The Food Protest (These Beasts Be Bitches)

Let's talk about the dog, shall we?
She's a dog. She'll eat just about anything.
When I'm working in the kitchen, she lies in the doorway, just beyond the linoleum, listening for any of the cue words that she's grown accustomed to; uh-oh, oh crap, or dammit. These words usually signify that I've dropped something probably edible on the floor, at which time she magically appears at the spill site because, as the canine five second rule states,

"if its on the floor for more than five seconds, it's yours." -- Canine Five Second Rule

She's pretty picky about what deserves her interest, though. Clumps of grass that fall from under the lawnmower are to die for, but she won't touch a leaf of lettuce. She'll risk a good lecture and a naughty finger shake to get to the Catbox Buffet, but Heaven forbid a broccoli floret should cross her lips.

Ball? What ball?

As picky as she is, when Brandi hears the sound of her dinner dish scooping up a bowl of dry kibble, you've got her undivided attention. But if you put that bowl down in it's place without covering it with gravy, you'll face the stare.

She gazes at the bowl, then you, and then back to the bowl. She's waiting for you to pour it on, and thoroughly mix it in, so that every bit of sauce smothers and softens every delicious morsel. Go ahead. Do it. 

I want to do it every time, but I can't afford to buy the extra cans of gravy all of the time. And so I get the dissatisfied, sad puppy eyed, appalled that you would even think to serve me this slop expression, as her eyes meet mine, before she lowers her head and looks away, in silent protest.

I always give the same response, "Oh please! Just eat your food." And she will, begrudgingly, only because she's planning to pilfer the cat's dish as soon as our backs are turned.

The Other Bitch

Now, we'll talk about the cat.
The poor thing is always starving. Thanks to the dog, no one can ever be sure how long it's been since she has eaten. There is a clue, however, that we've learned to pick up on.

You see, Kitty isn't a sit down and clean your plate kind of chick. She's a snacky, eat when she feels like it, slowly grazing throughout the day, kind. So there's always something left in the bottom of the bowl, when she walks away. She actually thinks it's empty. You must fully cover the bottom with at least an inch of food before Miss Kitty believes that you're not just messing with her head, and that there is actually food there! So, if you ever see the cat's dish without at least some crumbly crumbs scattered about, then you can bet the dog was the last person to see the victim alive, so to speak. 

So that leaves us to bear the annoying (B-Bump. B-BumpBump). That's the sound of the kitchen cabinet door bouncing against the frame as it closes ... after it's been opened by a furry little paw, grasping at the bottom edge. She's not trying to open the cabinet to get to the food. No, we've done this experiment and learned that she just wants the cabinet to make that noise because it irritates the hell out of us, and it will surely bring someone to the kitchen right quick. It's quite a genius operation for such a dumb beast. 

Unfortunately mealtime doesn't always work out to her specifications... not if the dog gets to the dish first. So now, after each feeding, the cat's dish gets tucked away in the pet food cabinet, to be brought out only upon request ... or by (B-BumpBump). And somewhere in the contract it states that if we don't comply within what she perceives as twenty minutes, I get a puddle under my chair.

Yeah, that seems fair.

Have you read The Catbox (These Beasts Be Bitches)?

Waiting On The Woman Who Runs The Show

Earlier this year, I found out that The Hubs and The Boy take bets on how long it will take me to get ready for a family outing.  Whether it's our week long vacation, a trip to the zoo, a hike in the woods, a picnic in the park, or a day at the beach.  They bet on how late I will be, past the projected departure time.

That's okay, I have a good defense.  I'm the Mom.  Not only do I have to prepare myself for the day, I have to prepare for the day itself.  While each member of the family only seems to think about themselves : washing, dressing, eating ..."Okay, let's go!".  I have to think about what the events of the day may require of us... all five of us.

First there's the morning routine:
1) Have Punkin and Princess taken their daily medications?
2) Are they dressed appropriately for the occasion?
3) Have they made their beds and straightened their room?
4) Have they eaten breakfast?

Then we pack (depending on our destination):
1)  The camera and some extra batteries.
2)  Sunblock for the before, and skin lotions for the after (when applicable).
3)  Insect repellent, hand sanitizer, and wet wipes.
4)  Bathing suits, towels, and a change of clothes.
5)  Electronics;  mp3 players, cellphones, handheld gaming devices, Kindles, and all associated chargers.
6)  Have I chosen a geocache or two to hit while we're out?  Print the map and clue sheet.
7)  Pain medications for the old folks, and allergy meds for whoever may be in need.
8)  The cooler, lunch, and snacks.
9)  Accessories; hats, sunglasses, purses.
10)  A short list of things to pick up on the way out; gas, ice, snacks, bottled water.
  
