Sunday, November 26, 2023

Are You a Planner, or a Fly By the Seat of Your Pants Kinda Parent?

One day you're a young stay at home parent, knee deep in diapers, chasing after toddlers and feeling like the days are never going to end and then suddenly you blink and your kids are taller than you, and you can't believe how quickly time is flying by. 

As you age, you begin to realize that you aren't invincible. You can't remember your age without whipping out your calculator to determine whether you're 45 or 46, and you keep a bottle of ibuprofen in your purse, desk, and in the car, just in case, and any new mole or lump or bump on your skin or strange symptom that pops up is enough to send you straight to Doctor Google for an online diagnosis. And of course, as you age, your parents are aging too, and if you're like me, you've already lost one parent and your surviving parent is entering the stage of needing long-term care. It's enough to make you pause and think that perhaps now is a good time to sit down and make a plan for your family's future because you aren't getting any younger. 

Maybe you're a planner and you've had it all figured out since your first child was born, and you have a will and life insurance policy in place, or you're like me and it's 9 pm and you're still trying to figure out what to make for dinner--no judgment either way. But, as my husband and teenage son prepare to drive out of state for a soccer tournament this week, it occurs to me that having a plan in place always a smart decision because if you are anything like us, you don't have a will or life insurance policy, but you do have a mortgage, plenty of bills, and student loan debt to deal with, right? If so, there is no better time than the present, to sign up for life insurance to ensure that your partner and/or kids are covered should something happen to you or them.

While no one likes to think about anything going wrong, sometimes it does. Not having a back up plan in place to protect your family is much more stressful in the long run, than taking a few minutes to sign up for life insurance without a medical exam and then clearing it from your mind because it's one less thing you have to worry about. And believe me, I worry about many things, so crossing this task off of my to-do list was a huge relief in more ways than one. 

And if you are anything like me, you may have put off signing up for life insurance because you heard the horror stories from your parents or grandparents' generation about how challenging it was to qualify for life insurance back in the day. Fortunately, things have evolved and not only do we have phones with internet access, but you can qualify for life insurance without a medical exam. As a mom with four kids, who works full-time outside of the house, and shuttles multiple kids to and from various activities on evenings and weekends, I certainly don't have the time to make a doctor's appointment for life insurance, but I do have the time to answer a few questions online and get the coverage that our family needs, so that's exactly what I did, and I hope you will too!  


Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post for Responsival, however, all opinions, reviews, and ideas expressed in this post are based on my own personal view or experiences. 

























Monday, November 16, 2020

The Most Beautiful House in the World

What makes a home beautiful? Ask a child and their response might surprise you. 

 I don't know about you, but I personally love hearing things from the perspective of a child because it puts things, well, into perspective. Children have an unabashed innocence about them (okay, maybe not mine so much, because they're my kids), but it's that innocence that makes their statements so profound or introspective, because their words come straight from the heart. 

Once a week I meet my husband at his work to drop our almost 11 year old son, "Peanut" off with him, so he can drive him the thirty minutes to soccer practice, while I rush off in the opposite direction to pick up our daughter at cheer practice. If you have multiple kids like we do, then you know the drill. It's a never-ending siege of despair, driving children back and forth, every single day until you die. Wait, where was I going with this again? 

Anyway, my husband's office is fairly close to the strip, but not on the strip. For those of you familiar with Las Vegas, you know the areas off of the strip aren't the nicest parts of the city. They aren't the worst either, but just your typical city streets as far as the eye can see, with lots of buildings, bus stops, people, and bustling traffic every which way you turn, which I don't know about you, but just the word "traffic" alone makes me immediately break into hives. 

Across the street from my husband's office park building is a row of mobile homes. They appear to have been there for quite some time as they're a bit older, or should I say "established", with some of them being more run-down than others. They've definitely seen better days if you know what I mean and many of them could use a little TLC and perhaps a fresh coat of paint. 

