Our Lady of Perpetual Shopping

Dear WTMs, I am recovering from my 25th high school reunion. I am trying to post about it but I still feel too lousy to write. I didn't even drink that much but I have felt like ca-ca every since Sunday AM. Reality sucks. I am posting later tonight but had to share something from the weekend with you. One of my high school friends made me a belt buckle that had the above "Saint" on it. Naturally, since I went to a Catholic high school, many of my high school friends have kind of a twisted sense of humor. If you are offended by the above "faux" Saint, please go away. I am on my last nerve today since those strange children (who are calling me MOM) keep asking me to take them places or to feed them. Will talk later tonight. After I've started to drink again.

Starving My Children

Dear WTMs, Apparently, I am systematically starving my children. According to my 12 year old daughter: Other moms fix LUNCH for their kids. You NEVER fix us lunch. We have to fix ourselves pb&j sandwiches for lunch every day. I wish I could do my almost teen daughter's voice for you on the blog because it is quite pitiful. Reason #468 why my kids will need therapy later on...I make them fix their own lunch in the summer. I really have no strong moral principal about the kids fixing their own lunch. I am just lazy and I think that if I have sandwich stuff, fruit and some carrots they can pretty much fix themselves lunch during the summer vacation. However, this week in our household was kind of bad one in terms of lunch materials for the poor starving children. The girls and I just returned from a weekend trip, so I didn't go to the store over the weekend. I am not really eating much this week, as my 25th high school reunion is this weekend and I am trying to lose 10 pounds before the weekend. Very realistic. So with no store run and me not eating, the kids REALLY DID NOT have much to choose from for lunch materials. Yesterday they ate crackers and pretzels with peanut butter because there is no bread, no cheese, no meat in the house. There is no more fruit as of this AM because my nephew was here last night and he loves grapes. There is oatmeal...but no milk. There is some THAI soup mix. It is, even by my WT standards, pretty sad. I will probably have to make a light store run today just so one of the neighbors doesn't hotline me to social services. WTMs, do you starve your offspring in the summer? Or am I, like my daughter claims, the ONLY mother on the planet that makes her kids fix their own lunch?

Trust But Verify and Other Travel Tips

"Trust but Verify" -President Ronald Reagan, regarding the Russians during Cold War Dear WTMs, President Reagan is known for making that quote about the USSR during the Cold War. Sure, he trusted the "Commies" but he liked to "verify". Doesn't matter if you loved Reagan, thought he was the devil or somewhere in the middle. This philosophy comes in very handy as a mother. This philosophy is especially relevant in my life as I packed for on a short weekend trip with "the girls". The girls and I are visiting one of my best friends and her family this weekend. I am taking a short "blog break" right now and relaxing. But I just had to share the pre-trip packing experience, preparing for this quick trip, as it will hit close to home with you WTM readers. My girls are 12 and 8. Older daughter gets more responsibilities and perks but I am letting them both do more things this summer that reflect my growing confidence in their maturity. I trust them but I verify. For example-My 8 year old wants to pack her own suitcase. Fine. She was passionate about her mother not laying all her clothing out "like a baby". She is, in case I was unaware, going into THIRD GRADE. Practically college aged, right? So I let her "pack". She goes to bed Thursday night. I check her duffel bag. I swear I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. I was laughing as I figured it would probably be as "scary" as it was-----I had a stash of her stuff in my bedroom ready to pack----but I let her do it, just so I could say that I did. Contents of her bag for a 4 day weekend (after several talks about what to bring and a pile of clothing laid out for her):

• A walkie talkie
• American girl doll clothing (Two sets with NO American Girl doll being taken)
• Gum
• Two very old VHS tapes of Kid Movies
• Two pairs of flip flops
• A purse from my sister
• Pictures she drew (sweet)
• Books
• PJs
• Underwear

In the mind of my 8 year old, the above list is perfectly fine for a 4 day trip. Trust but Verify, right WTMs?

