A Trail of Oreo Crumbs from the Bathroom

I was recently caught eating Oreos.  In the bathroom.  Not while on the toilet.  <sheesh>.  And they weren't even Double Stuf, not even Double Stuf people.

It is safe to say that I have control issues when it comes to sweets, desserts and sugar in any form. I am fairly certain I can trace the anchor of my problem to my 14th birthday, circa 1990.  In this year my mother became obsessed with eating natural.  Nothing processed.  Nothing good ... or maybe the good was sucked out during the baking, steaming, drying, boiling process.  We shopped at a members-only food co-op in Sacramento, a strange market where everything was sold in bulk and was eerily healthy.  Keep in mind in 1990 this era of shopping was the style of aging hippies, the Whole Foods generation where all the cool kids shop came later.  I was a teenager and I wanted sugar.  A lot of it.

For my birthday I was promised a chocolate cake.  Rewind to the fact that my mother forget my 13th birthday, yes, forgot, so my 14th was a do-over.  As dishes were washed and the cake was unveiled I was giddy.  Chocolate, choc-o-late, chocolate!  I sliced into the round, layered cake and sticky frosting slipped from the knife.  I forked a significant piece and bit into it <pause> and stared wide-eyed. "What kind of cake is this?" I asked.  My mother grinned and answered, "Carob.  It's better than chocolate, and healthy.  Don't you like it?". Crap.  Trick question.  Carob?  I smiled weakly as I gulped the bite and casually looked toward the mound of cake waiting on my plate.  Slowly, deliberately and with a focus I can only assume the greatest, most accomplished athletes in history can relate to, I finished every last drop of the cake.  Let's just say, animals who eat bark would have hesitated to eat this cake.

After the Carob Incident of 1990 I knew my only recourse was to hide my sugar consumption.  A shoe box in the closet held Hostess products (this idea was stolen from a scene in the movie Parenthood).  M&M's were stashed between my mattress and bed frame.  I began to hoard Andes mints like buried treasure and sticks of gum lined the inside of a note book on my book shelf.  Forget about falling in love with boys, I only had eyes for Rocky Road candy bars.  Candy became my dirty little secret.  My dirty, tasty, gooey secret. 

Fast forward to 2012.  In the spring I decided to take a break from sugar. I finally began to admit that sugar may be a substantial contributing factor to my weight issues.  So I ate one last bite of cookie at a potluck and vowed to make a change.  I did so very well.  So very well.  For 3 months that is.  Then it happened.  At a restaurant I agreed to sample some cake.  I started justifying desserts that were given to me as gifts.  A taste of Evan's donut wouldn't be the end of the world.  Plus I hadn't lost any weight, so maybe sugar wasn't the culprit after all.  As I ventured down the cookie aisle at Safeway Oreos magically ended up in the basket.  I told myself they were for Lewis because he loves them and then promptly hid them in the cupboard.  

Checking to confirm that the kids were occupied I smuggled a sleeve of cookies into the bathroom.  I leaned against the vanity and quietly opened the package.  Eat them whole or apart?  An Oreo question for the ages.  As I took my first bite I heard a noise.  I tossed a towel over the cookies as Evan walked in with an inquiry about LEGO's.  I sent him on his way and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  If you're hoarding cookies in the bathroom you probably have a problem.  A tasty, sweet, cream-filled, yet serious problem, and you should probably just say No all together.  Or, maybe just start enjoying carob.    

Waiting is a Virtue, Are We There Yet?

Last summer while on Roadtrip 2011: Full-On Tourist View of So Cal, we spent a few days at Universal Studios Hollywood. The first stop on our trip was Santa Barbara so while my family enjoyed the pool I popped into Costco (great regional deals on most amusement parks) and bought 5-day annual passes to Universal Studios Hollywood. Fast forward to summer 2012, another trip to Santa Barbara (sans dad), the recent opening of a new ride and those long forgotten passes rapidly counting down to their expiration date. Why not trek down to L.A. for the day?

With my mother in-tow we hit the gates a little behind schedule, grrr, only 10 hours before the park closes! Map in hand, frozen bottles of water and Gatorade stuffed in a backpack, red vines easily accessible for quick energy, we devised the plan: The Simpsons Ride first (our favorite, 45 minute wait) Studio Tour (next door, classic, 55 minute wait), eat lunch next to Jurassic Park:The Ride (splashing and spraying water, peak 90 degree heat of the day, 45 minute wait), send Grandma and Evan to the playground while the older kids and I rushed through Revenge of the Mummy (a hassle because you have to check bags in electronic finger printed lockers, 25 minute wait), and then on to the mother lode ... the reason we were there ... Transformers: The Ride-3D. Expected wait time: 75 minutes.    

