Diary of a Suburban CEO

Where I've been

2008-02-13T19:42:00.018-05:00

[UPDATE BELOW]

I am at a bit of a standstill with Suburban CEO. Here's the scoop:

When I originally created the site, I wanted to make sure that the ideas for finding fulfillment outside of the workforce were as accessible to as many people as possible, so I tailored the message to a secular audience. I think that all the ideas as laid out on the site are really powerful and can go most of the way toward helping stay-at-home moms feel as excited about every day as anyone in the career world.

Yet, meanwhile, in my own life I found that these ideas alone weren't quite getting me all the way there. Close -- but not quite. There was still something that was missing, and that prompted me to start asking even bigger "what's the meaning of life"-type questions. At the time I was a lifelong atheist.

To make a long story short, my quest for finding deep fulfillment as a stay-at-home mom led to to a quest for deep fulfillment in life in general, and in asking the tough questions I came to believe in God. Today I guess I'm what you could call "religious." And now, my newfound beliefs inform every single aspect of life. I find that I can't write about much of anything -- let alone something as huge as motherhood -- without referencing religion.

As for Suburban CEO, I'm not sure where the site stands. I'm putting it on hiatus right now while I decide what direction to take the message. Also, I do have a blog in which I write about religion if anyone is interested. Email me (address on my profile) and I'd be more than happy to send you the link. (Emails from me usually end up in people's spam filters, so be sure to check your filter for my reply.)

I will probably resume updating this site at some point in the future. Until then, I wish everyone the best!

UPDATE: I am replying to all emails. So if you emailed me about the link and did not get a response, it is either because I did not receive your email (I get 500+ spam emails each day), or because my response got sent to your junk mail folder.

Scorpions, you have crossed the line

2007-06-11T16:00:00.000-04:00

Guess what I found in a box of clothes in the baby's room yesterday. A $50 bill! No, kidding. It's not that kind of house. Any guesses what I actually found, about three feet away from the baby's crib? Yeah. A scorpion.

For new readers or hopelessly optimistic longtime readers, I should clarify that, unfortunately, I am not referring here to the glamrock band who rocked us all like a hurricane with their 1984 album Love at First Sting. As terrible as that would be, I'm talking about the real, pincer- and stinger-having, hiding-in-shoes, getting-wrapped-up-in-sheets-at-night arachnids.

I mentioned here that I strongly prefer that my bedroom be a scorpion-free zone. I have been, you might say, "distressed" about seeing scorpions in my bathroom and bedroom. But when I see them in my baby's room, right by her crib, it's time to get medieval on some scorpion a**. The exterminators are coming next week, and I want them to be tearing down walls and ripping up foundation and just dumping chemicals everywhere.

Meanwhile, my husband and I have become a sort of scorpion factoid clearing house, with coworkers and friends and blog readers regaling us with their favorite scorpion trivia and offering tales of being stung. Every time I learn something new about these things it gets worse. For example, my husband was telling his assistant that one of the ones we saw wasn't all that big, which was refreshing. The assistant pointed out that that was most likely a baby, which means they're hatching in our house.

Also, well-meaning people keep trying to reassure me by telling me things that only serve to horrify me further. One popular tidbit is that scorpion stings are no worse than wasp stings. I AM TERRIFIED OF WASPS, so this information is not helpful. My mom told me that scorpions fluoresce under blacklight, so I should get one to try to find them at night. Umm...does the thought of turning off all the lights in my house and using a blacklight to illuminate a bunch of GLOWING SCORPIONS IN MY HOUSE not sound just a little too mind-bogglingly creepy to think about?! And, as I type this, I am on the phone with my dad who is telling me the story about how my grandfather (who lives a few miles from here) got one wrapped up in his pajamas while he slept. But, my dad assured me, he only got stung a few times and it really wasn't any worse than a wasp sting. Whew!

On the bright side, I have discovered an incredibly effective way to get your mother to insist on paying for the best pest control service in town to come to the house and give you their Platinum Package. When going out to dinner with your husband and leaving the kids with her, just say this, as I did last night:

"I left clean diapers and jammies in the bathroom for after bath. The baby has already eaten but DB still needs dinner. Hmm...am I forgetting anything? Oh, yeah, be sure to check the baby's crib for scorpions before you put her in. Thanks! We'll be back in a couple hours."