Peaceful Mass vs. Mass Circus

Ahhh, the Catholic Sunday Mass. Every Sunday. Without fail. Unless you are dying. (and you'd really better go then, so you can get your "last rites"!) Stand up, sit down, kneel, stand, kneel, sit, kneel. Do it in the right order. Say the right response at the right time. Sing when the man or lady waving their arms around tells you to sing. I know - some of you don't get our compunction to go EVERY week, but it's been ingrained in me since I was born. And honestly, when I allow myself to get immersed in it, the Mass really does "feed" me spiritually for the upcoming week. Not to sound preachy/muffy/holier-than-thou or anything like that, but we try so very hard (in our own lame way) to get there on time. And like many of the regulars, we tend to sit in the same area each week. Don't misunderstand. We are not like those anal-retentives who know exactly which row is "theirs" and give people the evil eye if someone deigns to take their pew. We just sit in the same basic 6 to 8 rows. I guess we've found our "comfort zone". However, on two separate occasions recently, we let life get in the way (read: had hair problems that screamed to be resolved before walking out the door...) and arrived at Mass just as it was about to start. So, once, I marched the family all the way down to the front, and once, we simply slithered into the back row. Let me tell you something. They were two completely different Masses. Don't get me wrong. Same priest was presiding. Similar Mass content (I think...). But it was as if we were in two completely different universes altogether. Let me lay the scene. Front of the Church: Serene, peaceful people who are fully participating in the Mass Back of the Church: Young, sleep-deprived parents whose children distract anyone within a 50 foot radius Front: Perfect opportunity to listen to the readings and really reflect on their meaning Back: Perfect opportunity to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud at all of the naughty things the pre-school age children around us were doing Front: Perfect vantage point for helping with the distribution of the Eucharist (communion) Back: Perfect spot to find leftover Cheerios if your stomach is growling Front: Ideal location if you want to focus on the Mass and solely the Mass Back: Ideal location if you want to focus on the adorable drooling twins and their conniving older brother in the pew in front of you Front: Quiet as a church Back: Quiet as a circus ---Speaking phonetically, sounds like: wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-woooooooooooooo! RRRRRAAAAHR! Mommy, RRRRRRRAAAAHR! I'm a lion! RRRRRRAAAAHR! (SHHHHHH!) No! RRRRRRAAAHR! (SHHHHHHH!) ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Mommy, ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-OH ME-NOOOOOOOO! NO! Mommy! (Shhhhhh!) NOOOOOOOooooooooooooo! (now muffled and slightly drowned out by hand over mouth trick, followed by obvious licking Mommy's hand sounds and delighted laughter, followed by Mommy shoving Petey Preschooler into Daddy's arms and turning away as if she doesn't even know the child) Front: Perfect view of the alter/priest/servers, etc. Back: Perfect view of all the pretty outfits in church that week, not to mention a prime spot to watch Petey Preschooler sock his mommy in the butt like 30 times before the dad nearly rips his arm out of the socket. Petey, though, seems indestructable (and incorrigible) and smiles a toothy grin. Again, failed attempts to suppress our laughter. Front: Snuggle time with hubby Back: Birth control argument Front: Great for those with long attention span Back: Great for adult ADD victims You get the picture. Several times during Mass, while we were in the back row circus, my older daughter and I had to avoid eye contact because we both knew we'd start cracking up at all of the funny noises, sightings, etc. Sorry, I know you had to be there 'cuz' writing simply cannot do it justice. It really did take me back to when our girls were younger. Generally speaking, they were pretty good, though they, too, had their moments. Like the time our two-year-old kept screaming, "I - WANT - SOME! I - WANT - SOME!" throughout the entire Communion. This went on until I remembered that I had some Cheerios tucked away in the good ol' diaper bag. When I got them out, she gleefully started eating them and proudly began yelling, "I - GOT - SOME! I - GOT - SOME", much to my horror. Ah, good times. Good times. I'd love to hear of your own WTM church experiences! Let's hear it, ladies!