Before we even think about leaving, I must prepare the house:
1)  No dirty dishes left in the sink.  I certainly don't want to come home achy and tired from a full day of activity, to be confronted by kitchen duties.
2)  Take out the trash, (especially if we plan to be gone for more than a day).
3)  Be sure that the pets have ample food and water.
4)  Take the dog out for a good long 'relieving'.

Oh yeah... I forgot about myself.  Am I ready to go?
Be the sure that the kids have something to occupy themselves with in the car, and finally...
Does anybody have to use the bathroom?

So go ahead, Gentlemen, place your bets.  We may be a half hour behind schedule, but you're guaranteed to have a good time today, because The Mama was prepared.

Is it just me, or are your outings this hectic, too?    

Spoiled Teenager Dreads A One Mile Walk

I sent Punkin to the store this morning to pick up some laundry detergent and kitty litter.  It was a necessity, as today is Monday, and Mondays have always (since I was a kid), been the laundry and housecleaning day.  Hubsy and I were just at the store yesterday, picking up fare for family meals, and a few other staples, but I didn't realize how low we were on these items. 

I made sure to send her first thing in the morning, before the heat index had a chance to climb to a dangerous level.  This particular grocery store is one mile, at the most, away from our home.  She certainly doesn't mind walking that far with a group of friends, or to meet up with a group of friends... to get a soda, or some makeup... or just to get away from home for a while.  Although, when she has to go at my request, for household items... OMG, you would think I just cuffed her to a chain gang.  Her "terrible ordeal" has just been posted to Facebook, and so I have chosen Blogger, as my forum of choice, to respond.

Laura Ingalls walked at least three miles to and from school every day... come rain, snow, or sweltering heat... with wild boars, bears, wolves, snakes, and bobcats.  There are children in Africa who would walk three times that distance for the opportunity to learn reading, writing, and math.  They hold out the hope that, if they survived the lions, crocs, or being abducted or raped and mutilated by guerrilla fighters, they might someday be able to move their families out of poverty.  It's the same story in some far eastern countries.  They also walk miles away from home to sell farmed goods at a street market.  Then, they'll walk miles again to find work in a factory that pays less than one would make in America simply by selling a pint of blood.

It's not as if I asked her to walk to the polluted, crocodile infested river, to beat our laundry against a rock.  All I needed was a pre-made, plastic packaged stainfighting detergent, so that I could have a machine do all the work.  It's not as if I asked her to hunt me down some small mammal that we might skin and stew up for some much needed calories.  All I needed was a box of absorbent and pretty scented sand, so that our pampered pet can do her business (indoors!), and not have to worry about a predator hunting her down.

Hmmm, I was writing this to make a point about how spoiled American teenagers are... but now... Man, even I feel so spoiled.

Previously Existing Condition: Poverty

We did it!  We've finally gotten our heads above water, in the financial tide.  We're stable enough to be denied medical coverage for my youngest kids, through the state health program.  It's a great feeling, for sure, knowing that we have finally surpassed the income requirement to qualify for government assistance programs.

In the late eighties, I stood in line for the state's semiannual grocery giveaways.  It was like Christmas peering into those brown paper bags, not knowing what you would receive.  Peanut butter, oatmeal, dried beans, and "Yes!  We got the government cheese!".  In the early nineties, I was standing in line once a month at the food stamp window, back when food stamps looked like Monopoly money.  I was also on the program when they made the big switch to the plastic re-loadable food assistance debit card.  I kicked that in the late nineties, and never went back.  Even during times, when I'm sure we would've qualified, we decided to live the struggle.  We ate a lot of hot dogs, eggs, and Ramen noodles that year.  The only assistance I relied on from then until now has been health care.  From Medicaid to an affordable state run insurance program, underwritten by Blue Cross.  I paid a yearly premium, and co-pays for doctors and prescriptions. 

Last year, just prior to filling out our re-enrollment application, Hubsy got a big fat raise.  Unfortunately, just after the denial letter arrived, the management company was sold, and in order to keep his job, he had to take a big fat pay cut. Now, maybe we re-qualify ... maybe we won't.  But in the meantime, I have two kids with ongoing medical conditions, that require regular appointments with specialists, and name brand medications on a daily basis.  I can't wait for my new application to be processed, and I can't wait for Hubsy's insurance to have their yearly "open enrollment". 

