Tag Archives: money

She Works Hard for the Money

23 Nov

Whine: While shopping this weekend, Lil’ Sis refused to stay seated in the stroller-cart. And of course, the buckle was broken, so I couldn’t force her to sit down. I kept telling her if she didn’t sit down, she’d fall out and bonk her head. So of course she took a huge dive right into a display shelf, with scads of pitying onlookers.

Cheese: She has a really hard head, so it was merely a flesh wound. Of course, if her head weren’t so hard in the figurative sense, she wouldn’t need such a hard head in the literal sense.


So last weekend we had a garage sale. You see, while technically I no longer “make a living” or “contribute to society” or “bathe regularly” I am still really good at one thing: not throwing things away. I was green before the environment was even a twinkle in Al Gore’s eye. As a kid, I saved every happy meal toy, every note passed in fifth grade science and most importantly, every gum wrapper from the gum given to me by that cute boy on the playground (ok, so that one was actually in college.)

Over the years, with the addition of a hubby and a few kids, the combination of my over-sentimental attachments and my relentless adherence to the code “Waste not, want not”, you can imagine what my closets look like. Recently I just found the little sticks that told me I was having each of my kids. Ewww, right?

So, in preparation for our new little family member, I decided the loving thing to do would be to actually find a place for him to sleep and store his diapers/cute boy onesies. Some people call it nesting, I call it 1600 square feet and three kids. But also, I figured that a little extra money wouldn’t hurt either, since our microwave is currently on strike. It’s hard to be economical and reheat your leftovers when the only button that works is the Popcorn button. So I began going through closets and drawers, digging under beds and through the attic. We filled my parents’ entire 1983 conversion van to the roof with all my old stuff.

And guess what? People bought it.

They bought my old comforter set that I had for nine years, whose stuffing has all begun migrating to the bottom. Cha ching.  They bought all those photo albums I’ve never gotten around to filling. Cha ching. They even bought little samples of Clinique lotion that I got for free. Cha ching.

Unfortunately, they also bought all my girls’ old clothes by they boxful. The outfit Big Sis wore home from the hospital. And the one Lil’ Sis wore when we took that family picture. At one point, a lady who was buying stuff stopped on a particularly cute pair of footie pajamas (you know how I feel about footie pajamas) and said as I choked back a cry, “Why don’t you hang onto this one?” I nodded gratefully as I clutched it to my chest.

In honor of my recent entrepreneurial endeavors, I’ve posted this old school music video for your enjoyment. It’s monstrously cheesy, and gets especially awkward/amusing at the 2:39 mark. I swear she stole her moves (at 2:55) straight from my old roommate Katja, even though Katja was only a little tyke when the video was made. Anyway, the song in the video (in case you couldn’t guess) is “She Works Hard for the Money” and the chorus says “She works hard for the money so you better treat her right.”

I work very hard for the money. I usually don’t actually MAKE any money, but still there is lots of working and it is very hard. Reheating dinner in a one-button microwave, clipping coupons so we can afford Christmas, referreeing squabbles over an empty laundry basket. Unfortunately, this song predates my kids by a few decades and they do not understand that they are supposed to “treat me right.”

**They do not understand that when Mommy posts a blog about how they are all potty trained, that they are not supposed to go out that VERY DAY and pee all over the playground.

**They do not understand that Mommy prefers them to not harbor murderous thoughts, especially about each other.  I currently hear Big Sis in the other room singing (to the tune of Frere Jacques) “I am going to kill you, I am going to kill you. . .” When I asked her about whom she was singing, she pointed in the direction of her little sister and said “Someone.” Sigh. For the record, I’m pretty sure she does not know what “killing” actually means, but we’re still going to have to deal with this. Someone please tell me that your kids act like this, too.

**They do not understand that when you are being kind enough to make them an actual breakfast, like pancakes instead of a bowl of dry cheerios for once, they should very, very grateful and docile, and not fighting over the knife you accidentally left out on the counter. (In Big Sis’ defense, she was trying to get the knife away from her baby sister, for her protection, of course.)

**They do not understand that Mommy likes to shower in peace. On Saturday I shared the shower with Lil’ Sis. Big Sis, not wanting to be left out, stood outside the shower and simultaneously played the harmonica, honked a bicycle horn and shook a tambourine. Seriously, I should put her on a street downtown with a little hat for donations. She’d make a killing.


P.S. There will be a special Thanksgiving post on Thursday, so stop by sometime this weekend and check it out.