I don’t want much out of life. I’m a pretty happy gal.  Content, even.

But I DO want a cup of coffee here and there.  It is my fav.  I don’t think that is too much to ask.

I feel like the fact that I work full-time should mean that I earn enough dough to buy that cup of coffee when I want to.  I mean, technically I SHOULD have money.  Not that I can ever FIND ANY WHEN I NEED IT.

Yesterday morning the boys and I were running late getting out the door (shocker, I know).  So because I was behind schedule, I hadn’t had any coffee that morning.  And trust me, I needed it.

The plan was to pick some up on the way to work.  For that – YOU NEED MONEY.

Now, when I don’t need money I see it all over the house.  Quarter here.  Dollar there.  Even a random twenty that the kid’s grandparents have slipped them.

Yesterday – NADA!

The Ninja tells me that he “totally” knows where all the money is.  He’ll even show me.  (Oh goodie!)

He then proceeds to take out their super-secret-spy-container. As he whips that thing around I hear TONS of change in there.  That sucker is full.

Full of MY MONEY.

Which, of course, we now CAN’T GET OUT.

Nope.

The super-secret-spy-container is password protected.  It is locked up tighter than the mint.  That is the toy’s whole mission in life... to keep folks OUT.

And my kids can’t remember the damn code.

Oh. My. Gosh. Was. I. Upset.

The culprit. Please, spy box. Give me back my coffee money!

Like I said, I don’t ask much out of life…

Spending time with your little ones can be devastating to your self-esteem sometimes. They can be pretty frank with their opinions and observations.

Case in point… I was spending time with one of my little men this morning.  We were having, what I thought, was a nice meaningful mom-and-son conversation filled with love and happiness and all of that terrific Hallmark card kind of sappiness.  I was enjoying myself.

Then out of the blue, and in mid-sentence, my youngster says to me, “You know what momma?”

“What, honey?

“You have wrinkles.  Didja know that?”

Terrific.  He then proceeded to point out (in case I hadn’t spotted them yet) all of the various places on my face where the wrinkles were now residing.

THRILLING conversation, people.  Thrilling.

It was not exactly a Hallmark moment anymore.  Especially when he pointed out that MY HUSBAND, who is a good five years older than me, does not have any.

I should have grounded him.  Instead I walked calmly away and did a Google search on Botox.

UPDATE (3 days later): The psychological torture continues. My oldest just told me I looked like I was going to have a baby.  My husband hushed him and explained why that wasn’t necessarily considered a nice thing to say to a woman who is actually NOT pregnant.  He seemed genuinely puzzled when he said, “But dad, she DOES.”

This egg kinda resembles my life.   – As captured by Young Jedi.

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!

Sometimes I’m so stupid that I even surprise myself.  Did you know that Easter is Sunday?  Oh, you did?  Yeah, apparently so did everyone else in the world.

I almost missed it.  It just occurred to me this morning.

I knew it was coming.  I mean, I’d given up all sweets for lent.  I’ve been a raving nasty lunatic for weeks now. You would think I would have a countdown clock until CHOCOLATE (!).

But, no,  I have not PREPARED ONE THING. Not one. My kids will have no baskets.  No candy.  No eggs. No Easter clothes. No ginormous chocolate bunny. Nothing.

Last night would have been a perfect opportunity to go shopping for the holiday.  My kids stayed over at my parents house.  Did I remember in time to take advantage of that?

Nope.  Instead hubby and I drank wine, ate steak and watched a movie.

Such good parents.

So now I have ONE DAY to get it right.  Tomorrow I am off…with the kids…and the in-laws are coming to town.  So basically, today at lunch I need to get EVERYTHING.

No pressure.

I spent most of last night on the floor. Not because I wanted to. I spent the night lying on the floor wrapped in a dinosaur blanket because of nasty, scary, terrifying… WALL VENTS.

Sometime around 8:57pm my children developed an intense fear of the vents in my house. Specifically in the ones in their bedroom.

Of course.

You know, I’ve never thought of vents as scary. Just never occurred to me. That is UNTIL my eight year old sat sobbing opposite me pleading with me to sleep on the floor in his room to PROTECT HIM from the WALL VENTS.

How do you say NO to that?!

You don’t.