In my hunt for the appropriate private insurance program, I was amazed at all the choices, but just as amazed at the prices!  I could either get a low monthly premium, but with a high deductible, or the opposite.  Generic medications are covered for a low co-pay, but no body wants to cover name brands at all.  I was in a pickle.  Not just any pickle, but the ultimate Vlassic Sweet Gherkin... it's the Egg McMuffin of pickles.  It's a catch twenty two.  A trap.  We don't qualify for help, but we can't afford the regular stuff.  Is this that new middle class?

Luckily, at nearly the last minute, we discover that the loss of coverage from the state health program, qualifies us for immediate enrollment on Hubsy's insurance.  There will be no lapse, and my girls can still see their regular doctors, and take their regular medications (just at a slightly higher cost).  Of course, now, they're going to be taking the highest amount of money from the paycheck, and I'm afraid it's going to dunk us back down under the water.  But I am a water sign, after all.  I think I'll just tread like never before, and do my best to stay clear of the dangers like, shipwrecks, sharks, and government assistance programs.

                

A Calm Approach To Discipline For A Change

Boy, we really threw Punkin for a loop yesterday.  It was only fair, since she threw me first. 

I had just come home from grocery shopping, in the early afternoon, and I was in the middle of trying to cram it all into the pantry and fridge, when I got the phone call.  It was one of the coaches from the high school, asking to speak to the parent of my only high schooler.  Then he proceeded to tell me that he was filling in for the administrator, and that he had my daughter in his office. 

"The school resource officer had returned her to the campus..." he said, when I interrupted him with ..."Whaaaaat?!".  "Yes, Ma'am," he said, "She was picked up down by the shopping center, with a friend...".  He explained that she would be given one day of out of school suspension, effective the next day, and asked me if I wanted to speak with her.  "Oooooh, I sure do."  I replied.

Of course I reamed her out.  I reminded her that her father was going to blow a fuse.  Now, in that moment, I wished I hadn't said that, because I didn't want her to think that he was the only one she had to fear.  Although I have done it in the past, I don't like to lay it all on Dad with the old "Wait until your father gets home".  I need to be seen as a disciplinarian just as well.  So, I made up for my statement by telling her that I didn't even know which one of us was going to have to hold the other one back.

Luckily for her, by the time she arrived home at the end of the day, I had been laughing hysterically, to the point of pain and tears, at an email full of catastrophic auto-corrected cellphone texts, ("Damn You, Autocorrect!"), and I was in a pretty darn good mood.  Even though I was speaking sternly (or trying to), I was having a hard time wiping the smile from my face, and out of my voice.  So, as she made her way to her room, for the first phase of her punishment, she was slightly confused.

Leaving her to the mercy of her big brother, I left to pick Hubsy up from work.  As we had already discussed over the phone, we decided to linger at his office, and plan the rest of Punkin's consequence, over a cup of coffee.  (Vanilla caramel cream, one of best Keurig flavors).  We agreed that this was not a specific "Punkin problem", but a typical "teenager problem", and decided on a different approach.

Upon arriving home, Husby's called for Punkin to join us downstairs for a meeting.  "I believe you have something to tell me", he calmly stated.  Nearly trembling with fear, she opened with an apology, and an admission of what she had done, along with an acknowledgement of the obvious stupidity of her actions.  He then spoke to her about his disappointment, and reminded her of our expectations, as well as the behavior required by the school.  The expression on her face was one of pure shock.  She anticipated an angry reaction, and something very loud to occur.  It didn't, and she really didn't know what to do with that. Together, our response was, "You did what you did, and now we have to do what we have to do.  There's no sense in getting emotional about it." 

She then began to assume her consequences.  "I expect that my current computer punishment will be extended.", she said.  (She's been banned for two weeks due a recent attempted refusal to hand over the password to her chat program).  Hubsy simply stated "No".  Punkin was floored.  Her sudden gape made her look like she had just stepped into the Twilight Zone, and I don't mean the one with glittery romantic vampires.  She continued, "I expect that my after school curfew will be moved up."  I jumped in on that one with "Absolutely".  She nodded.  Then Hubsy and I rounded out the meeting with handing her one week of solitary confinement in her room, to be broken only by family meals, and chores."  She nodded again.

As she turned to head back upstairs, she stopped and turned back to us.  "I just want to say thank you, Dad, for not yelling at me.  I was expecting you to blow up, and I was really scared, and I really appreciate that you didn't".  Hmmm.

Before going to bed, after dinner, we got our typical goodnight hugs.  Mine came with, "I'm really sorry for what I did today, and I'm really glad that you're a parent who cares."  I was quite taken aback, and I answered, "Have I ever been a parent who didn't care?"... "No", she said, "But I've been seeing lately that a lot of my friend's parents don't punish them for the stuff that they do, when they really should."  And then she went to bed.

