Dear Scholastic Crooks

Dear Scholastic Books,

I remember you well from my childhood. I loved ordering books from you. They cost 50 cents apiece and I still have most of them, saved carefully for the daughter I knew I'd have one day. If I recall, we got a flyer every month back in the days when the Pony Express delivered books to our one room schoolhouse and we read our new books by the flickering light of the fire.

Now I know that we all have to make a dollar somehow, but do you really think it's necessary to send home flyers every week?

Every single week? Sometimes twice a week?

You do? Ok. Then let's move on to the next question I have.

What are these *(*&& CLUBS?

It all started when Madeleine brought home one of the weekly flyers and asked for a Spy Kit. Fine, we served bread & water for a few days and purchased it for her. She has enjoyed it immensely.

Imagine my surprise though when two flimsy, cheap walkie-talkies arrived in the mail six weeks later with a flyer identifying them as the "First Installment From the Monthly Spy Club!" Do you really, in good conscience, feel that those cheap plastic things are worth $16.79?

"That clever little minx," I thought lovingly to myself, "I bet she forged my signature and joined the club," as I searched for a tree branch the right size for a good thrashing.

The next item that Madeleine asked for was a Cheerleader Bear. Once again, we served bread and water and forked over $6.95 for a cheap little stuffed animal that probably cost you 13 cents to make.

Imagine my surprise and happiness when another letter arrived on Friday congratulating Madeleine on joining the Beary Special Bearrific Friends Cheerleading Club with a promise of monthly bears arriving!!!

After another go-round with the tree branch Madeleine adamantly denied ever forging my signature to anything, and I believe her. Apparently, you, dear Scholastic Book Club, you have placed some interesting stipulations in the fine print of your book order forms. I have not read them carefully, I admit, relying on the good will and good feeling engendered in the past for supplying me with a large supply of excellent books that brightened my childhood.

But I assure you one thing. I will be reading your flyers carefully in the future.

And, oh, yeah, don't hold your breath about getting that $16.79 check in the mail for the walkie talkies.

You Want Me To Eat WHAT?

UPDATE: Thanks for the great advice! I will be using it and will report back.

"My child will eat what I put before her," vowed the pregnant woman in the lunch room today.

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, and it wasn't because of ill fitting knickers. It was because I remembered a night last week....

We arrived at Myrtle Beach on Thursday. Madeleine was feeling a little poorly, but I did not feel like taking my life into my hands and informing her that she was not going to get to go on her much awaited beach vacation. The girls have stood by my side while I went through surgery and a painful recovery and they deserved some fun.

We got there and I made a quick trip to Walmart to pick up some supplies for the weekend. Madeleine had skipped lunch and her afternoon snack. She only wanted some soup. I threw a few cans of Campbell's Deluxe Chicken Noodle Soup in the cart and gaily skipped back to the hotel room.

"IT HAS ORANGE AND GREEN THINGS IN IT," decreed the royal princess. "EWWW!"

"You must eat something," I said desperately. "Give it here!" I grabbed the bowl and carefully extracted all the offending green and orange things.

Now ordinarily I would have told her to go pound sand & left her to forage among the many healthy foods in the pantry for her nourishment, but we were pretty much out of options at this point. However, on a daily basis, we do cater to their desires.

Madeleine: Dead animals, sugar and dairy. NO vegetables (except corn. I put corn into every meal). Drink treat: Sugar Free Lemonade
Meredith: Brown rice, vegetables, NO desserts. Drink Treat: Diet Rite.

I reason that I certainly have my own likes and dislikes, why should I force a child to eat food they hate? Isn't that setting them up for food wars? Making food into a power struggle?

What is your opinion? Should you force a child to "eat what's on their plate?"

I do not mean allowing them to skip a healthy meal in order to consume Krispy Choco-Lard Arterycloggers. We don't have food like that in the house. But forcing a child to eat a food they hate...what do you think? I really have no idea what I'm doing here. You could call me...

Clueless.

Paging Mr. Hitchcock

WE WENT TO THE BEACH FOR A BUSINESS TRIP. LOOK AT THE SWEET ADORABLE LITTLE SEAGULLS. LET'S FEED THEM SOME LEFTOVER PANCAKES!

