©Lisa Barker
It used to be true that nothing in life was for free. That is, until freecycle.org was born.
The idea is to exchange items you no longer want and need with others (and vice versa)—for free! You select a group of people in your area, sign up to be on their email list, and then you post the things you have to give away, while simultaneously sifting through your email for someone else's junk that you view as treasure.
It sounded like a good idea to me so I joined my local group. And, honest to God, I found something to write about in my column. Somebody actually posted long underwear to give away and somebody else snatched it right up.
Seriously, how desperate do you have to be to snatch up somebody's underwear?
I'm assuming it was clean, never-before-worn underwear, but even so, do you really want to chance it?
I've seen the underwear in our house that is no longer worth owning. I couldn't even pay someone to take it. And is there any such thing as mildly worn underwear? Is there a special scale for classifying worn underwear? Do I really want to know?
It just goes to show you that some people are desperate to clean out their drawers (ahem) even if it means giving away their unmentionables.
So I thought about my own family and what lingers in their drawers. I've got a daughter with a nice collection of used Kleenex. And there are candy wrappers in somebody else's drawers. My husband is the king of single socks. Should I give those away? Maybe there is a one-legged man out there looking for such a deal.
My own drawers are full of teeth. The tooth fairy didn't have room at her place so I've been stashing kids' teeth in my drawers for over ten years. That adds up! Maybe somebody out there wants to use them in some sort of craft or perhaps decorate picture frames or make a mosaic. Who knows?
Once I heard of a woman who collected lint from people's dryers to craft into candy dishes and candleholders. What a perfect gift for the person on the bottom of your gift list, right? Sure, it's nicely painted, hard and durable when finished, but what is in the mind of a person using the main ingredient? “Hi, I made you a candy dish with my underwear lint.”
The idea of getting something for nothing intrigues me and tempts me to prove an old pearl of wisdom wrong. I'm thinking of posting a sandwich, chips, cookies, a piece of fruit and a soda. Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters. If you like Jelly Mom™... Tell your friends and family! http://www.jellymom.com
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Great And Naked Houdini & His Assistant
©Lisa Barker
(An excerpt from Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!)
I followed the trail of clothing down the hall. Somehow, my one-year old son had freed himself from these repressive articles.
There were the pink jammy bottoms (hey, he's MY son and he's secure in his masculinity so he can endure this hand-me-down), then the t-shirt...and the diaper?
Nope. Hadn't gotten to that yet.
How does he DO that? The boy can't get a fork to his mouth, but he can strip and climb the highest bed, sofa or table with amazing ease.
I'm thinking his two-year old sister is an accomplice, especially since she's a self-styled nudist herself.
Why do toddlers do that? It's cute and sometimes annoying, but at the drop of a hat you see them streak through the house. Whee, no clothes!!
It was always a game when my eldest were toddlers. Fresh from the bath, and sometimes still dripping, round and round the house they'd race, chanting "Noodie doodie, noodie doodie!"
And ya gotta be fast, too. Sometimes the thrill of streaking is a bit overwhelming and, well, there are accidents. Mind you, these are the un-potty-trained.
On the other hand, as much as the little ones enjoy their clothing emancipation, they've got a blankie the size of a Queen-size bed throw. And here comes the two-year old now, thumb in mouth, giant pink-gray frazzled blankie in tow.
I recall using duct tape on my third child when he was in diapers. You know, duct tape, the ever-all-purposeful handy tool of veteran moms. If you've got duct tape, you can solve any problem. Ergo, the son with the gray 'belt' on his diapers.
(Duct tape, by the way, also keeps your television cabinet shut so one doesn't discover fistfuls of Cheerios and crayons in the VCR. Duct tape also helps brothers and sisters bond. When you've got bickering siblings and you threaten to make them conjoined twins for the rest of the day, they suddenly find it within themselves to practice a little charity with one another.)
But I digress.
The greatest feat of the knee-high bumpkins is their ability to open every single door you have carefully toddler proofed.
How is that an adult can spend twenty minutes trying to get into the bathroom and the two-year old can turn the knob in 15 seconds flat? Why does it take me a bit of effort to open a bottle of aspirin and a child no trouble at all? And what about those car seats? Whoever thought that a nimble-fingered toddler COULDN'T slip the straps off her shoulders and wiggle her way out of the armrest must never have been a parent.
Hmmmmm. I'll have to remember to take her along the next time I go shopping. Just in case I leave my keys in the car.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
(An excerpt from Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!)
I followed the trail of clothing down the hall. Somehow, my one-year old son had freed himself from these repressive articles.
There were the pink jammy bottoms (hey, he's MY son and he's secure in his masculinity so he can endure this hand-me-down), then the t-shirt...and the diaper?
Nope. Hadn't gotten to that yet.
How does he DO that? The boy can't get a fork to his mouth, but he can strip and climb the highest bed, sofa or table with amazing ease.
I'm thinking his two-year old sister is an accomplice, especially since she's a self-styled nudist herself.
