Free Advice Friday! Are your kids spoiled?

Dear Kim,

I feel like I spoil my kids (ages 14 & 16) too much, they’re always “What about me, me, me?!” They think everything we do should contribute to their happiness, and if it doesn’t then it’s not worth doing. How can I turn this boat around and get them thinking about other people’s needs?

Thank you!

Selfless Sally

 

 

Dear Sally,

That sucks.

Sally, what you need to do is to get your family into some type of community volunteer activity. Oh sure, they’ll kick and scream at first but the trick is to keep trying different programs until they find the volunteer position that really speaks to them.

Having tried several hundred organizations myself, here’s a heads up on a few: the SPCA will want you to change litter boxes and clean up hairballs, Hospice meetings are usually held on Friday afternoons putting a damper on Happy Hour, and the Big Sister/Big Brother program will most likely involve Saturday mornings and not being hung over. Oh, and none of them pay, so going in with a well rehearsed salary negotiation speech isn’t necessary. That was embarrassing.

After spending months looking for something that was rewarding, yet requiring little effort on my part, I decided to create my own volunteer organization, NewsPooper Tails. I reunite lost pets with their owners merely by reading the lost & found section of various local newspapers. For example, if I see person A lost a yellow lab in the Blake Park area, and person B found a yellow lab in the Blake Park area, BINGO! I make the call to both! I’m like a match maker for the common-sense challenged.

Of course, this type of work does have its risks. I remember this one time, I saw an ad for a missing black dachshund and another for a found black dachshund. I thought to myself, “Candy Ass (positive self-talk), how many black weiner dogs are actually roaming the streets? This must be a match!”

So I called the owner and she was so estatic! She said that the dachshund had been sitting in front of her house when her neighbors saw her ex-boyfriend come by and take it. “Why would he do that?” I asked. “Who knows. But I’m just so worried. The last time this happened, he banged it in the rear.”

“What? That’s horrible!” I screamed “I’ll be right over!”

So I picked up the dog from the lady who found it and headed over to the owner’s home. The moment she opened the door, the dog jumped out of my arms, ran over to an ugly ass recliner, lifted his leg and peed. She glared at me, “What’s up with your dog peeing on my chair?” MY DOG?

Turns out her ex-boyfriend banged the rear of her 1982 black Datsun…not Dachshund. I guess mistakes like that are one reason not to place your ads over the phone.

Sally, rest assure, this good deed has a somewhat happy ending.

Her neighbor’s ended up keeping the dachshund and naming him Rusty (after the condition of the car). They loved him dearly. And would you believe that a year later, Rusty saved their lives by barking when their dried out Christmas tree caught on fire! Granted, it only caught on fire because his doggie diabetes caused him to drink the tree stand water every night. However, the newspapers were kind enough to leave that part out, believing that every dog should have his day.

Sally, I hope I was able to inspire you and your children to seek out altruistic endeavors by giving back to your community. I must go now, it’s cocktail hour and I’m “donating” margaritas to myself and my husband. After all, charity starts at home!

Voluntarily yours,

Kim

Like my advice? I’ll love you forever and ever if you click the banner below…you do want my love, right?

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

Make sure to check out my Sponsor MommyPie.com!

MommyPie.com is a new and entertaining site which has everything from potty training tips to all the latest celebrity gossip. They also have cool giveaways! I swear, it’s like all of your favorite magazines in one place!

Cheapo Wino Review Wednesday! Sweet and Creamy. No, not me.

Creme De Lys Chardonnay 2011 – $11.99

Winemaker’s Notes: The winemaker chose California vineyards that yield incredibly lush flavors of tropical fruit, baked apple and citrus.  Sur lie aging gives this wine it’s soft, creamy style.  Use of primarily French oak adds hints of vanilla and creme brulee on the finish, making this wine the perfect reward at the end of your day.

Kim’s Notes: Damn it, I wanted so badly to say, “Creme De Lys? More like Creme De Lie! Hahahaha”

But noooo, it actually was creamy and sweet, and “Creme De Truth” doesn’t have the same ring. Blah.

I drank my first glass on an empty stomach (as you should to make dinner preparations more pleasant), and I was a little surprised by just how sweet it was.  I decided to pair it with various food items to see if they changed the taste:

Potato chips = a little better

Cheese = still too sweet

Chocolate chip = Oh god, no!

More potato chips = not bad

Still more potato chips = getting better

Potato chips…

Needless to say, I was no longer hungry for dinner.

By the time I got to my third glass, I felt like it really mellowed out on the sweetness.  In fact, it started to taste almost full…complex…oaky…and that’s when I realized that I had subconsciously switched to Cabernet.  Hey, it happens. I’m like a homing pigeon, but with red wine.

I would recommend Creme De Lys only if you like sweet, sweet, creamy wines.  I know first hand that it pairs well with copious amounts of Sour Cream & Onion potato chips.  I can only assume that it does not pair well with diabetes.

Love my expert-like wine reviews? Great! Would you mind throwing me a vote by clicking the link below so I have a legitimate reason to keep drinking? Thanks so much!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

Tips for Tuesday! Be the Alpha in your Dog Relationship.

So I’ve been having some asshole-like behavioral problems with Mr. Bojangles lately, and I can’t remember if they started after this professional picture was taken

or after the adoption of our fuzzy wuzzy cutie patootie 3-legged dog, Buddy.

Either way, his antics are becoming ridiculous.

 

He steals food from the counter.

 

He ripped a hole in the couch.

 

He’s been sassing me.

 

He pees on the rug if I’m more than 5 minutes late for cocktail hour.

 

And he practices his musical urine cups at all hours of the night, leaving a mess for me to clean up in the morning.

