There's always something in a husbands life that his mother just does best.  In our situation, his mom can actually make the Toll House Cookies turn out while mine end up one of two ways: thin and crispy or fat and puffy.  It doesn't matter what I do or how hard I try, I just can't get them to work.

I made on Monday, though, and OH! they were good.  Even Fred agreed they were deliciously, nearly-perfectly to the level of his mom's cookies.

Me = Satisfied

To keep my mitts, and the mitts of people living with me, out of them, I packed them up, put on a lid and didn't think about it again.  Until I got the following text from Fred:

Pulled into work. Looked at passenger seat. It's FILLED with ants.  The cookie container was filled with ants.

In my best Samuel L. Jackson voice, there are MOTHERF*CK!NG ANTS ON THE MOTHERF*CK!NG COOKIES!  (Get it?  Snakes on a Plane?  Worst movie ever?)

Those little bastards somehow snuck into our house on Monday night and camped themselves out IN THE CONTAINER OF COOKIES and probably dined like kings until Fred found them crawling all over his truck seat.  There was not a single ant on the counter that morning.  And really, if my options are to hang out on Formica or hang out in a giant sea of cookies, I'd go for the cookies too.

*shudders*

Or, Cindy found out that I made a good batch and drove an hour up here and back JUST TO PUT ANTS IN THE COOKIES.  She's plotting and devious, that one...

Needless to say, war has been waged. 
On the ants, not Cindy.  She's good people.

What "4 Year Old Boy" Looks Like

Watch out, he said, there is 'struction by the door.

Indeed, there was.

I'm thankful, daily, to have this boy in my life.

Anna Smash Heart Hands

There is an on-going trend that I am so over that it induces a severe eye roll whenever I see it.  A worse offender than vegetables, Pickleman's making me pay for pickles, Ticketmaster fees and puppy mills.

It's HEART HANDS.

You know you've seen it* - images of people all cutesy (read: barfy) holding up their hands together in the shape of a heart, inducing an "oh wow" sigh from most everyone but me. 

I'm over it.

Knock it off.

Put your hands down.


*In case you've never seen this ridiculousness, I've linked to a page of images here.

The Beginning of "Parenthood"

I thought parenthood started when the baby follows you home from the hospital, demanding your every free second and ounce of energy.

I was wrong.

Parenthood begins when your preschooler announces to the world that "you are no fun" and you retort "I'm not supposed to be fun, I'm your mom."

Failing at Life... Or Just Parts of It

Debbie Downer here today to talk to you about the things in life that I'm currently failing at.

1.  Twitter.  It all depends on your definition of failing here because I do tweet now and again and mostly do it so there is some interest on this blog when I'm not, well, blogging.  However, I tweet to no one and no one tweets to me and I'm pretty sure that's a fail. 

Solution:  I look forward to quitting Twitting in the near future.

2.  Weight Watchers.  I'm down 14.2 pounds (huzzah!) but for some reason just can't seem to get on the wagon this week.  Not even sure how I got off but my money's on jumping into a plate of cookies last week.

Solution:  Every day is a new day; every week is a new week.

3.  Reading.  Not one single book was read in March.  I'm not even sure I read a single edition of the LJS Sunday Paper.  No magazines.  Heck, I'm not even sure I read speed limits or construction warnings.

Solution:  Open eyes while driving.

4.  Brown-Nosing.  I tried to suck up to my boss (actually, I didn't, but it's funnier this way) by making a baseball cookie with his favorite team on it but someone else ate it before he even saw it.

Solution:  Learn my lesson.

April Fool Me Not

There are two kinds of April Fool's Day pranks - the kind I'm okay with and the kind I'm not. 

Okay: harmless pranks like giving someone a message to call Ben Dedd at (insert funeral home number here) or even telling kids it's a snow day when there isn't a speck of snow for miles.  It's funny to fill a pitcher with Jell-O and tell your kids that sure, they can have some Kool-aid.  Tee hee!

Not okay: mean pranks, whether intended to be or not.  Tying shoelaces together on the bus isn't a funny prank. I'm not okay with pranks that single someone out and embarrass or humiliate them and writing it off as an April Fool's Day joke.  It's painful to watch and---

I am embarrassed to admit I was part of one of those pranks today.  Whether my part was small or not (which, it was) doesn't really matter as much as how awful I felt when I could tell how much the recipient was hurt by the actions of myself and others. 

I apologized.  I still feel bad.

Lesson learned I hope.