Recently read a blog post that I found incredibly annoying and thought I might write my thoughts about it. The post can be found here…
Is Your Child’s PB&J More Important Than My Child’s Life?
Now for the record, no. My child’s PB&J is NOT more important than any child’s life. It never has been. When my son was in daycare and they had a no peanut policy I sent plain jam sandwiches every day because he wouldn’t eat meat or cheese ones. I finally found a soy substitute for peanut butter that didn’t taste like ass and made sure everything involving his lunch had the included stickers to ensure that everyone knew it was nut free. I ran home once when I pulled a complete bonehead that I thankfully caught en route when I put Nutella in his sandwich without thinking. We call it chocolate butter at our house but thankfully I remembered the hazelnuts before we got there. I buy rice crispy treats for The Boy’s birthday because they have the nut free symbol on them instead of making him the cake he asked for because my kitchen is in no way nut free and I can’t guarantee anything coming out of it isn’t contaminated (I haven’t managed to kill any of my nut allergic friends yet but still can’t guarantee). So again, no, my and my son’s consumption of nuts isn’t more important than the risk to other children who allergic to them. That does not mean I have to be happy about it.
Where does this woman get off sending out a general, widespread and literal fuck you to anyone who might bitch about nut free policies? You’re a momma bear? So what? So am I. That doesn’t mean I go out in public and hand out a giant middle finger to everyone in the friggen planet for not caring about my child. That daycare he used to go to? They used to do a summer outing with the kids every other week or so. They used to pack them all up and parade them all down to the Dairy Queen a few blocks away for ice cream. Then, they got a kid with a nut allergy. Unfortunately, DQ has a great big sign that says “we are NOT nut free” so the munchkin with the allergy couldn’t go. They accommodated him by leaving him at the daycare with a staff member. One on one time is expensive. Wasn’t good enough. They made it policy that none of the children could order anything with nuts. Not good enough. They couldn’t guarantee that the children wouldn’t carry back any microbial bits of nut atoms with them so what happened? All 80 kids have to go without one of the best field trips of the summer because the world is hazardous to kids with nut allergies. Fine. It’s necessary. Still don’t have to be happy about it. So to the lady who says fuck me and my PB&J, right back atcha. You might be a momma bear and your little bear might be cursed with an allergy that can kill the poor little bugger but this momma bear has accommodated to the detriment of my own child so you can take your fuck you and shove it up your arse.
If you aren’t familiar with the movie Anger Management starring Jack Nicholson and Adam Sandler, I highly recommend it. The title of today’s entry is a phrase from the movie and is used to calm and relax those experiencing anger and anxiety in the movie. I had a goooozefrabba moment yesterday. Doing much better today. Found a reason to laugh at/with (he didn’t know why we were laughing but whatever) my son, went for a long walk, threatened his life if he didn’t play on his own with his own toys for a while which he finally did and I got some time to just sit and veg and play with my new crochet thread stash. He actually came over and helped me sort it.
Mostly just playing around at this point but whipped up a bracelet for myself…
And I’ve started on one for my sister. She says she wants ‘camo colours’…
She didn’t say it couldn’t be a camo coloured granny square cuff. She’s being a good sport about it. If she doesn’t end up liking it I’m sure it will have a good home with me or someone might decide to adopt it.
The Boy is co-operating well today. Got him interested in his building blocks last night and he’s been keen to build stuff since. Erected his first bridge yesterday.
He was very proud of it. We started a penny chore jar a couple of weeks ago and it seems to be working well. I let him paint it.
He gets a few pennies for a day without potty accidents and varying amounts for doing whatever chores I need him to do. Today he got a couple for helping me put away the clean dishes and deal with the dirty ones so we could make cookies. I think the cookies were more exciting than the pennies going in the jar.
We just used the recipe on the Chipits bag also available at Original Chipits chocolate chip cookie recipe. Ours aren’t as super perfect looking as the ones on the bag but taste like chocolate chip cookies. I’m puzzled as to how The Boy manages to get chocolate all over his face by eating itty bitty individual chocolate chips. Meh, he’s a boy. His natural state is dirty.
