Crap Toys

Tuesday is my favorite day of the week. It is the only day that I am guaranteed to not have to cook dinner. Every Tuesday night we eat at Moe's because kids eat free. It appeals to both my cheap and lazy side. This past Tuesday we got there a little bit earlier than usual. I try to wait for my husband to show up and he was close by this week, so I was excited to eat all together. I knew if we waited in the car that within 7 minutes the kids would want to kill each other so I asked the kids if they wanted to go to Toys R Us to look around. Of course they wanted to! I can take my kids into toy stores without them asking me to buy them anything. That's because they know my answer will be “no”. I am not one of those parents that buys my kids toys for no reason. They can get toys for Christmas, birthdays or if they get a special award at school or something like that but I just am not a random toy buyer. Toys are expensive. That's not the primary reason that I don't buy them randomly. They are expensive and most of them are crap. Plastic expensive pieces of crap. If the kids really want a certain toy for their birthday or Christmas, I will buy it even if it is a piece of crap -  but I don't like it. Take Barbie's Play House for instance. It is basically plastic box that has STICKERS on the side to create the “rooms” AND the parents have to put it together. It sells for $170. Really? Mattel is out of their minds. This crap plastic thing probably took $6 to put together and ship over from China and they are trying to rip people off because they know that parents have a hard time ruining their kids dream on Christmas day. Devious. I have weird kids. They usually don't request cheap plastic crap (although they often ask for Barbies that I buy and they never play with). My oldest for her birthday wants a pair of lovebirds. A few years ago for Christmas she asked for owl pellets to dissect. My youngest usually just asks for something her sister has. haha. We looked at bikes (that's what they will get for their birthdays this year). We found some rockin' helmets: My kids are going to be so darn cute! We ended our excursion by hugging what seemed like EVERY stuffed animal in the store. The employees where annoyed with us, I think. It was some good cheap fun and we had a cheap family dinner afterwards. Yes, Tuesday is a good day!

Clothes, Clothes, Clothes

Every year I do my clothes shopping on Memorial Day. I may do a “fill in” trip on Black Friday but I pretty much buy clothes for the year for my family on Memorial Day. Once Upon a Child has a 70% off sale and Goodwill has a 50% sale so I usually spend $400 and get a ton of stuff. I have done so good in the years past that I only spent $240 this year and we have enough clothes to get us through until next May. I let my oldest come with me and pick out her own clothes which made her feel so grown up. She was a trooper to go through 4 hours of shopping. It was just the 2 of us so we had a good time. I purchased 50 kids tops, 16 bottoms, 12 dresses, winter coats, 4 pairs of shoes. I purchased 10 tops, 3 bottoms, 3 dresses and 4 pair of shoes for myself. We made out pretty well. I go to the Goodwill in the affluent area of town so we got stuff from GAP, Old Navy, Express, Gymboree, Children's Place, Limited Too, Saks, Banana Republic, Anne Taylor. The shoes I got for the kids were pretty much brand new. A pair of Nikes and Sperrys. Nice stuff. I almost NEVER buy clothes new. Mostly because I am a cheapskate but also because my kids RUIN their clothes and grow out of them so quickly. I could not imagine the kind of money I would spend if I bought clothes for my kids from real stores like normal people. I really make an effort for them to look nice for school. When I send them to school they look like this: When I pick them up from school, they look like this: They have dirt on their knees and bottoms, mustard on their shirt, marker on their tights. Their hair is usually disheveled. They look like they could be in a Save the Children infomercial. I call them my “orphans” when I pick them up in the afternoon. I don't understand how it happens but these kids play hard. Because I spend so little on their clothing I get to be very laid back about it. It allows me to be a better mother. If I actually spent real money on their clothes I would be annoyed everyday. So it works well for our family. Don't even get me started on shoes. My kids ruin shoes at a much higher rate than their clothes. It doesn't matter where I get them or how much I pay for them. They must walk on their toes when I am not around because the toe of their shoes are always ruined within a week: I tell my kids that if they tear their shoes out within the first month, I will not replace them. I will clean them and make them look as nice as possible but I there is not a shoe-buying money tree in my back yard. My kids don't care that much. They are little Bohemians. I let them pick out their own clothes and as long as they are appropriate for the weather, I don't say a word. My kids love funky clothes. The brighter the better and it does not have to match. My youngest loves to wear her lime green tights, with a floral skit and and an electric blue and lime green striped shirt with black glitter twinkle toe sneakers. She asks me complete the ensemble by putting her hair in a “side pony”: My oldest will wear somewhat normal clothes but with a twist. She might wear capris and a loud colored tee shirt which looks cute but will pair it with orange Halloween socks (in April, y'all) and tie dye colored sneakers. My kids fashion style makes the prep inside of me want to scream but I pick my battles. Children have such little control of their own lives that I think it gives them a sense of control. As long as they like it and it is age and weather appropriate I am okay. They will ruin everything anyway and we will start again next May.

