The Box of the Month Club

I'm not sure if this is an old trend and I just haven't been paying attention or if it's a new fad that's cycling through. What am I talking about? The monthly surprise box clubs. No, I don't mean "Ooh, this month it's corrugated cardboard!" I mean the theme boxes that you pay a monthly fee for and they send you a box of crap. Well, not actual crap because that would be disgusting. And they'd probably have a hard time finding a customer base for the poop of the month club.

The first time I saw one, it showed up in my news feed on Facebook. I will admit that I actually read more of the junk that clogs up my "wall" now that I have chunks of time in the middle of the night with a free hand and a touch screen phone. (Not to mention lack of brain cells needed for more complex actions and thoughts.) It was an ad for Citrus Lane. I know, right? I was thinking, "Ooooh, what's Citrus Lane? Sounds so chic and cool."

Well, it turns out that Citrus Lane is a monthly surprise box for your baby. Yup, you heard me. A monthly surprise box. For your baby. Because how many times has your infant been sitting in their porta-crib saying, "I'm bo-red! I need a surprise in my life! Preferably one mommy and daddy have to shell out some clams for. Oh, look, the mailman's here and he brought me a box o' junk!" Okay, I don't know what's really in there because I don't have a money tree in the back yard that allows me to spend $29 each month on a box of random baby items that I may or may not need. I also kind of like picking out my own baby junk. I'm funny like that.

The next one I saw was BarkBox. Uh huh, you read that correctly. BARK box. For your dog. Because chasing his tail and licking his nuts doesn't quite fill up his day and Fido needs some more stimulation in his life. He's already an uber fan of the mailman, why not give him another reason to make the poor, traumatized mail carrier arm himself with a can of "Dog Be Gone" spray? This subscription is also $29 a month. I'm racking my brain trying to figure out how many different products they can send. Ok, dog treats, dog food, and dog toys. Maybe leashes and collars? If I thought my baby doesn't need a surprise box every month, you can only imagine how I feel about the pet version.

So now I'm wondering if this is a thing so I Google monthly subscription boxes. Oh, My. God. There's julep which is nail polish and cosmetics, urthbox which is organic treats (Classic, vegan, gluten free, or diet!) and their competition Nature Box, and Kiwi crate which ships art and crafts supplies for your 3-7 year old burgeoning artist.

The result? Even though I mocked it, I now want to join a box of the month club. Solely for the surprise factor. Because who doesn't want to have a gift in their mailbox each month? It sure as heck beats those sad credit card bills and electric company invoices.

What's that girl? Timmy threw your new BarkBox in the well?

How Much DNA Do You Need To Clone?

I've had a truck load of guilt over not getting to blog lately which was made worse when I just figured out it's been over two weeks since I last imparted any of my sarcastic gems of genius. In my defense, however, I started back to work again. Two weeks ago. Seeing the connection here? It's been so busy lately that I've considered looking into the process of cloning myself. (I think one extra me would help get those pesky chores like work and house cleaning done!)

Now, I did realize that I was going to have some new time constraints. This isn't my first time at the rodeo after all. What I failed to realize is that having four kids and working full time is slightly akin to having twelve kids and working full time. Okay, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm really not.

My reasoning is fairly simple. The care, time and love involved in having a three month old is the equivalent of having three kids. (And once they start walking, it ups to five. Think of the chasing, the taking things out of their hands that they aren't supposed to have, the fact that they start feeding themselves.....yeah, five children.) And that's not even adding the other three.

Now the (just days away from being) seven year old is at that age where you have to constantly remind him to brush his teeth, hang up his coat, do their homework etc. It's almost like first graders brains start the first (of many) mental overload and cannot process any simple commands unless repeated four times. That's about double the parental nagging hence he's the equivalent of two children. That makes 5.

Now the thirteen year old is the equivalent of four kids because she's at that teenage stage. You know, the eye rolling, exaggerated sighing, teenage girl stage? Yeah, the one that might just be the death of me since it comes with extra hormones, drama, and black eye liner? That one. Some days it's taking every single ounce of my patience not to kill her. Ok, I wouldn't really kill her. (I'm pretty sure.) But I might lock her in a private boarding school until the urge to strangle her passes. Not to mention I am biting my tongue hard enough to split it in two in my efforts not to stomp on her self esteem. (Teenage girls have extremely fragile self images as it is.) But dammit, can't she see that she's pretty without adding the Egyptian kohl around her eyes every day? Yeah, yeah, all the eighth grade girls do it. Fantastic. It's a school of raccoons. Just knock it off already.

So now the total is nine. Nine kid's worth of aggravation, love, and kool-aid faces. Then there's the oldest. Now, at a few months shy of 17 he's pretty easy. Until you count the amount of money goes into an almost college aged kid. There's Senior pictures, SAT tests, ACT tests, study guide prep books, and another half a dozen expenses that I'm sure we don't even know about yet. And the stress of college applications and financial aid and having a kid leaving the nest. Yep, that makes him triple the trouble because I'm already thinking of the amount of times I'm going to tear up this coming year. ("It's the last first day of high school he'll go to. It's the last high school play he'll ever be in. It's the last band concert he'll ever perform......")

So if you're considering having another child, you might want to do your own kid math and see if you can handle adding a few more. If you can, you'll be paid in sticky kisses, warm baby snuggles, and sleepless feverish nights, and macaroni music boxes for Mother's Day. And it'll be totally worth it.