Mission Accomplished.

Where Is Mom On The Periodic Table of Elements?

There are some things in this world that just don't mix, or don't mix well.  For instance, one should never attempt to operate a text messaging device and a motor vehicle at the same time.  While these things are fine on their own, they simply do not go together without risk of great bodily injury or death.

Some things can not even be put within close proximity to one another without risk:  gasoline and an open flame, or Jennifer and Angelina.  Again, while fine on their own, the combination of these substances may result in bodily injury. 

And then there are things that normally will not bond, without the addition of an emulsifier.  We know these things to be oil with water, and fathers with teenage daughters, (as well as siblings).  In the kitchen, an egg or stick of butter will help the particles of oil and water to blend together nicely.  In the case of father and daughter (or siblings), the appropriate emulsifier is commonly known as Mom.

As one of the strongest elements in the known universe, Mom can withstand great pressures (when handled properly), and has a high tolerance for stress, motion, and heat.  Mom is capable of producing large amounts of self sustaining energy, and is able to recharge through simple means (like a hot shower, a favorite television show, and/or chocolate).

However, as an emulsifier, Mom should not be overused in this capacity.  Over-reliance will cause Mom to degrade and become unstable, resulting in outbursts, withdrawal, and resentment.  To avoid these occurances, it is recommended that the other ingrediants learn the arts of conversation, empathy, respect, retreat, and restart.

This concludes our science lesson for today.  Please refer to your notes, as you may be quizzed in the future.

Warning:  do not expose Mom to low temperatures or loud noises.

Kicking Trashy People To The Curb

taking out the trash

Today is Thursday, my son's least favorite day of the week, because he is the king of the trash in our house.  It falls upon his shoulders to monitor the level of trash, and remove it when necessary.  It is his duty, on Thursday mornings, to wheel the big green plastic bin out to the curb.  It's a race against time, and the county truck.  Unfortunately, it's a race he comes dangerously close to losing week after week, because he can't seem to distinguish a Thursday from a Tuesday from a Saturday.  I would like to believe that summer vacation is the culprit.  Without a school schedule to follow, the days of the week do seem to resemble each other.  However, even back when he had to be up by six, because he had to be somewhere, he still had to be reminded to take out the trash.  

Now that the summer days are winding down, the supply lists are being written, the open houses and tours are being scheduled, the wardrobes are being scrutinized... it means little to him, because he's not going back.  He's done his time, twelve years of hard labor (thirteen actually), and two months ago, the committee decided to release him on his own recognizance.  No, he's not a parolee, he's a high school graduate.  His days of homework may be gone with the wind, but for as long as he lives in Mama's Boarding House, he'll be standing downwind of that big green plastic bin.

Oddly enough, another duty has presented itself, for me.  On this, very literal, trash day, I will be taking out a very different kind of trash.  I will be sitting my Punkin down, and sorting through her friend's list.  Not the cyber kind, because she has yet to be allowed on Facebook, (mostly because we suspect that she's being logging on anyway, secretly, and without permission).  No, today I am going to crumble up and throw away the assortment of spoiled people that have been stinking up her life throughout the summer.  They're standing in their stagnant lives collecting flies, and misdemeanors, for so long that I suppose their parents have developed a case of nasal fatigue.  (That's when you smell the same thing for so long that the brain no longer responds to it and shuts down the receptors).  Well, Hubsy and I have recently picked up their scent, and it's nauseating.  Punkin thinks they smell like adventure, freedom, and the excitement of drama.  What they really reek of is trouble.  Let me explain:

1)  Our house was recently egged by a seventeen year old boy, that Punkin crushes on.  He is intrigued by her  infatuation, even though he has a 16 year old girlfriend, with whom he is sexually active.

2)  One boy has recently returned to the group after a mysterious absence.  Turns out that he had been in Juvenile Detention for not only using, but selling, marijuana and crashing his parents car into their house!

3)  Another boy of 14, has an uncle, of 16, who hangs around his house, and talks openly about his continued drug use, even though he's on probation.  Rumor has it that his probation officer recently caught him in the act, and hauled him off.

4)  Last night, Hubsy and I received numerous prank phone calls, from an obvious young girl, pretending to be a guy, delivering love messages to our Punkin, who was not home at the time.  (she was spending the night with a friend, who had already been mother tested-father approved).  The prankster had no respect, no fear, and no qualms about making sexually explicit statements to my husband, about our Punkin.