So, That Was My Day Yesterday

Yesterday started out like any other day in our house. I woke up at 5:18 am. I aim for waking at 5 am but the snooze button is so enticing. I went downstairs, put on the water for coffee and started breakfast. Then I realized that because I had to drive to Myrtle Beach to do a presentation that my husband was in charge of taking the kids to school. This can be the easiest task in the world or it can cause one to rip all of their hair out. The kids have gotten a lot better in the morning this past year than they ever have in the past but it is not 100%. I do everything in my power to help things run smoothly. I sign homework books and reading logs the night before. I get up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast and prepare snacks and I have the kids pick out their clothes the night before. All of these things do not guarantee that we will get out of the door on time.

So I wake the kids up and tell them to get dressed and I start packing the car and things appear to be running smoothly. The girls both woke up on the wrong side of the bed but they were at least manageable. Until my oldest daughter gets toothpaste on her shirt. She changes into a heavy long sleeved shirt. I tell her that it's going to be 90 degrees out and she needs to put on a short sleeved shirt or tank top. That's when the whining began, "But I don't have any clothes." We went back and forth. So I went into her room and pulled out 5 shirts and 2 dresses. All of them had something wrong with them. "That shirt shows my belly when I raise my hand, that shirt is ugly, I don't like that." At this point I am starting to melt down. We are cutting it close and she is refusing to get dressed. My husband is standing behind me and he is about to lose it as well. I was just screaming, "GET  DRESSED! YOU CAN'T BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!"

She really can't be. We have already been late 5 times this year and I received a strongly worded letter that if my kids were late 1 more time that "disciplinary action" would need to be taken. My kids are never super late. It's not like I just roll out of bed and take them to school whenever I feel like it. All the times we have been late it is like RIGHT after the bell rings. It's usually because one of them is acting like an A-hole and refusing to get dressed or decides right when we are walking out the door that their hair isn't "pretty enough" or some other crap like that. When you take your kids in after the bell rings the secretary does not look happy. They pull out these little cards that have your kid's name, the time in, and a reason they are late. I never know what to put in the reason slot. I am a bad parent, child is being an a-hole and refused to get ready this morning, overslept..... It's so embarrassing. My husband did get the kids out of the door on time, but not before my oldest daughter could scream that she hates me. :/

I drove 2.5 hours to Myrtle Beach and I had a relaxing lunch. No one said they hated me. My presentation went well. My slides came up and I had no technical difficulties. This is very unusual because the AV and IT Gods hate me and always snag my presentations and trainings somehow.

On the way home I was looking for a place to have dinner that had healthy options and there was pretty much nothing. South Carolina is so rural. It was just me and the trees for hours. By the time I reached the Charleston area my bladder was screaming at me. I stopped at an East Bay Deli and made a bee line for the ladies room. It was a single bathroom and the toilet was on the opposite wall of the door. The door had a push lock. I locked the door, set down my purse and did the public bathroom "hover". Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I was trying to hold my dress up because it was knee length. I am in mid-pee when the door swings open and a lady walks in. I called out and she fumbled and shut the door quickly. Not quick enough that I wasn't humiliated. I washed my hands and did the walk of shame out of the restroom. The lady was standing outside. She probably had lost her appetite. "Be careful, the door doesn't lock correctly." What else could I say?

So, that was my day in a nut shell....

I Need a Wife

A few weeks ago I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when my husband walks in to get his water bottle and coffee and leave for work. He kisses me and lays a parking ticket on the counter. "Can you get this paid, honey?" "Sure," I replied. He thanked me and left. That's when I had this epiphany. I am my husband's personal assistant. Really and truly. He works LONNNG days, he leaves the house around 7 and doesn't get home until 6:30 or 7 and sometimes later than that. I am not upset about it. He is a hard worker and I like to eat. I leave at 7 but an usually home by 4:30 and come home for an hour in the middle of the day for lunch - so by default I do most of the housework and make sure things are running smoothly.

