Perpetually Peeved

Redux reflux

Christmas is over, the goose done got fat, and you can tell which presents weren’t such a big hit by the fact that they’re still under the tree. Yes, all of my decorations are still up.  Let’s just blame that on an unfortunate series of events and not my overactive lazy gland.

I learned how to re-gift from my mother.  She’ll recycle just about anything.  When Biggie was a baby, she pulled out the clothes from the late 70s… um, thanks mom.  Another time, I was eating ravioli in what I thought was a brown sauce…

Stepbrother (let’s call him Stepdoucher – more on that another time): What are you eating?

Peeved:  Ravioli in brown sauce.  Mom made it for me.

Stepdoucher:  Ew.  I bet it tasted better last week when it was ravioli with red sauce.

Peeved: [spit, cough, choke] What??

Mom:  Oh, stop.  It’s fine.  I re-worked it.


Last year, her and AJenda had a ridiculous re-gift exchange that went something like this:  AJenda buys overpriced bowl set from one of Mom’s hairbrained catalog schemes.  AJenda is pissed that she paid so much money for what she thought was a set of stacking serving bowls big enough to hold chips.  Turns out, they are big enough to hold about two handfuls of peanuts and a couple of MnMs.  AJenda regifts the bowls to Mom for her birthday – “I thought they would look nice in your house.”  Mom, in turn, regifts the bowls to AJenda for her birthday 10 months later – “I felt bad, you ordered them and they go so nice with your house – I hardly used them.”  You can imagine, this did not fly with AJenda.  Come Christmas, there was a familiar looking package under the tree with Mom’s name on it.  My mother, who is the queen of Christmas shopping at Big Lots and Kroger but expects her own gifts to come in small packages and sparkle, just says, “this better not be those damn bowls.”

Alas, this year, there was no reappearance of the damnbowls and Mom did a great job of picking presents.

Mom:  You girls really liked your presents?

AJenda:  Absolutely, the scarf is lovely.

Peeved:  Yep!  I liked mine, too.  My favorite was the little change purse that looked like a vintage purse.

NotBonJovi:  My favorite was the sweatpants!  Thanks Ma!

Mom:  Ha!  I just want to let you know that out of all the gifts, only two are regifts…  the scarf and the little purse!

Peeved:  Well, your regift skills are improving!  Thanks Ma!

Later that night NotBonJovi went to put on his sweatpants.  They were a little short.  They were a ladies XL.

I guess it could have been worse... (photo courtesy of

For those of you that care where I’ve been for the last three weeks, it went something like this: 

Dec 17 – 22:  Last minute Christmas shopping and decorating the house.

Dec 23: Bieber!  Smalls gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving.

Ignore the rest of those girls, he was only singing to HER!

Dec 25:  Blessed temporary reprieve from illness and a white Christmas in the South – thank you Santa.

Dec 26:  Peeved gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving.  Mr. Peeved gets it, too.  You know, just to keep things fun.

Dec 27 – 29:  Netflix!  There is a reason some movies go straight to video.

Dec 30: Sickie remnants, but must clean house and go food shopping for company coming over.

Dec 31 – Jan 2:  House guests!

Jan 3 – 4:  Actual work in the office.  (How do I do this again?)

Jan 5 – 8:  Trip to NY for Grandpa’s funeral.  (Even stuffing my face with pizza and bagels couldn’t make me feel better – believe me, I tried.)

And, now, I’m home and work was cancelled today because we have a blizzard (READ: 3 inches of snow).  I’m about to improvise some sleds, but thought before I do, I better take a moment to check in and give all of you your Christmas presents.  It’s a regift, of course:

... and to all a good night.

Hey Elves – You’re Fired!

I’ve been trying to wrap up all my Christmas shopping by the end of this week.  I plan on spending the time off I have doing fun things around town with the kids, not last-minute running around in crowds.  I HATE crowds.  LOATHE crowds, actually.  I also can’t stand shopping unless it involves margaritas or shoes for me.  So, I’ve been doing a lot of lunch-hour power shopping and stopping in to a single store between picking up the kids and heading home.  The other day, I needed to run into Macy’s for three very specific things:  handbags for Smalls’ teachers.  I knew exactly what I wanted.  I was a woman with a coupon and a mission.

