Jen on the Edge

Dear Principal and Teachers,

An explanation for why my daughters barely made it to school on time today:

Where to begin? Perhaps with last night, when both children were still awake at 9:45 and insisting they weren’t tired, even though we kept telling them to get back into bed and just go to sleep. That certainly explains why it was so difficult to drag their carcasses out of bed this morning. We had to persuade, cajole, and damn near bribe them to get moving.

Breakfast was the usual series of exhortations for the girls to eat, just eat damn it. Even though they were slow in eating and late in finishing, I still insisted that they clear their dishes and load them in the dishwasher. Yes, I know I could have let it slide, so as to hasten the girls’ departure for school, but as I do not have a butler, a housekeeper, or a battalion of maids at my disposal, my children will continue to clean up after themselves, even at the risk of being late for school.

And when Elegant went to throw away the rest of her sliced bananas and they ended up on the floor instead of in the trash can, I was mean and made her pick them up, even though she HATES touching sticky and/or slimy things. After she slowly and painstakingly picked up the banana slices one by one, the cruelty continued when I insisted that she wash her hands instead of wiping them on her pajamas. Yeah, I know that had the potential to cut into her time at school, but that’s a risk I was willing to take.

Then I had to remind Graceful to retrieve a stack of her books and papers that were on the middle of the stairs and that she had walked OVER at least twice.

And then, Elegant said she couldn’t get dressed because she was too cold. No, I don’t understand either. All I can say is that the next ten minutes were a bit frenzied as we hustled the girl through her morning routine.

Finally, it was time to leave the house and walk to school. Yes, I could have driven the girls and gotten them there with plenty of time to spare, but doing so would have rewarded their slow asses and I’m just not that nice. Instead, I suggested they walk a bit faster, so as not to be late. I think you folks would approve of our physical exertions, given that no third grade student at our school is allowed to enjoy their single recess of the day until they have first run two laps around the playing field. Why yes, I am still a bit pissed about that.

In conclusion, all of the above should hopefully explain why my daughters were not actually sitting at their desks at 8:30. Since they had crossed the threshold of the school, that’s good enough for me. I understand that tardiness is frowned upon, however, my children are usually on time and if one tardy on their permanent record is going to keep them from ultimately being accepted into an Ivy League school, I can live with that. Really I can.

Thank you for your understanding. Have a nice day.

XO, Jen

It’s CiCi’s Pizza Night for our school tonight. Blech. That may very well be some of the crappiest pizza anywhere on the face of the earth, no exaggeration. I don’t mind supporting our school, but why can’t it be at a decent restaurant?

Unfortunately, the CiCi’s PR machine is a good one and my girls always come home on the designated days and remind me that it’s CiCi’s Night. We’ll go a few times during the school year, but only under extreme duress.

I will use just about any excuse possible to avoid going to CiCi’s Night. I have cited bad weather, bad health, and bad timing. I would use plagues, locusts, tornadoes, or earthquakes if I could get away with it. And I will stoop to using all sorts of bribes in order to avoid the CiCi’s Crapfest. Sometimes I’m subtle and will fix an irresistible meal that the girls will clearly prefer over the crap served at CiCi’s. Other times, I’ll be obvious and offer something much better, such as GOOD pizza.

So tonight’s the night. The girls asked if we could go and I offered two choices: We can go to CiCi’s Night or we can stay home and have a picnic by the fireplace, with all sorts of great foods. The girls chose the wise option, so now I need to produce a dinner that will thrill them. My plan is bake Whole Foods pizzas and to offer a recent vintage of chocolate milk to complement the pizza. No healthy veggies tonight; we’ll probably just have apples and pears. We’ll listen to Christmas music while we eat.

I’m thinking my plan is a winner.

Dear Buffy,

I know that you’re a busy woman, as shown by the way you multi-tasked on Preston Avenue — driving your new Mercedes AND talking on the phone at the same time.

I know that your phone call was very important — maybe you were calling the housekeeper of your winter home in Eleuthera to discuss plans for your December 20th arrival. Or perhaps you were calling your sorority sister Muffy to discuss your spa getaway. Or maybe you were scheduling your next face lift.

You are a busy, important woman. I get that. I understand.

So when I tooted my horn at you, it was just a gentle reminder that green lights mean GO. Green lights do not mean to continue sitting there in your shiny fancy car, chatting on the phone, and blocking traffic. I wasn’t trying to ruin your life or make your day difficult, I was simply trying to get traffic moving so that the fifteen cars behind me had a chance to get through the light too. There was no need to be huffy or gesture your well-manicured, but covered in age spots, hands at me.

Believe me, if I had wanted to truly piss you off, I would have done so. Imagine the horn of my minivan beeping nonstop for some time. Imagine me waving my very own hands at you and providing helpful hand gestures. Imagine me rolling down my windows and hollering some friendly advice to you.

And if you are going to talk on the phone whilst driving, I suggest you place a call to your colorist. I could see your roots from 25 feet away.

