Update

The illusive sports illustrated swimsuit edition curse, you toy with me.
A mere bomb threat, and Chris missed it by a few minutes.
I await your next move...

Princess and the Pea

I worry that spoiling children too early in life leaves them full of future disappointment, or a thirst that will never be quenched.

I didn't fly in first class until I was in my thirties.  I knew it would change me.  Sure enough, the next time I flew in coach, I was especially irritable at the annoying neighbors that sat way too close to me, and the curt behavior from the flight attendant.  It ruined me.

My children have been complaining about their mattresses.  I think it's because of mom's super comfy bed as comparison.  Having a fabulous place to sleep is important to me.  Nice mattress, egyptian cotton sheets, down blanket.

This weekend, we caved and bought the kids new mattresses.  Now I'm worried.

When I was a kid, as most my peers will remember, I slept on a crappy mattress.  For a few years, I slept on the foam insert from a small couch set.  I slept wherever a pillow was. 

When I went to college, the dorm room did not look like the ones from 90210.  My room looked like a holding cell for prisoners, with an equally inviting mattress.  A mattress so broken that twin sheets didn't fit tightly, and hung over the side.  Looked more inviting than the floor, though.  Hard tile flooring- I'm pretty sure it's the same floor they have at Walmart.

The point is... I survived.  I don't know if my children will survive.  When they head off to college (knock on wood), will they immediately call home in complaint: "this mattress is unacceptable, mummy." 

(In my vision of this, they have an English accent and call me mummy)

The entire college experience needs survival training.  Cafeteria food, hikes to class (mine were always uphill, I went to WSU) trudging through rain and snow, squalor living conditions, endless noisy neighbors, and toilet paper in dorm bathrooms that is clearly not two-ply.

The first apartment.  The first bed, minus a boxspring.  Their first set of plates, either from a garage sale or handed down from grandma.  The car that comes with a rusty door and lacks 2nd gear.  Living on generic brand mac and cheese.

Ugh.  My kids don't even eat boxed mac and cheese.  I make homemade.  They call kraft the orange kind.

Have I spoiled my kids?  Then again, I'm old.  I want the fancy stuff for my tired old mind and body.  I've paid my dues.  How do I make them pay their dues without skimping on my acquired rights and priveledges?

Or are all the kids going to be like this?  Maybe the dorms really do look like the ones on 90210 now.  Maybe I'll be telling my grandkids about the glory days when airplanes only had 4 rows of first class, instead of half the plane.

The curse

It's Persinger crunch time right now.  February includes two kid birthdays, and two birthday parties, Valentine's Day, and the hubby's busiest time at work:  NBA All star game.  Luckily, it also includes the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

If you weren't lucky enough to hear my opinion of this before, please refer to my previous SI Curse blog.

Last year, the curse went unmentioned in my blog.  Simple reason- I foiled the curse.  The previous All Star game fell early enough last year, and Chris was already en route to the event when the swimsuit edition arrived.  Knowing the special edition fabulous reading would be in the mailbox on Thursday, I didn't get the mail until Chris returned on Monday.  I didn't get the magazine.  Nothing happened.  For the first time, in a multi-year series of misfortunes, nothing happened.  I would like to single handedly take credit for a smooth and easy, disaster free All Star game.

The game is extremely late this year.  The swimsuit edition is already in the house.  There is nothing I can do to thwart the curse.  Bring it on.

Happy candy day

Let me start by assuring my cynic supporters that I think Valentine's day is pretty stupid, commercially artificial, and exists to make people feel bad.

I do, however, think Valentine's day is a kid holiday.  I loved collecting all the little paper cards, reading them over and over, pasting them in a scrapbook.  I remember in fourth grade when one of the classmates (she's a facebook friend to this day, but will remain unnamed) sent out scratch and sniff valentines.  Oh the technology!

Today, there is rarely a card attached to the mass of candy my kids receive.  Or the candy just has a to and from on the actual package.  Thanks for being my valentine... for about 40 seconds.  Nothing to re-read.  Nothing to paste in a memory book.

I refuse to let my kids give candy for Valentine's day.  I even dislike the assorted non-earth friendly trinkets that you can use in lieu of candy.  This year, my son handed out angry bird cards with a tiny tattoo.  (I caved a little bit).  My daughter handed out valentines that can be folded into fortune tellers, cootie catchers... whatever you want to call them, they are fabulous.

The kitchen table was decorated this morning with a little candy and small gifts for my little valentines.  Then I made them a breakfast of eggs and bacon-- they're going to need the protein to offset the sugar today.

Breakfast at school, chocolate chunk muffins.  Lunch at school, chocolate cake dessert.  During school, sucker sale continues.  End of day, party time.  Cookies and punch served to wash down the candy in their valentine collection boxes.

So basically we celebrate and show love with candy and confections?

There's no place like gnome

In the midst of my blues, a funny little thing made me smile.  Well, laugh.  Actually, I almost peed my pants.

I have a garden gnome named Gus that I received several years ago.  Love him.  Since then, I have been blessed with occasional gnome gifts from friends and family.  They are strewn and hidden around my house.  Recently, a friend came to visit and one of them came up missing.

Tonight, I received photos from this friend.  Evidence of them whooping it up in a city far away.

Thanks to my friend for the smile.