Free Range Food and Preschool: Fly On The Wall December

Welcome to a Fly on the Wall group post. Today 12 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around. This month, we’re going on a field trip. That’s right! I’m taking all you lovely, but angrivated folks on the road. Load up the bus and come along….

It’s off to preschool we go!

Yup. If I was forced to endure our bi-monthly Parent/Child Literacy Day, so will you. I don’t play, you know. Better just sit down, shut up, and enjoy the ride to The World of Four-Year Old’s.


This time the theme was, in the spirit of “The Holidays” (without crossing into religious territory or singling out only one of many winter solstice celebrations from different cultures, coloring nice and neat within the politically-correct lines) was The Gingerbread Man. We’re gonna read the three different versions of this damn story after putting our (pre-made) gingerbread men cookies in the oven, then go on a hunt for them when they weren’t in the oven like they were supposed to be when the stories were through. To the gym, out to the playground, around to the lobby, then into our classroom where they were magically waiting on napkins at the children’s assigned tables. Off with the heads, the arms and the legs…. this was just the beginning of their soon-to-be continued sugar rush.


Next we went into another classroom to cut out and decorate our own gingerbread men. With glitter. And glitter glue. Did I even mention the sparkly confetti like glitter, too? There was some of that shit, too. At this time, I took a moment to myself and chugged the last third of my Starbucks Coffee + Energy drink I wisely stopped at the gas station for on my way. Wait? Y’all didn’t get one while we were there? Shame on you. What kinda newbie preschool parents are you? Guess you’re going into The Glitter without reinforcements. *Psssht* Don’t worry. It’s only fifteen deadly long, painful, seemingly-never-ending minutes. Even worse, they play an animated retelling of one of those Gingerbread Man stories on the white screen just to stick the ear bug deeper in your brain. Run, run, as fast as you can… You can’t catch me I’m the mother fucking Gingerbread Man.


Lastly, they drug us out to some folding tables in the lobby. That Starbucks fuel kicked in full gear just in time, because what is piled on the table but all the fixings for gingerbread houses. If you have OCD, I’m sorry now, but you’re not gonna make it. Better just step away slowly and head back to the bus. Frosting went flying everywhere. Kids were shoving candy into their grubby mouths at ten times the rate it was going onto their frosting covered milk cartons. (The whole Graham Cracker thing is too much for little ones who’s tiny hands are clumsier than a bull in a china shop. This is also an awesome alternative for us Mediocre Mamas who can’t craft, bake, sew, or be creative to save our lives.) The sounds of parents chastising and kids choking on over-stuffed mouthfuls of candy filled the room with a blasphemous melody not unlike our own Christmas Eve chaos at home. It was a great reminder to refill my Valium this weekend. Don’t forget yours!!!


Finally, our time was up! Everyone clambered back into the classroom to gather on the carpet for a round of the goodbye song and receive their very own copy of…..

You guessed it!

The mother fucking douche bag who doesn’t listen for jackshit and has absolutely no respect for my hunger pains, himself. The Gingerbread Man.

Run, run, as fast you can…
But I ain’t getting off my fat ass to catch you, Gingerbread Man
I don’t give a shit if you were even a ginormous Piecaken
I Free Range my food, not chase what I’ve been bakin’.

Now get off my bus and fly on over to someone else’s house. Maybe they’re the type who likes to chase their food before biting off it’s head.


Happy Buzzing everyone! Click on these links for a peek into some other homes:
Baking In A Tornado

Spatulas on Parade

Follow me home

Menopausal Mother

Never Ever Give Up Hope

Someone Else’s Genius

Southern Belle Charm

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

Go Mama O

Juicebox Confession

Not That Sarah Michelle

By: Kristina Hammer, aka, The Angrivated Mom

NO Such Thing As The Perfect Toy, Husband Of Mine

Dear Hubby,

There is no such thing as the perfect toy. I need to get this through your stubborn head with Christmas coming at us quicker than the kids can spill something on a freshly washed floor.
There is NO such toy which not only will light up their faces brighter than Rudolph’s nose and keep them occupied and interested for minutes months years on end, but is durable enough to last for decades to come. A toy which becomes such a beloved favorite, they feel incomplete without it by their side. You can search high and low, research all the options across the world wide internet spaces, and ask for every non-parent’s input, and still! You won’t find it. It doesn’t exist, I promise you this.

Every year, our children will painstakingly craft their Christmas Lists full of magical items they’ve coveted all year long, entranced with every repetitively worn out commercial advertising such. And every year without fail, you will critique the children’s Christmas Lists with the scrutiny of Mr. Scrooge. Nothing will meet your arbitrary approval. Too cheap. Too boring. Too stupid. Too small. Too big. Not one item will meet your perfectionism criterion. You want to give them something conceivably unobtainable
which just doesn’t exist. I swear!

See, the thing is, my dearest husband, your perception of children and playthings is all askew. Romanticized even, if you will. Just as middle-aged women, like myself, still believe in the powerful magic of fairy tales and happily ever after’s, you readily believe in the essence of the movie trilogy, Toy Story. You revel in the implied happily ever after’s when the Toys-R-Us and Target commercials end. Advertisement is a farcical b!$@h! You, my love, fall for their spiel hook, line, and sinker. If you really sit back and take a long hard look at reality, you would see what I’m talking about. Sorry I’m not sorry for bursting your bubble.