I guess I'll have to admit that some of the family rules have loosened up over the summer break.  It's not something that I intended, but something that seems to have happened so gradually that I hadn't really noticed.  But these recent incidents, and the fact that school starts again in a mere three weeks, have gotten my attention.  It's time to tighten things back up, and cut off the loose ends.  I'm not racing against the county truck, but I am racing against time.  There's precious little of it left to get Punkin back on the right track, before a different sort of county vehicle comes to haul her away!

A Visit From The Credit Fairy

The Credit Fairy

In my younger years, in my previous marriage, we ran our credit into the ground.  It didn't just crash and burn... it skidded and bounced, and did several barrel rolls, before landing in a twisted and crumpled heap... and then it burst into an atomic fireball of flame and noxious gas.  Aside from my colorful imagery, let me tell you, my credit was bad.  At the time of our divorce, because I was about to become a single mother with very little work history, the judge laid all those bills on his plate.  Luckily for me, not so much for him.

I don't know how he did it it, but he handled it all well enough, so that he and his new wife were able to rebuild their credit to be able to get auto financing, and a mortgage. Meanwhile, my new husband and I vowed to never touch a credit account.  For fifteen years, aside from a few personal loans from family members, we lived by the law of cold hard cash. Hubsy works in the apartment industry, so we always rented, with some serious employee discounts. We always bought cheap used cars, for cash. I lived for so long with bad credit, that even though those old debts were gone, I just assumed that my credit was poor, but that if we paid our bills and didn't apply for anything, things would get better.  Wrong!

So, last week our old used car took her last breaths, and we were back in the market for a new used car.  I started scouring the newspaper and Craigslist, but everything in our price range already had the same mechanical ailments that killed our last car.  So, we began driving up and down the road that we've come to know as "Used Car Alley".  Lot after lot of dealerships that specialize in low credit financing.  Suuuure, they offered us financing, in exchange for my first born child, and then a monthly payment of whatever body parts we could spare.  An arm here, a leg there, a kidney, a cornea.

Then Sister Fate stepped in to take the wheel, so to speak.  My daughter came to us and happily announced that our next door neighbor is a car salesman.  That seemed strange to us because the last we had heard, he was the owner of an office cleaning company.  We shrugged it off.  Until the next day, he handed my husband his business card, verifying that he was indeed a newly hired used car salesman at a well known dealership.  So we gave him a shot.  He took us on a test drive of some fabulous newer model used cars, until we settled on something that we really liked.  

While filling out the paperwork, we informed him about our low credit score, and were assured that it wouldn't be a problem.  Well, there was a problem.  As it turns out, we didn't have the low credit that we thought ... we had NO credit at all!  After several bank denials, the financial manager was ready to give up on us, but our wonderful neighbor wouldn't let him.  Our new best friend urged him, almost begged him, to keep trying.  Literally twenty four hours later, they found a bank that was willing to give us a chance.  We got that phone call just as we were climbing the stairs, kidneys in hand, to another low credit used car dealership, specializing in much older models, with un-diagnosed mechanical ailments.

So, at nine o'clock last night, we got into our shiny new used car and drove home, with a shiny new bank loan that will guarantee us a bona-fide credit history.  I think we just officially joined the capitalist society.  Yippee?  

A Road Map Disguised As Home Therapy

Well, it's been a hec of a trip, but at the end of the week, we will be reaching the end of a journey.  It's been a long six month ride filled with some of the typical traveling headaches, like not having enough room for all of our baggage, and some scary turbulence that makes you wonder if you're going to come out alive in the end.  But there was also some interesting scenery along the way, like watching five people reshape their habits, and transform aspects of their personalities, to be able to grasp at some sense of mental stability.

You may be wondering how we happened to acquire tickets for such an excursion.  Well, they're not available at any airport, train station, or bus depot.  You can't get them from a travel agent, or even win them off of a radio contest.  The way we got them... the only way I know of to get them... is to be raising a child with ADHD, coupled with severe anxiety and OCD.  Oh, and you have to go through years of living with their aggressive personality, self destructive behavior,  and the ramifications of impulsive activity.  When you find yourself frantically phoning your child's therapist on her private cellphone at 2 in the morning on a weekend... guess what, you just earned yourself a referral ticket to Home Based Family Crisis Counseling Program.  Ta-daaaah.

These were some of the troubles we had with our troubled child.

• Inappropriate internet behavior.
• Failing grades, cutting class.
• Repeated thefts from classmates, then family members.
• Making a false report to Child Protective Services.
• Experiences with the police and the court system.
• Temporary commitment to a mental health hospital.
• Sneaking out of the house, day or night.
• Constant breaking of curfew, day or night.