I promise that one day I will resume regular content and stop writing about scorpions. Although that may require setting up a separate Scorpions in My House blog since I cannot seem to stop talking about it.

Greetings from the House 'O Scorpions

2007-06-07T12:49:00.000-04:00

So guess what was on the wall by my bed last night? A scorpion. The third one I've seen in the house in the past couple of weeks. In my bedroom. Right by my bed (where I SLEEP, that I strongly prefer to be a scorpion-free zone). Had I turned out the lights just a few moments earlier, I would not have seen it scurrying up the wall, where it would have undoubtedly gone to the ceiling and then promptly fallen off when it was right over my bed (you laugh, but this actually happened to my uncle!)

My husband suggested that we should ask around to see if our neighbors are having scorpion issues as well. What, I ask, could possibly be gained from this? What if they say no? When my nextdoor neighbor says, "Gee, no, I've never seen a scorpion in my house!" is when things start feeling all Amityville Horror around here.

As I was lying in bed awake last night, in between fits of frantically brushing myself off every time the sheet or my pajamas brushed against me, I spent some time calculating the odds that one would actually see a scorpion if it were in the house. My house is 1,900 sq. ft. The scorpions are a few inches long. According to my calculations, the odds of being in the right place at the right time to actually see one of these things is about one in a zillion. And since I've seen TWO in my house in the past THREE days, this means that our home is teeming with them.

I see even the most common household objects differently now that I know that I'm living in some sort of scorpion Four Seasons. Some examples:

One theory here is that these things were somehow planted by the local exterminator company. Because, let me tell you, I am not what the call a "price-sensitive" customer right now. As soon as I hit Publish I am going to the first exterminator whose contact info I can find and tell them to just get in their truck and start driving and I'll give them all the details while they're on the road. (Very typical me that I'd blog about before actually doing something about it).

Another theory is that this is God's plan to change the way I feel about roaches. Because, let me tell you, they seem like the most darling little creatures right now, perhaps something one even might want as a household pet. When we first moved in I hoped we wouldn't have a roach problem like many people around here do. Now the possibility of seeing Brother Roach on my wall seems almost charming. They don't have stingers. They don't have pincers. I'll take roaches over scorpions any day.

Women In Art

2007-05-25T16:06:00.001-04:00

This is a beautiful, kind of hypnotic video of women in art throughout the ages. Really worth watching (via Casting Out Into the Deep).

Walking neighborhoods

2007-05-09T15:42:00.000-04:00

Sci-fi author Orson Scott Card has some great ideas about building "walking neighborhoods" (via Dom Bettinelli). I think that this concept could be absolutely huge in terms of improving the daily happiness of women who stay at home. As I've said a thousand times, it's totally unnatural and mentally wearying for moms and their kids to be cooped up in an isolated house all the time -- it's hard on the moms and their children. I think these sorts of neighborhoods would also have a lower turnover rate, giving people the opportunity to really know their neighbors and not feel like they're surrounded by strangers all the time.

One thing I really like about this article is that Card offers specific, concrete suggestions for how to make this a reality. He notes that the idea would not work without a neighborhood store (I agree), and has some interesting thoughts on how that could work economically in the era of the Super Wal Mart:

Mixed-use neighborhoods need grocery stores or they will not work.

The trouble is, with cars ruling our lives, the giant supergroceries make us drive farther and farther because they offer a better selection at a competitive price. Nobody wants to return to the tiny corner grocery.

We don't have to. We already have all the pieces in place for a new retail model that will affect, not just grocery stores, but most retail outlets.

Computers make it possible.

At the moment, grocery stores are doing almost nothing with the data they collect using their frequent shopper cards. They know which stores we shop at and what we buy. But they still don't use that information to tailor their grocery stores to fit the neighborhood and the shoppers.

Idiotically, they still make decisions about what to stock based on the big numbers, as if they were still doing their figures on paper with quill pens. They could develop just-enough stocking practices that would allow small neighborhood stores to stock only what they actually sell to regular customers, plus a little more of the most popular items for walk-in trade.

They could make special-ordering quick and easy, using the internet, so that customers can get extra quantities for special occasions. The profitable corner grocery is easily within our reach.

Whether or not these particular suggestions are perfect, I think he's really onto something here. If a walking neighborhood opened in my area I'd start packing my boxes to move in tomorrow.