Guy Kawasaki Likes White Trash Mom

Dear WTMs, Guy Kawasaki, one of my FAVORITE business writers, mentioned the white trash mom blog in one of HIS blogs yesterday. I was totally floored by this because I read his blog and I love his book "The Art of the Start". Mr. Kawasaki runs a successful venture capital firm and is very easy to understand---for a newbie geek like me. His style is refreshing and very down to earth. The irony is that the last few months I have been trying to raise capital to expand the jeans business. I have been getting kicked around pretty hard and have not had much success. One of my favorite authors/business gurus notices the White Trash Mom blog. Isn't that a scream? Only in America! Alanis Morissette says it best, don't you think? Have a good one WTMs!
Ironic by Alanis Morissette

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?
A little too ironic... and yeah I really do think...

It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out 

Aldi in the Hood

That's right. There's a distinct difference between Aldi in the 'burbs and the Aldi in the Hood. And I'm here to spell them out for you. I had never yet been to Aldi in the Hood, but last week, I was picking up my dry cleaning in the Hood (at the waaaaay cheaper cleaners there...), and I figured while I was over there, I'd give it a shot and save myself the trip to the one I usually go to. Neither is actually close to my own home, so it's never a convenient trip, to be honest. At least not as convenient as my grocery store a few blocks away. I walked in and discovered that the layout was basically the same. Same routine on the carts. Prices: same. Cool...but that's where the similarities ended, my WT comrades. Here's how it went down from there... So, I'm strolling along the first aisle, and this guy stops in front of the sugars and proudly tells his wife/significant other/hoochie mama...whatever: "Hey, 'dis brown sugah bettah for ya' dan duh white stuff. It healthy. It the heart healthy shit. Let's get some." It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about. Aha! He was thinking of the naturally brown sugar - you know, like Sugar in the Raw? The unprocessed stuff? Far be it from me to correct the genious. Strolling, strolling... An employee approaches an ancient woman just behind me... "Excuse me, ma'am. We're going to have to keep that bag for you up front while you're shopping. You can have it back when you leave the store." (takes a plastic shopping bag from the elderly woman, while repeating what she has just said) It becomes apparent that the woman has been placing smaller items in the bag in an effort to steal them. This is disturbing on so many levels... not the least of which is the value (or apparent lack thereof) that we place on the elderly in our society. But this is a "happy" column, so I'll journey onward. So, I'm on the produce aisle, which, by the way, is probably about five percent the size of the supermarket size of produce aisle. Generally, at Aldi, as I've mentioned before, there's just one of each type of product (one white bread, one grape jelly, one variety of apples). However, in the case of tomatoes, there was a small selection to be had. Now at the risk of sounding very haughty, high-minded and intellectually biased, I am going to proceed on here. I'm among my WT friends, after all, and I feel this is a safe place for me to sound off... I'm standing in front of the produce. In order to read the prices here, you have to look above the items, find the name of what you're looking for and read the sign. It's not exactly rocket science. Suddenly, I become very aware of the area surrounding me and the odor therein. Uh-huh. You guessed it. B.O., sisters. Bigtime. I nearly caught my breath, but before I could, a hand was on my back. I looked up to find myself staring at the big breasts of an enormous woman in halter top and spandex leggings. Of course, I was also face to face with the B.O. I tried to back up, but the giant woman put her arm around me and drew me closer. As an aside here, let me just say two things. I am not a small woman, but this woman made me feel dimunitive! And second, I have an aversion to close-talkers to begin with. That's even with people I know well. So to have a B.O. laced Amazon whom I don't know from Eve hug me to her bosom? Well, let's just say it was all I could do not to vomit. I guess you could compare it to my daughter's reaction to the pizza sauce at the concert (see 7/4 post)! "Lemme axe you somthin'..." "Uh-huh, sure" (just please don't put my nose in your armpit...) (Pointing at the Grape Tomatoes and then up at the signage above) "Which ones is these?" "Oh, those are the Grape Tomatoes." (releasing her vice grip...) "Grape? Geez...And how much are they?" (Pointing at the sign...) "A dollar twenty-nine." "Oh..." (picking up the Roma Tomatoes and again resting her other hand on my back...) "Well, how 'bout these here? Are they the ones that's 59 cents?" "Hmmm...no, it says they're a dollar forty-nine." (pointing at a different sign) "Well, damn...which ones does it say is 59 cents?" (looking where her finger points, it dawns on me...) "Oh, that's the avocadoes. They're 59 cents apiece." "Sheee-uht. Ava-what? I just need me some tomatoes." "Yeah..." OK, now, really. What was I supposed to say? I did feel sorry for her. She stunk, she couldn't read. And she didn't know the joy of the California avocado. Life's tough, you know? Standing in line now... Stinky Amazon: Man, did you see those tomatoes? They's pricey! I thought they was 59 cents. Super Genious: Yeah, but they do have the brown sugah. That shit's good for your heart, and it only 89 cents here. Heart healthy bargain shopping. Only at Aldi in the Hood...

