Cookie Challenge

Alternate title: The Time I Had A Nervous Breakdown About Cookies

Alternate alternate title: I Have Too Many Kids

Last weekend was the annual holiday bazaar at my kids' school. It's a great fundraiser for the school. One of the more popular bazaar events is the cookie room. One can go into a classroom FULL of cookies, purchase a bag, and fill it up to the top with whatever tasty wares were donated by the parents at the school. In order to encourage participation in the baking of these cookies, each class enters the Cookie Challenge. The class with the most cookies baked wins a prize.

I have participated in the Cookie Challenge every year since my oldest was in Pre-Kindergarten. Unfortunately, (& I'm blaming this full-time job at a turn-around school, here) I forgot all about the damn cookies this year. Thursday morning, I received a reminder email from one of the kids' teachers about the cookies. It reminded us of the rules for the Cookie Challenge which are as follows:

• In order for a class to try to win, there must be 100% participation.
• Each family must bake 3 dozen sellable cookies, brownies, cupcakes, etc. *Store bought products are STRONGLY discouraged.
• Desserts must be brought in by Friday morning.

Oh, sweet mother of pearl. I forgot all about the damn cookies. I had been in work until 7:20 the night before, so I wouldn't have been able to make them on Wednesday even if I'd remembered. And I don't get home until after 5 as it is. Not only that, but I had already volunteered to make a cake for my son's teacher for her cake-stand raffle. On top of all of that, PJ and I had plans to go out on a date at the movies for the first time in months.

Have you done the math, yet? I was freaking out because I barely had time to make 3 dozen cookies. That's not the real problem, though, is it? Because EACH child is responsible for bringing in 3 dozen. I have 5 children in the school.

3 dozen x 5 children = dear God in Heaven, there's no way I can make 180 cookies (and a cake) in one night!

I wrestled with it all day until I finally decided that there was no way possible that I could make all of those cookies, so I was just going to let it go. I got home from work around 5 and baked the cake. PJ & I then went out for our date. While we were at the theater, I posted a picture to Facebook because the theater was TOTALLY empty and I was so surprised. Later, at dinner, I noticed that the picture had a bunch of comments. Two of them were from fellow moms at the school who were joking about why I was at the movies when I should be baking. These moms happen to be friends of mine. And every rational part of me knows they were only joking. But, they got me right in my Mommy Guilt bone. (It's located next to your funny bone - it grows in right around the time of the arrival of your first child.) I started freaking out about how my five kids would be solely responsible for all of their classes not winning the Cookie Challenge. I felt terrible. PJ was pretty well convinced that I was insane. He kept insisting that I either buy cookies at the store or forget about them altogether.

Instead, I set my alarm for 3:48 in the morning (I have OCD and my alarm times always have to be a multiple of 4.) I made my chocolate cookie dough and put a batch in the oven to bake while I was decorating the cake. All the while cursing the fact that I have so many kids. When I was done, I had made 60 cookies. 5 dozen. Not even close to the 15 dozen that was expected of me, but it was all I could muster before getting ready for work. 

I went to the cookie room on Saturday to buy a bag and fill with cookies. We went later in the day and the room still had tons of cookies. I think if I had made another 10 dozen, it would've been obscene. Next year, I'll remember to start on the cookies earlier in the week. (No, I won't. I don't remember anything, anymore.) At the very least, I'd like to propose a family cap on the cookies required. Can we say no more than 5 dozen per family? Either that, or PJ is going to have to learn to bake!

I was trying to find an image of "hundreds of cookies" and came across this blog post about a family who made 300 homemade cookies as a fun activity. These look amazing. And tasty. I'm going to have to hire this family to make our cookies next year.

UPDATE:

1.) Apparently, my sad attempt at reaching the cookie participation amount still worked because the 4th grade (my oldest son's grade) won the pizza party for the cookie challenge. Go figure.

2.) I should reiterate that the moms I referred to were NOT at all trying to guilt me into baking. They were being funny. I was being psychotic.