So sick of this shit. Only took a few days to realize that I would have to do a lot more to get The Boy even close to as much exercise as he’d had at daycare. We live in a little suburb that is unofficially called Park City. There are parks all over the place. Most of them have no dogs signs so I can’t kill two birds with one stone by walking them at the same time as The Boy. Then The Great Bitch Mother Nature goes and does this to me (and everyone else) again. For the third or fourth time now. So any trip out with any level of short beasts is bound to be an ungodly mess. So you’d think, “just let them play in the loverly little yard you spent all that money to have grassed and stuff.” Well, due to family shit and job losing and not having enough me to go around, I was negligent on my keeping up cleaning up after the dog, then dogs. We got one nice stretch and I picked up the half of the yard that had dried enough and needed one more good day to get my little slice of grass spick and span and ready for boys and dogs to play to their little hearts content. Then this. It melted. Got nice out again and to the point where I said tomorrow it’ll be dry enough and…she shits all over us again. And again. And again. Always with just enough time in between to let me think I might just accomplish something. Sigh. Now I’m stuck with Captain Iwanttogotothepark!!! and working to convince myself that I don’t care that I’ll end up with wet feet and a wet chill and have to clean up the incredible mess he’ll drag home with him.
As far as accomplishing things goes, I’m doing okay but it often seems like the world is hellbent on impeding me sometimes. I try to set up a schedule to keep on top of the house cleaning while teaching The Boy about that stuff too and the Powers That Be throw a defiant phase at me. So instead of the happy mother son teamwork and learning I’d envisioned I end up with twice the cleaning to do because the tantrums usually include spreading chaos far and wide. I’m trying to keep on top of food costs and making sure we always have some good stuff to eat but apparently I’m the only one who’ll actually write up a menu. I’ve asked for help but it’s easier to whine about what we’re having than to sit and pay attention for ten minutes while telling me what we’d like to eat for the week. I do get a lot of compliments on some of the stuff I’ve been cooking so there’s that at least. Part of the defiant stage also appears to be freaking out about having to eat even our most favorite of meals most of the time. Makes my head ache.
Then there’s this…
This is a miraculous find I came across for a price I had to afford. Seriously something like 85% of what it should have cost. With summer coming (please silly Nature Bitch quit dumping snow on us so we can have a little summer sometime), big, thick afghans and cardigans and scarves and mitts aren’t my favourite things to work on. Light shawls, doilies, jewellery and such are perfect projects for warm and hot weather and now I have a ton of stuff to make all that with…if I ever get a chance to even go through the bag let alone sit and crochet anything. It’s sitting on my comfy chair pretty much screaming at me to sort through it and enjoy all the gorgeous colours and plan out what I want to make with it. Alas, I had to make soup this morning to use up some chicken while The Boy decided it was a great time to just up and pee on the carpet and keeps insisting we must go to the park. While I have a large chef’s knife in my hand. Needless to say he’s still alive and we will have soup for dinner and I’m working up to going out in the snow. Perhaps I’ll give up on cleaning anything for the day and pray that he runs himself out at the park so I can have a little quietish time to look at some of my new goodies.
Oh God!!! Just kill me now!!! While trying to take a few minutes to type out some probably less than coherent thoughts, he’s managed to mess up the tv and gaming system pushing random buttons screaming that he HATES MARIO!! (what horrible thing did I do to deserve a kid who won’t play video games!?), smeared whatever is on his hands all over his favourite DVD to the point I doubt it’ll even read if I can get the system to decide to let me play it. Then managed to scour out the upstairs bathroom drain with his toothbrush in the mere moments I was working to fix the disaster up till then. Now he’s in the process of singing Fucktown punk you up! Fucktown punk you up. I actually think my brain short circuited at the thought that while he didn’t add the f-bomb where you’d think he’s stick it he still managed to stick one in there. Whatever. Now I’m laughing at how ludicrous that is. Let’s go to the park.