Why do toddlers do that? It's cute and sometimes annoying, but at the drop of a hat you see them streak through the house. Whee, no clothes!!
It was always a game when my eldest were toddlers. Fresh from the bath, and sometimes still dripping, round and round the house they'd race, chanting "Noodie doodie, noodie doodie!"
And ya gotta be fast, too. Sometimes the thrill of streaking is a bit overwhelming and, well, there are accidents. Mind you, these are the un-potty-trained.
On the other hand, as much as the little ones enjoy their clothing emancipation, they've got a blankie the size of a Queen-size bed throw. And here comes the two-year old now, thumb in mouth, giant pink-gray frazzled blankie in tow.
I recall using duct tape on my third child when he was in diapers. You know, duct tape, the ever-all-purposeful handy tool of veteran moms. If you've got duct tape, you can solve any problem. Ergo, the son with the gray 'belt' on his diapers.
(Duct tape, by the way, also keeps your television cabinet shut so one doesn't discover fistfuls of Cheerios and crayons in the VCR. Duct tape also helps brothers and sisters bond. When you've got bickering siblings and you threaten to make them conjoined twins for the rest of the day, they suddenly find it within themselves to practice a little charity with one another.)
But I digress.
The greatest feat of the knee-high bumpkins is their ability to open every single door you have carefully toddler proofed.
How is that an adult can spend twenty minutes trying to get into the bathroom and the two-year old can turn the knob in 15 seconds flat? Why does it take me a bit of effort to open a bottle of aspirin and a child no trouble at all? And what about those car seats? Whoever thought that a nimble-fingered toddler COULDN'T slip the straps off her shoulders and wiggle her way out of the armrest must never have been a parent.
Hmmmmm. I'll have to remember to take her along the next time I go shopping. Just in case I leave my keys in the car.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Demystifying The Cat Mystique
©Lisa Barker
As the 'mother' of seven cats, I am surrounded by felines daily. This makes me an expert on cats, but you don't need seven to understand their language. One cat will be able to train you quite sufficiently.
There is the question mark tail that they greet you with, not to say, "How are you? Have you had a good day?" but to say, "Where have you been? And why is my bowl empty?"
There is the chirrup-type of purr, that little high-pitched gurgle deep in their throats. It means, "At last! You're here! Adore me!" (Because cats need total adulation.)
There is the purr. Be it a murmur or a motorboat, it is one of the rare instances of positive feedback your cat will ever give you. Enjoy it while you can, because in the blink of an eye your lap could change from a comfy seat to a pin cushion.
And, finally, there is the hiss. This lets you and any other unwelcome being know that the cat does not wish to share breathing space. Bug off.
But that is not the way it is in my house. I have at least three cats that flunked Cat Language 101. They simply cannot hiss, growl or give a warning meow.
The first cat sounds like a small child blowing raspberries. "Pbbbfffft!" It sounds like she has a tongue two sizes too big for her mouth. The second cat snorts and the third cat sounds like she's hawking up phlegm.
So you get these three lovely cats in one room and what you have is the feline version of the Three Stooges. Some days it sounds like an old man is dying in my kitchen when they all congregate in there.
It's especially disconcerting when I'm trying to cook dinner. "Pbbbfffft! Snorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Hocccccccck!"
"Knock it off! You're making me sick!"
This totally defies the idea that cats are dainty, well-mannered and well-groomed. They're not. And if you have enough of them, you'll see that they let themselves go and hang out on the sofa all day in front of the television with their fat bellies protruding.
You know all those naps they take? It's just to get out of doing some work around the house. I have seven cats and a garage full of mice. Somebody isn't pulling his weight around here.
So just when you start thinking about getting a dog, your cat drops a dead mouse at your feet, rubs up against your leg smiling at you with that enchanting Zen-cat expression that makes your heart warm and you forget all about that dog, what's-his-name, and you vow to give this feline relationship one more try.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
As the 'mother' of seven cats, I am surrounded by felines daily. This makes me an expert on cats, but you don't need seven to understand their language. One cat will be able to train you quite sufficiently.
There is the question mark tail that they greet you with, not to say, "How are you? Have you had a good day?" but to say, "Where have you been? And why is my bowl empty?"
There is the chirrup-type of purr, that little high-pitched gurgle deep in their throats. It means, "At last! You're here! Adore me!" (Because cats need total adulation.)
There is the purr. Be it a murmur or a motorboat, it is one of the rare instances of positive feedback your cat will ever give you. Enjoy it while you can, because in the blink of an eye your lap could change from a comfy seat to a pin cushion.
And, finally, there is the hiss. This lets you and any other unwelcome being know that the cat does not wish to share breathing space. Bug off.
But that is not the way it is in my house. I have at least three cats that flunked Cat Language 101. They simply cannot hiss, growl or give a warning meow.
The first cat sounds like a small child blowing raspberries. "Pbbbfffft!" It sounds like she has a tongue two sizes too big for her mouth. The second cat snorts and the third cat sounds like she's hawking up phlegm.