How I doubled my pregnancy wardrobe in less than $30

2007-04-30T14:43:00.000-04:00

I'm starting a category called My Favorite Stuff where I show how materialistic I am by raving about how much I just adore certain possessions. I'll start with something I only recently purchased which has become one of my favorite things ever: the Bella Band.

Now, it took me a while to get over the facts that a) I paid $26 for a piece of spandex, and b) I did not invent said $26 piece of spandex (in which case I'd be writing this blog post from my yacht), but I quickly got over these concerns when I saw how useful the Bella Band was.

I'm about 22 weeks pregnant and am still wearing most of my pre-pregnancy stuff thanks to this handy little thing. As you can see from this picture from their website, you wear it around your tummy to hold unbuttoned pre-pregnancy pants up and/or to add coverage for pre-pregnancy shirts that have gotten too short, and it just looks like you have a tank top on underneath your shirt.

I can't believe I got through two pregnancies without one of these things. They have them in some department stores and Mom4Life also sells them (NOT a paid ad, I've just had good experiences shopping there and appreciate that it's run by a fellow stay-at-home mom).

Fast food ads vs. reality

2007-04-23T12:22:00.000-04:00

Here is a great collection of side-by-side pictures of fast food advertisements vs. what it actually looks like when you get it home. If you just add the nutritional info under each photo I think it'd be enough to inspire me to never indulge in some McDonald's french fries again. (via Bettnet.com)

Two tips for an easy blood test

2007-03-29T16:57:00.000-04:00

My fear of needles is legendary, so when I was diagnosed with a blood clotting disorder last year that requires careful management during pregnancy, one of the most difficult things for me to handle was the frequent blood tests.

Now that I'm expecting again, I'm back to being a regular at my hematologist's office. After about a zillion trips to the lab for bloodwork, I've discovered two key tips that make all the difference in the world -- in fact, it no longer really bothers me to have my blood taken.

The two key things to do are:

Drink lots of water before you go. Since blood largely consists of water, it makes a huge difference to drink plenty of fluids before you have a blood test. It makes the vein easier to find and it seems like the blood flows a little better as well.
Ask for a butterfly needle. This is a big one. Butterfly needles are smaller than regular needles and, in my experience, far less painful. A nurse told me recently that the only reason most places don't use them standard is because they're not cost effective -- but they almost always have them available and don't mind if patients request that they're used.

Hope that helps any fellow needle-phobics out there!

Mom my Ride

2007-03-22T17:50:00.001-04:00

Turning a regular old minivan into a true mom minivan. Hilarious.

Daylight Savings Time

2007-03-21T16:41:00.000-04:00

Well, I think I'm finally adjusted after changing the clocks. It wasn't easy, but with some hard work and dedication I've managed to come to terms with setting our clocks back an hour in October of last year.

And now they tell me that there was some sick plan hatched to make Daylight Savings Time begin earlier in the year, and that we have actually already had to set our clocks forward again. Whoever came up with this bizarre plan clearly did not have young children.

I don't generally think of myself as an idiot, but for some reason Daylight Savings Time is rocket science to me. To gradually shift the kids' carefully planned routines, to figure out when to start dinner now that the baby goes to sleep an hour later, to plan playdates when the kids and I get up at a different time than we used to, is just too much for my chronically sleep-deprived brain to handle.

To make matters worse, we're traveling to a family event in Atlanta this weekend. Atlanta is an hour ahead of us. Just know that it's me if you see footage on the news of a woman in a straight jacket being led away from the ledge of a tall building, twitching and muttering, "Naptime is at one-thirty...It's four o'clock here...but the kids aren't adjusted to the time change yet so it's three o'clock...but at home it's two o'clock...wait...is that before or after Daylight Savings Time?"

Great Amazon discounts (a.k.a. more ways to waste time and be poor)

2007-03-08T17:04:00.000-05:00

I was so excited to have found Lifehacker's post about bargain hunting on Amazon. In it they link to this great chart where you can click on any of the links to find all the Amazon products in that category at that discount level. I'm in the market for a new watch, and with one click on that chart I found one for $80 that was originally priced at $375!

Personally, I'm thrilled to have discovered this little trick. But perhaps a good friend of mine was onto something when she replied to my emailing her with the link. She wrote dryly, "Thanks for giving me more ways to waste time and be poor."

Indeed.