Peeved:  Okay, girls, Mommy has to run into Macy’s real quick and pick up some presents for Smalls’ teachers.

Smalls:  Are we getting them Zhu Zhu Pets?

Peeved:  No, Smalls, I think they’d like purses better.

Smalls:  Oh.  Can we stick a Zhu Zhu Pet in the purse?

Peeved:  No.  Let’s just get them purses and then you can make a nice card for them.

Biggie:  Where are we going?

Peeved:  Macy’s.

Biggie:  Oh, cool.  I totally need skinny jeans.  Macy’s has the best skinny jeans.

Peeved:  We are not shopping for skinny jeans.  We are going to get out of the car, go directly to the purses, select three purses, pay for them and leave.  Understood?

Biggie:  But the skinny jeans are right next to the door closest to the purses. I could just…

Peeved:  Here’s the deal.  Ready?  I just need to grab these things real quick.  You all need to behave because Santa is watching and if you don’t behave you’ll get coal in your stocking.  Smalls, you’re in the stroller.  Biggie, you’re pushing the stroller.  You both stay right next to me and offer your opinions if and only when asked.  I need you to be my elves tonight.  We are not shopping for ourselves, we are shopping for gifts for others.  Got it?  Elves.  Helpers.

Biggie:  Fine!

Smalls:  Fine!

I love - check it out. 🙂


A condensed version of the events that took place inside Macy’s on December 13th at approximately 7:03 p.m.:  touch, touch, touch, drop, yell, whine, whine, whine, yell, disappear, reappear, yell, skootch, skootch, skootch the stroller, heart attack – where the hell did Smalls go?, yell, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, yell, stroller derby, near fatal collision with purse rack, yell, don’t touch your sister-stand right there and don’t move-Smalls get your feet off of the stroller wheels, purchase of the closest three purses, step routine, step routine, step routine, yell, time out in the corner, whine, whine, whine, yell, touch, touch, touch…


[In the car on the way home]

Peeved:  I don’t want to hear a word – A WORD! – from either one of you.  Biggie, that was embarrassing and disrespectful.  You are twelve years old and I had to put you in time out in the corner of Macy’s.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  How hard is it to stick your hands in your pockets and behave yourself for five freaking minutes?  I asked you to help me.  You did exactly the opposite.  You think it’s okay to misbehave now because I’ve already done my shopping for you?  Well, you have another thing coming.  Santa doesn’t bring trampolines to kids that don’t behave.  Get my drift?  You need to learn to listen.  I told you not to touch anything and I don’t think there was one item in that store that you didn’t leave a fingerprint on.

Smalls:  Yeah, and she…

Peeved:  I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Gallery!

Smalls:  Yeah, well I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Butter Jelly Gallery!

Peeved:  Oh no you don’t.  I’m mad at you too.  You were not wearing your listening ears.  Mommy told you to sit in the stroller and what did you do?  You skootched halfway across the store.  I look away for one second and you’re over in Petites walking around with the stroller hanging off your butt.  When we get home, it’s dinner and bed for you.  No show tonight.  Biggie, it’s homework and bed for you, too.  Give me  any lip and I’ll take away your electronics for a week.


Peeved:  Here, eat your dinner.

Smalls:  That’s not dinner.  That’s cereal.  I want dinner.

Peeved:  Well, we don’t have anything in the house.  And, after the way you acted in the store, I’m certainly not going food shopping with you.

Smalls:  I want dinner. [lip quiver]  Cereal is not dinner.  [start of cry]  You need to have something with bread for dinner.  [full on crying, now]

Peeved:  Fine!  I’ll go make something out of nothing.


[in the kitchen]

Smalls:  [sobbing in the other room – then… silence]

Peeved:  Smalls…  what are you doing?

Smalls: [in the most pathetic four-year-old voice you can imagine]  Looking at a picture of you [stifled sob] …  when you were happy.

Peeved:  What?

Smalls:  You’re with daddy… [stifled sob]... and …  you’re smiling [full on crying again]


Dear Future Therapist of Biggie & Smalls,

It is all exaggerations and half-truths, I swear.



Christmas in July

The year Smalls was two, she fell in love with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  We thought this was adorable.  All the way up until May.  Then we started to worry that people would take one look at the Rudolph hoodie she was wearing, listen to her screaming singing the Rudolph song everywhere we went, and start to be a little judgmental.

The other weekend we went out to the stores and there were Christmas items for sale.  Christmas items.  In July.  Now, I understand the bad economy has had places like Toys ‘R Us and the like come up with Christmas in July gimmicks to increase sales.  I understand selling a small selection of Christmas items in craft and fabric stores.  If you are anything like me, it might be that long before you actually get around to those things.  What I cannot fathom is how it is okay to have a full-blown section of your store devoted to Christmas wares in July.  It drives me insane.  Didn’t you just take those down 5 months ago?

After much investigation, we discovered that our lack of holiday decoration removal may have been the cause of Smalls obsession with a never-ending Christmas. Well, that and the presents, of course.

As we were going through our budget a few weeks ago, my very smart husband said that we should start to save for Christmas now.  You know, pick up stuff we see on sale and throw it in the attic so we aren’t hit all at once with the expense of Christmas.  Very prudent and, for me, completely unrealistic.  I am the type of person that will pull over at a gas station to wear my new shirt home.  Yep, I’m the one leaving DSW with the old shoes in the bag and the new ones on my feet.  Anticipation is probably my least favorite feeling in the whole world. I’m also the drunk lady you see buying everyone George Foreman Grills and Flobees on December 23rd because I forgot Christmas was on the 25th this year.  So, I very dutifully said, “yes, dear” and chuckled in my head.

I refuse to buy something just because it is on sale.  Most of the time if there is such a good deal that I felt the need to “stock up” it’s on absolutely nothing I want to “stock up” on.  Murphy’s law, and all.  I love a good deal, but I’m not cheap.  My favorite game in the whole world is the “Guess How Much” game.  My husband, he hates this game.  Despises it so much it drives him to passive aggressiveness.

Peeved: You are never going to believe how much I got this dress for.

Mr. Peeved: How much?

Peeved: No – you have to guess.  It’s designer.  Silk.

Mr. Peeved: What’s the regular price?

Peeved: I’ll tell you after you guess.  That takes the fun out of it.

Mr. Peeved: Five dollars.

Peeved: That’s your guess?

Mr. Peeved: Yep, five dollars.

Peeved: Five dollars. For a silk designer dress.

Mr. Peeved: Yep.

Peeved: I can’t get a single fingernail painted for $5.

Mr. Peeved: Well, how much was it?

Peeved: Forget it.

Mr. Peeved: Well, you made it sound like a good deal.

I hate when he does that.  Why can’t he just play along?  Everyone knows you guess about 20% off of the regular price and then act completely shocked when I say 55% off.

Last night I went to Target to pick up some presents for upcoming birthday parties.  When your kid is 4 you have like two a weekend.  I literally had a list of 9 kids I needed to buy presents for.  I didn’t want to chintz out, but I did have this “spend responsibly” angel on my shoulder (how the hell did THAT get there).  I figured I would see what they had.  Well, what they had was the mother of all unannounced clearance sales on toys.  Eureka! Mother-lode! Jackpot! I gotta go, I see red tags, I’ll call you later! kind of clearance sale.  There was a family of four that each had two carts and were just going down the aisles sweeping things into them.  I seriously wondered if they were going to open a toy store.  It was insane.  So, I came home with this:

So, um…. guess how much!  The person who gets the closest without going over will win a special prize (which may or may not be a well-worn Rudolph hoodie in size 2T).

Now, I’m just going to have to stop myself from giving the ones for Smalls over to her right away, find a place to put them and the resist the urge to give the kids 3 presents instead of one because that’s what I would have normally spent and will feel guilty that I got such a good deal.

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