Would you consider this ironic?

or is it more an oxymoron?

I mix organic milk with maltodextrin, tetrasodium pyrophosphate and xantham gum among other things to create a sugar-free, fat-free banana cream pudding.

Hit me last night that if I was just going to add a bunch of shit to it, I may as well save a buck per gallon and go with the chemical laden milk.

We had a great date night, but it was kind of weird. I am not sure I can explain it right. We were sitting in a fairly empty, quiet restaurant, and we are NOT necessarily quiet people, so we sipped our water and had quiet conversation and left the cursing in the truck. We used all the correct cutlery, napkins on the laps, and Mr. P even stood up when I excused myself to powder my nose, and again on my return. Not that we are heathens, but it was just SO polite. ehh. I had a good time, but it was more "grownup" than we are, typically.

We came home, got snuggled up on the couch and watched a BRUTAL American Idol. Okay, bikini girl? really? I couldn't believe that new judge got all up and singing. Also, I thought Simon was exceptionally dicky last night. But, I sort of see his point, you know what the show is now after how ever many seasons, and that if you suck. that. bad. you are setting yourself up to be ridiculed. Not that it doesn't make me all squirmy and very interested in my iPhone during those auditions, but still guys, word, "If you suck, don't go on American Idol."

Oh, and I behaved in a way that can be only considered to be a mothering FAIL. Early Monday morning I get a text from the college kid saying that she doesn't feel good. So I text her back to get more details, but I will tell you I immediately felt irritated because I had seen on her Facebook that she went out both weekend nights, so I figured it was remnants of not getting enough sleep, etc. over the weekend, and I even texted her that she should take better care of herself. That evening, I sent Mr. P to her apartment with juice and medicine. Then yesterday, she got diagnosed with strep so far progressed that she had to get a shot in her ass, and can't go back to class until Friday. Still my first thoughts are damn, she is going to be so far behind and she is in organic chem this semester. aack. I sent Mr. P back to her apartment with more soup, popsicles, juice, and anything else he could perhaps add to a care package to assuage my guilt over not believing that she was really sick sick. Then she called me in the middle of dinner to tell me about her friend that made it on Survivor, so I think she must be feeling better. You might think after 19 years I would get better at mothering. Apparently NO.