Random thought of the day

2007-03-04T17:39:00.000-05:00

As I sat staring at Elmo in a sleep-deprivation stupor the other morning, a thought occurred to me: if he's wearing a shirt, should he not also be wearing pants?

Perhaps I've just been ill so long that I'm now delirious, but ever since that thought occurred to me I now find the kids' Elmo doll to be vaguely disturbing.

Four great Photoshop tips

2007-03-04T17:30:00.000-05:00

I came across this wonderful post called Four Easy Photoshop Techniques to Make Your Pictures Pop! (via Lifehacker), and it's already taken my family photo shoot results from so-so to beautiful. Below is an example of one of their tips in action using a photo I took on a recent trip to Luckenbach, TX:

Before:

After:

The results on people photos are even better!

I'm back!

2007-03-04T14:43:00.000-05:00

Morning sickness (here comes baby #3!) followed by the flu followed by a massive sinus infection have kept me offline for quite a few weeks, but I should be able to resume semi-regular posting now. Not that I'm better, I think I'm just getting used to being sick.

A stroll down Hairy Man Road

2007-02-01T18:52:00.000-05:00

A few times while looking up directions in our city I came across an amusing little "Easter egg" (an inside joke developers sometimes add to software) in Google Maps:

Those wacky guys at Google snuck in the name Hairy Man Road for a little-known side street in our town. Hah! What will they think of next?

Then yesterday, as I was taking a back way to the post office, I almost caused an accident when I saw a sign labeling a charming little tree-lined lane that actually said HAIRY MAN RD.

I must know: whose call was it to give this street this name? Did the neighborhood developer perhaps delegate a little too much responsibility to his interns? Or was there some hasty "Name a Street in Our Neighborhood!" contest in which someone forgot to include a disclaimer about the contest winner needing city approval before the name was official?

I believe I actually saw some houses on this road, which immediately made me wonder: who purchases a house on Hairy Man Road? Maybe it's real estate investment genius: I mean, the houses have to lose about $20K of value simply for the street name. Heck, we're actually in the market for a house. Maybe I could get my own 3,500 sq. ft. McMansion in my price range if I'm willing to live on a street whose name makes everyone uncomfortable.

I was trying to picture how that would actually play out, and one thing that immediately came to mind is that it would pretty much rule out any sort of classy parties or formal events. I can just see the embossed invitation now:

Jennifer cordially invites you to a caviar and champagne tasting at her home on Saturday, the seventeenth of February, two thousand and seven. 970 Hairy Man Road

And I often use my home address for business purposes. I can just hear how that phone call with the financial manager would go: "I hope you found that our services exceeded your expectations. You can send the check to our office at 970 Hairy Man Road...Yeah...I said 'Hairy Man'. Mmm-hmm...spelled just like it sounds...No, not 'Harry'."

As you can tell, I've put way too much time into thinking through life on a street called Hairy Man. I might just have to bite the bullet and call and city to find out the story behind it. Since this is undoubtedly a topic of high fascination for the rest of the world as well, I will post any addition information our city call can give me on this matter.

Making it work: interviewees wanted!

2007-01-19T16:45:00.000-05:00

I've received a lot of great feedback since starting Suburban CEO -- very insightful, helpful comments and constructive criticism.

By far the most common request I've received, however, is about the money issue: countless mothers have written me to say that, while they find the ideas on the site helpful, they're having a really hard time getting past the financial burden of living on one income. I've received many requests for advice about how to bring in some extra income each month while still being a full-time mom.

So I've decided to start doing a series of interviews with women who have found a way to bring in some extra income while still primarily being a stay-at-home mom.

If you or someone you know fits this description and would like to share your story, please contact me and let me know!

Ye olde cluelessness

2007-01-16T17:55:00.000-05:00

So I was reminded a few weeks ago that I might not be totally in touch with society anymore.

Our friend Keith, with whom I collaborated on the creation of this site, called me to chat about a project we're working on together, and he mentioned that he was just arriving at Renaissance Weekend. He asked if my husband and I might be able to join him one year. I responded enthusiastically, saying, "Forsooth! I shall buye passage on a skye shippe and we shall drinke alee," and told him that I know where I could get the perfect costume. After a long, awkward silence he changed the subject back to business.

Undeterred, I shared this invitation along with some of my ye olde hilarity with my husband when he got home. He politely informed me that I was speaking Middle English (or attempting to, anyway), which was not spoken during the Renaissance. Also, Keith had invited us to Renaissance Weekend, an invitation-only global strategy retreat for leaders in business and politics. I was thinking of the Renaissance Festival, where people dress up like pirates and wenches and eat funnel cake.