WTM Decorating

Dear WTMs, I have been decorating, the white trash mom way, for my older daughter's room. She is in the "I am 12-I need to make my room a place my friends and I can hang out in- phase" and since she still has the furniture that she had in her nursery, I can't really blame her too much. Okay---so I have been painting furniture and prepping walls the last few days. I did all the crap that HGTV said would make my painting experience a good one. I purchased all the products and paint that was supposed to make the project look great. Yet the furniture looks like "ca-ca". I did everything that I was supposed to do yet it looks BAD. Not the "Charming-Shabby Chic" type of bad. I mean BAD. Like a toddler took a brush and smeared it all over the furniture. REALLY LOUSY. I have been trying to patch up my mistakes yet it still looks awful. As much as I bag on "Pottery Barn Kids" and the like, their furniture looks great------how in the HELL to they do it? Anyone? Bueller? I await the advice of my WTM network for answers!

An Aldi Primer

Do you any of you share my obsession? Many of my friends sneer, jeer and laugh at me for shopping at Aldi. But I don't care. And the Muffies? Well, let's just say, you don't have to worry about any encounters with the Muffies at Aldi. For those of you not blessed enough to have an Aldi in your midst, let me fill you in. Small grocery store, off price, only one brand of each type of product. Instead of being all Always Save or some store brand like that, it's Aldi's brand, but they've come up with their own clever name for each individual product. I got frozen pizzas there recently, and I think they were called Tortino's. Get the idea? It's often a blatant knock-off of the popular brand name. Personally, I am convinced that they've gotten the good brands to make the products for them and let them distribute them under a different name. OK, so when I quit working full-time a few years back, we lost almost half of our income in one fell swoop. I was doing everything I could to cut corners. Frankly, it totally sucked. A friend told me to try Aldi, and though skeptical, I figured, "What did I have to lose?" So, I went. If you've never been there, here's an Aldi primer...