OK GIRLS HAVE AT IT!

THE BIRDS ARE OUT OF CONTROL--THEY'RE SCREAMING, FLAPPING, ATTACKING EACH OTHER. BUT THEY WON'T ATTACK ME, I'M SURE....

OW! I JUST GOT ATTACKED BY A BIRD! (SERIOUSLY-ONE PECKED AT ME) MADELEINE SAYS "LEAVE MY MOM ALONE!"

REMAIN CALM. THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL. SEAGULLS DON'T CARRY ANY BIRD FLU RIGHT? RIGHT???

PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABIEEESSSS.......

THE FOOD IS GONE. SO ARE THE GULLS. THAT IS GOOD.

AND I PAID THEM A DOLLAR APIECE TO ACT LIKE THEY LIKED EACH OTHER FOR THE CAMERA.

To Quote Vince Lombardi...

PLAY BALL!!

GO LONG! GO LONG!!

ROUGHING THE KICKER!!

RUN, FORREST, RUN!!

AAAARRRGH!!!! I'VE BEEN HIT!!!

UH-OH...SOME LITTLE WIMPY CRYBABY GOT TACKLED. TIME FOR A PEP TALK QUOTING THE GREAT VINCE LOMBARDI.

LISTEN UP, YOU BIG BABY!! AS MAH HERO SAID....

Winning is not a sometime thing: it's an all the time thing. You don't win once in a while; you don't do the right thing once in a while; you do them right all the time.

Winning is a habit. Unfortunately, so is losing. Winning isn't everything--but wanting to win is. It's easy to have faith in yourself and have discipline when you're a winner, when you're number one. What you've got to have is faith and discipline when you're not yet a winner.

I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is the moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle-victorious.

NO THANKS--CYA!!!!

A Tale Of Two Sisters

A TWO ACT PLAY
FIRST ACT:
Time: Night before Valentine's Day

MEREDITH (on right) Mom, how do you spell 'sister'?

ME: S-I-S-T-E-R.

MEREDITH: Ok! Thanks! (runs off)

Five minutes later

MEREDITH (proudly) Here's your Valentine's Day card! Madeleine, here is one for my SISTER! Here, Daddy!

ME: Why thank you, sweetie! (hug) (Loudly) I can't wait to get one from Madeleine!

SECOND ACT
Time: 9:00 PM, Valentine's Day

ME: Madeleine, where is my Valentine's Day card?

MADELEINE: I don't feel like making you one.

ME: Darling, I need to explain a few things to you. You are a wonderful chid. You have a wonderful mother. (points to self). Your wonderful mother does many wonderful things for you, like making homemade brownies for your class party, buying Girl Scout cookies, purchasing worthless Scholastic Spy Club trinkets for your wonderful hobby of spying. Your mother spends almost every minute of every day thinking of or doing something wonderful for you. However, your wonderful mother might not be quite so, shall we say, motivated to spend all this time in wonderfulness if she wasn't recognized by her wonderful daughter for all of the wonderful things that she does for you.

MADELEINE (sulkily) mmmmmmmmmph.

Time: 10:00 PM, Valentine's Day

MADELEINE: Come here, Mom! (points to laptop) I don't have a printer attachment, but HERE IS YOUR CARD! A lovely American Greetings E-Card plays on the screen.

ME: Thank you, my precious one! (To myself) Lazy, digitally minded, but deep down loving. My tiny, evil soulmate. Now it's time to whip up a card for my husband as fast as possible on the computer.

Oh, The Braces You'll Go!

I did not give birth to you.
But you inherited my teeth.
Are you feeling blue?

I have a bad feeling,
And I rarely am wrong,
I see braces coming,
Before very long.

As Told To Meredith Viera

Health update: Test to determine if I had Rheumatoid Arthritis is back--and it's negative. THANK YOU LAWD.

So I want to share something that's been on my heart with you.

First of all I have no reason to ingratiate myself with Mrs. Melissa Summers of Suburban Bliss. Truth be told, I'm hideously jealous of her for getting to go on national tv. I hate her just a little bit, in a totally harmless non stalker way (smile), for getting more publicity than I do. But what can you do--what can you do that's legal about that? Not a thing, says I.