Merry Christmas to you, Biff, and your other hoity toity friends.

XO, Jen

MizMell has tagged me for the Eight Weird Things Meme.

The rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
   
2. Share eight random and/or weird facts about yourself.
   
3. Tag eight random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
   
4. Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
   

And because I seem to have food on the brain all the time now, my weird things will be culinary:

1. I like ketchup on Ruffles potato chips. Also, butter on saltine crackers. But I rarely eat either. Like, maybe only once every few years.
2. I’ve been known to find frozen chocolate cookie dough in the freezer and eat it as is. In fact, even though chocolate chip cookies are my favorite cookies, I prefer the raw dough over the finished product.
3. I do not like and will not eat those strings on bananas. Blech. And Graceful is the same way.
4. I do not mess with raw poultry. Seriously. That’s just too much like the real animal for me. I once — and only once — cooked a turkey for my extended family for Thanksgiving. My grandmother walked me through the steps of preparing the bird. When she reached the part about, “Now put your hand inside the cavity…” I really and truly thought I was going to pass out. Never again.
5. Every now and then — about once a decade — pork rinds sound like a good idea.
6. When I was pregnant with Graceful, I was susceptible to suggestion. You could mention almost any food to me and I’d instantly crave it. Such as, beans and franks. I lived with that craving for nearly a week before I caved. One bite, and I was done for life.
7. When roasting marshmallows, I love them utterly charred. Yet I wouldn’t consider eating anything else burned to a crisp.
8. I’m weird about pastas. I think a meaty spaghetti sauce is divine on spaghetti but disgusting on elbow macaroni. I like penne but avoid ziti. Linguine is fine, but not fettuccine. But I don’t avoid all of the larger pastas; I like lasagna, manicotti, and ravioli. No, I can’t explain this.

I’m not going to tag anyone specific. If you want to participate, please feel free to do so and let me know in the comments that you did.

Bon appetit!

I had a hot date with the Hair God today. When I walked in, he handed me a magazine and his very first words were, “THIS is what I’m thinking we should do to your hair.”

THIS?

Gulp.

THIS was a Harper’s Bazaar photo spread of Renee Zellweger and her fierce new haircut:

[pause]

Yes, I know you’re laughing. I did. Look like Renee? Is Richard the Hair God on crack? I could NEVER EVER look that constipated, even if I really were.

I kid, I kid. She’s a lovely woman, even if she does make that funny face for photos. You know, the one that makes her look like she seriously needs to go poo and she’s really straining.

Me? I look like I ATE Renee. Plus, I’m not blonde, not even close, and never will be. Nor am I that cute, so cute that hunky British men want to rescue me and buy me expensive gifts.

But Richard has given this some serious thought and spent some time looking for photos to illustrate his vision, so we’re going to grow my hair for a few months and see how it looks. I admit I love the way Renee’s hair is layered up the back. Of course, this means Elegant and I would have mother/daughter hair styles, but I can live with that. It’s not like I’m going to buy mother/daughter outfits from Lilly Pulitzer.

With any luck, by the spring I’ll be down to just one chin again, so the hair style won’t be so ludicrous on me.

Oh, and Richard did not notice that I messed with my hair color and I most certainly did not confess anything to him. In fact, I’m due to color it again, so I’ve been waiting until after today. I’ll probably do it this weekend and am aiming for milk chocolate this time, not dark chocolate.

Let’s see, new style, new color…. How else can I just totally fuck with my hair?

As I was helping Elegant dry off after her shower last night, I noticed that she now has hair on her arms. It’s medium brown and long. I didn’t say anything to her, but she’s obviously clairvoyant, because she told me that that she’s embarrassed by it. She said she doesn’t like to roll her sleeves up in art class in school because she doesn’t want anyone to see how much hair she has.

She’s seven years old.

The rational part of me says that Elegant needs to learn to live with being hairy and to be comfortable with herself just as she is. We’ve spent her entire life telling her how fabulous she is and how she’s smart, funny, strong, healthy, talented, beautiful, and so on. We affirm her fabulosity on a daily basis.

But, she’s seven years old. She doesn’t want to be hairy.

I know EXACTLY how she feels. Once when I was in middle school, I shaved the hair off my arms because I hated it so much. (Not a wise way to do it, I know.) I could go get a bottle of Nair this week and take care of El’s hirsuteness in about 10 minutes.

But, she’s seven years old. A bit young to start the cycle of hair removal. And, once we start with the arms, we’d have to maintain the hairlessness, plus what’s to say she won’t ask to get rid of the fur on her legs?

And what kind of message am I sending both of my girls? Sorry girls, hair on women just isn’t acceptable in this society. You need to remove it in order to conform to society’s expectations of beauty. Mmm, I don’t think so.

What do y’all think?

… and I can now inform you all with complete authority that “Asics” sneakers are MOST CERTAINLY NOT pronounced “ass kicks.”