75 minutes. 75 minutes with a 6-year old who was just fed a large Ben & Jerry's ice cream sundae with extra M&M's and 6 cherries on top by his Grandmother. Thanks a lot Grandma. 75 minutes in 90 degree heat. Hmmmm, a large Coke Zero with a lot of ice will be a nice distraction. 75 minutes during an app-free day (a great plan to get the kids off their phones, wait, this applies to me too?). 75 minutes surrounded by really loud and pushy foreign tourists. Oh yeah, let's do this! 

While my mother complained for the tenth time that I should have sprung for the Front of the Line Passes ($100 more per person, not happening) and I repeated my mantra of, "It's good for kids to learn to wait", I stood back and actually observed my kids. They weren't unhappy. They weren't complaining. They were having fun. Waiting in line was part of their story, their experience, their memory. If they could enjoy it I could too.

We listened to the intro "training" video hosted by "Sonia Bradley" for the millionth time and it became a joke. Our inside joke. We jockeyed for better positions to see what was coming next while laying odds on how long it would actually take, would it really be 75 minutes? As we turned endless corners Jordan pulled out his phone and timed the gaps in the line, could we predict how long the ride would last? Evan vacillated between holding my hand, being held, climbing on the divider (climbing dividers is a amusement park tradition!) and checking out the displays with wide-eyed enthusiasm (hint: they let you press flashing buttons). We were all excited. As we were handed 3D glasses and ushered into the correct staging line I looked at my phone. Just shy of 2 hours and we were finally at our destination. As I pulled my harness into place I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Jordan and Julian were quickly programming the stopwatch function on their phones and stowing them safely in their pockets. I looked down at Evan and he gave me a thumbs up while adjusting his 3D glasses with the other hand. I turned forward and relaxed in my seat, I was ready. The ride lasted 4 minutes and 45 seconds. And yes, it was worth every single minute.    Transformers: The Ride-3D, Universal Studios Hollywood 

Hiding Your Free Range Kids in the Closet

Today our community had a scare at my youngest son's elementary school.  Code Red level, lock down, an intruder on campus who may have been attempting to abduct a beautiful 9 year old girl as she ventured from restroom to classroom. As the bell rang and parents gathered to collect their children the news spread like wild fire.  The information was vague.  No one knew the entire story or precise details but the response was immediate, visceral and felt by every parent ... rush your kids home, lock the door and hide them in the closet.  

All three of our children attended a preschool co-op in Palo Alto.  Over the past 40 years they have principally followed a concept that in today terms is referred to as "Free Range Kids".  This current movement of "Free Range Kids" was started in New York City by author and mother Lenore Skenazy.  http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/.  Her general belief is that it is 100% possible for moms and dads to keep their kids safe without becoming helicopter parents.  I believe in her methods wholeheartedly.  Parenting by way of "Free Range Kids" means teaching your children to make smart choices, letting them have small freedoms (age appropriate) that build over time to varying levels of independence.  It is an out-of-date teaching method; that children should learn to survive on their own ... so they aren't living with you when they're 30.  

As Evan ran to greet me I struggled against fear.  I texted a few friends to keep them updated and then I took my kindergartener home.  We greeted our dog and left the front door wide open.  I fed him lunch, took a deep breath and we headed to the front yard.  I pulled weeds and attacked an awful bush of overgrown geraniums.  He chased our cat and picked dandelions.  As I uprooted a plant we discovered a salamander and named him Harold.  As he dropped Harold into a glass jar with a pile of dirt, grass and flowers, we weighed keeping him in the jar forever versus letting him run free in our yard.  It was a wonderful poignant metaphor.

In the distance I heard the wailing of a siren and my chest began to tighten.  It is rare to hear a siren in our neighborhood.  But we did not retreat, we held firm and I began to relax.  All was well on Leona Lane.  That is until I realized the middle school had been out for 10 minutes and my 6th grader hadn't rolled up on his bike.  I reached in my pocket and on the second ring he answered.  The school was implementing a buddy system and they had decided to stop by the elementary school to see if the campus was closed by police.  Kids.  In the realm of "Free Range Kids", cell phones are a no-no.  They restrict teachable lessons.  Yeah.  I'm not ready for my 11 year old to be 100% free range ... just yet.  

Coupon Queen Meets Beano

132 count Beano pack. Just what the pinto bean doctor ordered.

