Target

I have an unhealthy obsession with Target.  I make more trips to Target and Market Street than should be allowed.  I try not to be wasteful, so instead of going to the store and grocery shopping all at once, I tend to break it up into a few times a week...especially where produce is concerned.  With B eating things that don't include dairy, we've upped our fruit & vegetable intake (which was already up there) so we run out of produce pretty quickly.  This is all fascinating.

Last night, I posted about looking for 1/2 gallon coolers for the boys, and how I wanted to find them in colors that coordinated with their teams.  Most people immediately assumed I went to Target...but I didn't.  I'd already been there, and they only had one color.  I bought them, but they leak.  I would return them, however, I'd already written names on them, so now we have extra (leaky) 1/2 gallon coolers.  I've already decided one will be for margaritas and the other will be for wine.  If you're a grown-up, and you see me at the ball fields with blue coolers, bring your own cup.  It'll be a party!

It was cold and rainy today, so I decided I wanted to make soup.  This isn't new...I make soup all the time, but this time, I really wanted some broccoli cheese soup.  Guess what.  No onion.  Super!  SO, it was off to Target.  While I was making a list of a few things we needed, N reminded me that we needed laundry soap and dryer sheets and batteries.  Since B will be home tomorrow, I also needed turkey (for his lunch), baby carrots, and Oreos.  Why Oreos?  I have no idea.  But I felt like they were necessary, and N agreed.  He chose the golden Oreos.  It's been a long time since I've had any kind of Oreo.  This might be dangerous.

Anyway, $100 later, we're home, unloading groceries, and I'm telling N that we're going to have to eat at home all week, even if that means I give B cheese...because we are always so quick to suggest going to grab something on the way to or from practice.  And that has to stop.  I have to be a grown-up and be all responsible and stuff.

I ordered N's catcher's gear yesterday, so imagine my surprise when someone banged on my door this afternoon.  Someone was the Fed-Ex guy, delivering the gear.  Know where it came from?  Good ol' Wichita, KS!  Man, I love that city.  I miss it all the time.  (P.S. I don't "do" the whole March Madness thing, but the Shox just knocked the #1 team out of the playoffs...HA!)  Anyway, N tried on the gear and then we had a huge fight over his helmet and his hair.  I'm copying from Facebook, so if you've already read it there, be prepared to be disappointed.

"Going toe to toe with N on his hair for baseball season. He can't see out of his catcher's mask with his hair the length it is, so I told him:

Me: Okay, here's the deal...ponytail or haircut?
N: You can't make me.
Me: Uh, get a grip, dude. You're 10. I'm 31. I win every single time.
N: Fine, then...return my catcher's gear.
Me: You're insane. Seriously. Insane.

<Insert scuffle while I trim his bangs in an attempt to compromise.>

Compromise: Unsuccessful.

Me: Dude, you can't see because your hair's in your eyes, and you won't wear a headband or a ponytail. I'm at a loss here...'cause it's going to be the same scenario with your batting helmet.
N: Then I'll just play basketball.
Me: Oh. Hell. No. How much have I spent on freaking baseball gear? You're going to play it, and you're going to like it. Damn it. Now, go to your room because I feel like Nana and Pampaw right now and I need a moment.
N (Laughing): You sound like them too...(seeing my glare) Nevermind, I'm going to my room.
Me: Yeah, good idea...UGH!

Seriously? He's going to forgo playing his favorite position because of his hair? I realize this further cements the fact that he's my child and stubborn as all get out, and I should be proud...but I just want to smack him upside his long-haired head."

He seems to think that he'll be able to argue and/or overpower me on the whole haircut thing.

Kids.  They always have big dreams and lofty goals.

Remember when I was one? 

Oh...yeah...still am.

Aubs