Please Don't Poison My Child

Every February I shop for school Valentines and every year, due to the increase in class sizes, the number of Valentines I have to purchase gets bigger. Next year, when Charlie is finally in junior high, I will be back to buying for only one classroom, but this year was obnoxious. But I'm sure there are 60 kids that are ecstatic about receiving yet another red heart sucker stuck to a Spongebob card.

The funniest thing for me this year was comparing the contents of the Valentine box between a kindergartner and a sixth grader. Charlie's box contained nothing inedible and was mostly Fun Dips, Skittles and chocolate. After examining the contents of Zoe's box, though, it's now a proven fact that there are some really un-fun parents in kindergarten.

There are no fewer than four pencils, one box of raisins, a paper airplane, a couple tattoos, and a few sticker puzzles. She was really excited about receiving one Ring Pop, but unfortunately it was shattered into 27 pieces. Yes, there are a few heart suckers and one piece of taffy, but mostly, it's a box of disappointment.

Everything was pretty lame, except for one Valentine, which was lame and toxic. It seems like there is always one classroom mom that goes above and beyond the world of fun size, trying to impress all of the other moms and hopefully buy her kid a few more friends.

While I don't have any issues with daily sugar consumption and definitely don't consider myself a nutrition nazi, this "sucker" almost made me barf into her box. Even if it weren't for the fact that I hate marshmallows almost as much as I hate kiss-ass parents, there's no way in hell I will let Zoe touch this cellophane-wrapped, and I am not exaggerating when I say this, piece of shit.

The ingredient list: sugar, corn syrup (Glucose), Dextrose, water, gelatin (HALAL - whatever the fuck that is), corn starch, artificial flavors, artificial colors, (FD&C Red 40, FD&C Yellow 5, FD&C Blue 1). These wonderful ingredients, when whipped together in Arkansas, result in an apple-flavored Marshmallow Lollipop containing 240 calories and 41 grams of sugar.

I felt like kind of a bitch mom when I told Zoe that she wasn't going to eat it, but then she said, "It looks gross and it smells horrible. I don't want it anyway. Oh hey, look! Skittles!"

I'm so glad that the next holiday to look forward to is St. Patrick's Day, when all I have to worry about is drinking beer and Irish whiskey. After all, I need to celebrate my heritage.

Phrases That Make Me Go "GAAHHH!"

The conversations change as soon as the pee hits the stick and the blue plus sign appears in the viewing window. From that point on, it seems that never again can anything be discussed that doesn't include "the baby." I know that kid-related topics are going to come up once in a while, and obviously there are priorities that have to shift, but sometimes when I'm with adults, I just want to talk about movies, or stupid shit, or make fun of people, or maybe just talk about what kind of drink to order next. There are some people that were really fun pre-kids and would be more than capable of being a little bit fun post-kids, but now instead of "Enough of this shit, do you want to meet for a fucking beer? Or five?" it's "Let's meet for coffee and talk about the redesigned Diaper Genie."

Over the past few years, my tolerance for these conversations has been gradually diminishing to the point of nonexistence. And while I've become pretty good at escaping meaningless chit chat about potty training or bedtimes (a benefit of hating all moms clubs), there are some phrases that I can't always avoid, and they will always make me gag a little bit whenever I hear them.