Let's face it, coupons are cool.  If you don't think so, it's time to jump on the savings bandwagon.  I'm not coupon obsessed, but I love a deal and was definitely raised with the shoppers golden rule: never pay full retail if you can buy it for less.  Does this trace back to the Jewish or Filipino genealogy in me?  The stereotypical world may never know.

So of course I'm always super excited to see the Costco coupon book in the mail slot.  Before I slice through the sticky closure I pause for a moment.  That couple of seconds is reminiscent of walking through the glass doors at Macy's with the potential of finding a really great pair of shoes at 75% off.  With an additional 10% off with your Macy's card.  Hey, it happens.  As I flip through the pages, scanning for items, mentally crossing my fingers that I will find something my family can't live without, I always discover the same thing ...

There is this radio station 106.5 FM that broadcasts in the Sacramento area.  For about a year it played 80's and 90's music and I was honestly pretty psyched because it was nostalgic of my child-teen-hood.  A few months back I was driving through Stockton and discovered it now plays a collection of hits from the past 20 years.  Not the same.  Here's the really weird thing.  They always seem to play artists I enjoy hearing ... but never the songs that I like.  That's inevitably what the monthly coupon deals at Costco feel like.

$3.50 off a 5-pack of toothpaste.  Sweet.  Wait, we don't use that type.  $2 off inkjet cartridge refill service.  Okay, I'll give it a try.  Not for Epson cartridges.  $70 off any set of Michelin tires.  Awesome!  Just not in my size. 

You get the gist.   

This my friends is the coupon trap and should be treated with caution.  Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't fall in.  Costco is playing right into our marketing achilles tendon.  They know consumers love a deal.  But a deal on top of Costco prices ... ding, ding, ding.  Trust me, don't take the bait.  This from the person who has a case of Joint Juice on the verge of expiring in the pantry.  Make sure that you really need the item and you're not just buying the 132 count container of Beano because it's $3.50 off.  That is, unless you're on a diet of pinto beans. 

Lesson learned: step away from the discount.  Just 'cause it's on sale, doesn't mean you need it.  But if I do need it, get the heck out of my way!

Playdough From Scratch, Just Because

All three of my children attended the pre-school co-op Parents Nursery School in Palo Alto.  One of the greatest gifts we received from PNS was the recipe for making our very own playdough at home.  It is surprisingly easy and can save you a lot of money, assuming you have a child who likes playdough!  Added bonus: Playdough is the perfect homemade gift and makes for a useful, functional item for a party goodie bag.  Throw in a few cookie cutters and you're good to go.

Materials: 

1 cup flour

1 cup water

2 tsp. cream of tartar (Note: this is sold in the spice section and can be very expensive. If you have access to a grocery store that sells bulk items, I suggest you buy it from them).

1/2 cup salt

1 tbsp. vegetable oil

liquid water color or food coloring (Note: you can make really amazing, vibrant playdough with liquid water color. The best resource for buying is online at Discount School Supply. I used regular blue food coloring in the sample pictures).

Cooking pot 
Whisk and/or silicone spoon
Cutting board or cool counter surface

Materials for playdough.

Combine your wet and dry ingredients before you place the pot on the stove top.  It will help to keep the color more consistent in your final product and the heat will make the dough clumpy if you don't pre-whisk/stir. I suggest using a whisk but a spoon will work.

Whisking the wet and dry ingredients will keep the color consistent and won't cause the dough to clump.

Place your pot on the stove top on medium heat.  You need to stir constantly so your dough doesn't burn. You will immediately notice that it is thickening.  Stir and blend for 2 minutes until the dough has thickened. Immediately remove the dough from the pot so it stops "cooking".  I suggest plopping it on the counter or a cutting board so it can start to cool.

Dough before it cools.

While the dough is still warm, using your hands, knead it to make sure that there are no lumps and that it is smooth.  Lumps occur when the dough is over cooked or burned.  

This recipe will make approximately the equivalent to two containers of store bought play-doh.

The dough will immediately be ready for play!

If giving play dough as a gift, package in a sealed bag to ensure freshness.  If you are storing at home, make sure that you store the dough in a sealed plastic bag or in a container with a lid.  Enjoy!

Ready for play or gift giving

When Frugality Bites You in the Half and Half

I survived 15 years without drinking a cup of coffee.  This morning there was no half and half left in the refrigerator.  Repeat mantra: I survived 15 years without drinking a cup of coffee.

Non-Dairy Creamer = desperation
Photo by Taylor House

Before I was pregnant with my oldest son I loved coffee.  The smell, taste, caffeine.  I would spend hours in coffee shops communing with my mug while reading a book, working through an article, hanging with friends. Then a (+) appeared on a stick and a sneaky feeling called guilt slapped me hard across the face.  Hard.  I gave up coffee during my first pregnancy and never looked back.  That was, until last spring when I volunteered to make a Starbucks run and didn't come back with tea.  