As we were sitting in the car waiting on my slowpoke of a husband to meet us in the parking lot so we could do the dreaded kid exchange and then rush off to go our separate ways for the evening, my 4 year old son, Seanie suddenly and without any warning at all, pointed towards the street, gasped and said, "Mom, that house is so beautiful. I hope we live in a house that nice when we move to Idaho"

His comment caught me completely off guard, as he's never mentioned anything like this before, and it took me a second to figure out which house he was even referring to, as all I noticed at first glance was a run-down trailer park that was honestly pretty easy to overlook, but there he was pointing insistently at one particular house, situated directly across the busy street from us, perched on top of the hill. 

I say this next part not to brag but to explain that the Vegas neighborhood we currently reside in is probably considered middle class, maybe even upper middle class but I'm honestly unsure of where the line is drawn on that whole class thing because I'm about as classless and casual as it comes in my heinously ugly, ripped pajamas that I live in and have owned for multiple decades, but refuse to throw out, but I'd say that the majority of the homes in our neighborhood start at around a half a million dollars and go up into the millions, so in terms of beautiful homes, our current rental neighborhood should definitely qualify or fit the bill as being considered "beautiful" especially when compared to these.  

However, to my brutally honest, 4 year old son, Seanie, those older, shabby sheek, run-down mobile homes were far more beautiful and impressive than any other house he'd ever laid eyes on before, including our fancy rental neighborhood with the steep HOA dues, perfectly manicured landscaping and all the modern amenities one could ask for. Yet, somehow, despite all of that stuff, he still preferred this other house instead, so much so, that he hoped that our new house that we're having built in Idaho (more on that in a future blog post) is even half as lovely as these older mobile homes are. 

I don't know about you, but it made me pause for a minute and reevaluate what's really important in life and to be grateful and appreciative of all that I do have. I spend so much time stressing out about whether or not things are good enough; our current rental house, holidays for the kids, me as a wife and mother, our old Honda Pilot that's older than Mahlon with a back seat cover that's so old and worn that it won't even stay on anymore, etc. Seriously, there are times where I question and doubt almost every single thing in my life and it's exhausting.  

If you're one who secretly tortures yourself by feeling like you have to portray this Instagram influencer worthy image of having the beautifully decorated home with well-dressed, coordinating children at all times, or you worry you'll be seen as a failure, just stop right there. I was raised by a total perfectionist mother who could've easily given Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart a run for their money, but unfortunately, she didn't make it long enough to be an Instagram influencer or Pinterest mom, because she died in 1996 after a long battle with cancer. She didn't even live long enough to see her two children morph from awkward teens into even more awkward adults, and I have no doubt if anyone was able to ask her right now which was more important; seeing her children and grandchildren (that she never got the opportunity to meet) grow up, or painstakingly decorating our home to resemble a Norman Rockwell painting, she'd opt to see her children and grandchildren grow up in a heartbeat. 

Now all of this isn't to say that you shouldn't have pride in your home, keep it nice and decorate to your heart's desire, or heck, coordinate your children's outfits, if that's what brings you joy, but don't let it consume you. Do it because you enjoy doing it, not because you think you have to in order to keep up with the Joneses, because I assure you, it matters way more to you than it ever does or did to your kids. Believe me when I say that you are enough, they have enough, it's all good enough, I promise you that much. 

I may not be a perfectionist like my mother was, but even I get caught up in the cycle of stressing over insignificant nothings. For example, I've been so wrapped up in all of the silly, cosmetic details of our future, new home, that one night I actually lost sleep over wondering whether or not we chose the right subway tiles for the kitchen backsplash, and OMG, what are we going to do if the painted cabinets clash with the granite countertops? Little things that seem so important now, but really aren't all that important at all in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not important compared to the really big things in life like getting diagnosed with a terminal illness or losing a loved one, etc.

So, the next time you're worried because your home, apartment or whatever, doesn't look anything even remotely close to the ones that grace the cover of an HGTV worthy magazine, remember that to somebody, somewhere, your house is not only enough, but it might even be the most beautiful house they've ever seen. 

I can't help but smile whenever I see the little white house perched on top of the hill now. It's funny, but the longer I stare at it, the more beautiful it becomes to me. 





