I Can Be Frugal....I Can Be Frugal.....

I am trying to stay on budget for the first time in...... well ever. In the last few months, I have managed it by the skin of my teeth. Of course the price of everything, coincidentally, is going way up just to spite me ;)



And thanks to Susan I am more conscious of what we throw away.
So the story goes, dear daughter's booster seat is a hand-me-down, 5 year old thing. In perfectly good functional state, but the fabric is irreversibly nastified. Honestly, no one stain is too horrible. But her seat pales in comparison to dear daughter's friend's booster seats. New. Pink cheetah. Pink sheepskin. Pink Moo Cow. Dear daughter wanted a new booster seat. It would be ~$90 and she will probably need a booster seat for about 2 more years. (Side note: her poor brother is almost seven and only weighs 47 pounds. I think he will be in junior high before he hits the 60-pound booster-free zone since he has been gaining only one or two pounds a year.)



Now I was considering.............peer pressure at four years old........but the seat is kinda gross..........but we don't NEED a new one..........but she hasn't whined about it, just asked nicely a couple of times.............but I NEED to stay on budget........



then, brace yourselves, I had a fabulous idea. It was spur of the moment and cost exactly $14.99 (plus tax).



Here is my solution






Solution=Recycled Booster Seat

So I am happy to save $75, happy to not give or throw away a booster seat. Dear daughter is thrilled that she got to pick out the shiniest, hot pinkiest fabric in the store. I just tied back the stretchy veloury fabric (does anyone know the proper term?) with some silver ribbon. No sewing required. We are good to go. I think I can even wash it as needed.

So I tell dear husband the story of how I saved us $75 and all he had to say was "If you saved us any money, just put it on my dresser."

Squirrel's Store

Yesterday, I knew it was coming. I am a seasoned veteran by now. The signs were there. Literally. Silly me assumed they were taped. They were glued.

You see, I have attended many shows and patronized many shops organized by my kids. I think my most expensive purchase was a 25 cent rubber ball and I have seen "The Worst Magic Show Ever" for 10 cents. I guess the modern world does not deal with cents anymore, because my keyboard does not have a cents symbol. Anyway, I guess I am happy the kids are such entrepreneurs.

OK, back to Squirrel's Store. I went after school.

I had to chose my package: hairstyle + face painting + nails or nails+ hairstyle + face painting. I picked the first one. Cost me a quarter. Now I look closer at the poster Squirrel's brother, The Artist, drew up for her.

Hairstyle choices: choice 1- Mohawk, choice 2- spiky hair, choice 3- pretty girl, choice 4- handsome boy, choice 5- unisex. Some were crossed off, so I assumed they got complaints about those. I must note that these were my interpretations. I chose #3 (pretty girl) because who knows? Maybe she can perform a miracle. I was informed that #3 was braids and was not for me. Hair too short. So I then pick #5 (unisex) and my stylist informs me she is not sure it will work because "Your hair is real crazy." Dear Squirrel has not seen Seinfeld- or else she would have said the fact- it looks like Kramer's hair even on a good day.

I got my hair combed, "blow dried" and then we went on to face painting. I passed because the face paint supply was actually nail polish. Now I know why her brother was complaining about the makeup she put on his chest. I kept telling him to wash it off in the shower and he kept saying it would not come off. Then I picked out a nail polish color. Trust me the bright green was the best.

Then she had to get to her next customer, and brushed me off. Didn't even ask me when I would like to make my next appointment. Her assistant was pretty lazy- he just laid there.

So I am 25 cents poorer, but oh so rich in my heart.

A Poem

Mom, You Are Meaner Than You Think You Are

"Mom, you are meaner than you think you are!"
screamed my beautiful four-year-old daughter,
seemingly out of the blue.

Maybe it was the outfit I wouldn't buy (hideous)
Or more probably,
Turning down cupcake number two.

Maybe it was all the scolding
About taking off sand-loaded shoes.
In the house, the car, the dance studio,
So much sand does this little girl ooze.

Maybe it was beyond sassy attitude,
or craved i pod and pierced ears.
So many things that wouldn't fly.
Or the rush for makeup, nail polish, cell phone.
So many things I am not ready to buy.

Maybe she knows I am wishing she won't grow up just yet,
That will have to wait a least a year or two.
So to my four-year-old daughter I said,
"Come hug the mean, old mother of you."

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY