There are days when self-motivation needs a crutch. When there is a laundry list of things to do and you really just need to convince your legs to swing around and off the bed so that you can get moving. Or, hell, even when there is NOTHING to do but for some reason you just need to do something to feel like you've earned your place on this planet for the day. Or the alarm has gone off and you know EXACTLY how many allotted snooze minutes there are for you and then begin the dance of how many snoozes you will allow yourself.

That's when it starts. The bargaining.

Ok. I'll lay here for another 7 minutes. I'll wear my favorite jeans, a white t-shirt and my black flats. Do I know where they are exactly? Hmmmm. YES. I've visualized every piece so that when I DO get out of bed I can be EXTRA efficient in getting dressed and not waste time fumbling around for what to wear. Am genius. Also? Skipping the hot egg white omelet I considered making to save time and will have the organic cereal. There. Bought some more time. OMG this bed feels way too good for this to be legal. I love my sheets. Today's a ponytail day for sure. Yes. Not a day for product and equipment. Does Benjamin REALLY need to be at school at 8? I mean, come on. He's three. It's not like he's going to miss calculus and fall behind. Maybe he can get there at 8:05 because OMG this pillow is my friend. How come Leah isn't downstairs yet eating breakfast yet? That's not going to end well. Nope. Not at all. You know what? I'll eat breakfast later. Oh, wait! Dude! I had the strangest dream last night. Wow. I need to remember this one. The best part was that...oh SHIT I forgot it! How does that HAPPEN?! I just knew it two seconds ago and now I don't. Does that mean I'm awake now? No. I still have two minutes. 160 seconds. A lifetime. Man, Daniel Craig knows how to wear a pair of sunglasses. Wait. HUH? Where'd that come from? Oh who cares. YUMMY. Why yes, a glass of wine sounds lovely...

HI, MOMMY! CAN I WATCH SOME TV?!

{Trying to crack an eye open}... Hi, Buddy... {sigh}... yes. You can watch some TV... just please do it softly for a few minutes... Mommy needs to figure out how to get her legs to agree to move...

In one more minute...

PEOPLE.

I will readily admit I am a complete accessories whore. And, for better or for worse, etsy feeds that inner beast in demonic, wicked, fabulous ways.

But really? I love etsy because I am also a packaging whore. I love all things wrappings and paper and ribbons and oh my G-d I need to sit down...

Okay.

When is the last time you bought a simple little trinket and it came wrapped like this:

NEVER. That's how long.

It's like unwrapping a little piece of jewelry from a cupcake. It's that cute. I don't want to throw this away. I want to wear my trinket and display the wrappings for all to see because it is that girly and cute.

Oh, you wanna see what I bought? Of course you do - because there's a little accessory whore in everyone dying to come out.

It is FANTASTIC. It is the best relatively small amount of money I have spent in a long time and I love it so very much. I am already trying to figure out where I can wear this piece de resistance. Quick! Someone take me to a cool restaurant so I can blind the waitstaff. Or stab a patron. Or wave my hand about in a flourish in a totally obnoxious way.

You want one? Go here. Tell her I sent you.

Everyone needs a little inspiration to get through the end of a week. So each Thursday I'll showcase something that brings me a little bit of joy. Welcome to the first installment of Favorite Thursday Things!

I was introduced to this wine about five years ago through a favorite work colleague, friend and, at the time, boss. We spent WAY too many hours after work (or sometimes during work, depending on the client issue du jour) at the fantastic hotel restaurant down the street from our office. Occasionally we decided to stop with the work talk and enjoy NOT work talk - and one late afternoon the conversation turned to wine on the walk over. He said I needed to try this one. I agreed at the time because on that day I needed a glass of wine more than I needed my next breath.

Through the years it has become a favorite, inexpensive merlot that I cook with and drink. I love it on crisp, cold fall or winter days and I recently found this one on sale at my local grocer for $7. I can't drink this wine without remembering some very fun times. We worked hard and laughed harder and there are stories and lessons from that job and that team that I will carry with me always.

Number of phone calls to these people: 11
Number of boxes that should have never been delivered: 4
Number of boxes currently sitting in my foyer: 5
Number of boxes that might still be on the way: Oh who the hell knows.

The head of customer service and I now have each other on speed dial. To say this is ridiculous does not do it justice.

Previously, for those of you just joining the program, they said they would send me FedEx pre-paid stickers to return the items that were incorrect and shipped to me. Yesterday I called to tell them they need to send a whole STACK of those babies. And this is why:

Yeah. They don't really blend with the décor, do they?

I actually did find a replacement piece that I wanted. They were kind enough to honor the discount they offered when this mess happened. So yesterday I speed dialed my new customer service BFF and said I had found a suitable alternative. "Great!" he said - and we were going to complete the order right then and there to make sure there were no more issues.

