Confessions of a Cookie Addict

I've got another one for ya.

Last Friday was Spencer's spike day, mine was the next day.  Friday night he ran to the gas station to by some junk food to snack on and came back with a pack of those big M&M cookies.  I immediately declared my spike day was starting a night early.

He took one out to eat, I took two.

After a little while (like maybe 10 minutes) I asked him to pass me the cookies, which he did, but not before taking two more out of the package for himself for later.

He knows me so well!

Confessions of a Cookie Addict

1.  If there are chocolate chip or sugar cookies in the house in the morning, I will have at least one for breakfast, dunked in my coffee of course.

2.  I have eaten an entire package of cookies before anyone in the house knows they existed.

3.  If I don't eat them all, I will save my kids and husband a couple.


4.  Daycare toddler's mom brought in potty treats for successful bathroom moments.  They were little frosted animal cookies with sprinkles.  Before you think I ate her cookies, I'll stop you now. I didn't eat her cookies.  Not really anyway.  Let me explain.

In an attempt to get Little Man more excited about the potty chair, I told him he could have a cookie if went pee or poop in the potty chair.  Not long after that he had some success and I ended up giving him 3 or 4 of daycare girl's potty treat cookies, figuring I'd go to the store long before they were gone, she still had several left and wasn't going through them much at all so I knew I'd be ok.

I went to the store and picked up a package of frosted animal cookies to re-stock daycare girl's supply, and keep on hand for Little Man.

I then ate the entire package... before remembering to restock daycare girl's supply.  

So I of course went back to Target yesterday and bought a new box of cookies, and when I found myself snacking on them today, I immediately grabbed a handful of them and put them in daycare girl's potty treat bag before I accidentally eat the whole box again.

Yes I have a problem, but my problem really only hurts myself, and I could totally stop at any time.

Ah, who am I kidding.

A Tragic Jinx

You know how you mention how bad something would be if it happened? Or how lucky you've been that something hasn't happened?  And then it happens, like, the next day?

Happened!! :P

Yesterday I was chatting with one of my daycare moms about how I panic when I set the coffee pot up the night before using the very last of my ground coffee... only to wake in the morning to coffee overflowed and a mess everywhere because I didn't put the carafe in all the way.  Nothing like starting your morning with the only coffee in the house splattered all over the counter and floor, and full of coffee grounds (if it weren't for the coffee grounds everywhere I might have started licking the counter).

Well, this morning when I started my coffee pot (after I warmed up a cup of coffee from the day before... because I'm kind of a freak when it comes to my morning brew) it only brewed half of the water in the reservoir.  The good news was that I at least got a few cups of coffee out of it.  The terrible news was I would need to now buy yet another coffee pot by the end of the day.  This is terrible because coffee pots only seem to last me about a year before I kill them from what I am guessing is overuse.  And I'm not buying the super cheap ones, typically in the $40 range.

My only options for tonight were to run to the gas station and buy 2 very large cups of coffee to reheat in the morning, or get to Target to buy a new pot before they closed for the night, so I raced to Target after our Sleeping Beauty performance and picked myself up a new pot.

I got a Black and Decker 8-cup thermal programmable coffee maker.... with a very much needed 2-year warranty built in!


I know what you're thinking... only 8 cups? how is she going to live off of only 8 cups of coffee per day?  I'm not entirely sure but if I have to brew a small pot of coffee around dinner time then that's just what I'll have to do.

I also bought some hair color, shoes for Izzy, and baby food for the daycare babies, and headed out to my car.  I was partway into the parking lot when I realized that I probably looked like a complete douche lugging my ONE box, ONE target bag, and ONE purse out to my minivan in a cart at 10:00 at night... into a parking lot that had already been completely cleared of carts.   Creature of habit maybe?

So just in case the poor guy who has to run around and get the carts was cursing me out from the store window, I tried to save face.  I put my cart just on the edge of the cart thingy and made a big to-do about getting my "bulky" purchases and purse from my cart into my van (which was in the spot immediately to the right of the cart thing). 

I figured if he saw me struggling with my one bag, one box, and one purse he'd understand why I felt the need to take a cart with me.

Little does he know I carry/adjust 2 6-ish month old babies around all the time. 

What he doesn't know won't hurt him right?

Like a Hunting Dog

Sometimes I feel like a hunting dog. 

Particularly an off-season-neglected hunting dog.

I'm kept in my home and yard most days out of the year.  So much so, that when I get to go do something, everyone (including me) is happy for me that I "got out".  Like my owners let me out of the mundane boundaries of the yard and took me to the dog park.

And then hunting season, or in my case theater season, comes and I'm so excited and end up overworking myself into a heap on the floor in front of the fireplace hearth.  Except I don't have a fireplace or a hearth, so really it's the rocking chair I collapse onto.

I go go go working hard for the family who "owns" me and love it, but get pretty worn out at the same time, and then "hunting" season ends and I rarely leave the yard.

So, though it's a bit stressful and very tiring, it is also really fun.  So I will enjoy this time out in the field until my family puts me back in my kennel.

Confession

Confession

Last Sunday night, after an extremely busy day, after cleaning the disastrous living room, kitchen, and dining rooms, after already going up and down the stairs too many times, I was ready to climb into bed.  But I had no PJ's in our room.  It was looking like my options were to either go to bed in my jeans and sweater, or trek back down to the laundry room and bring up some clean PJ's.  Neither option sounded good at 12:30 AM. 

So I improvised.  

I did what I usually do when I can't find clean clothes of my own.  I stole my husband's clothes.

I grabbed one of his comfy sweatshirts, and...

wait for it...

his long underwear.

Yep, I wore his long underwear as pajama pants.

Sure they were a little loose, but they were warm and comfy :o)

But don't tell my husband or he'll start hiding his clothes from me!