Put your child in front of the television and play nothing but toy commercials over and over again. They will say they want almost everything regardless of gender, age range, capabilities, or skill level involved. The word “favorite” does not hold true to definition in the minds of children everywhere. It is merely an exclamation of love when referring to anything they seemingly like right then and there. And everything can change in the blink of an eye. No different than watching a butterfly or bumblebee in a wildflower field flit from flower to flower, testing each one with just a sip. They are sampling the nectar from all but stopping, though only momentarily still, to drink from a very select few. Yet there is nothing obviously special or different about any of those chosen blossoms which would determine which flowers will enamor the most attention from those sweet sampling insects.

Haven’t you paid any attention to what your children do all day, anyhow? I, mean, c’mon now… get with the program already! All those toys they already own, they were all expected to be “the one” at some point or another, as far as you were concerned. Sure, they were absolutely thrilled… ecstatic… over-the-moon… with joy when they received each one, but not one of them was coveted as you had hoped for. They will all be deemed the “favorite” in turn for a few hours, days, or weeks, most gone back to from time to time, some more often than others.

In the end, every last toy will lose the splendor it once held, lost in the bottom of the toy box as they move on to the next one. Like the real story hidden inside the fairy tale of cherished toys a child will never let go of that is Toy Story. That very well may happen with a lovey/blankie/stuffed something or another, but never with a plaything. For Pete’s sake, children don’t even limit items to use for entertainment purposes to the conventional toy definition- cardboard boxes, packing materials, empty bottles, string, the contents of the refrigerator, tampons, dirt, entire rolls of tape, toothpaste… Moms, you know exactly what I’m talking about here! Kids will play with anything; there are no limitations, boundaries, or protocol to follow in determining what can become a toy.


It seems to me, my love, in all this hoopla over the perfect toy, you have forgotten who and what the toy is for. Your child and Christmas is what the toy is all about. Not your own selfish need for unrealistic perfectionism… because there is no such thing as perfect when it comes to raising children, either, you know. The gift is about the experience you are creating for the recipient. It is about bringing light and happiness through the magic of giving from the heart into this otherwise thoughtless world. You aren’t giving from the heart if the gift must meet your own expectations instead of those of the one receiving it.

By: Kristina Hammer, aka, The Angrivated Mom

The Angrivated Night Before Christmas: Secret Subject Swap December


‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
The family was angrivated, especially I with my spouse.
The tree wasn’t up, Damn!, the presents were not even bought,
The chaos ensued, in a hurry to be done we fought.
Our children were so far from going to sleep in their beds,
Hyped up on stolen candy canes, a sugar rush straight to their heads.
Angrivated Mom was three days overdue for a shower,
Angrivated Dad, counting every penny, dime, and dollar.
When they finally got to the store, the place was left in tatters,
Their Christmas hope died, the broken pieces in tiny shatters.
Away to the toy aisle to salvage what’s left,
The price to pay when you’ve never lived without debt.
When what did our marveling eyes did set upon?
The perfect gift for each of our tween sons.
Over there, the one our older daughter wanted so bad,
Look! Even our youngest won’t have to be sad!
A Christmas miracle had come, to you albeit small, but, alas,
A Christmas miracle true, and it was huge for us income low-class.
Now, Razor! Now, Monster High! Now, Nerf and CODBO3!
On Little People! On, Lego! On Elsa and Anna Barbies!
To the shopping cart, to the mile-long checkout lines, and away,
I wish we didn’t have to pay for any of these over-priced presents today.
We waited our turn, then took off for home in a mad dash,
Hoping on our way we did didn’t spin out and crash.
Barely in the front door and we can already hear the cries,
Four Angrivated children now quickly spinning their lies.
This one threw the tinsel at him and that one threw the stockings at her,
The living room is lost in a green and red twinkling blur.
We corral them together, clean the mess, and place the top star,
Well past midnight now, jolly old St. Nick can’t be too far.
The cookies you say? Oh shit, we knew there was more,
Leave Santa a Twinkie, his reindeer shant mind a few apple cores.
Get to bed we say, it’s been a helluvah angrivated day to boot,
This mom has to stay up till ass crack dawn to wrap your damn loot.
I’ll look hung over tomorrow with cellulite as jiggly as Jello,
At least I have my stash to smoke myself mellow.
These Angrivated Parents have some elving to do,
Thankful that this nightmare is once again almost through.
Finally the children are fast asleep and the house is quietly still,
It’s so silent you can actually hear the snow falling on the sill.
The lopsided Charlie Brown tree aglow in the lonely night
Shimmers like the moon, dancing across the gifts soon to bring delight.
It isn’t much, not nearly enough, but more than we could spare,
We would give them our last breath so the tree is never bare.
When the sun does rise the squeals and laughter will abound,
Every struggle will be worth the happiness they’ve found.
Toys may not be a’plenty, but love will fill the empty space,
Grateful to have each other, share the value of a warm embrace.
Christmas is a time for giving and caring,
Breaking bread, making merry and good tidings sharing.
We may not have it all and can’t do the holiday for glory,
At least we stick to the original meaning of the real Christmas Story.
Just another night before Christmas with the Angrivated bunch,
And, as always, The Angrivated Family has their panties up in bunch.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays!

Your “Secret Subject” is: was the night before Christmas……AND GO!
It was submitted by: Not That Sarah Michelle

*Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. Wonder who got my subject? Hope to see you there!*
Baking In A Tornado
Not That Sarah Michele
Spatulas on Parade
Sparkly Poetic Weirdo
Southern Belle Charm
Rena’s World
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
The Bergham Chronicles
Never Ever Give Up Hope
Someone Else’s Genius
Confessions of a part time working mom
The Lieber Family Blog
Juicebox Confession

By: Kristina Hammer, aka, The Angrivated Mom