• Do not go to Aldi at mealtimes or at any other time that you think a normal grocery store might be remotely busy. There's usually just one checker, and lines can be a problem.
• Don't (like I did) go to Aldi, after your exercise class, with your full wedding set on, chatting on your cell phone, get to the checkout, whip out your checkbook, only to discover that they DO NOT ACCEPT CHECKS! - An aside here, if I may...this did happen to me. There were SIX people in line behind me, and the tension was palpable. I was mortified. Embarrassed in my new haven of a grocery store. Here's what the checker said: "I'm sorry. We don't accept checks or food stamps." Apparently, she thought I might resort to food stamps when the check thing wasn't working out. I thought I was going to have to slink out of the store without my groceries. I checked my wallet, discovered I had one twenty, and two dollars and forty-two cents in change. I asked for the total, wondering how much stuff I'd have to put back, and it was $22.23. I had two bags, completely filled to the brim with groceries! I was hooked.
• Don't expect anyone to bag your groceries for you at Aldi. In fact, don't expect bags at all - unless you want to pay for them. . . which I do... regularly. And for that, I get stared at... regularly... by the regulars.
• And you know that curbside driveup you love so much? Not gonna' happen. Get over it, girl.
• Oh! Here's a great one. When you're walking in, you have to grab your cart from outside the front door. But you'll find that the carts are all locked up. You have to put a quarter in to get the cart. You get it back when you return your cart to the proper place. That's ingenious, if you ask me. The number of times I've seen carts careening across a parking lot...
• Occasionally, you won't be able to find a price for something at Aldi. Assume it's dirt cheap, and buy it, sister. You're at Aldi, for God's sake.
• The samples? No, sweetie. There aren't any samples.

Now, let me just tell you. The first time I came home with goods from our local Aldi, my husband was less than elated. You have to understand, my big strong man is no Kip or Biff or Ken or whatever we've decided to call the male equivalent of the Muffie (Queen, we really must make an executive decision on this one...!). He grew up in a blue collar family in a lower middle class neighborhood. He doesn't put on airs. However, he has BAD memories of his dad, who did all of the shopping, buying all generic label products. Remember the black and white label stuff? How appealing a cabinet full of that stuff must've been! He swore two degrees later that he'd never have to eat that way again.

Anyway, let's just say, I had an uphill climb, convincing him that this Aldi place was a good bet. But the more products we tried, the more we were all convinced. Geez, I'm sounding like the creepy people on an infomercial.

OK, now for the really cool secrets. Some of my favorite products, etc. Their Fit & Active line of crackers and tortilla chips. Light pancake syrup. Pudding, English muffins, cereal with cranberry and almonds, all dairy products, refrigerated biscuits, marinated pork tenderloin, beef sirloin frozen in individual cry-o-vac packages. What else? Oh! Frozen curly fries - seasoned and oh, so yummy! Frozen Italian Ice, frozen fruit bars, those fabulous individual eclairs you can buy at Sam's (cheaper, just as good, and you don't have to buy a palate full of them...). Honey, ketchup, mustard, sugar, flour, pancake mix. I'm telling you, the list goes on.

Produce is hit or miss, so I don't get it as much. The consistently good stuff is grape tomatoes, pears, corn, seedless watermelon and tri-color peppers. I don't like their apples, bananas or peaches.

All right. I'm off my Aldi soap box. But soon, I'm going to tell of my recent experience of shopping at Aldi in the 'Hood. Whole different world, let me tell you. Whole different world.

Is That Barf? No, It's Pizza Sauce!