3.) Now I can let you in on the fact that I lied a little. My batch of chocolate cookies only turned out 44 cookies. I broke a few and the batch usually makes four dozen. I order to get it up to an even 60 (1 dozen per kid), I rifled around in my pantry and chose the Market Basket sugar cookies. So, there that is. I made 44 cookies and stuck 16 random store-bought sugar cookies in with them. Wtf. 

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who's trying to bake through the guilt. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

-->Do you run out of time, too? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Why Do I Even Bother?

Here is a page from the chapter of my life known as "Why Do I Even Bother?"

On Monday morning, I decided it was time to get this ass out running (again). Because, really, it was about time this ass wasn't taking up so much space.

So, there I was, out running with the dog. It was pitch black at 5 am, freezing cold, and I was almost done with a really good run (and feeling pretty damn proud of myself). As I turned the corner at the end of my street, I was thinking how good I felt and how this was going to be the start of a whole, new me. That's when I my foot went down into a dip in the sidewalk. My ankle rolled under me and I had a full on party with the pavement. I ripped my favorite yoga pants sliding up the sidewalk. When the 1.5 seconds (that felt like 20 minutes) passed, I stayed face down in a pile of leaves. I was afraid to even turn over because of the amount of pain in my ankle. I was sure when I rolled over that my leg would be going one way and my foot would go the other.

Luckily, I decided to take this lovely little spill next to a chain-link fence. I crawled over and pulled myself up. This was the real test. I had to see if my ankle was going to hold my weight. This would determine if I could hobble up the street to my house, or if I was going to have to call PJ to drive down to get me. Thank the lord, Jesus, I was able to stand on my foot. I made my way, ever so slowly, up the street to my house. The dog trotted faithfully beside me while I limped home.

Apparently, the universe likes me a little chunky. I tried to go out running. Instead, I'm under doctor's orders to rest my ankle and eat Halloween candy. (She didn't actually specify the candy part, but I'm just assuming that's what she meant when she said to take something for the pain.) Unfortunately, this little injury coincided with me having not one, but two 10 hour days at work. And I'll tell you, it's not so easy to rest, ice, and elevate while you're teaching. It's generally frowned upon to lay back with your foot up while you're teaching the children. So, I'm working my gangsta limp for the week. I'm really getting good at it. I'm almost ready to be cast in 50 Cent's next video.

I had a lovely picture of my fat cankle and my bloody knee to put here, but then you would see my non-manicured toes. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor by omitting it. Instead, please enjoy this photo of my boy, 50.

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who's trying to remain upright. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

-->Are you clumsy, too? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Hamster Wheel

Sometimes I feel like a hamster. Not one of those cute ones who drives a Kia, either. Just a silly, little rodent stuck in that foolish wheel. This is one of those weeks when the daily routine is getting to me. Get up. Get kids ready. Get self ready. Drop kids off. Get to work. Teach. Get home. Make dinner. Try to clean up. Wash another load of laundry. Help with homework. Put kids to bed. Go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. 

I'm feeling like there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done. I leave the house at 7:15 to drive the kids to school. I get home at 4:45 from work. As it is, I'm barely doing the basics. I haven't even figured out how to squeeze in a workout (or squeeze into my jeans). Sometimes I even sacrifice sleep to get stuff done. Ugh.  

I was about to start doing 87 million things tonight and then I decided to say "screw it" and took a bath instead. Sometimes you just need to leave the pile of laundry for another day. 

What I need is a little less this:

And a lot more this:

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who's stuck in the hamster wheel. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

-->Is the daily grind getting you down, too? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Whatever...It's Friday.

This morning, I ran into Dunkin' Donuts for my daily fix. I picked the shortest line. Then I watched everyone in the line to my right just keep passing me with their completed orders. The guy behind me started to have a minor stroke because we had been waiting in line behind the same person for 11 minutes (an eternity when the line doesn't move). It turns out the man in front of me, after ordering his morning coffee, decided to buy $300 worth of gift cards, IN TEN DOLLAR INCREMENTS. I'm not sure if you've ever bought a gift card, but each one has to be scanned and then has the amount added to it - individually. Finally, the other cashier took pity on me and let me place my order with her. It was either because I was smiling at her or because the guy behind me was turning all red with steam coming out of his ears, cartoon-style.