• I'm preggers. Actually, I think what you're trying to say is I'm pregnant.
• We're pregnant, and we're due on March 8. Honestly, we all know it takes two to make a baby, but the last time I checked it was the woman that gets knocked up and gets to push the duffel bag through the keyhole, which most likely won't happen on March 8, and yes, she will probably want drugs.
• Is there a quiet room available for me to use so that I can breast feed my child? Nursing is free, convenient, and it makes your boobs look fantastic. But not everyone at the party wants to know exactly what it is you're doing behind Door #1, hear about your lactation schedule, or know that little Petunia is latching on like a pro. Just quietly find a couch/chair/spare bedroom/fitting room and knock yourself out.
• No, I can't use that blanket because it isn't made with organic cotton. Unless the blanket is woven from the ass hairs of a rabid skunk or was just used to wipe up a gasoline spill, just say "thank you" and take the stupid blanket.
• I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have Ketel One. Seriously, what kind of bar doesn't have Ketel One?
• Is the birthday cake made with all organic ingredients and whole wheat flour? It's a cake, and kids generally like their cake to taste good. Just assume that the cake is made with normal sugar, non-organic butter and white flour, and it might have even come from a magical place called "Costco." If it's really that important to you, don't ask, and then don't have a piece. Questioning the sub-par eco-friendliness of a child's birthday cake and expecting the party host to recite the ingredient list is kind of mean and a little bit pretentious.
• I know he broke the lamp, but boys will be boys. Accidents happen, but shit does not get broken just because they're boys. Offer to replace the lamp, stop blaming the kid's lack of coordination on gender, and make the kid apologize.
• Will you childproof before we come for a visit? No. But I won't have dishes of bleach or mousetraps lying around, either.
• I would get so bored being a stay-at-home mom. What do you do all day? Sit on my ass, eat crappy food, and dream of ways to inflict pain on clueless, inconsiderate people that have the balls to ask stupid questions.

Everything in Moderation

I spent the majority of today at a tennis tournament, watching parents hover over their boys with giant jugs of Gatorade, forcing them to eat energy bars that had the texture of wet cardboard, and glaring at other parents who let their kids have pop, bologna sandwiches and Doritos. I don't know if they noticed the layer of orange goo that had formed on my own left hand, but at least it wasn't under my fingernails. Or at least it isn't there anymore.

I came across one family who took a group of boys to lunch. Their original destination was Subway, but then the boys all decided to head to McDonald's instead. The mom that chaperoned the lunch was a little freaked out afterward, wondering if one boy specifically was even allowed to eat McDonald's. She tentatively talked to the other mom, who merely shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head, and had a "well, the damage is done, since he's already digesting it and it's too late to make him throw it up" kind of expression.

Okay, first of all lady, your kid got a free lunch. With friends. Second of all, he's almost 12 years old. At some point you have to trust him to make his own choices as far as what he's going to eat. Chances are that if you let a kid that normally eats healthy food choose to eat fast food enough times, that kid will most likely shit his pants within 10 minutes of eating the double cheeseburger. This is not a desirable outcome for a normal 11 year old boy, which will result in him never wanting to eat fast food...again. Best of all, he will have discovered the horrid realities of fast food all on his own, without feeling nagged by the parent. Unfortunately, though, you end up with the laundry.

My kids never ask to go out for fast food, but won't turn down the occasional small fry. They voluntarily eat vegetables, fruit, carbs, and meat, but also have a piece or two of candy almost every day. We always have fruit in the house, but we also have a shit load of fun size sugar and chocolate. Sure, I've used a roll of Smarties here or a single-serve Fun Dip there to serve as some very effective bribery, but for the most part they see a little bit of sugar as something normal, not something to be coveted or hoarded.

We all know people that pride themselves on feeding their families nothing but whole grain goodness, 100% organic, sugar-free, soda-free and definitely no MSG. And chances are that you've seen the children from these families at a birthday party, without their parents, putting extra pieces of cake into their coat pockets, drinking orange pop by the pitcher-full, and hoarding licorice and gummy bears in their party bag. These kids have rarely been given the opportunity to choose what and how much they eat, and they are pretty sure that this particular birthday party is the last time they will ever see that much sugar in one place at one time. So, better stock up now while mom isn't watching!

I think that kids, at some point, need to experiment with a little sugar overdose, deal with the repercussions of eating too much grease, and learn how to interpret the serving size on a nutrition label, and that all food, including sugar and snacks, should be presented in moderation. Nothing should be forbidden, except for maybe those special brownies that fun Uncle Harvey made. Those are mine.