Well, there was an issue. You see the item I wanted read "available" online, but, apparently, was not available. AGAIN.

I suggested not so nicely that they just bring down their entire website until they get their backend inventory system problems fixed. He didn't really appreciate my humor. He did, however, say he was going to put in a call to some controller/buyer/inventory goddess that would be able to tell us FOR SURE if it was or was not available.

Taking any bets?

Any rational person would have given up by now. Walked away and told them "Good luck and G-d speed," and probably laughed while doing it. I am not that person. This has now become a quest. A maniacal, twisted, gut-wrenching quest. This is costing me roughly zero dollars what with all the free return shipping and discounts, so... I say let's fuck with 'em for a while. I'm kinda thinking that by the end of this ordeal I may just end up with a free piece of furniture. Or an ulcer.

Same dif.

Allow me this rant, will you?

For the past several summers, Leah has gone to a great sleepaway camp. The rest of the weeks she attends a day camp here in town and has done all sorts of programs from sporty stuff to performing arts. It's a large camp program and she has a few friends that she sees there every year.

It's February - so that means that it's time, yet again, to figure out her summer schedule.
It is also time for me to freak out on how much it costs.

OMGGGGGG how much it costs!

For roughly six weeks of camp (combined) I will shell out close to $4,500. And that should be more but because she is going to the "full" session at her sleepaway camp for the first time (as opposed to the introductory little kids' session) we get a $1,000 discount.

Oh, goodie!

It is EXTRAORDINARY to me how much this costs. And, truth be told, the sleepaway camp costs are high, but that's sleepaway camp. All in. I can swallow that (mostly). It is a terrific camp that she really enjoys and fosters some great things in her and for her. She is making memories there that will last a lifetime - and I love that.

It's the DAY camp costs that piss me off beyond all belief. I hate it. And really? I'm just not a huge fan of the program in general, but it's the best option in the city.

But wait. There's more.

That's only six weeks of the summer. There is another 3 weeks not accounted for there. Sure, there are play dates and mommy days and daddy days.... But.... THREE WEEKS. So, we'll look at a trip to take (more cost) and don't forget the cost of getting ready for sleepaway camp. G-d forbid she stay the same size.

Oh, look . I'm bitching about my child growing healthily. See what summer does?

It's enough to vote for year-round school schedules.

Am I alone in this? Or is camp outrageous wherever you live?

Yesterday Leah woke up complaining of a sore throat and feeling yucky. Considering Benjamin had fever the week before, this was not surprising. She had no fever and a tickly throat was no reason not to go to school, so I told her to continue to get ready for school. Around that time she lost her ever-loving mind and burst into tears.

This is not totally in character for her, so clearly something else was going on.

We came to find out that the day before was a TAKS review test. (TAKS is the dumb standardized testing that happens here in Texas at certain grade levels.) She did great - only missed three on the math section (out of 40) and was proud of herself for that.

However it appears that after the review test was done a little girl in one of the other third grade classes made fun of her a bit by saying Leah was the last one to finish. And that completely unnerved Leah.

We talked to her that you don't get any extra points for finishing quickly and that she did the right thing in taking whatever time she needed to do it correctly - and that it paid off since she only missed three. This didn't help. We pulled out all the parenting clichés... it's not a race, ignore her, she's not the boss of you.

Nothing stuck.

I let her stay home from school because she did, eventually, feel warm and she ended up having some low-grade fever. Better safe than sorry at that point.

This morning she was fine with no fever and it really was time for her to go to school. Again the meltdown. I started thinking about that last cliché - she's not the boss of you. It occurred to me that apparently she was. Leah had given this girl tremendous power over her. And it was alarming to see that.

She was so wrapped around the axle that even threats of taking ice skating away if she didn't get dressed were met with, "Fine. I don't want to skate."

Okay, then.

"Leah, I don't understand why you are giving this girl so much power."

"Huh?"

"By letting this girl bother you with a very dumb little statement that you know is silly you are giving her control of you and your life. And I'm surprised you're letting someone do that."

"Oh."

Husband explained it was time to go to school to face it. That it will not be nearly as bad as she thinks it is in her head. That she needs to tell the teacher what is bothering her because the teacher will notice she is sad. And when the tears came yet again, the message was very clear - you will get dressed and go to school or we will dress you and carry you there ourselves.

Husband took her to school (still under protest) and called me to say that she did, indeed, collect herself before getting out of the car. So I'm proud of her for that.
But man am I bothered by the idea that some silly girl comment unnerved her the way that it did. Leah is tremendously bright, unerringly sweet and a bit sensitive for her own good. But she's never just been, I don't know, defeated. She's pouted or waivered or doubted or assessed. But she's never been defeated like that.