I make doctors appointments, pay the bills, grocery shop, cook the meals, get the kids to and from school and do miscellaneous things like write checks for parking tickets. I call my husband to remind him of appointments and kids events. He can take my place but only as long as he has specific directions. He also can clean the house like a mo-fo if he is motivated. I do need to give him credit for that. We do need to sit down one of these days and hand over some of the tasks and duties because God forbid something happened to me. Like the other day he asked if we have a copy of his DD-214. "It's where we keep all the important papers." "Where is that?" Really? They have been in the same place since forever. I retrieved it in my personal assistant type of manner anyway.

Yesterday, I came home from work and iced and decorated 56 cupcakes, made dinner, signed homework books, made a few candles, did the dishes and updated my calendar. By the time I was finished I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling and attempted to ignore my children. My husband walked into the room from work and said, "What's wrong?" I didn't even sit up, "I need a wife." He laid down next to me and laid his head on my shoulder, "It is pretty awesome. I appreciate everything you do. I would be so lost and disorganized without you." Then he paused and said, "Now get back to the kitchen and make me a sandwich - you wench." Just kidding- he didn't really say that. I would have found it amusing. We just stared at the ceiling together for while and thought about absolutely nothing. It was glorious.

Suicidal Toddlers

This week I babysat the child of a friend of mine. A two year old boy. I generally am not a big fan of 2 year olds but this kid is pretty awesome. He is very cute and most importantly - potty trained. His dad dropped him off and I said, "Have a good time. I'll keep him alive!" This is the only thing I will promise the parents of kids that I am watching. I might fill them with junk, they may get dirty, they might even scrape a knee but they will be  alive (and fed) when you pick them up. Keeping a 2 year old alive is not a minor task. It's a huge undertaking. Two year olds are suicidal. They have no sense of self preservation. They try to jump down flights of stairs, will throw themselves onto concrete during a tantrum, like to stick airway blocking items in their mouths, try to figure out how to get their fingers into electric sockets, run into the street.....the list goes on and on and on. I have spent YEARS of my life making sure that my children didn't off themselves. In order to keep toddlers alive you have to keep an eye on them constantly. That's why most parents of 2 year olds have all kinds of stuff designed specifically to prevent their toddler from completely self destructing. Baby gates, outlet plug covers, toilet seat locks, cabinet locks. I don't have any of that crap. I don't fear that my kids are going to drown in the toilet anymore. As a result, my house is completely hazardous, a toddler death trap, so I could not take my eye away from this kid.

We live at the end of our neighborhood so it's a really quiet street so I figured it would be safe enough for us to take a walk. The 2 year old is just walking down the sidewalk like he rules it. He stops periodically to show us things. He demands that my oldest daughter walk up and down the neighbor's front stairs. Really -he makes her do it. I don't know how little people who can't even communicate effectively can make you do things, but they can. He grabbed my daughters hand and pointed to the stairs and said, "AT! AT!" She's looking at him and she says, "Those are stairs." He looks back at her like, "I know what the hell they are...." He is now more insistent "AT! AT!"  My daughter looks back at me and shrugs her shoulders. "I think he wants you to walk up and down the stairs." So she walks up and down the stairs and he is just so excited. He is shrieking and clapping his hands and jumping up and down. He was acting like it was the most exciting thing that ever happened to him.

When we get home he takes my hand and walks me over to the refrigerator and points at it. I open it up and he just stands there taking inventory. He points to a pudding. I open it up and we sit at the table. He was just loving it and he was doing a good job and it wasn't messy, so I was pleased. So while he eats his pudding, I try to start the dishes. When he is done, I go over and wipe his face and the front of his shirt is clean. But somehow he got globs of chocolate pudding all over his shirt sleeve, near this shoulder. Of course it was a white shirt and looked brand new. So I take his shirt off so I can wash it. When it comes off he starts rubbing his belly like "Well, hello skin, it's good to see you again..." Then he jumped out of his chair and just ran out of the room. Literally, ran at full speed.