That would explain the awkward silence.

So I guess all those years of not keeping up with politics or the news or paying much attention to that mystery-land known as "the world outside of my neighborhood" finally caught up with me.

Tales from the suburban grocery store

2007-01-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

Reliving "the fish stick incident" just now reminded me...

Probably the most difficult thing about going from living in the center of downtown to the center of suburban sprawl has been the change in grocery stores. I used to live within walking distance of the original Whole Foods. The bounty of high quality goods was almost overwhelming: fresh, organic produce; meat from grain-fed, free-range animals; the season's freshest catch of fish; a variety of kiosks where chefs use ingredients from all over the world to whip up made-to-order cuisine. All this just a five-minute stroll up the street.

I am now a five-minute drive away from my suburban HEB grocery store, the bounty of which is, umm, 7-11-esque. I have to drive about 15 miles out of my way these days to get even the simplest yuppie basics like steel-cut oats or bulk nuts (Vatican canonization committee, do you hear this?) The one redeeming quality is the extensive photo center where I often drop off CDs full of pictures to be printed while I shop.

To my horror, I walked in today to see that the photo center is being torn down. What was going on here? My mind raced. I assumed the worst: some renegade department manager stocked some tofu or wheat-free unsprouted grain bread, and the confusion and chaos that ensued caused a backlash. The photo section was to be torn down to install a Hawaiian Punch fountain and a Pop Tart wall. Room was being made for the forthcoming HotPockets Tasting Station. The produce section would be replaced with cans of fruit cocktail.

I dashed up to the nearest person in a red employee's shirt and demanded to know what's going on here. Her confused, frightened response was my first clue that she was not an employee. After tracking down a real employee I learned, to my great delight, that my fears were unfounded. The photo center is being replaced with a veritable fantasy-land for an "I think I'm an epicurean because I watch the Food Channel" suburban housewife like myself: an expanded cheese selection, bulk foods, a grilling station, and more! They're even giving away weekly $100 shopping sprees to kick it all off. (Although I should note that whoever labeled that $100 prize a "spree" is clearly single. In our house I might be able to spree through the produce section with that amount of money. But nice thought.)

Anyway, there may be a downside to all of these changes. Many a time while flipping through my Food and Wine cookbook I've lamented in the general direction of whoever was nearby that I too would dish up Chane Ki Tarkaari for dinner if our HEB [sigh] only stocked amchoor. Be careful what you wish for.

Fish on a log

2007-01-08T23:48:00.000-05:00

[A friend suggested the other day that perhaps we should serve fish sticks at the next playdate as a fun throwback to our youth that's also easy finger food for the kids. I repost this entry from one of my old blogs as a warning to anyone who might think this is a good idea.]

I think I am now fully recovered from eating six Gordon's Fish Sticks on Sunday night. I have spent the past 36 hours trying to forget about the foreboding queasiness in my stomach that may erupt into full-scale projectile vomiting at any moment, and to distract my mind so that I don't accidentally visualize or think about fish sticks, which would definitely trigger the aforementioned projectile vomiting.

It all started when my husband and I were hungry and had run out of all of our usual dinner fare. We rummaged through the freezer and came across a box of fish sticks. Fish sticks, what fun! we thought. We'll have them with ketchup and milk, just like when we were kids! Looking back on it now it's like watching a grainy, black-and-white flashback sequence in a horror movie, where you want to jump up and yell at the screen, "Nooo, don't do it!"

I had forgotten that fish sticks are the hot dogs of the marine world. They're made with all the byproducts that are left out of the fish that sophisticated consumers unlike me purchase. I don't know exactly what the ingredient list is, but I'm sure it's something like, "Gills, eyeballs, fins, bladders," etc., all deep-fried in old oil for about ten hours.

At first I was wondering why they didn't at least try to make the sticks slightly less oil-drenched or at least put a healthy-sounding spin on it like "Good source of protein!" or "There may actually be some Omega 3's left in here!" But after seeing the recipe suggestion on the back of the box it quickly became clear that their target market is people who just don't care anymore.