I don't think there is more to the story. I believe we would have heard about it by now. But there is clearly another conversation to be had with Leah. Actually, there is an ongoing conversation to be had. I'm just not entirely sure how to approach it yet. Is she hurt because she thinks being "last" is like losing? Is it because she feels "different" with her "race car brain"? Or is she just hyper-sensitive to any sort of teasing? Any or all could be the case.

Regardless of the cause, it's time to talk about the idea of (self) power and control -- and how easy it is to give that away if you're not careful. How easy it is to hand over the keys to your kingdom and what the consequences of doing that are. But, man... to start having that discussion at EIGHT?! That just makes me a little sad.

There are some truths that are just, well, TRUE.

I am a tremendous shopper - and by that I mean that I can find items priced well below their actual value. I am an internet ninja that way. However, there are some times where it's not always about quality - it's about a solution to a problem. A fast, cheap solution to a problem.

I am very lucky to have a home office. I love it. After going back to work these past few months and realizing that I spent a good deal of time in said home office I decided it was finally time to spruce it up a bit so that I could enjoy it a bit more. So... fresh paint, new lighting, some furniture. I have a huge wall of shelves and a built in desk, but very little file cabinet space. There is an awfully ugly two-drawer metal file cabinet nearby, but, well, it's ugly. And jammed full of stuff. I wanted a piece of furniture that would provide some additional filing storage, but look decent against a wall with some awesome family etchings above it. I found Home Decorators Outlet on the internet after getting a few catalogs in the mail about a year or so ago. I knew it wasn't great quality, but the reviews of the piece I wanted seemed to be decent in terms of heft, functionality and design, so I took the plunge. Here is the item I ordered.

Simple, functional, cheap. I'd be happy with that.

If only these asshats could get their inventory and shipping correct. See that picture? It has DRAWERS. They keep trying to send me one with BASKETS. TWICE. The best part is this thing comes disassembled so it comes in multiple boxes for shipping. So now I have roughly anywhere from 3-6 different WRONG boxes on the way to my house not including the one that is already here in my foyer.

I called the first time when I got the shipping notification that clearly showed the wrong item. Oh, we're so sorry, Mrs. Pammer, I've notified the warehouse and they've stopped shipment on that one and we're sending you the correct one.

Great.

Except? Not great. UNgreat. WRONG.

Call number two:

"Hi, you shipped me the wrong thing."

"No. We shipped you what you ordered."

"No. I ordered Item X. You sent me Item Y."

"Well, according to my system that's what you ordered."

"Do you want me to email you the purchase confirmation to show you how wrong you are? Because I can."

"No. Here's the item number. Go to our website and type that in. You'll see we shipped you the right item."

"Fine. I did. It's the item I ordered. NOT the one you shipped me."

"Well on my screen it's the basket one."

"Lady, on my screen it's the drawer one. Figure that one out."

"Maybe there's something wrong with www.homedecorators.com."

"Ah. Well, there's your problem. I didn't order this from www.homedecorators.com. I ordered this from your outlet site."

"Ohhhhhh."

"Right."

"About done arguing with me now?"

"Um, yes. I'm so sorry. We'll get that shipped out to you right away and give you the free FedEx labels to send the wrong one back."

Great.

Except? NOT FUCKING GREAT. Still very, very UNGREAT AND WRONG AND OMFG!

Call number three:

"HI. You've now sent me a shipping notification for THREE wrong items headed my way. My foyer is not big enough to hold all your mistakes. This is too hard. Cancel all orders. You people are making me stabby."

"Oh, noes... We are SOOOO sorry that we haz Teh Dumb. We have stopped all shipments and want to offer you 50% of your item in a refund. How's that?"

"You'll forgive me for this next statement: HOW DO I KNOW YOU WON'T FUCK THIS UP AGAIN?!"

"Well, um. Good question. Because I really mean it this time? And the Customer Service Manager is right here on the phone with the warehouse ripping them a new one. And we're really not this awful, I swear. And please can we still send this to you?"
"Okay. Please don't make me regret this decision. I beg you."

The betting pool is now open. Is there ANY chance this can end well for me?

Dinner around Casa Pammer consists of two shifts: the Pammer and Kids phase and the Husband phase. Husband doesn't usually get home until after the time the kids need to eat dinner to keep me sane and them on track to get to bed at a reasonable time and so... shifts it is. Not my preference, but it is my reality.

Dinner every night with the kids is always a challenge. Some days the inspiration for dinner comes easily and the kids don't bicker (too much) and I can continue to multi-task and still deal with clients on the west coast. Some days I have no idea what to cook, am completely at a loss, I've thrown both of them into their respective rooms for incessant bickering and have reached for the merlot around 4pm.

Last night was version 2 of the aforementioned options and it came down to making it easy: soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I can live with that. I happened to have made some noodles that were incredibly long and while they were slightly pouting at the table about whatever random consequence I bestowed upon them upstairs I slurped one up in between puckered lips. To wild giggles and applause.