So, for the past six months, we've been on a journey to modify our family, and get this train wreck back on the right track.  Like the ghosts of Family Past, Present, and Future, we were visited by a team of three therapists, three to four times a week, to help us deal with her serious emotional and behavioral issues. We had three or four, two hour sessions a week. One step at a time, we traveled miles from where we were, when we first started.  We've learned how to establish and enforce the family rules, and to deliver much more effective forms of discipline.  We've learned how to keep our buttons from being pushed so easily, and to remain calm and decisive when a button pushing finger slips through. We've learned how to stop facing off with conflicting parenting styles, and get back on the same page.  More importantly, we've learned how to come back together as a couple, and to nurture ourselves and our relationship, as well as our children.  That's a lot of learnin'. There have been relationship exercises, role play, game play, negotiations, and compromises.  We've refined communication, and defined personal space.  And most importantly, we're rebuilding broken trust.

So, now we say goodbye to the three apparitions of the long six month night, and when we wake up Friday morning, it will be the proverbial "Christmas Day".  We'll give ourselves a raise, throw more coal on the fire, and buy the big goose that hangs in the butcher's window. But the road doesn't end there.  Even Scrooge had to wake up on the day after Christmas, and countless more beyond that, and put into practice the things that he learned.  So will we.  We'll know how to be more prepared, while traveling a little lighter. We'll remain calm during turbulent flights.  We'll appreciate the scenery on the smooth stretches of highway.  But what we won't do is get lost... because now we have a road map.  But if we do get detoured ... it's easy enough to ask for directions.  

Efficient Grocery Shopping

Grocery shopping is inevitable. Unlike Santa Claus, and the Tooth Fairy, the Grocery Fairy is indeed a myth. (Even though your family continues to open and close the refrigerator and pantry doors, expecting something enticing to magically appear each time). Occasionally we have to restock the kitchen of those basic food staples. Also, for those specific ingredients needed for the spectacular meals that will will earn your family's respect and admiration, and will induce praise and gratitude for the time you've spent slaving over a hot stove. (That's actually another one of those myths I was talking about). But just rushing off to the market without a game-plan is a guaranteed way to (1) to spend more money than you intended to, and (2) to forget important items, that you'll have to send your husband back out to the store ,grumbling and groaning,to retrieve. So here's my tip list to help make your shopping more efficient, and more productive.

Create a menu.
Make a list of the meals you plan to make for the week: entrees, side dishes, desserts, breakfast and lunch, too. It helps to bring your menu to the store with you, because items unexpectedly on sale may inspire an amendment to the menu.

Make a list.
Look over your menu and, one by one, write out the items you'll need to buy at the store. Look through your freezer, fridge, pantry, and closets for staples you may be running low on. This includes paper products, toiletries, cleaning supplies, spices, and such.

Grab a bite to eat.
Never shop hungry! An empty stomach will cause you to drool over every cupcake, and toaster pastry you see. Your cart will fill up, and your wallet will empty, before you've even gotten the items on your list.

Bring a sweater.
Foof conglomerates are not stupid. They know that the cooler temperatures in the store tend to make you feel hungry, and thus buy more. Not to mention the added effect of flourescent lighting that causes sleepiness, which may make you move a little slower, and stay in the store longer. The longer they have you, the more they can sell you.

Bring a calculator.
Stop and do the math. Sometimes the store brand is cheaper by itself than the name brand with a coupon. Also, the deals may not be deals. Example: sometimes it may be cheaper to buy two 5 lb packages of sugar, than one 10 lb package. Also, use your calculator to keep track of your spending.

Check out the store brands.
Most of the time, store brand items are exactly the same as the name brand, but cheaper, because the packaging is simpler, there's no toy, prize, or copyrighted television character involved and there's no expensive ad campaign Take note that I said most of the time.

Clip those coupons.
A coupon organizer makes things much easier. I've recently realized that the best organizer is a three ringed binder filled with those clear plastic baseball card pages. Divide your sections according to the aisles of the store, to make finding the right coupon easier. I recommend using divider tabs that you can attach directly to your pages (regular notebook divider pages are too small to see between those card pages). If you have a 50 cent coupon for any size item, pick the smallest (cheapest) size, and you might just get it for practically nothing. But if it's an item you generally keep in stock anyway, like toilet paper, pick a larger size. Sometimes all it takes is a coupon to get you to try a new product that may thoroughly enjoy.

Find a store that doubles those coupons!
Why save nickels and dimes, when you can save quarters and dollars! Stores that double coupons daily, will often have triple coupon bonus days!

