Raisinphobia

Yeah, you heard me. I am scared to death of raisins. And it doesn’t even have anything to do with the time my mom and her best friend’s dressed up as the California Raisins (think garbage bags, tights and Chuck Taylor’s) and DANCED, in PUBLIC, at a college basketball game, when I was in middle school. (Thanks Mom.)

See the other day I gave Baby Sadie a box of raisins, which falls into the category of Shut Up Foods. These are foods you give to your children which have almost no nutritional value, but keep their hands and their mouths busy so you can take care of your Mommy Bidness. (You know, important stuff like twitter, mani/pedis, bon–bons…that sort of thing.)

Anywho, I gave Sadie a box of raisins which she was not eating. She would chew on them for a few minutes then spit them out like a little, old toothless lady chewing snuff. I spent several hours that day scraping dried up raisins off of my floors, but I had a party to go to (in my HONOR, and yes- I felt VERY important and loved) and I simply had to take a shower. So if I had to scrape up raisins with my fingernails, I figured it was an even trade for being able to shave my pits.

I sat down to check my email and twitter accounts really quickly and tweeted, “Keeps picking up raisins all over my floor which have been chewed up & spit out & look remarkably like poop. I’m nervous.”

I’ll bet you think you know what happened next, don’t you?

Smart aleck.

I jumped up from the computer after a quick tweet and ran to check on Sadie. Who had taken off her diaper. And pooped a trail all over the house. Which I stepped in. Barefoot.

For those of you who came to “my” party…I did wash my hands AND my feet before I came.