And the silly noodle slurping contest began.

Leah discovered that the harder she sucked the faster the noodles went in. Then she discovered that slurping too hard and too fast resulted in a wet noodle leaping out of the bowl and smacking her in the face. I wish I had video of that moment.

Benjamin, and his enormous pickiness, actually enjoyed several noodles and was so distracted he ate an entire grilled cheese sandwich. That's a win in my book.

I'm fairly certain the next time we all encounter long wiggly noodles I'll be turning nine shades of red after they start slurping them at the table in front of guests, right?

I have a back issue. At the ripe old age of 39 (for several more months thankyouverymuch) I have a degenerating disc between my L4 and L5 vertebrae. There is nothing surgically that can be done - it is a gift from the genetics fairy - but, as an added bonus, I have a fairly unstable and unsupported lower back that does benefit from a regular course of pilates.

For a couple of years I was pretty diligent about it. Although, once a year I'd fall off the exercise wagon and get lazy and, lo, there'd be a back blow out the likes of which are biblical in pain proportion. Almost three weeks ago I had yet another blow out. While sitting in my car at the grocery store as I was turning to look over my right shoulder to back out of the parking space. And it was spectacular.

There are many, many things that go into dealing with a back injury. No, I said that wrong . There are many, many humiliating things that go into dealing with a back injury. And these things (along with the sheer excrutiating pain) are now my permanent reminder that I will never, never stop going to pilates ever again.

But right now? I'd just like to get to physical therapy. Seriously. I'm so excited to go I can't stand it. (Though I will tell you my pedicure is ATROCIOUS since I can't really get around anywhere and doing it myself kind of isn't an option right now. I hope they can forgive me for a week.) I've never looked so forward to exercise in my whole life. And I've now also realized that, thanks to the latest food information, I'm also really quite motivated to raise the bar a bit on my health level. I've declared 2010 The Year of Abs, Ass and Arms. Oh, and heart. I need to get some cardio work going up in here tout suite.

For those of you who have followed my mom's story you know of her medical challenges. (She's totally fine by the way and kicking much as in the research protocol she's involved in.) Well, here's one for you. At the age of 63 my 5-foot-one-half-inch, cancer-beating, chemo-taking, powerhouse of a mom is working out right alongside professional football players and RUNNING THE COMBINE. And holding her own.

WTF is MY excuse?!

Right.

You don't get one either.

A few weeks ago, I all but forced Husband to sit and watch Food, Inc. with me. For those of you that have seen this documentary you know why this title of this post is what it is. And let me say this: if you haven't seen this film, you need to. It's important. And that's all I'll say about that.

Needless to say the grocery shopping in this house has changed fairly dramatically since then. Some additional books have been purchased and I am sadly watching some food commercials with more nausea than interest these days.

Leah has been quick to notice the changes in the pantry and started questioning almost immediately why we are buying so much organic stuff. And NO this cereal does NOT taste the same as COCOA PUFFS and WHERE is the "REGULAR" cheese?!

I took some time trying to decide how and how much to explain to Leah about our decisions. She's bright but can be terribly sensitive about certain things. I didn't want her to go down a rat hole of fear regarding day to day food, but it was important for her to know the story. Finally I decided she needed to see parts of Food, Inc for herself. Yes, it's slightly horrifying, but that's the point, isn't it? And if it became overwhelming, well, we could always turn it off.

Last night we watched it. Or at least parts of it. I had to stop and pause the DVD a few times to simplify some concepts or really make sure she understood a certain statement, but, not surprisingly, she caught on quick. And, bless her little magnificently linear brain, she did, indeed, go straight down a rat hole in horror. But I let her for awhile because I was proud of her for realizing certain facts without my telling her.

You see, at one point she sat straight up, looked at me with huge eyes of realization and said, "Mommy?! Does my school use organic food?!"

"No, sweetie. It doesn't."

One of the most exciting things in the world for her is to buy her lunch at school. I guess that's sort of a right of passage in third grade. But she doesn't want to do that any longer. She now wants to bring her lunch. EVERY DAY. AND DON'T LET ME FORGET, MOMMY!

I'm okay with that.

There were some real, fearful tears, a SHITLOAD of questions, a discussion of the science of bacteria, and more questions. She hit the wall of information pretty quickly and sat up and looked right at me and said, quite seriously, "I want to turn this off now." So we did. She got the point. We didn't need to give her nightmares.

I did explain to her that this doesn't mean from time to time Mommy isn't going to want a cheeseburger at the local family grill or a badass pizza at the joint attached to the ice rink. Because Mommy likes her grease. And it's fine. Do we risk bad food and dangerous bacteria? Yep. But we can't live in a complete bubble and we will do the best we can.

We will do our best to make better bad decisions.