Friday, July 13, 2018

Friday the 13th

People are always surprised to hear that I don't like scary movies. Perhaps it's because we turned Seanie Mac into Georgie from IT for Halloween, but in all honestly, pretty much everything scares me. I never liked the dark, stemming from an incident at the creepiest amusement park on the planet, called The Enchanted Forest (which was recently featured on Ghost Adventures, so who's laughing at me now, huh?) I was deep into the pitch black Rabbit Hole cave when I was just a wee one, and my older cousin let out a blood curdling scream, and my mom said I was absolutely terrified of the dark from that moment on. Hmmm, I wonder if we could've sued them for emotional damages? Kidding!! So yes, my secret is out. I'm a gigantic chicken. I can't handle the dark at all, nor scary movies. I came home beyond hysterical in middle school because a teacher read us a Goosebumps style book about a monster hiding in a basement and I was traumatized for days. Don't even ask me about that one time I spent the night at a friend's house (she lived in one of those really old, creepy historic houses too with secret passageways and shit), and we watched Silence of the Lambs. It's the one and only time I've ever seen that wretched movie, and I wouldn't use my own bathroom for months because we had a heater grate above the toilet and there was a scene where they pull open the grate and a dead body fell out. I could give you a million other examples of movies that I never got over, but you get the idea.

If for some reason you still don't believe me and need more proof, my husband took me to the latest IT movie last fall and it was one of the worst experiences of my life, next to that one time I got a perm and looked like a Poodle. I've seen the original IT and I can actually tolerate that one just fine because it was made for television so it's not gory and it's a bit cheesy. Plus my kids have watched it a bazillion times so I'm sort of desensitized to it now (I tried to watch it when I was a kid and didn't even make it past the first scene).

So I knew that Georgie was going to get his arm eaten off (sorry for the spoiler if you live in a cave and haven't seen or heard about it). But, this damn Pennywise was so flipping creepy that I literally hunched over in a ball, wedged my fat rolls into the stiff, uncomfortable arm rest of the movie chair, covered my eyes and literally stayed frozen in the fetal position (fat rolls planted firmly into the arm rest) until the torture was over.

My husband saw the new IT movie about a month before me during a soccer tournament with our teenager (she handled it much better than I did), and he assured me that I could totally handle it. He knows I despise movies where things jump out and that's pretty much ALL this damn movie was from start to finish, so needless to say I was not happy with him when the lights turned back on and I had to let go of the arm rest that I had pretty much clung to for dear life. He acted shocked that I didn't like it, which just made me more upset and he was like, "You're pretty pissed at me, aren't you?"  DUH!!!

Since IT was the last movie of the night to play at the theater, it was really late when it got out and I had to pee super badly. I dashed into the empty bathroom and I'm midstream when all of a sudden all of the lights went out in the mother f#$king bathroom!!!! I think I screamed, but I was so petrified that I'm not even sure an actual sound came out. It's like when you're having a nightmare and something is chasing you and you try to scream but you can't at all...yeah, it was pretty much like that.  I've never pulled up my pants and bolted out of a bathroom that fast in my entire life.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I peed my pants a little too.  Not cool at all movie theater people. Had I slipped and fallen on my own urine, cracking my skull in the process, it would've been all of your asses on the line!!!

I've heard rumors that IT Part Two is coming out next year and my response when people ask if I'm going to see it, is something along the lines of "Eat shit and die" so that's a big fat nope. Besides, I can scream for free at home, like for example, whenever I step on the scale or step foot inside the kids' bathroom.

My next scary movie experience would've been a few weeks later when we tried to have a happy family movie night. Somehow despite the first hand knowledge that I hate scary movies, my husband was still somehow shocked that I had never seen the original Poltergeist before. Husbands are so observant aren't they? We settled down to watch the movie and at first I thought, "Hey, this isn't so bad", but by the end of it, I was feeling a little frightened and tense. I headed upstairs while my husband stayed downstairs to watch a little more television. So, there I was, totally abandoned by my loved ones, and left all alone in my room. I was seconds from falling asleep when I realized that evil was lurking inside of my closet (aside from outdated, heinously ugly clothes that no longer fit).  I was much too scared to scream, so I literally sent my husband a frantic text message while hiding under my covers, trembling with fear.

Actual text message sent to my husband: 
(excuse the bad language but I was about to die so...)


He came upstairs and searched and then assured me there was nothing in the closet (with a smirk on his face I might add). However, it's not like the Poltergeist is going to come right out and say, "Here I am Mr Crazy Husband Man who might hit me upside the head with that large baseball bat" so whatever. He was there, lurking about in my closet, ready to attack me at any given moment, I swear.