The picture you see here [click to enlarge...if you dare] is what Gordon's calls "Fish on a Log." This recipe is made by combining fish sticks with Cheez Whiz and Goldfish crackers, thus creating the perfect trinity of processed foods. (Something tells me that people who actually make this recipe are going to go ahead and skip the tomato and lettuce garnish pictured in the photo.) Although, to their credit, what can you actually make out of fish sticks? I pity the intern who had the job of coming up with that one. Cans of soup can offer recipes for interesting sauces and pasta packages lend themselves to endless possibilities, but fish sticks? It was a wise man who just decided to say screw it, throw in some Cheez Whiz and Goldfish and call it a day. At least those are two ingredients you can guarantee the purchasers of fish sticks will have in their pantry.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this: don't eat fish sticks, ever. You may have fond childhood memories or some other nostalgic reason for wanting to try them once again, but don't. Your stomach and intestines will thank you.

Fireworks: the mysterious joy of sudden, loud noises and lights

2007-01-02T00:31:00.000-05:00

The world and I just can't seem to get on the same page about fireworks.

Last night I ended up getting in bed around 11:30. A far cry from the days when my New Year's Eve memories were pieced together by looking through my cell phone call log the next day, a sinus infection and general sleep deprivation left me yearning for the comfort of my bed well before midnight.

Just as I was dozing off into some much-needed sleep, a POP!POP!POP! startled me awake. I put the pillow over my head only to be awoken many more times by the sound of various people in the neighborhood shooting off fireworks. My neighbors with whom I share a back yard fence continued the festivities for about two hours. (On the bright side, it was an excellent opportunity to use the synergy of Zillow and the Reverse Address Lookup to finally find out their names and contact info.)

I thought the very definition of the 'burbs was that it's the coming together of people who want three-car garages and no noise after nine o'clock. I think my suburban brethren and I generally agree on this, but evidently an exception simply must be made for fireworks because they're so much fun.

I do not understand this. When I asked a neighbor through gritted teeth yesterday why the four shopping bags full of blackcats and bottle rockets he was holding were so integral to bringing in the new year, he said that seeing what happens, watching them light up and seeing what kind of noise they make, is a lot of fun.

Loud noises and lights are fun. Got it. This insight into fireworks culture could be dangerous. I can see myself next year, after a few glasses of eggnog, joining my fireworks-loving neighbors around midnight by hitting the panic button on my alarm system to activate the blaring siren, and flashing the porch light on and off, shouting, "Loud noises and lights are so great! How do y'all like that? Are we having fun yet? Hey, there goes the car alarm. Whoo-hoo, happy new year!"

I should end this with the caveat that I realize I'm in the minority here. Based on the percentage of people whom I respect who just love fireworks, the inability to wrap my mind around what's so great about the little noise-making devices is clearly a deficiency on my part. And probably reason #722 that I'd be better of living as a hermit in a cave somewhere. :)

Jen's Random Thought of the Day

2006-12-19T16:38:00.001-05:00

The world would be a better place without the "Reply to All" button.

To the makers of YoBaby

2006-12-12T09:30:00.000-05:00

To the people at Stonyfield Farms, makers of YoBaby yogurt:

I thought we had a deal. You would cover the baby yogurt labels with verbiage that gives the impression that each cup of yogurt is lovingly crafted by hand, made from milk of free-roaming cows who eat only whole grains and organic vegetables and mixed with the nectar of the gods; I would pretend I actually believe that. You would create a product that is actually somewhat healthy; I would pretend that I didn't notice that your margins have got to be somewhere around 80%.

So I was perusing the ingredients list on the cup of YoBaby that my son threw in my direction the other morning, and I nodded in approval as I saw that "sugar" was way down on the list, perhaps the tenth ingredient. But then, upon closer inspection, I realized that while sugar is the ninth word, it is the second ingredient.

If I didn't know from the impression you give on your label that y'all are just nice country folks with a passion for organic yogurt, I'd swear you threw in those four adjectives to describe the milk and the three to describe the sugar to mislead the casual reader of your ingredients list into believing that sugar is not a primary ingredient of your product.

In any case, I believe I now understand why my son approaches YoBaby as if it were some sort of liquefied crack rock, attempting to rip the door off of the refrigerator if I deny it to him at any meal. If my estimates are correct it has almost as much sugar as ice cream.