Consider this a public service announcement and learn from my error.

I bought some Brooks running shoes, which is my third pair by them in as many years. Maybe next time I’ll buy new ones BEFORE I walk a hole in the sole, which I found on Sunday when I went for a walk in the rain. Someone should invent an odometer that tracks how many miles you’ve put on a pair of sneakers and then a bell rings when you hit the 500 mile mark. I estimate that I put around 700 on that last pair.

With Christmas just four weeks away, our mailbox will soon begin to spew forth Christmas cards. We’re working on ours and I know you’re working on yours. Therefore I think it’s time we talk about the dreaded Christmas letter. We all know the type: One family’s spin on just how perfect their house, kids, jobs, etc. are. Let’s be honest. No one talks about the bad things in those letters and, on that rare occasion that someone does, it’s usually inappropriate and possibly even painful.

Humor. That’s what we want, people. Humor.

So, here is the Jenworld version of what the perfect Christmas letter SHOULD say:

Dear Family, Friends, and Probation Officers (Hey! They’re like family to us!!!) – Can you believe it? Christmas is almost here and 2008 is just around the corner. Where did the time go?

Court. That’s where the time went. It seems that we spent a hell of a lot of time in court this year, what with Biff Jr.’s trial for those pesky drug charges we couldn’t buy his way out of. And don’t think Biff Sr. didn’t try his damnedest to bribe some of his friends at the country club. Ha ha ha! Just kidding, of course.

But we didn’t all spend all of our time trying to thwart the legal system. Mimsy also spent lots of wonderful mother/daughter bonding time with Molly while she recovered from that nasty staph infection she got after she got pierced in places we just won’t mention in a family newsletter. But all that time in the hospital gave Molly a chance to think on the past and look toward the future. She is resolved that in 2008 she will go back and finish high school, which we are just so darn proud about. While we’re not certain that Molly’s past actions will allow her to be readmitted to the cheerleading squad, we’re certain that our darling daughter will find her niche somewhere at Snotwad Country Day School.

Biff Sr. and Mimsy did manage a lovely getaway for our 20th wedding anniversary — a romantic weekend in Las Vegas!!! That’s right. We checked ourselves into the Bellagio and, while Mimsy worked on her tan by the pool, Biff Sr. decided to check out the blackjack tables. He was certain he had a system to beat the house and he was ready to give it a trial run. Unfortunately, Biff Sr. managed to lose all of our savings and max out our credit cards in a marathon 12-hour blackjack session. But that’s okay, because we all learned a valuable lesson. And isn’t that the most important thing?

When not bailing our son out of jail and helping our daughter recover from her inappropriate piercings, Mimsy did her best to make a difference in our community. Through her volunteer work, Mimsy was able to improve the lives of those less fortunate students at Snotwad C.D.S. That’s right, Mimsy led the drive to raise funds so that ALL students could have an iPhone this year. Can you imagine a cold cruel world without an iPhone? Neither can we, which is why Mimsy worked so damn hard. Her reward was to be named Chair of next year’s Peony Festival, narrowly beating out Bitsy Buckingham for the job. Suck it Bitsy! You can be Mimsy’s Vice Chair.

As we approach the holiday season, our hearts are full of gratitude for all that we have. A lovely 6,000 s.f. house with golf course access. A new Hummer for Mimsy so that she’ll have enough room to haul her shopping bags. A new green card for Esmeralda, our housekeeper, who is like family to us — family that lives in a tiny room above the garage, that is. And, above all, a good lawyer and a doctor who writes unlimited prescriptions for Mimsy’s “happy pills.”

Peace on Earth everyone!

XOXO,
The Biffington Family

Wow, I was SO NOT READY for today. Too much fun over the holiday weekend and then — BLAM — Monday snuck up behind me and goosed my dimpled white ass.

Luckily, I woke up a little early and was able to get my mental shit together, because I knew it was going to be tough getting all the residents of Jenworld moving and out the door together. We somehow got through it without any yelling or tears. Must have had something to do with the chocolate milk and extra vitamins (two holiday colored M&Ms) we offered the girls with their breakfast. This girl, however, did not have any extra vitamins with her so-healthy-you-could-puke breakfast.

The next three weeks are going to be insanely busy at work. The choral group I work for has two Christmas concerts on the 7th and 8th + we have an alumni board meeting on the 8th + we’re having a pre-concert reception for alumni and friends that very same day + we just found out LAST WEEK that a grant proposal is due on December 31st. Oh yeah, and then there are all those other tasks that are just part of my job.

So I’m working as diligently as I can today, with short breaks every hour to take care of stuff around the house. Like throw in a load of laundry. Or running the vacuum in the living room while some documents are printing. Or blogging during my quick lunch break. With any luck, I’ll get just about everything important done by 3:00, when school lets out, just in time for me fold laundry, supervise homework, sweep the kitchen, cook dinner, etc.

It’s pretty sad that I’m already looking forward to the Christmas break!