So life went on without any problems, until today. Last night my husband and I both fell asleep on the couch fairly early. He fell asleep before me, and then I crashed shortly after while watching House Hunters. It's hard to stay awake sometimes with some of those couples. I don't know where they find these people, but I'm super happy for them that they were able to find someone equally as boring to marry them. Anyways, this isn't even about House Hunters, it's about the fact that my house is haunted, ok?

So shortly after midnight, I was woken up to this horrible, heinous, something ain't right here sound. It wasn't my husband snoring, or the kids puking, or the usual scary, middle of the night noises that wake me from a deep slumber, but rather, this creepy Poltergeisty sound coming from our TV.  The screen was black but it was making this sound that I cannot even begin to describe to you. Like super loud static with electronic sounds (demons) and stuff. I quickly turned off the TV (which was frozen) but eventually it turned off and we went to bed. I noticed the time was just after midnight, which may not be significant to y'all, until you realize that it's Friday the 13th. Mmmhmmm. Not a coincidence at all.

So, this morning I get up and try to turn on the TV, and it's totally gone, dead, fried, toast. Not only is it making desperate sounds from hell, but it's summer break, and I'm stuck inside of a house with four kids on summer break without a TV!! This means no Bounce Patrol for Seanie Mac, no Dateline mysteries for me, no electronic babysitter to keep my children from whining and asking me make them 3,000 sandwiches before noon!!! I TOLD you we have a Poltergeist because there is nothing truly more terrifying than a mom stranded on summer break without a working TV (except for maybe no wifi, which also happened, because when I tried to unplug the demonic possessed TV, I accidentally unplugged our router and now our internet is spotty at best).

RIP old Toshiba..you brought us many hours of happiness and joy 
I'm so sorry you've been possessed by a Poltergeist
So, please Mr Poltergeist, Carol Anne, or whoever the hell is living inside of my now useless, paper weight of a TV, please go find another family to torture and mess with, because unless you plan on pulling me in through that filthy (never been dusted) dead screen and transporting me to Hawaii, I have laundry to fold, dishes to unload, and sandwiches to make. On second thought, please take me. Please!!!


Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Pukey pasta

If I were a YouTube star or a Facebook live person, I'd start this off with "Hey guys" but since I'm not a star, I'll just keep on typing. I have several new blog posts to share with y'all (I know, it's only been a million years since I posted and we actually don't even say y'all here in Oregon, but I've always wanted to say that) but then I thought, "Oh no, no, no, they'd MUCH rather hear a graphic, disgusting, TMI, description of what went down this week/evening, so here goes! It all started last Saturday night. We took the kids to a popular, crowded pizza place (I could just stop right there and end my story since crowds and people, both kinda disgust me, but that's not even the disgusting part of my story, so I'll keep going). The kids were touching EVERYTHING in the restaurant and the arcade (except for their overpriced food of course). I'm talking they were pounding and pressing on buttons, knobs, dirty, sticky, slimy steering wheels that doubled as a Kleenex, etc, ALL things that a million grubby little hands touch on any given day. So yeah, there were my darling "healthy" kids happily playing, touching, putting their hands in mouth, more touching, grabbing whatever drink was sitting on our table and drinking it (not knowing if it belonged to them or not), probably picking up the chewed gum they found on the ground and eating it, etc.

The following day my dad came over to pick up the grandkids to take them out for the day (doubt he'll be doing this ever again, but please keep reading). They went to McDonald's for lunch and then out for ice cream, I should stop and mention here that my dad is a total pushover/sucker so the kids always con him into the triple scoop, it's bigger than your head, no parent in their right mind would EVER in a million buy that asininely-sized ice cream cone for their child (can I get an amen here?) Shortly after digging into his 10,000 calorie ice cream cone, Peanut apparently began to projectile vomit ALL over their upscale, trendy, expensive, "gelato" for you snobs too good for ice cream, restaurant (yet another local public establishment here in town that we're probably banned for life from ever entering again).