WTM's, you will all be relieved to know that Darling Daughter is OK! She survived her first concert experience, and so did her wacky (or is that wack-o?) mother! She checked in twice - once during the concert and once on the way home to tell us when she'd be at her friend's to be picked up. While still at the concert, her voice was charged with energy, and it really did bring back all of the memories of those lazy hazy concert days. Here in the Midwest, we had what we called Summer Jam. They had Foreigner, Kansas, Journey, Styx, REO Speedwagon...can't remember all of them. Anyway, they were all in one venue. What a blast. And yes, we had to dress the part. I was so pleased to see that my daughter and her friends wore their jean shorts, shirts and flip flops (not to be confused with thongs, you know...) to the concert. None of the hoochie mama stuff for my girl. :) Yep, she's a good girl - so far, anyway. I would have been decked out in flouncy skirt, the aforementioned Mia flats or better yet, Candies hooker heels, off the shoulder top, big wide belt cinching in my (then) tiny waist, Olivia Newton John style headband (for all that sweating we'd be doing...), glitter eye shadow up to my brows, dark lipstick, liner and blush. Oh, yeah, what a hottie. Go, eighties! So, on to the funnies of the evening. This was the kind of concert where you move from stage to stage to catch the next performer. The girls were doing just that, along with the roadies from Cheyenne, when one of the roadies happened to step on someone's unused "cup" of pizza sauce. You know, the kind with the sealed top? Suddenly, my daughter found her back side completely splattered with pizza sauce! Now, of course, in our day, you know it would have been vomit, so when I heard the story, I was immediately thinking how lucky she was that someone hadn't hurled on her. But to hear her tell the story, you would think someone had poured a vat of mucus on her. A little aside here. This is the child who, when we sat her down on the grass for the first time as a toddler, she kept trying to lift her legs up off of it. Hated the stuff. This is the child who melts in temp's above 75 degrees or humidity above 60 percent. This is the child who would only sit on the edge of the sandbox, and even then, it was pretty gross, thank you very much. This is the princess who couldn't stand to get her face wet in the pool until she was like 8, cuz, eeeeoooh! And this is the child who HATES ketchup. Makes her literally gag. She thought the stuff all over the back of her was ketchup, and she said she nearly threw up. OK, so, you're caught up on her hangup now. So, picture me, suppressing my laughter (I know, I'm her mom...it's shameful...). But I just couldn't help myself. So, I had to tell her that she would find it funny, too, by the next morning, which she did, by the way. She and her friends did their best to get her cleaned up and moved on to the next performer. And bless her heart, by the time she got home, she still had pizza sauce in places I don't even want to think about! They had a blast, got within about 5 feet of Cheyenne (my daughter's biggest thrill of the day), swears she "made eye contact with her", and she got some amazing pic's of her, too! And her line, which she proudly professed to me: "And Mom, we didn't have any encounters!" (unless you count the pizza sauce!) That's my girl!

What Have I Done?

"Stay together!" "Call to check in every couple of hours..." "Keep your bag with you at ALL times!" "Stay hydrated!" "Don't forget to reapply your sunscreen." "Stay away from the weirdos..." Big strong man gives me the evil eye...and whisks her away to drop off at her friend's house. "Have fun, sweetie!" I call out weakly. We've already told her all of these things - and more - like there will be pot at this concert. There will be drunk people. There will be stoned people. There will be people who really invade your personal space. Oh, God, did we make a mistake letting our daughter go to her first concert at almost 15? She's with two of her girlfriends and the (reportedly) responsible young adult cousin of one of the friends (she's 23). Thinking back to the days when my husband (then boyfriend...) and I went to concerts in great numbers, I can think of many unsavory experiences that I had. There was the time that I got high off of secondhand marijuana smoke. I am NOT joking! OK, that's freaking me right out. My friends and I decided to move to different seats when we realized that we were feeling funny, and we hadn't even been drinking or smoking anything. OK, we'd had a little beer - we were legal... but not a ton. And we were in an open air stadium seeing Pink Floyd. Stoned off of secondhand weed. Ugh! There was the time that the drunk teenaged girl standing directly next to me took off her hot pink tube top and was promptly carried up onto the stage. You thought I was going to say she was escorted out of the concert, didn't you? Nope! They made an even bigger spectacle of her than she was already making of herself. Another time, I went to Lilleth Fair, and I got hit on - hard - twice - by lesbians. Nothing wrong with lesbians. Just don't want any coming on to my very heterosexual daughter. In fact, don't want any guys coming on to her either, for that matter. Oh! And there was the time that my best friend - are you ready for this? Someone actually threw up on her. Yep. Right onto her Cindy Lauper look-alike flouncy skirt, leggings, Mia flats, etc. They missed her side ponytail by a smidge. And thank God for that. It had taken quite some time to get the sprayed-on haircolor just right. One-third hot pink, one-third teal and one-third purple. The silver eye shadow made the look. Try to top that one. OMG! What have I done? Please, God, let her come home OK. Tell me she's going to be OK.