I'm broke as a joke. Not really sure what that means exactly, but to me it simply means I ain't got no cash....until Jeremy gets home today :)
It's not like I can complain about being broke. For anyone that is my friend on Facebook you have recently been witness to my martini extravaganza in DC last weekend. AND I got my hair done for a still undisclosed amount. So I'm not complaining here, I am just simply stating the fact that I am flat broke.
How did I spend my last $5 you might ask? Or you might not be asking because I'm fairly confident that no one was sitting around thinking up that question on their own, but I digress as I so often do.
I spent my last $5 in cash for the week on the freaking Ice Cream Man. Well technically I spent $4 on ice cream and gave him a $1 tip. That's right. I am such a giver. Yup, that's me. Always thinking of others. Puttin' others first. That's what everyone always says about me. That Gwen is just sooooo selfless.
Anyway, back to me and my story...I am guessing my kids have never experienced the Ice Cream Truck. I don't recall ever having it stop by our house and I assume they have never encountered it at their grandparents house or anywhere else because they were clueless. And no one forgets the Ice Cream Truck after their first experience. So this was a new thing for them.
I could here its bell ringing in the neighborhood while we were outside watering the flowers. As it got closer I decided to make a big deal out of it. Why? I do not know. It was a moment of weakness. I start getting the boys all pumped up. "HERE IT COMES, BOYS!! QUICK, COME SEE IT." I was like a freaking lunatic in the front yard. And they don't even understand what is going on. They are running around in circles in the front yard in excitement, yet have no idea what is actually going on. First of all, my boys don't eat ice cream (due to Justin's history of allergies) so the announcement of the Ice Cream TRUCK'S arrival.... as in a whole truck full of ice cream...didn't have quite the same impact as it might on some other young children. If I had said a Popsicle Truck was coming it might have been a different reaction, but that's ridiculous. No one calls it that.
So here I am getting everyone all riled up in the front yard as the ugly white van turns the corner ringing the ol' bell. Then I realize that I only have $5 to my name. I'm pretty sure he won't accept Visa. I have no idea how much treats from the truck cost today. I'm sure they aren't cheap. I'm thinking that we might end up all sharing one $4 bomb pop. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Lick and pass. Sounds like good times.
And I realize my money is in the house, in the garage, in my car. So I start frantically waving at the Ice Cream Man (from here on out known as ICM) indicating that oh yeah, baby, we want ice cream but I have to run inside to get the money. I'm pretty sure he is familiar with the signal of a short wave and a point towards the house as "I am going to get money, I'll be right back" and not as a signal that "Hey scary ICM, we are going to lock ourselves in the house so you don't kidnap my kids."
We all know about the reputation of ICM's, whether deserved or undeserved. Not the safest bunch of folks. What a lovely reputation they have. I mean what person wants to go home and announce to their dear mother "MOM, I got a new job. I am going to be an Ice Cream Man." That poor mother. She is telling all of her friends that her son is in "transportation" or "sales." You know I'm right about this.
But I digress (again). So for good measure I wave at the ICM a few more times indicating that I am going inside (with my children) to get money and will be right back. The whole time I am pumping the kids up for this uber exciting experience of buying a Popsicle from a white van. THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT!!
So we rush outside where ICM continues to ring his bell just in case any other kids in the neighborhood want to come a runnin'. Thankfully most of the prices are around $2 so each of the boys can have their own and I can eat left over Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream that the Schwann's man gave me a few months ago....I think you know that story. (what is it with me and frozen food trucks??)
After all of the hype the whole experience was relatively painless. Justin and Leo each picked out their treat, a Batman and Pink Panther Popsicle, respectively. Our total is $4 so I hand Mr. ICM the $5 and start to walk away and he asked me if that was his tip. I so, so, so badly wanted to turn around and say "Here's a tip. Don't ever try to lure my children to your truck and kidnap them" but instead I just said "Sure is. Have a good day." Then I shuffled the boys inside and made them promise me about 15 times that they would never talk to the ICM without mommy or daddy present. Probably scared the crap out of the boys and I am sure that ICM was a perfectly decent person, but one can never be too sure.
Then true to form, after all of that (which probably only lasted a total of 3 minutes) the boys each took about 4 bites out of their ice cream bar/Popsicle things and then left them on the table to melt. Yup, that's about right. I salvaged them before they were a total puddle and to date they continue to sit in our freezer in individual Ziploc bags. $4 really well spent. Big ol' pat on the back of dear ol' mom!
So you can imagine my general displeasure when, for the last 4 days, the ICM has been driving down our street, turning around at our corner, then back up it, then down again, occasionally stopping right in front for a few seconds, then around our block, then down one more time all the while ringing that damn bell in a grand attempt to draw us back out into the front yard to spend $4 and perhaps throw the ever so generous $1 tip his way. Keep trying, ICM. Keep trying.
We still have 2 half eaten Popsicles in the freezer. And Mama ain't got no money today.
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