My dad apologizes to the restaurant staff, and attempts to help clean up what he can with those cheap little restaurant napkins (wish I had video footage of this), but they insist on calling in their emergency cleaning crew because it's THAT bad, and my dad slinks out in shame and brings the kids straight home and I can see that Peanut is just one big giant pukeball before he even enters the house. I briefly considered not answering the door and pretending that we weren't home...kidding, but seriously, this is not an enjoyable moment in any parent's life and you briefly imagine what your life could've been like, had you only raised dogs or cats, because at least when a pet starts barfing you can just open the sliding door and push them outside until they get it all out. NO, I didn't actually do that to poor little Peanut so no need to get excited and write me a nasty email. This boy had so much puke ingrained into his clothing, there was even puke smashed into the tiny little grooves of his brand new Adidas that I still have no clue how to get out (washed them twice already and they are still bright McOrange with chunks of gelato). Within 24 hours of Peanut, Mahlon proceeds to throw up on our couch during family movie night (I personally enjoyed Daddy's Home 2 and didn't think it needed that harsh of a review, but that's just me). Poor Mahlon threw up all night and into the morning.

We woke up today all paranoid like "Alright who's next?" like we were on an episode of Survivor and we're ready to take each other out if need be to protect ourselves. Seanie Mac only wanted dad all day and since he's usually a hardcore momma's boy, we were both on edge like "Watch out, this kid's gonna blow any second" because this boy is SO insanely attached to me that whenever he goes to dad instead (like on purpose), we automatically assume something's up and he's sick because #momlife. As the day progressed without any puke, we loosened up a little bit and were like "It's okay. We're all good. Crisis over" and I took Seanie downstairs for a small pre-bedtime snack. I barely had time to hand him his sippy cup when without any warning at all (because almost two year olds are kinda selfish and inconsiderate) he starts projectile vomiting all over my kitchen. This wasn't just a little puke folks. Nope. Remember the puke scenes from Stand by Me or Problem Child 2? Well, that's exactly what my kitchen resembled tonight. I'm not quite sure how he did it, but he somehow spewed all over every square inch (I always knew that boy was gifted). My husband graciously cleaned it up, while I carried a drippy, pukey baby upstairs and straight into the tub.
So, here I am, sitting on my bed, next to a gurgly, rumbling, squirming baby with scratchy, uncomfortable towels spread out all over my bed (just in case he gears up for round two which we'll call "The bedroom scene"), armed with a large shiny puke bucket at my feet, (AKA the big metal pan that we cook our spaghetti in and will still continue to use for pasta after this is all over with). You've been warned if we ever invite you over for an Italian theme night at our house. 

Friday, October 20, 2017

Diary of a Wimpy Kid Party Take Two

It's that time of year again. The leaves are colorful, the air is crisp, the kids are back in school, and this means that fall is upon us. As soon as the calendar switched over to October, I began to feel an enormous sense of pressure take over on how we should celebrate Mahlon's tenth birthday. We originally planned on hosting it somewhere outside of the home, especially since we got so many comments about how we shouldn't of hosted the party at our house, but we recently purchased a new home and then my husband suddenly lost his job without any warning. Financially things haven't been so great for our family (will update more on all of the other stuff that's been going on in our lives these last several months in a separate post). Since paying hundreds of dollars to invite his entire fourth grade class and fall soccer team to a fancy party place was definitely out of the question, we decided to just invite a handful of his closest friends over to our house for pizza and cake again. I wont post the actual party date as I don't want any media showing up on my doorstep.

Basically we're having a Diary of a Wimpy Kid party, take two. 
In case you're wondering why we would dare to repeat last year's fiasco, Mahlon is dead set on having the EXACT same birthday party he attempted to have for his ninth. I'm talking he wants every single detail to mimic last year's party....same cake topper, games, decorations, goodie bags, pizza, literally EVERYTHING exactly the same (except for the whole nobody showing up thing of course). Bless his little heart. When I asked why he didn't want to just pick a fresh new theme (I was trying to convince him to do a Halloween theme since he loves scary movies and costumes), he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said, "But mom, I didn't get to play any of those fun games with my friends last year because none of them came. I just want to share those games with them". I know, I know, this kid sure knows how to punch you right in the emotional stomach, huh?  Plus, he still loves Diary of a Wimpy Kid more than anything (who doesn't?)