I wasn't mad, though. It's Friday. You're not going to spoil the fact that my week is almost over.

I even contained myself when I got behind Mr. ArmorAll. I was driving along, just trying to get to work, when I stopped at a red light. The light turned green and I couldn't figure out why the guy in front of me wouldn't drive. Then, I could see him through his back window. He was very busy giving his car a good, detailed cleaning. He finally decided to drive, but he couldn't travel at more than 20 mph because it takes a lot of concentration to wipe down all of the leather inside your car. Normally, I would've had fantasies about rear-ending the stupid fool, but today, I didn't even beep. 

It's Friday, baby, and I'm ready for the weekend!

You're not supposed to text & drive, but no one ever said anything about detailing your car while you drive. Totally acceptable.

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who's ready for the weekend. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

Do you tolerate people better on Fridays, too? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Wordless Wednesday - Breakfast of Champions

Because sometimes you need to eat salted, dark chocolate covered caramel for breakfast. 

Siri, WTF?

Siri and I had a little fight last week. Apparently, she just doesn't get me. 

I started the morning at Starbucks. I decided to get one of their new ham & cheese croissant squares for breakfast with my coffee. While I was driving to work, I ate some of the croissant. It was the most delicious thing I've ever had for breakfast. That's when it occurred to me that it must be disgustingly bad for me. How else could it taste so good? Naturally, I needed to know the calorie count on that hammy, cheesy deliciousness right away. The only problem was that I was driving when this thought occurred to me. So, I turned to my girl, Siri. 

"Siri, how many calories in a Starbucks ham & cheese square?"

"No, Siri, ham and cheese square."

"Siri, ham!"

(So, now I'm fighting with my mother.)

"Siri, ham!"

At this point, I was laughing hysterically. I was sitting at a red light, arguing with Siri, and crying from laughing so hard at info on Pam Grier and someplace named HAM that's 3,621 miles away from me. The guy next to me may or may not have been questioning my sanity based on how he was staring from his car. 

Siri and I are still working out our differences. She has learned to understand when I say ham and no longer tells me about Pam. She can always be relied on to read me my texts and usually understands what I say. And, true to her word, she is trying harder:

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who's trying to ar-tic-u-late. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

Does Siri misunderstand you, too? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...

Eight Days a Week

I just have to say that I am loving my new job. It's a little crazy and a lot hectic, but I am really happy with my new school.

It's amazing, though, how adding 1 day a week has made me feel. I am so tired every afternoon. I feel like a zombie and I sleep like the dead (I'm even too exhausted for my insomnia). Adding one more day a week feels like 2 or 3.

Last year, when my day would end on a Wednesday, I would think to myself, "Great. One more day. My weekend is practically already here." Now, I'm one of those poor saps just trying to get by on coffee and Hump Day jokes because there are still TWO more days until the weekend. 

Not only that, but Fridays are wasted on me. I'm too tired to do anything fun. By Saturday, I start to perk up and then I wake up and Sunday has reared its ugly head. I hate Sundays. I always have. You start to think about the fact that the next day is Monday and you're about to start another full week. And there are so many things to do (laundry, cleaning, blah, blah, blah...) Even as a kid I hated Sundays. I'd be stressing about some homework that I hadn't quite finished and that damn 60 Minutes clock would start ticking down the minutes until bedtime (I loathe that clock).

I know I'll fall into a groove as things start to settle in. September is always a crazy month. Lately, though, these weeks just seem to run one right into the next. Here's to living it up this weekend and celebrating the end of another week that felt like it lasted at least 8 days.

Sunday night ticking of doom

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who needs a few extra hours in the day for sleep. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

Are you tired, too, or is it just me? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...