I get for myself and I’ll hold a peacefully sleeping little boy. In the morning I will kiss my big girl goodbye when she heads to school and I’ll tell her to have a good day. And I’ll mean it. A good day where she smiles with friends and doesn’t sit alone at lunch.
This whole blogging thing is still new to me. Some days I wonder why anyone would even want to read what I have to say. You’re all living the same life as me anyway, you know how this goes. I categorized my blog as ‘humor’ when I set it up. For days I tried to figure out what clever, hilarious thing I could write about and came up with nada. Then I remembered the big promise I made was to keep this blog real. The reality is, some days aren’t funny, some days I cry more than I laugh. The beauty of it is, I come out of it. We all do. The dogs eating poop and kids leaving the house without underwear will have us all cracking up again soon, because that is our reality.