I got a bit emotional digging up these photos 
One of the games we had planned on playing last year (hey Gershy, remember these are names of DOAWK characters, not party guests who didn't show up..hahaha!!):
 Still one of Jeff Kinney's biggest fans!!!
Here's Mahlon with his little brother at the latest DOAWK movie last May: 
So, there I found myself digging through boxes of miscellaneous party supplies in my drafty, spider infested attic, trying to find the leftover Diary of a Wimpy Kid invitations from last year, and the memories and emotions of everything that took place last October, came flooding back. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the cold, hard attic floor, blubbering like a baby.  My biggest fear of course being "What if this happens to him again?" but I had already told myself that if we didn't get a single RSVP this year, then we would not be going ahead with the party and would try and reschedule for another date. However, this time around, we've literally gotten an RSVP from every single guest and everyone has said "yes", minus one who has a family conflict, so I'm fairly confident that at least one child will show up. Honestly that's all Mahlon wanted last year. If even just one child had showed up, none of this would've ever happened, and I wouldn't even be writing this follow up post.

Custom Diary of a Wimpy Kid invites we had made last year: 
This year's DOAWK cake topper:
he chose the blue book cover instead of red this time: 
 Last year's cake...
I ordered a bigger cake this year as I could barely squeeze this baby onto a quarter sheet cake and I screwed up the pretty frosting border in the process:
If for some evil twist of fate, history repeats itself and no one comes, we'll be much better prepared on how to handle it. Plus Mahlon knows he is loved, and he is much more confident in himself. He has lots of friends from school, soccer and our neighborhood who care about him. Not to mention the tens of thousands of people from all over the world who reached out to show him some love. We are forever grateful to each and every one of you!!! Mahlon would like to record a special video message for all of you on his actual birthday, so I'll be posting a live video, hopefully on his actual birthday which is Oct. 23rd. Of course his birthday just happens to fall on a Monday this year, and it's a school day, so once we figure out a time, I'll post an update on my page.

Thank you again from the bottom of our hearts for the incredible outpouring of love and support that you showed our family. I wish we could invite ALL of you to Mahlon's birthday party!!








Friday, September 29, 2017

Want to write a memoir but don't have the time?

For many years now, I've been telling friends and family that I'm going to write a book or memoir about my life.  Although my blog is primarily humorous, I've been through many difficult life experiences, some of which are so crazy, I could easily star in my own cheesy Lifetime movie. Well, I wouldn't personally be starring in it as I'm not as actress, but maybe I could get Tori Spelling to play me or something, as she's the only actress I can think of off the top of my head who has a million kids like myself.

It sounds easy enough to write a book, right? I mean I've been a blogger for several years so writing a book shouldn't be too far of a stretch. But for whatever reason, the second I sit down in front of my laptop, I end up staring at a blank screen with a small blinking cursor looking back at me, almost mocking me in a sense. Before I know it I'm adding more cleaning supplies to my online shopping cart, or ordering more clothes for the kids who seriously don't need anymore clothes (as I sit in the same pair of stretched out yoga pants I've owned for over a decade). I don't know why I can't just buckle down and get started, but writing a memoir, especially about yourself is so much more difficult than it sounds.

Hello, my name is Seanie Mac 
and my mom orders me lots of clothes because I'm adorable 
Did you know that there are people out there who will do this monumental task for you? It's a dream come true, right? Yes, you can still shuttle three kids off to three different soccer practices across town, come home after 7 pm, cook dinner, clean up the mess, get four kids in bed and actually relax on the couch (or go to bed if you're smart which I'm not), and not have to kill yourself trying to write a book in those rare few hours that most people call sleep.

Plus think about how incredible it would be to own a copy of your special, unique personal life story to gift to someone in your family, pass down to your children or grandchildren, or just to keep for yourself if you aren’t ready to share it with others. I lost my mom when I was young, and my father’s memory isn’t the greatest (plus let’s be honest, many men have trouble recalling those crucial little details that a woman never ever, ever forgets).  To have a memoir written about her life experiences would’ve been so precious to me. I would love the ability to pass something like that onto my children, but if it were left up to myself, it would probably never get written as I just don’t have the time or motivation.