I would like to ask you to be a bit more upfront in your marketing in the future, perhaps changing the name of your product to SugarSludge, or maybe just putting a note in lieu of the ingredients saying something like, "Thought it was too good to be true that your kid actually likes something healthy? Yeah, it is. It's all sugar. But we pretty much own you now that you've given him a taste, so go ahead and pick up another six-pack. And don't expect to see them on sale any time soon. Bwahaha!"

I hope you find these suggestions helpful. Thank you in advance for your time and consideration,

Jennifer

Office haikus

2006-12-12T09:28:00.000-05:00

Someone sent me a copy of this little book called Office Haikus yesterday, and it is killing me. Where was this when I had a job? An example:

In my cubicle
I sit; envying the dead
Two hours left to go.

And one more:

Single occupant
Bathroom is locked. Why knock? Door
Didn't lock itself.

This is the ultimate baby shower gift for a woman who's leaving the workforce to stay home with kids, or a great Christmas gift for your favorite cubicle-dweller. If you're ordering gifts from Amazon, throw this one in as well. All day yesterday I would be doing something and then think of one of the haikus I read and just randomly burst out laughing. It's hilarious.

My (missing) two cents

2006-12-01T16:41:00.000-05:00

So I'm sitting here in the room that faces the street, jerking my head up every time I hear a car go by, planning to fly out of my house like a madwoman when I see the mail truck.

You see, my husband kindly brought me a whole bunch of stamps from the office. In a moment of naivete/inability to think clearly, I did not ask him WHY these stamps were of no use to him at the office, I simply started affixing them to my Christmas cards (which for whatever reason I put a ridiculous amount of effort into).

This morning I slid a six-inch-high stack of envelopes into the outgoing mail slot and returned home to see the number 37 on the stamps that were left on the roll. As in 37 cents. Two cents less than is required to send a letter in this country.

When I saw this I chuckled and said to myself that minor inconveniences like this are a great opportunity to remind ourselves of how many blessings we really have. No, kidding. I uttered a slew of obscenities that would make a pirate blush, damning these insufficient stamps for preventing me from spreading holiday cheer.

I wrote up a note to tape to the boxes in case I miss the mail lady, but ended up scrapping it because it read like it was written by a disorganized, slightly neurotic control freak (I wonder why): "~~Dear~~ Hi ~~postal woman~~ ma'am [can't remember her name, not sure how to address her]. The stamps that are taped to this note are for the stack of envelopes in the left outgoing mail slot that have $0.37 stamps on them. Would you mind adding these $0.02 stamps onto them? Or if that's too much trouble you can call me at the number below and I'll come down and do it (if you have a cell phone). I would have just left them in my box but I lost the key. Again. Hence all the mail that's probably jammed in there. Sorry. Thanks! ~Jennifer".

I actually considered using some kitchen tongs to try to fish out the envelopes myself, but since I'm pretty sure that's a felony I decided against it. Because ending up in front of a federal judge for a Christmas-card-related incident just kind of sounds like something that would happen to me.

A timeless lesson about teething and alarm systems

2006-12-01T16:17:00.000-05:00

Just got this email from a friend of mine. Made me laugh out loud.

So when we moved into our house, the previous owners had one of those ADT systems hooked up, and of course when they left they system no longer works and we didn't bother with it at all. We've had the security panel in our house just sitting there attached to the wall. Well James has a molar coming in and had been inconsolable recently. Last night was no exception, and because I was running out of ideas of ways of distracting him i let him poke on the buttons to the alarm. Each time you push one of the buttons the panel lights up and makes a nice beeping sound - James was content.

After a few minutes though a new sound emerged. A very loud ALARM sound - and I realized - holy s**t James set off the alarm! I had no idea about the system or where the hell it came from - I was guessing ADT because of the generic sign in the front of the house. Mark jumped up and looked for the origin of the sound (wires etc) while I Googled the name on the panel. Meanwhile people are coming out of their houses asking if we were ok. The sound was insane. I find a number online and call getting a menu system - keep in mind this is about 9:00pm. The recorded voice on the phone says "If you are having an emergency, press "1"". Well it seemed like an emergency right? I pushed 1. Then the lady says " If your alarm is going off Right now, push '1'" I push 1 and the phone is connected to another voicemail box.

Meanwhile Mark is up in the attic snipping wires - and then - silence. He found the actual horn that was making the noise and disconnected it. I hung up immediately so I have no idea what happens next on the ever-so-handy voicemail system that I called.

Moral of the story - stick with Tylenol during teething periods.