My husband came home and I told him I adopted a baby, which he did not find amusing. I finally got a bathroom break at this point. We have no boys toys so we played blocks and he enjoyed knocking them down. He liked to throw things. He's a boy so I guess that's what boys do. My husband gave him a horsey ride which was fun. It reminded me of the days when our children were that age and I know that one day he'll make a wonderful Pop-Pop and give horsey rides again.

When it was almost time for him to go, I retrieved his shirt from the dryer and he refused to put it on. I was pretty sure that his parents would think we were a bunch of weirdos if they showed up and their kid was half dressed so I chased him down. He finally just submitted to my will. Then his dad came to get him. The little guy hugged me goodbye and it was sweet. When they left, I looked at my husband and he said, "He is a really cute kid." I yawned, "And a lot of work." He came in close and he hugged me and I whispered in his ear "I'm glad we're not doing that again." Then our family crashed for the night.

I Want Something Else...

I make a legitimate effort to keep a variety of healthy snack food in the house. Okay, I'm a liar. Mostly healthy snacks and then a bunch of crap. My new favorite is White Cheddar Cheez-Its. They are soooo yummy and addictive. I am sure they sprinkle crack on them. I also have been buying Cheetos. They are so bad for you but I cannot resist the crunchy cheddar goodness. Have you ever seen the Cheetos cat? He is pimpin'. He has shades and cool sneakers. He makes me feel like when I buy Cheetos I might just be a little bit cooler than I actually am.

So besides the crap, my kids have a ton of fruit. A quarter of my grocery bill is fruit. We have crackers, applesauce, popcorn, pretzels. It's a pretty desirable snack selection in my opinion. I'm sure there are starving children all over the world who would be happy to stay in our house and eat our food. 

My kids could give a hoot. This is what I heard this afternoon, "Mom, can you get me a snack?" "Get yourself a snack." So they look in the cabinets and the fridge and say, "We have nothing to eat." That's a lie. So I go through the list of things we have available to eat. "But I don't want any of that." Exasperated I say, "Well what do you want?" "Something else." I have just opened a Pandora's box because we will go around in circles. I will ask them what they want and they will tell me that they don't know but it has to be good. 

First of all, I am not a mind reader. Do not assume that I know what you want and that your definition of "good" is my definition of "good".  Second of all, if it is not in the house, I am not going out to obtain it for you. My existence is not to get you everything you want. I pulled out some pretzels and said, "Just have this."  My youngest rolls her eyes at me and says "I'll just have the Cheetos." 

Whatever you say - Veruca. 

                 

Gross

On Friday my husband ate some bad pizza from Pizza Hut and as a result he suffered from food poisoning all weekend. I felt so bad for him. Men are so melodramatic when they are sick. He was laying in bed moaning that he was dying. I was trying to get him to take medicine and drink some water and he looked up at me with big sad eyes, "But I'm going to throw it up." We went to dinner at a relative's house so the kids wouldn't bother him.

On the way home from dinner I was giving the kids a pep talk. "Guys, when we get home do not go in mom and dad's room because daddy is really sick." My daughter said, "Well, I'm just going to put on my pajamas and play a game so dad does not throw up on me. If he does throw up in bed you can just clean it up." "Why do I have to clean it up?" I asked. "Because you are the person in our family that cleans up the throw up."

Yup. That's me. I am the official vomit cleaner upper. I have cleaned a fair amount of vomit in my lifetime. That's something that you don't think about before you have kids - how many times a year you will spend wiping vomit from little bodies and bed sheets - or my favorite, hosing down car seats. There are so many nooks and crannies for chunks to "hide". I always feel like vomit in my house occurs in the middle of the night. I wish my family could vomit at more convenient times of the day. There is nothing worse than to be awoken in the middle of the night with a crying child followed by "Splash." That is real life stuff. It pushes you to your limit.

I feel like that is the function of morning sickness - to make moms comfortable with vomit. I puked so much when I was pregnant that it doesn't even phase me anymore. I can just mop it up and have it on me and I don't even get grossed out.  I am glad that my daughter recognizes this skill. I am going to put that on my resume. I am a Regurgitation Sanitation Coordinator.