Read the circulars.
Check out your store's circular ads to see exactly what's on sale that week. Sign up to have the ads delivered right to your email inbox. You can match up your coupons to the current sales to increase your savings. You can also plan your menu around those ads. Remember: not ALL sale items will be on that list. Sometimes the store will surprise you with other sale items when you get there!

Don't have any coupons, forgot to get that Sunday paper, or just desperately seeking more? You can print them right from your own home printer! But wait, before you do, let me give you a head's up...

Every coupon site seems to offer the same coupons as all of the other sites every month, so there's no need to waste your time browsing around, and signing up for fifteen different coupon sites. Also, the money that you'll save with the coupon will undoubtedly be spent on the cost of the printer ink and paper that will be wasted on all of the advertising and recipes that print with each coupon. For me, it's just not worth it. But I've given you the info anyway, so that you can decide for yourself.

Here are some printable coupon sites:
Coupons.com, CoolSavings.com, CouponBugs.com, CouponSurfer.com, CouponMountain.com, SearchGroceryCoupons.com, MySavings.com

Organizing Your Household Documents

So often, on  fiction and reality television, I see people who carry a day planner, or in most cases, a whole life planner.  All of their contact names and numbers are written in a section of this book (including their own family), along with their business cards, and their own personal identification and documentation.  They don't know what it is they're doing from one hour to the next, without looking at their calendar/date/appointment pages.  They really, just can't live without that book.  Seemed kind of dangerous to me, especially because they are always misplacing this precious gem.

On the upside, at least all of the important information necessary for a successful day, for an individual or a small business, is conveniently located in one place, easy to store, easy to find, and mobile, in case it ever needs to be.  It occurred to me, that I should be doing this for my household.  So here's what I did...

I found last year's school binder in my daughter's closet. It's a rather large, two inch binder, with a durable soft cover, and a zipper that seals up the two sides, creating more of a case than a notebook.  I filled the rings with as many clear plastic page protectors as I could steal, from the photo scrapbook that I haven't worked on in three years. One half of a manila file folder, which is slightly larger than the plastic pages, makes a great section divider! 

I now have an abundant supply of manila folders, since I cleaned out my filing cabinet in preparation for this project. I know it's good to save certain documents for long periods of time, even a lifetime.  However, I don't think my husband's paystub from the second week of June 2006, from his prior place of employment qualifies as such.  Stubs for the past six months, from his current employer, is probably a little overboard too, but that's what I decided to stick with.  Turns out I didn't really need my utility bill from January of last year.  Even if I were holding on to it so that I could compare our energy usage, which I wasn't, the company website provides me with all of that data, in a nicely organized graph. I decided to keep only two months of each standard monthly bill, the current and the previous.  I make printouts for those utilities that offered me a paperless billing option.  

Needless to say, I narrowed down my piles of paperwork, from a hefty mountain to a suitable foothill.  This is how I separated my sections in the book:

Household (budgets, chore lists, list of household products that need to be replaced when the budget allows).

Bills (cable, car ins, electric, water).

Vital Statistics (SS cards, birth certificates, marriage licence).

Medical (copies of the insurance cards and a list of our providers and phone numbers, including the pharmacy).

Debts (long term bills that are being paid in increments, like the hospital),

Car (insurance policy, receipts for major repairs, and parts purchased, inspection, registration and tax information),

School (that pesky county handbook, copies of interim reports or report cards, school calendars, class schedules, and lunch menus).

Health (prescription inserts, receipts for doctors and medicines that may be tax deductible next year, information on medical conditions that are dealt with on a regular basis).

I even added a few clear, plastic baseball card pages in the front to hold all the business cards we collect from doctor's offices, service contractors, auto repair shops, and such.  That sure cleared some clutter from my bulletin board.

Now as of right now, I still have individual files that are a little too bulky to keep in the three rings, and will need to be kept in the cabinet drawer.  Things like that six months worth of paystubs, tax files for the past seven years, and our extensive instruction manual collection.

This golden book is my Family Manager. The book that I just can't live without, that keeps all of our important paperwork together in one easy place. It has a designated spot on the bookshelf, so that I always know where to find it, and it doesn't get misplaced. Also, it's easy to grab and run, if we should have to evacuate for an emergency. And it always goes into the safe room with us during tornado or hurricane emergencies.

Establishing The House Rules

Anyone with children should know by now that, what we call, "family rules" are really more like guidelines, and are completely negotiable. In fact, with the right combination of argument, debate, and whine, family rules can be easily undermined and overcome to the point of complete disintegration.  At least that's what they think.

