Peace, Caffeine, Brownies and Hot Wings. Yum.

I have something against peace signs.

I won’t go into it here because I know that most people don’t have a problem with peace signs and I don’t want to you think I’m any more loco than you already do, but suffice to say I have a significant problem with the symbol and have banned it from our household.

This would never be an issue except that the peace sign is the hottest decorating item for children’s clothes this season and everything Mia wants to wear has peace sign on it. So then I have to tell her that we aren’t going to get it, my reasons for disliking it, and then she – in her 4-year-old love for rules – becomes the peace sign police and lets me know every time she sees someone wearing one, which is about every four seconds every time we leave our house.

Then I tell her to talk quietly and that different families have different rules.

But the aversion to the sign has become noticeable to the people who spend time with us and one gal asked me about it.

I gave her my moral and personal reasons for the ban on peace signs while Mia and Maggie were listening. Mia would occasionally nod her head seriously in agreement.

Finally she interrupted me and chirped, “We don’t wear peace signs!”

I agreed with her but before I could say anything else she said, “We don’t wear yellow either.”

So I guess that all my logic and reasoning are for naught. We honestly don’t wear yellow because our whole family looks like death warmed over in the color. Maybe I should come up with better reasons.

On another note, I wrote about my brownie obsession earlier and I have to report that we are now out of all brownies in the house. I ate four batches of brownies in two weeks. I’m pretty sure my eyes are brown, my skin is brown, and when I sweat I smell like chocolate.

I justify this because I’ve completely quit the caffeine. Mikayla seems to dislike caffeine. She also has a problem with Buffalo Wild Wings hot wings and that’s a crying shame, I tell you what. Similar to brownies, I had no idea that I loved BWW hot wings until they opened up a location here in Bartlesville. (I’m learning lots of things these days)
Our students actually broke curfew and slept in the parking lot for the Grand Opening to win free wings for a year. I ignored the broken curfew (that I’m supposed to enforce) and instead innocently wanted to know what the fuss was about. So we went. And I became addicted.

I have had four wonderful BWW experiences. Total. But sometimes at night I dream about those wings.

After the first time I ate the wings I thought I was going into labor Mikayla reacted so strongly in the womb. The second time was similar, but not so bad. The third time I polished off my portion of a 50 wing order with gusto and Mikayla, who was born at that point, didn’t seem happy at all that night. The fourth time, well, it was that time that I had to acknowledge that even though I loved BWW Mikayla did not.

Torturing an infant with hot wing-laced milk seems a little creepy so I’ve laid off of the restaurant. I plan to try it once a month until her tummy toughens up enough to handle it... But since she seemed to dislike the chips and mild salsa I ate yesterday it may be awhile until she gets ready for hot wings.

I’m rambling. Sorry. What I meant to say, the short of it, is that because of a mother’s love for her child I have quit drinking caffeinated beverages and eating hot wings.

Which means that I ramble and walk around in a sleepy haze.

Which is what I was doing last night when I saw another father walking around with three children with a sleepy look and a short temper.

Which made me think that perhaps child rearing is one of life’s greatest practical jokes.

People actually look forward to having a child who will keep them up all night, dictate their eating and spending habits, destroy their valuables, and disrupt their life patterns. People spend thousands of dollars on fertility treatments or adoptions for the privilege of this hazing experience.

Other people give them gifts and act happy when they have a child. It’s all part of the marketing of the hoax.

Somewhere there is someone rubbing their hands gleefully and thinking, “If I can just get them to reproduce a few more times they’ll be too sleepy to protest when I take over the world!”

It’s just a theory. It may be wrong. But since I don’t have brownies, caffeine or BWW, I feel I’m at least entitled to a conspiracy theory.

JJ