Dear Hostess,

I’ve been tossing this idea around in my head for five years. It was born during my pregnancy with my second child. I believed in it with all my heart (and stomach) at that time and I still do to this day.

Would you please offer your creamy filling on its own? Maybe you could call it Hostess Bucket O’ Creamy Yumminess? All I know is that filling is magically delicious and it is the perfect partner for cookies, brownies and spoons.

If you could do this in a timely fashion I would be most appreciative. Finances are tight and buying a two-pack of Suzy Q’s to scrape out the creamy filling is expensive. Just throw that white bliss in a jar and get it on the grocery shelves PRONTO.

You can find me in the packaged snack cake aisle at Target if you need me.

Your creamy filling worshipper,

Lyssa

Saturday morning, B-Dogg and I partook in some Mother-Son bonding time at the local Target Superstore. My little man was extremely helpful as he convinced me that he needed Smart Popcorn, hummus with pita chips and a six-pack of yogurt drinks in order to survive a week at school. I was putty in hands due to big brown eyes and advanced negotiation skills.

As we made our way from the carbonated beverage aisle to the pharmacy, B-Dogg explained that he had experienced his first Sunkist Orange Soda the day before at school. He went on to explain that it gave him the “jitterbugs.” He demonstrated the “jitterbugs” by performing dangerous gymnastic moves on the shopping cart (the kind of brain-damaging wrangling that I’ve witnessed other kids doing in the past, except I said, “my child will never do that!”).

I warned B-Dogg that his behavior was putting him in grave danger (I think it went “get off there before you have to wear a brain bucket for the rest of your life, TurkeyBurger” or something positive like that). The Pharmacist, who had been amusedly watching our circus, mentioned to B-Dogg that the jitterbug was a very old dance her parents did when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Bless her heart, this delightful lady distracted B-Dogg until I could locate a KING KONG SIZE bottle of Tylenol PM.

As we left the busy aisle, B-Dogg said in his outdoor voice, “she looks just like that witch!”

Gaa! I prayed that she hadn’t heard him.

“I look like a witch? Thanks a lot!” she yelled over the shelf to us.

Crap! I contemplated ditching the scene, but knew I couldn’t leave the poor gal without an explanation. If I did, I could kiss her advice buh-bye the next time I got a debilitating head cold.

As I wheeled back to the aisle, I cautiously asked B-Dogg, “What witch are you talking about?”

“The White Witch!” he answered with excitement.

“Oh! The witch from The Chronicles of Narnia! You know she’s just beautiful!” I explained to the Pharmacist, relieved that B-Dogg wasn’t referring to the Wizard of Oz witch, who spent all her free time with flying monkeys.

“Yeah, she looks just like that witch except this lady smiles!” B-Dogg said.

As the Pharmacist laughed, I hauled butt out of there before he could match any of the other shoppers with that freaky half man/half deer character.

The biggest reason I wanted a little girl was so that I could dress her up like a life-size doll. Since I’ve had Queen Hadlifah, I’ve discovered I can spend HOURS brushing her softie, golden locks. In fact, on more than one occasion, Sparky has had to say, “Step away from the comb, Babe.”

Recently, we had a Sweet & Sassy Girls Salon built in our neighborhood Town Center. It’s a girl’s paradise filled with hand lotions with sparkles, girly clothes and colorful hair bows. Immediately, I was attracted to the bright, big bows… until I saw the price… $15.00 each!

It took me only a moment to imagine sending my babe to school with $30.00 adhered to her head to return from a day of toddler mayhem with a bare head. Seeing that the financial world is crumbling around us, I knew I would react in an inappropriate manner that might possibly scar my child for life. Then and there I decided to learn how to make boutique bows for my baby at a fraction of the cost.

After weeks of scouring EARTH for instructions and supplies, I spent far more than $30.00 to acquire the skills to make Queen Hadlifah bows for every occasion. I’ve learned a few hard lessons during this endeavor, as follows:

• They are not kidding when they say HOT glue gun.
• A bow that contains more ribbon is worth more than one that doesn’t. But there is a point when your child’s neck CANNOT support that much ribbon.
• After learning to weave headbands, I realized I could have easily passed Basket Weaving in college.
• There is a lot of research and development that goes into bow making. This means a design that looks good upon first placement in the hair does not mean it will survive the day. There is nothing sadder than a toddler with an “exploded” hair bow hanging from her head.

The good news is I don’t fear her losing my creations. The bad news is I have to go into the bow business to recoup my costs. The worst news is the Baby Tylenol expenses are reaching epic proportions as poor Queen Hadlifah’s neck attempts to support bows.

During my childhood, we usually went to GG’s house several times a year.  She lived in a quaint Cape Cod with a second story.  There she taught me an especially helpful trick.

If you were too busy (or possibly lazy) to make a trip upstairs with something to put away, you would place the item on the stairs until you had a spare moment to make the trek up.  I took to that lesson like a bug to a zapper.  I’d stack my crap on the stairs until I would have to take six trips upstairs or my knees buckle from the weight of my stuff.  In fact, one of my earliest memories was of realizing that stairs actually led somewhere, instead of being an elaborate shelf.

I still exercise this sage lesson, except now Sarah Jessica Barker has added a twist to the practice.  The good news is she’s always willing to assist by taking my junk upstairs.  The bad news is she eats whatever she carries.

GG never addressed that scenario.

I realize that Festivus is still three months out, so my Airing of the Grievances is significantly premature, but DANG I gotta get some things off my chest!  As we all know, if Mama ain’t happy…

Therefore, I’m documenting my Early Edition for Sparky's benefit.

• When we adopted Sarah Jessica Barker, you PROMISED to brush her fur.  A visit to the PETsMART groomer yesterday and we have a sheared GoldenDoodle, who looks like she just enlisted in the Army - G.I. Jane style.  She has not one extra lock ANYWHERE on her body.  In fact, I have renamed her Lamby Leathers (because she looks like a lamb with leather ears).  She also reminds me of Sophia Petrillo with her sad curly mop on top.  Quit trying to tell me that my previously fuzzy bear feels better when she looks like Mr. Bigglesworth.
• I opened the linen closet to find that you had kindly washed, folded and put away the towels.  One problem, your folding technique is that of the criminally insane.  Is this your way of getting “grounded” from folding clothes or should I be sleeping with one eye open at night?
• GARBAGE.  Again, might I remind you that those overflowing circular receptacles contain TRASH.  It is NOT a bad idea to empty them on a daily basis.  It IS unwise to force your family to create garbage monuments until you get around to disposing of the crapola.  Also, Sarah Jessica Barker eating the garbage DOES NOT count as emptying the trash.
• If you continue to give me B-Dogg and Queen Hadlifah’s notices for class parties the NIGHT BEFORE the event, I will cut you.
• Dude, your car.  The kids have confided in me and the term “dump” came up.  I realize that car cleanliness standards have to be reduced significantly when shuttling children, but you could have a buried treasure in there without your knowledge.  You need to take a shovel and dig through the mess.  If you find Jimmy Hoffa in there, alert the authorities.

Much better.  That should hold me over until December.