So you get these three lovely cats in one room and what you have is the feline version of the Three Stooges. Some days it sounds like an old man is dying in my kitchen when they all congregate in there.
It's especially disconcerting when I'm trying to cook dinner. "Pbbbfffft! Snorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Hocccccccck!"
"Knock it off! You're making me sick!"
This totally defies the idea that cats are dainty, well-mannered and well-groomed. They're not. And if you have enough of them, you'll see that they let themselves go and hang out on the sofa all day in front of the television with their fat bellies protruding.
You know all those naps they take? It's just to get out of doing some work around the house. I have seven cats and a garage full of mice. Somebody isn't pulling his weight around here.
So just when you start thinking about getting a dog, your cat drops a dead mouse at your feet, rubs up against your leg smiling at you with that enchanting Zen-cat expression that makes your heart warm and you forget all about that dog, what's-his-name, and you vow to give this feline relationship one more try.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
A Run-in With The Parent Police
©Lisa Barker
(An excerpt from Lisa Barker’s book Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!)
There I was in the middle of the bra aisle with the three-year old and two-year old in tow. I’d played it smart. I had both children strapped into a shopping cart of their own. I had them parked out of range of the merchandise.
I knew my size. I deftly hunted for the appropriate color, whisked it into a cart and weaved my way from women’s lingerie to skivvies for the kiddies.
It was looking as if my underwear mission would soon be Mission Accomplished, but no.
Along the way I noticed this strange trail of plastic cards. “Hmm. That looks just like…my ATM card! My credit card! My driver’s license!”
Grinning like a happy hamster, my two-year old demonstrated how the contents of my wallet had been strewn along like a plan Hansel and Gretel had hatched to help Mommy find her way back to the bra department by smoothly tossing the little important slips of paper and money in my purse up in the air like confetti.
Of course, I knew my priorities. I immediately abandoned my kids as I desperately tried to collect all my most important personal and financial tokens. You’d think I was a mad woman on a treasure hunt in the aisles of unmentionables.
Satisfied that I had retrieved all my things before my identity could be stolen, I returned to my children only to discover a ‘helpful’ fellow shopper standing there to inform me that my two-year old had stood up in his seat.
It was as if she thought I’d just decided to park my kids in the middle of nowhere and stroll off to browse and have a jolly good time.
Parenting Police are convinced that you should have never had children to begin with. They will shake their heads and cluck their tongues, offer you unsolicited advice about birth control or state the obvious.
“Your child is running through the aisles.”
“You mean this isn’t Disneyland?”
“Is it naptime?”
“No, they always scream like this.”
“You must have your hands full.”
“No, I just like to drop bottles of milk on the floor to see how fast it takes the clerk to call out, ‘Wet spill in aisle three!’”
“Your son has a potty mouth.”
“My husband and I think self-expression is $%#&*@ GOOD for them.”
“These children are all yours?”
“So that explains why they keep following me home!”
Well, we made it to the checkout without anybody calling Child Protective Services. At least for now, sarcasm isn’t viewed as parental incompetence.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
(An excerpt from Lisa Barker’s book Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!)
There I was in the middle of the bra aisle with the three-year old and two-year old in tow. I’d played it smart. I had both children strapped into a shopping cart of their own. I had them parked out of range of the merchandise.
I knew my size. I deftly hunted for the appropriate color, whisked it into a cart and weaved my way from women’s lingerie to skivvies for the kiddies.
It was looking as if my underwear mission would soon be Mission Accomplished, but no.
Along the way I noticed this strange trail of plastic cards. “Hmm. That looks just like…my ATM card! My credit card! My driver’s license!”
Grinning like a happy hamster, my two-year old demonstrated how the contents of my wallet had been strewn along like a plan Hansel and Gretel had hatched to help Mommy find her way back to the bra department by smoothly tossing the little important slips of paper and money in my purse up in the air like confetti.
Of course, I knew my priorities. I immediately abandoned my kids as I desperately tried to collect all my most important personal and financial tokens. You’d think I was a mad woman on a treasure hunt in the aisles of unmentionables.
Satisfied that I had retrieved all my things before my identity could be stolen, I returned to my children only to discover a ‘helpful’ fellow shopper standing there to inform me that my two-year old had stood up in his seat.
It was as if she thought I’d just decided to park my kids in the middle of nowhere and stroll off to browse and have a jolly good time.
Parenting Police are convinced that you should have never had children to begin with. They will shake their heads and cluck their tongues, offer you unsolicited advice about birth control or state the obvious.
“Your child is running through the aisles.”
“You mean this isn’t Disneyland?”
“Is it naptime?”
“No, they always scream like this.”
“You must have your hands full.”
“No, I just like to drop bottles of milk on the floor to see how fast it takes the clerk to call out, ‘Wet spill in aisle three!’”
“Your son has a potty mouth.”
“My husband and I think self-expression is $%#&*@ GOOD for them.”
“These children are all yours?”
“So that explains why they keep following me home!”
Well, we made it to the checkout without anybody calling Child Protective Services. At least for now, sarcasm isn’t viewed as parental incompetence.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
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