She Loves Me

A few weeks ago, my youngest came home with a invitation cordially inviting me to have tea in her classroom to celebrate Mother's Day. She was so excited but she wouldn't tell me about it. “It's a surprise.” I show up to her classroom and all the moms are lined up and I step up and the teacher calls my daughter and she comes over with this huge shining smile and a tissue flower. She hands it to me and takes my hand and leads me to her desk. “I made this myself, just for you,” she whispered in my ear. When all the moms were in the room the kids went to the front and sang us some songs. So adorable. They sang this one song that was slightly creepy, “I wish I had a little red box to put my mommy in, I'd take her out and go *kiss *kiss *kiss and put her back again.....” I hope this box has all the modern amenities that I'm used to. Hope there's not a basket and lotion involved. :/ Hostage taking kindergarteners. It was very cute though. I always tell me kids that I wish I could carry them around in my pocket, so I'm equally as creepy. After the singing they served us tea and cookies and they showed a powerpoint. The teachers took pictures of all the kids and put it with audio of what they love about their mom. It was funny to see what the kids said. Most said “I love my mom because she buys me X, or because she takes me X, or because she let's me do X....” I was wondering what my little one would say. I didn't want her to say she loves me for buying her stuff or letting her eat junk. So her little picture came up and you could hear her tiny voice say, “I love my mom because she loves me.” I pretty much just melted into a big puddle. Then we got our gifts. She made me this pretty clay container in art that will now live on my kitchen window sill forever. She also did a portrait of me: Hahaha. I love it. She gave me a Jay Leno chin but I do love my voluptuous lips and jewelry. She wrapped her arm around my neck and said, “I love you so much, Mom.” These girls have my heart – I want to just carry them around in my pocket.

Back to School

All year my kids have been asking me to come to school to eat lunch with them. I would be happy to do this if they had lunch at a reasonable hour but they eat at 10:30 and 11:25 and I can't just leave work in the middle of the morning. I get guilt tripped about this on a weekly basis. "So and so's mom came to lunch today, when can you?" These manipulative children of mine.

So last week I volunteered to work at the school's book fair and I told both the girls I would have lunch with them. I met my second grader in the cafeteria and I told her I would eat school lunch with her. I wanted to see what the USDA is offering up now a days. So I get in line with all of the other second graders. I know I looked ridiculous. I felt like Billy Madison. They had popcorn chicken with honey mustard, french bread, corn, cheesy mashed potatoes and apples. Of course I had the customary carton of chocolate milk. Why is school lunch chocolate milk so yummy and refreshing? It's from those special school-lunch-giving cows.

The lunch ladies were super nice to me and were giving me extra helpings. Score! They had foam trays that had "Say no to drugs" written on them. I plan to do that. So I sat down at the kid table and we ate. My daughter was so excited. They were telling me about dinosaurs and about what they do at recess. One kid dropped a banana. As I looked around I thought, "These kids are going to be running the world some day." That's scary. The kids were very well behaved, they were like miniature grown ups.

I just sat with my kindergartner while she ate lunch. Her table was a little more subdued. The kid who sat across from her was a Debbie Downer. He was like, "We are not allowed to talk. We can only eat. I am tired...." This kid just complained about everything. Finally I said, "It's hard to be a kid, isn't it?" They all nodded in agreement.

I really meant that. Being a kid is sucky in a lot of ways. You have to go to school, take a bunch of tests. Have grown ups tell you what to do constantly. Go to bed even if you aren't tired. Share. I hated being a kid when I was one. For as long as I can remember I wanted to be grown up. I do not regret it for a moment. I love being a grown up. It has never lost it's novelty for me. haha. I can eat chocolate ice cream for breakfast if I want, I can stay up as late as I want. I can say the F word if I want. It is AWESOME! Although, I could still go for some school lunch chocolate milk on the daily.

Up on the Housetop

Last weekend we were having a relaxing afternoon outside. I was sitting on the porch reading a book while my husband sat next to me playing his guitar. The kids were riding bikes and enjoying themselves. My oldest went into the house to "get something" and comes out with this Hello Kitty watch.

"Mom, can I smash this watch? I don't want it anymore." I looked at her sideways. That is a weird request. The neurotic side of myself starts to wonder what went wrong in her day that is causing her to want to be violent toward the watch. Having a child that wants to destroy things could warrant receiving a bad mom award.
"Why don't you just throw it away?" "Because it doesn't work and I just hate it." 'Whatever".

She hit it repeatedly with a drum stick and then threw rocks at it. The thing was obviously made of bullet proof plastic. She picked it up and threw it. Do you know where it wound up?