If this sounds like something you're interested in, please visit Nechamie of Writing the Soul to view her packages and to get a free consultation. In addition to memoirs and biographies she offers so much more, including children's books! Yet another dream of mine that I have yet to accomplish.

Disclaimer: This was a sponsored post and I received compensation in exchange for a review. However all opinions are my own. 


Friday, March 10, 2017

Pizza. It's what's for dinner...every single night until we die!!!

If it were up to my kids, they would seriously eat pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They love anything pizza related too, pizza rolls, pizza pockets, pizza wheels, those pizza on a bagel thingies, etc. I'm just waiting for a cereal company to finally make their dreams come true and release a pizza flavored cereal, because I have no doubt my kids would eat that too.  I know exactly where they get their undying love and adoration for pizza from too....their dear old dad.

When I first started dating my husband, he was a bachelor living in his own man cave, otherwise known as a one bedroom apartment. The inside of his refrigerator was completely barren minus some ketchup and soy sauce packets from various fast food places and a twelve pack of Mountain Dew. He ordered pepperoni pizza for dinner pretty much every single night of the week. In fact the place he ordered it from, immediately recognized his number on the caller ID, so they knew his order before he even had to say hello.

I like pizza too, but I don't wish to eat it for every single meal, especially as I get older. I swear if I even look twice at a slice of veggie or cheese pizza (really the only two kinds of pizza I can consume since I'm a vegetarian), I gain about ten pounds, pretty much all around my waistline. It may be warm, cheesy, saucy and delicious, but it's best when eaten once a week (twice tops). However, tell that to my dear, sweet, children, as they literally don't want to eat anything else.

Last night I attempted to cook some spinach and cheese ravioli from Costco. You would've thought those little pockets of pasta were stuffed full of rat poison judging from their expressions. They ate one or two little bites of pasta (they literally chewed the outside ring of the ravioli so they didn't have to touch any filling) and then ate a thousand pieces of french bread with butter.

I try very hard to cook them a variety of meals.  For example, I can cook a mean vegetarian crock pot chili but that has *gasp* beans in it so they carefully lick the sauce off the spoon so that they don't accidentally swallow a bean because that would be apparently equal their sudden and immediate demise and then they eat all of the cheese off the top of the chili. Then of course after they get told "No you can't add more cheese on top of your chili until you actually eat some of the chili" they dump their bowls into the sink and then complain about being hungry. This is precisely why I don't kill myself cooking complicated meals because I'm probably the only one who would eat them, along with our dog Olive, who eats absolutely everything with Seanie Mac's poopy diapers being her all time favorite meal.

Our typical meal rotation consists of things like vegetarian hot dogs, veggie burgers, spaghetti, teriyaki ChikN and rice (notice I said ChikN not chicken as it's not really chicken because we don't eat meat...which by the way, things were absolutely no different back when we did eat meat. They still hated everything I cooked), baked macaroni and cheese, tacos, loaded baked potatoes, etc. These are things that I can at least get them to partially eat, but they still would much rather have pizza if given a choice. I on the other hand am sick to death of all of these things. I've tried cooking other meals in the past like lasagna, enchiladas, tofu stir fry, curry and rice, various homemade soups, casseroles, etc, and the majority of the meals ended up going to waste. It's frustrating because people always say, "They will eventually get hungry and eat what's on their plate if you don't give them a choice" but these people obviously haven't met my stubborn little angels. Getting them to do something they don't want is like trying to catch a cat in a carrier to take to a veterinary appointment. Think of the little girl in the Mommy Dearest movie who refused to eat her bloody raw steak (okay so I can't say that I really blame her on that one), but it's pretty much an FBI style standoff every single time, especially with Peanut. This kid could seriously sit at the table for two solid days to avoid eating something that he views as yucky or disgusting (which again is pretty much anything besides pizza or peanut butter and jelly). 

All I can hope is that their palates mature and their minds open up a little as they get older, and that maybe eventually, someday I'll actually be able to feed them a vegetable without them barfing it back up on their plates (yes, this actually happened once with our oldest). I'm not holding my breath though, as I really don't foresee this happening anytime soon. As for what we're eating for dinner tonight? Yep, you guessed it. Pizza.