So Mrs. SB goes on the Today Show with an "expert" and Meredith Viera a/k/a "Hatchet Journalist" and they proceed to lambast her and other mommies who enjoy a cocktail together while supervising their children at play. Meredith (who I adored prior to this) actually asked "Would you let a babysitter do that?"....implying, of course, that the imbibing of one glass of wine while actually MOTHERING children is somehow the same thing as PAID CAREGIVER on the JOB imbibing alcoholic substances (which I heartily disapprove of).

I tell you, I honestly thought this whole thing was a joke when I first heard of it. I thought it was an "Onion" thing. I swear.

Read about the hatchet job here. Mothers must find healthy ways to relieve stress? Just who invented that law? Personally, I'm happy as a wino with a fresh bottle of Muscadine finding unhealthy ways to relieve stress. But, I digress. (Look! I'm a poet!)

So I tried to have a dialogue with Meredith (hereafter known as Santimonious, Unethical, Hypocritcal Journalist Who Admits Having A Relaxing Drink Of Wine Herself) over on her failing Club Mom gig. (Club Mom's ratings are plumetting--no wonder they cut blogger's pay in half over there).

I wrote a comment which, amazingly, has never showed up, so I'm posting it here for posterity.

How I Hit Rock Bottom

It started with an innocuous glass of wine in my tastefully decorated home one day while I invited several freshly bathed, college educated moms over for some relaxing conversation and a glass of the finest wine that Dollar Tree offers. We chatted lightly while our adorable urchins frolicked in the setting sun and felt a true sense of peace with the world.

One year later, after a series of playdates, I found myself smoking crack in a filthy single wide trailer, wearing a Motley Crue T-shirt from 1985 with unidentifiable, but suspicious, stains on it. A small trickle of drool wandered slowly down my chin. I looked over at my husband. He was eating greasy chicken straight from a box and surfing Soldier Of Fortune personal dating websites.

I looked at my friends. They were eating candy bars and guzzling straight whiskey. That's ok. Except that it was my whiskey. I would have to discuss this with them. BYOB-ever heard of that?

I stumbled over many empty pizza cartons and rat droppings to gaze with bleary eyes at my formerly beloved offspring, now reduced to wailing miserably in a tattered crib while wearing a vintage diaper.

I thought back on the day when I was able to find healthy ways to relieve stress. Right now I didn't feel so darn healthy. But, on the upside, I certainly did not feel stressed!

One takes what one can get.

So, Thanks

Q&A:

So how are you doing?

Well, first of all, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for all the loving messages and support. Thank you.

I'm still sore--joint aches-- but it will take some time. Maybe three months! I'm able to function though even though I hate taking painkillers. I feel like a wimp.

You're not taking HORMONES are you? Don't they cause breast cancer?

Have all your hormones removed--go from 70 miles an hour to zero instantly--and get back to me on how that is going.

Also, did you know that testosterone feeds the growth of prostate cancer? Direct link established by impeccable research. It's a fact that most all men will get some form of prostate cancer some day if they live long enough.... Any men out there up for having their testosterone producing organs removed?

Please see this study--"No added breast cancer risk for estrogen only replacement therapy after hysterectomy."

This was also supported by the famous study by WHI that convinced many women to give up hormone therapy. Please note that the women who had an increase in breast cancer/strokes were taking both progestins and estrogen, not just estrogen.

Please see this study from the Mayo Clinic (a reputable bunch, no?) that predicts a 70% increase in mortality for women in my age group in my situation WITHOUT estrogen therapy. Yes, you read that right. A SEVENTY PERCENT INCREASE IN MORTALITY.

Here's a book written by a professor of medicine at Harvard--that is cautiously in favor of moderate hormone replacement therapy for younger women.

Even women with the awful genes for breast cancer can take hormone replacement after this surgery.

Ok, so what next?

I want to go to Disney World. I want to take some pictures. I want to repaint the family room. I want to comment on the idea that a glass of wine at a playdate is tantamount to smoking crack while entertaining gentleman callers while your neglected baby cries in a rickety crib. I want to forget about this for awhile.

Soon I will!