In December I admitted that my coffee consumption could potentially wreak havoc on my family.  Not emotionally ... financially.  I made the mistake of reading one of those pesky "Forbes" articles that tell you the best places to cut household spending.  What was at the top of the list?  Daily stops at Starbucks and Peet's.  I immediately started doing the math.  Ugh.

Of course the answer to this expense is simple: make coffee at home and only buy coffee when out with friends, treating a teacher, schmoozing colleagues, hosting a meeting, entertaining family ... power walking with neighbors ... when someone is home sick and needs a pick-me-up ... if it's a special occasion ... ?

I am a frugal person. Not cheap, frugal. I hate wasting money with an unnatural intensity, so this cutback warranted a serious second look. I started out fine.  I can do this, I said. I can make my own coffee. I was genuinely excited and half and half even made it to the top of my grocery list.  Then it happened.  Christmas.  Not one, not two, but five Starbucks gift cards.  Slowly my car started veering uncontrollably toward coffee.  I was drunk with my coffee riches.  That is until the last card returned with a balance.  As I paid the difference I felt like I had just discovered Darth Vader was my father.

Fast forward to this glorious morning in late January.  As the smell of coffee permeated the kitchen I opened the refrigerator door and ... discovered an empty container of half and half.  Adding insult to injury, the last of the milk was used for cereal.  As I begrudgingly searched for a trace of non-dairy creamer, it occurred to me that I don't love coffee.  It's an illusion.  It's a caffeine crutch that filled the void when I gave up diet Coke.  An epiphany presented itself: I don't take cream and sugar with my coffee, I take coffee with my cream and sugar.  

This divine revelation can mean only one thing.  I don't really need coffee.  Coffee is just another pricey habit like mani-pedi's and facials and red Cole Haan shoes.  God help me, did I just say that?  Breathe, Taylor, breathe.  When these realizations present themselves, all you can do is go with the flow, put a huge star next to half and half on the grocery list and keep your car on the straight and narrow.  It's a good feeling and I'm going to be okay folks, I'm going to be okay.  Anyone want to grab some coffee?

Making Excuses for the Tooth Fairy

I was in the kitchen this morning hurriedly packing my kindergarteners lunch when my 11-year-old staggered sleepily into the doorway.  I greeted him with a chorus of "good-morning-how-did-you-sleep-do-you-want-cereal-or-a-muffin-for-breakfast?"  He slumped against the counter and dramatically announced, "I'm going to completely grow a new tooth by the time the Tooth Fairy comes to get the old one.  She didn't come last night.  Again."

My response, "Oh <think> nooooooo <think>, bummmmmmer <think>". 

Julian has been losing teeth with such frequency that we've started worrying permanent teeth are coming out with the baby one's.  When he lost this most recent tooth he texted me to say, "I just lost one of my remaining teeth and now I look like a freak".  Thinking back, he lost the tooth Sunday night.  Do the math Taylor, it's Wednesday. Damn Tooth Fairy!  Doesn't she realize we're dealing with a toothless freak here!

Clearly the Tooth Fairy has a serious problem with both her short and long-term memory.  It's the only response I can fathom.  Why else wouldn't she come and take the tooth of a self-conscious 6th grade boy who is starting to look like one of the characters on "Swamp People".  And I guess it makes sense, she is so unbelievably busy after all.   

At this point there is really only one course of action ... make excuses for the Tooth Fairy while she pulls herself together.

Step One: Blame the Victim

"Did you leave the tooth on your loft bed?"  <too hard for her to find>

"Did you put it in a plastic bag?"  <maybe she's confusing it with ... >

"Was it labeled?"  <grasping at straws>

Step Two: Too Many Excuses, Better Than Too Few

"It has been rainy and cold."  <flight and a potential frost risk>

"The LEGO mess in your room could be disorienting."  <revert to step one (blaming younger sibling in shared room), see step three>

"Didn't we just have a federal holiday? Maybe she isn't carrying enough cash". <back to grasping at straws>

Step Three: New Plan of Attack 

"Let's put the tooth in a baggie and write a quick note".  <easier to transport>

"How about you focus on cleaning your room when you get home so the tooth is easy to find." <encompasses all three steps>

"Remember, the best spot for easy access is on top of your dresser, right by the door". <easy access for Tooth Fairy>

Lesson Learned: considering my Blackberry never leaves my side, you'd think I could remember to set the timer and text a reminder to the Tooth Fairy!

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