Yup, she threw it on the roof. My annoyance level was very high. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" She looked at me sheepishly, "I just didn't want to see it anymore." I can relate with that. When something or someone annoys me I just want to get rid of the offending thing and not deal with it. I should start throwing my laundry in the roof. Note to self: work with daughter on constructive ways to deal with frustration.

I told the kids to clean up and we went in to make dinner. They even cleaned up the sticks on the driveway and put them on the porch chair. A place for everything and everything in it's place is obviously not a rule that is followed closely in my house. Oh well, I'll let this one slide. At least they're not on the roof.

A Snake In The Grass

Yesterday we were in the car and my kindergartener said, “Mom, Emily told me a bad story at school.”

I'm like, “Well, what did she say?”

“There was a little boy and he wanted to take a shower with his mom and she said, 'Okay, but you can't look up and you can't look down.' But he did look and and he said, 'Mom, what are those' and she said,

'Headlights'. Then he looked down and said 'Mom, what is that?' and she said, 'Some grass.' Then he wanted to take a shower with his dad. He said, 'Okay, but you can't look down' but he did and said, 'What is that?' and the dad said 'That is my snake.'” Then she giggled. Really?

I knew where this was going. We told the same story when we were kids except that it was head lights, a garage and dad had a car and then a few days later the kid saw the dad park his car in the garage accidentally. After 20 years, the same story is being told. It's like perverted oral tradition – our modern Iliad, so to speak.

She she's telling me this and the whole time I'm thinking “What the Eff?” Why is my poor child being polluted by this garbage? Then she told me that Emily told this story to 6 other girls. I'm sure all their parents will be so enthused.

We used it as a teaching moment and we talked about what is appropriate and not appropriate to talk about at school and how kids shouldn't be taking showers with their parents. I try to be very informative and not freaked out when my kids ask me questions about things (or tell me dirty jokes, incidentally). I don't want them to feel like they are making me uncomfortable because then I don't think they will tell me things and will become full of misinformation. 

But truth be told, it makes me super uncomfortable on the inside. I always thought that I would be so cool about it because you know, reproduction is part of nature. I am an open person but when a five year old asks what a tampon is - like, how do you not want to craw under a rock to avoid that conversation? My kids do know where babies come from but they haven't asked how the baby gets in there. I haven't had to discuss the mechanics of the whole thing. I know that day is coming in my near future with a soon to be third grader. I'll just tell her that when a man and woman love each other very much, he takes this snake and......

Outta Paper

So, we almost ran out of toilet paper last week. That was annoying. I usually am a pretty good judge of when we need to buy more but there was none on sale the week before and we had 8 rolls. On a normal week this is okay but a bloody nose and allergies type of week can really deplete the stash.

I used to buy tissues but then figured out that I might as well just light dollar bills on fire because my kids would use them as barbie blankets. One day they took them all out of the box and lined them up one after the other to cover the living room floor. That was awesome.

So I stopped buying tissues and the kids waste toilet paper instead. I have discussed this in length with them but somehow this has not changed anything. This many pieces for a #1, this many for a #2. The next minute my kid is in the bathroom wrapping the toilet paper around her entire hand. The hand must be covered before wiping occurs. *face palm* By last Thursday we were down to our last roll of toilet paper. I did not have time to go to the store until Friday evening so we needed to really ration this last roll. I would be cooking dinner and I would hear "MOM, I NEED TOILET PAPER". I would take the toilet paper upstairs, of course during dinner someone would have to use the bathroom. I'm so lazy, I'm like, "Here, just use a napkin." My daughter looked at me like I was crazy, as if I handed her a hairbrush. "It's paper - just use it." For 2 days the toilet paper roll floated around the 3 bathrooms in the house. So annoying.

I came home to eat lunch and used the restroom and of course no toilet paper. I am alone in the house and I took the empty roll and I am trying to rip the last tiny shreds from the roll, as if that was going to do something for me. Then I'm looking in the magazine basket next to me thinking - which one of these have I read already? Awful.

Thankfully my husband saved the day and brought home toiler paper that evening. It was an urgent matter.

Before toilet paper was invented, people used to use corncobs. On a rope. Next time I see my kids wasting toilet paper, I am going to put a corncob on the back of the toilet seat.