The lunchbox dilemma.

I was unsure about a lot of things when zj started kindergarten this past fall, but one thing I was pretty sure of was that I really didn't want him to take his lunch.  I wanted him to try what the cafeteria had to offer.  Although he's not a picky eater, he does mainly prefer things from the "orange" and "yellow" food groups, and I thought this would be a great way to expose him to some new kinds of foods.  Also, I am lazy and did not want to pack a lunch for him every day.

And that was fine for a while.  Every day, I quizzed him about what was for lunch and whether or not it was good, and how much he ate.  He seemed pretty happy with the school lunches, and although they weren't terribly impressive in their creativity (chicken nuggets, pizza and nachos were the staples), it was all just fine.  JUST.  FINE.

Until it wasn't any more.

One day out of the blue, zj said "Mama, can I get a lunchbox?"

"Why do you need a lunchbox?  You eat the school's lunches."

"Well, maybe I could, ya know, take my lunch some time?"

I asked a lot of pointed questions about WHY he wanted to take his lunch - Do you get to go first in line if you brought your lunch?  Do you sit at a special table?  Do you just want a cool lunchbox?  Do some of your friends bring their lunch? - and mostly satisfied with his answers, I relented.

Spiderman lunchbox.  Check.  Toy Story thermos?  Check.  My never-ending desire to win at everything, even things that aren't competitions? Check.

So I researched, and by that I mean I got on Pinterest, came up with a dozen or so stinking cute, really impressive lunchbox ideas, and we were off.  I made dinosaur shaped sandwiches with lettuce for grass and broccoli trees, turkey wraps with his name written in cheese, grapes carved into the Leaning Tower of Pisa, I did color days (all red foods! all green foods! all blue foods!), I did shapes (everything's a circle!  everything's a square!),  I wrote notes he couldn't really read on his napkins, and it was great.

The first couple of weeks, zj came home every day with an empty lunchbox, and I silently patted myself on the back for my wonderful lunches, all the while trying to come up with even more impressive ideas...  I WOULD WIN AT LUNCH!!!  I WOULD BE THE BEST MOM IN THE WHOLE KINDERGARTEN CLASS WITH MY PHINEAS & FERB SHAPED SANDWICHES!

One day last week, zj asked, kind of offhandedly, "Mama, can I have a wrap in my lunch tomorrow?  Ya know, with turkey and honey mustard?  Junior really likes those."

Ummm... what?!?!  Why does it matter what Junior likes?

"Zj, do you always eat all your own lunch?  Or do you share with the other kids?"

"Oh, we share.  Sometimes we trade stuff."  He seemed totally unconcerned that my head was blowing right off at that exact moment.

"So, last week when I stayed up late the day before Valentine's day cutting all your lunch into little bitty hearts and cut my finger while scalloping your tortilla hearts, did you share your lunch that day?"

"Oh yeah!!! Casey really LOVED all those hearts!"

Well, bully for Casey.  The little lunch-stealing brat.

Further questioning on my part led me to believe that most of my most impressive efforts had been traded for things that I don't normally buy, like Lunchables, Twinkies and Little Debbie Cakes.

I guess that's just what kids do, right?  Trade lunch?  I told myself I would just have to get over it.

Fine.  But no more fancy, labor intensive lunches here.

Next time, it's pb&j all the way.

And I may not even cut the crusts off.

The one where the Vietnamese nail lady tried to steal my husband.

Until yesterday, I was a 36 year old woman who had never had a professional manicure or pedicure.

True story.

You can weep if you want to.

Ok, now that we've had a moment to morn my lost opportunities at shininess, I can tell you that the situation has been rectified.

See, I've always been of the practical sort, and it always seemed silly to spend money on a manicure that I would ruin in 2.5 seconds flat at work.  And as for pedicures, well, nobody ever even saw my feet, so why bother?  Really, just a waste of money, right?

However, since I quit my job a few months ago, I've developed a fascination for girly things.  RJ looked at me the other day and out of the blue said, "You really are a girl, aren't you?"  Strangely enough, he meant it AND I took it as a compliment.

Anyway, the other day we were walking around the mall looking for some new running shoes for RJ.  Kids were at the sitters, we had just enjoyed a relaxing three margarita lunch, and we had nowhere specific to be for hours.

We walked by a nail salon in the mall - you know the one, every mall has it - and RJ said to me "Hey, wanna get a manicure?"

"I will if you will."  I was still drunk enough feeling rather adventurous that day.

So in we go.

RJ marches up to the counter, ignores the sign-in sheet, and announces, "We're here for manicures and pedicures."

The lovely Vietnamese matriarch type says, "For her?" and gestures toward me.

"No, for both of us."

At this point, a small, unassuming man whom we later determined to be the owner stepped in.  "We can do that," he said, with a sharp look at the other lady, who was clearly trying to cut into his profits.   Ok, so apparently this wasn't a place that was used to giving manicures to men.  Whatever.

After being directed to go pick out our polish - I chose a lovely shade or dark red, by the way - we sat down on the pedicure chairs.  There were two chairs ready, one staffed by a young Vietnamese woman, and the other by the gentleman we had encountered at the counter.  I naturally gravitated toward the young woman, and left RJ to sit down with the man as his pedicurist.  Which immediately earned me the stink eye from the young lady.

Immediately a flurry of talking began.  It was mostly one sided and coming from the young lady, but the gentleman would occasionally nod or make an agreeing type noise.  Throughout the entire conversation, she continued to glance at RJ every minute or two, then look away quickly.

Finally the man spoke in English to RJ.  "She say you look familiar somehow.  Where you from?"

RJ told the man he was from the area now, had lived all over the world, and his dad is American and his Mom is Vietnamese.

Matriarch lady had also been listening to the conversation, and immediately came over to join in, abandoning her customer with 4 of 10 nails painted.

"That why you look so familiar.  You look like the men from my country, but much taller and much more handsome."  A giggle from the young lady who is now vigorously scrubbing the second layer of skin from the bottom of my left foot with something that looked like a cheese grater.  Matriarch gestured to the young lady.  "She think you very handsome."  Then she turns to me.  "You his wife?"  I nodded.  "You do not need to let him leave house without you, understand?  He VERY handsome."

Was that a threat or a compliment?

"Uh, thank you?"

More rapid-fire Vietnamese from the young lady, punctuated with glances at RJ.

Matriarch translated.  "Do not worry, though.  She (gesturing toward the young lady) very happy with her husband."

Oh good.

I was totally worried that I would enter the Vietnamese nail salon WITH a husband, and walk out without one.

Happens to me all the time.

Blueberry Fail.

Well balanced meal or lazy Mama. You decide.