There is only one remedy, and I've watched enough People's Court over the years to know that it's true.  You've got to put it in writing... put it all in writing.  I don't know why I didn't think of this before.  

So, we have a brightly colored, laminated list of written rules posted on a bulletin board, that hangs in our upstairs hallway. It used to hang downstairs in the foyer, by the staircase, but it was too often overlooked, and definitely needed to be more visible. The new location is in the upstairs hallway, where it faces all of their bedrooms, and is visible whenever they come and go. 

It took three days for my husband and I to decide on our rules, to be sure that they are reasonable and rational expectations, so take your time and consider your rules carefully. Rules that will not only keep chaos out of your home, but basic rules of civilization, that can set the kids up to hold better values throughout their lifetime.  They are not merely rules, they are commandments.  

We called a family meeting to order, and Hubsy and I fully explained the rules, even giving examples and laying out possible scenarios. We covered all the bases here, so that there can never be any confusion, that may lead to the chaos that I'm trying to avoid.

The House Rules

1)  Honesty.  This means no outright lying, fibbing, altering, or omitting information, especially when directly asked.

2)  No Taking of Other's Property.  Whether it's cash from my wallet, or coins from your sister's piggy bank; or property such as using your brother's cellphone, or your sister's Wii remote... there is be no using any object that belongs to someone else, without their expressed (not implied) permission. You must ask and they must say yes. Period.

3)  Do What You Are Asked To Do: Example: "it's time to get off of the computer and get ready for bed", "be home from your friend's house by 6:00", "you can only have three cookies before dinner".

4)  Speaking Properly.  There is to be no whining or raising of the voice when addressing your parents, persons of authority, or any other adult while they are guests in our home.

5)  Cleaning Up After Yourself.  This is Mom's pet peeve.  Pick your wet towels up off of the bathroom floor!  Put your shoes in the closet!  See that your cereal bowl finds it way to the sink!  etc. etc. etc.

6)  Hygiene.  Encompassing every aspect of personal care and cleanliness: brushing teeth at least twice a day, skin care, washing and brushing hair, bathing, using deodorant, and washing hands after bathroom use or outdoor play.

7)  Schoolwork.  Not just homework, and grades, but all forms of proper school conduct. No negative phone calls or emails from teachers. Don't call me from the nurse's office and try to get yourself picked up for a simple ailment that will pass shortly.   

8)  No Physical Fighting.  Isn't this self explanatory?  No hitting, kicking, pushing, biting, slapping, tying your sister to a tree...  Basically keep your hands and feet to yourself.

9)  Daily Chores.  Completing all chores that are specifically required of you every day.  Maybe you have dish duty, walking the dog, or cleaning out the kitty litter. (We also made a chart of chores).

10)  Respect.  This one can be tricky, and sort of wraps a lot of things up into one category.  We try to limit this to eye rolling, disrespectful comments like "whatever", name calling, slamming doors, and other similar behaviors.

Along with our House Rules, we created an infraction chart; a calendar of the seven days of the week for each child, from the grade school-er to the high school graduate. It is also laminated, so that we can write on it with a dry erase marker, and easily wipe it clean, for reuse. If you can't laminate your chart, then just make copies of it, and put up a fresh chart every Monday morning, or whatever day you might choose on which to start a new week.

When an infraction occurs we write the number of the rule that was broken (#4, #8) on that day, and there will be a small repercussion. Usually two to three hours without a particular privilege. Something like two hours without your MP3 player or phone, or no video game on any platform for three hours. 

Now, we are not expecting perfection. They are just human, after all, and two of mine can truly be classified as children. Two infractions a day can be forgivable, although they still get the above mentioned repercussion, per mark. But once the third mark is made, in the span of one day, the offender will now suffer the immediate removal of their favorite privilege, and to be without it for the entire following day. 

Yes, you should keep your consequences small, and for brief periods of time. Kids can't really anticipate something that far in advance. After two weeks without the PlayStation or a cellphone, some kids sort of lose hope of ever having it back. Keep the reward foreseeable.  

Acceptable behavior within a family is a matter of conditioning, and the earlier you start the better. The rules will vary from household to household, depending on what various children struggle with.  Give it much consideration before you commit to the chart, because once it's written, it cannot be changed. It is written in stone. You don't want to mess with consistency. 

Once our chart went into play, I found a great pressure lifted off of my shoulders. I am no longer the bad guy, the meanie, the bitch. I get to just refer to the chart, and say something like: 

"My hands are tied" or

"So let it be written, so let it be done."