At my wit’s end, I purchased every book written by that dog whisperer, Cesar Millan. I thought for sure he could help me.

However, while the literature was somewhat helpful, it didn’t address many of the issues I found myself facing. But there was one thing I took away from it, “Become the Alpha!”

Admittedly, I’m a total “Beta” what with the belly rubs, cuddling, baby talk, and carrying his shit in my hands during our walks. I knew I had to make some changes, and not carrying his crap was the first one.

 

Introducing….

The SHIT BAG

 

Materials:

Dog Collar

A coordinating purse (never sacrifice style for function)

*I thought about using my Fanny Pack, but the last place I remember seeing it was 1989.

 

Assembly:

1. Thread collar through purse handle

2. Put collar on dog

3. Refuse to feel sorry for dog

 

Usage:

Whenever your dog poops, distract him by yelling “squirrel”, and scoop up his poop. (Distraction is key, because picking up his poop may be seen as very “beta” behavior. And until genetic modification gives us dogs with opposable thumbs, we’re stuck doing it.)

Put the poop bag in the purse and continue on your walk while repeatedly saying “Who’s your Alpha now?!”

 

Enjoy your newly transformed relationship!

Find my tips helpful? Well, could you click the vote button anyway? Thank you so much!
 
Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

The Weekend in Crappy Pics

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July! We did! My classy family and I went to the beach to celebrate the birth of our country and my birthday!

 

July 2nd

As soon as we got to the beach, we tumbled out of the car, apologized for all the angry things we said to each other during the grueling 2hr ride, and ate pizza.

I don’t care if this makes me a shitty parent but…EVERY restaurant needs a TV at the table! Our kids were so into SpongeBob that Brian and I could actually have a conversation. Problem was we forgot how to converse, so we just stared at each other until it became uncomfortably weird and my drink glass was empty.

 

July 3rd

The next morning we went out for my birthday breakfast (Yes, I said my birthday breakfast because it’s my favorite meal of the day). Now before we go any further, here’s something you need to know about me and my “going out” breakfast- I must have pancakes AND poached eggs with wheat toast. And if I don’t get these things, well, you might as well shit in my coffee.

So anyway, we went to this cute little bistro, I opened the menu, and…WTF? Five items on the menu? No pancakes? No ala carte eggs? Breathe, Kim. You can do this. Ok, they have french toast, you can work with that.

 

Waiter: Can I take your order?

Me: Yes. I don’t see any eggs. Can I get a poached egg, by any chance?

Waiter: I’m sorry, no.

Me: No? Really?

Waiter: I’ll double check. (leaves and comes back) Sorry, the chef said no. It’s a small kitchen and they don’t have room or time to boil water.

Me:….

Waiter: Maybe a scrambled egg?

Me: What about sunny side up? That way it’ll be gooey like poached. He does have a pan on the stove, right?

Waiter: I’ll check with him again (leaves and comes back) Yes, he says he’ll make you a sunny side up egg.

 

After waiting about 30 minutes, (THIRTY MINUTES, PEOPLE!) the waiter stood in the center of the room and made the following announcement, “I’m sorry everyone but the chef had a stroke so you won’t be getting your meals.”

 

He then stuck his head into the kitchen window, pulled it back out and, pointing to us, said, “The only table getting their meal is that table over there” The whole restaurant turned in our direction. “Don’t worry, he’s finishing your egg right now”.

I detected sarcasm.

 
These were my thoughts, in order of appearance:

1. Oh my god! He’s having a stroke!

2. Wait…he’s still making our meal?

3. Damn it, I bet he’s overcooking my yolk.

No, I’m not proud.

But as it turned out, my yolk was cooked perfectly. However, I had mixed feelings while eating it, kinda like wearing a really awesome dress made by child laborers.

PS- Brian wouldn’t let me take a pic of the ambulance. He said it would make us look bad. As if we didn’t already.
 

Later that night, I had a wonderful birthday dinner with my family…but my bad karma almost set the restaurant on fire.

July 4th

We had great seats for the beach’s annual 4th of July parade.

There were lots of floats (trailers with crepe paper taped to them), local marching bands, military veterans, fire engines, etc., and they all threw things at us…hard things.

Really? Pegging me in the face with a Jaw Buster? Yes, the irony is amusing.

After the parade, we laid on the beach for a few hours then we headed back to the house to unwind…until Brian brought out his surprise.

Apparently he made a little trip to the grocery store and purchased some fireworks. THIS from a guy that won’t let me program our coffee maker because it requires being plugged in while we sleep.

 

Me: Do you know what it’s going to do?

Him: No, but it can’t be that bad, right?

Me: Are there any directions?

Him: Yeah, but they say “Light Fire Wok and Run”.

Me: Made in China?

Him: Yup.

What you can’t see here is that the wind is blowing to the left, sending a huge smoke cloud to the neighbor’s deck, while they eat dinner with their guests.

Brian felt so horrible that he rushed over to their table and started fanning the smoke away with a beach towel…that we had used…in the sand.

 

 

After dinner, we returned to the beach for the fireworks. Ana was really nervous about the noise so I brought along her noise cancelling headphones.

 

Shortly after this pic, the fireworks started and Ana insisted that she needed to use the potty, which meant walking for 3 blocks to get to the center of town. And miss the fireworks? Oh, no sister! Instead, I plopped her ass down in some nearby pine needles. Turns out she didn’t need to go after all. Stinker was just trying to get out of the fireworks. How manipulative! I’ve never been prouder.

 

Happy Belated Birthday, America!

 

PS- I called the next day and checked on the chef. They said he’s doing fine but I’m to never come back again.

 

I’ll love you forever and ever if you click the banner below…you do want my love, right?

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers: