The Great Toilet Paper Debate

posted by Momo Fali on March 20, 2008
What election? We’re talking about a real vote here.

From the day my husband and I were married, we were Charmin users. But, because Charmin is so soft and thick, it didn’t agree with the pipes in our old house. It bundled up against the tree roots running through our sewer line, and that didn’t make for a dry basement.

The last Roto-Rooter guy to pay us a visit, left coupons for a certain brand of toilet paper. Let’s call that brand Cotts. After my grocery store doubled those coupons, I got 32 rolls of Cotts at a bargain basement price of 44 cents a piece. Our impression of this paper? Well, let’s just say that bargain basement sometimes makes for raw bottoms. I’m sure it’s easy on the sewer, because it’s thinner than Kate Moss on a diet.

In all honesty, it would be more comfortable to roll up some newspaper, or a leaf…or sandpaper. It’s completely non-absorbent as well. I have visions of my nine year old telling me she’d rather drip dry.

My husband has taken to calling it “hotel paper”. Obviously, we stay at some fine establishments.

But, we are not wasters. No, no, no. We will use that paper until there isn’t a scrap of it left. In the meantime, we are also experimenting with three other kinds.

At this point, I’ll be happy to find a brand that doesn’t clog the toilets, and won’t leave splinters where the sun don’t shine.

Tonight I Plopped Down With A Glass Of Wine

posted by Momo Fali on March 19, 2008

Often, after fighting the kids to take a bath, put on their pajamas, brush their teeth, say their prayers and finally get in bed, I will come downstairs and plop onto the couch exhausted. I inevitably will declare something along the lines of, “I don’t know if I have enough patience for this motherhood stuff”.

Never mind that I’ve been at bat in the game of parenthood for over nine years. Never mind that I’ve uttered a sentence like that hundreds (if not thousands) of times. I always wake up the next day…or if I’m lucky, at 3:00 AM by a kid who needs to vomit…and do it all over again.

My son has a preschool project due tomorrow. He, along with my help, was to collect information about his favorite zoo animal. Tomorrow he will share his folder full of animal facts with his class. He chose a giraffe.

Being the good mother that I am, I first felt it necessary to teach him the art of procrastination, which would be why we didn’t start his project until tonight. Some kids may have gone to the library, but we went to Google.

First we printed a picture. Then we researched where giraffes live, what they eat, how tall they grow, even the color of their tongue. We also created a visual aid. Then we went over, and over, and over the things he was going to say to the class. (Note to self: Don’t procrastinate anything involving public speaking with your speech delayed kid.)

When we were finished, I put the folder away with a relieved sigh, and said, “There! Now you’re ready to share all those facts about your favorite animal, the giraffe.”

And after the 30 minute evening battle, as I tucked him into bed, my boy looked up at me and said, “Mom. My favorite animal is an elephant.”

The Better To See You With

posted by Momo Fali on March 17, 2008
These are pictures of a nearby house. I’m all for natural light, but they must go through monumental amounts of glass cleaner. Apparently, you just can’t have too many windows.

Grandma Needs To Carry A Flask

posted by Momo Fali on March 16, 2008

I just went to lunch with my son, my daughter and my Mom. We were in a crowded restaurant, directly next to a table with a woman, her son, her daughter, and her Mom. It was a mirror image of us, with one exception…the little boy at their table wouldn’t stop whining.

My Mom was facing them and told me a few times that the boy seemed really spoiled. Having known quite a few special needs kids, I told her that he might have some kind of behavioral problem we weren’t aware of. Through my own experience, I have learned not to judge.

But, my Mom held her ground and disagreed, saying that she could just tell he was spoiled. A few times, I saw her look over at the older woman and flash her a sympathetic smile, Grandma to Grandma.

It turns out, that my Mom was probably right about that boy’s attitude, because on the way out of the restaurant, the other Grandmother approached her. And, I’m doubting that a woman with a special needs grandchild, would come up to my Mom, grab her arm at 1:00 in the afternoon and say, “I think it’s time for a drink”.