I love to shop. It's very enjoyable to me, theraputic if you will... but not when I'm listening to this:
"Are we done yet?"
"Can I get that?"
"I want one!"
"I want a snack!"
"Can we go now?"
"I have to pee!"
I had like a million errands to run today and my lovely children got dragged around with me. Before I left on my adventure I was explaining my errands over the phone to my sister-in-law, and one errand in particular caught her attention: I explained that I needed to buy a new bra, and how much I was looking forward to it with my two children in tow! She then asked what I planned on doing with Jake (my 5 year old) while I was stripping down to my all-together and trying bras on.
I had to think about this for a minute... I no longer change in front of him at home, but the thought about not being able to easily change in a dressing room while the kids played at my feet never occured to me before. It was a valid point: when does it become inappropriate for my son to see me naked? When does it cross the line? I reached the conclusion that when he became old enough to start asking questions and pointing and staring (around the age of 4), that that was the end of it.
So my solution to the problem? "Close your eyes and cover them with your hands, please!" It worked like a charm. He thought it was a fun game, and I hurriedly rushed through bra after bra trying to make a snap decision, constantly in fear that he would unexpectedly open his eyes and gain a "peep show". I quickly snapped it in front, whirled it around, adjusted the girls, bent and shook, stood and removed. Over and over, through about 6 bras.
I ended up buying one... I think it fit... I think it's the right size... thanks to Mervyn's sales it was only $15, but more importantly the only skin I think Jake saw was the palms of his hands.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Skinny
I was in the Gap outlet today and was looking for some stylish capri pants for my sister, because she needed something to wear to an upcoming photo session... I found some really great capri pants, tried them on myself in a size 6, and found they fit very well. Not baggy, but no stomach bubbling over the top either. We had a winner!
The difference between her and me is that my thighs and butt are much more "cellulite-y" than hers. So when I tried these capri's on, they fit very well, but they're the type of pant that you really need to wear a thong with and I wasn't comfortable showing the world that many dimples... so I passed on them for me.
But I called her up and told her about them and she was thrilled. "Should I get a 4 or a 2?" she was asking me. I explained my cottage cheese issues and convinced her that she didn't have that particular problem, all the while other shoppers were staring at me while I was talking. Yeah, right, like the woman grabbing an XXL doesn't have cottage cheese problems... puh-lease.
Back and forth we went over the great debate between a size 4 and a 2. I mentally sighed and told myself,"If she asks about a size zero I'm hanging up on her." I had to admit when I was holding the 4 and 2 pants, I felt a little guilty like I had no business touching them. I was lucky enough to squeeze my large "backseat" into a size 6, which we all know would be an 8 at any other store. I felt like the woman with the XXL was watching me, judging my thighs versus the size on the hanger. I was finally able to make it out the store with the zero's left on the rack... along with some of my dignity.
The difference between her and me is that my thighs and butt are much more "cellulite-y" than hers. So when I tried these capri's on, they fit very well, but they're the type of pant that you really need to wear a thong with and I wasn't comfortable showing the world that many dimples... so I passed on them for me.
But I called her up and told her about them and she was thrilled. "Should I get a 4 or a 2?" she was asking me. I explained my cottage cheese issues and convinced her that she didn't have that particular problem, all the while other shoppers were staring at me while I was talking. Yeah, right, like the woman grabbing an XXL doesn't have cottage cheese problems... puh-lease.
Back and forth we went over the great debate between a size 4 and a 2. I mentally sighed and told myself,"If she asks about a size zero I'm hanging up on her." I had to admit when I was holding the 4 and 2 pants, I felt a little guilty like I had no business touching them. I was lucky enough to squeeze my large "backseat" into a size 6, which we all know would be an 8 at any other store. I felt like the woman with the XXL was watching me, judging my thighs versus the size on the hanger. I was finally able to make it out the store with the zero's left on the rack... along with some of my dignity.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Dooney
Before I tell my Dooney story, here's a little background for those of you who don't know my son very well:
When Ben was about one years old he started vomiting A LOT, especially during a mealtime or right after it. Not to be gross, but we're not talking about a little spit up, we're talking the whole nine yards. Sometimes I was blessed to clean it up in the car, or in his bed, on my couch, or all over my carpet. He almost never got sick on the kitchen tile floor or in our laminate floored hallway... no, never in a place that could be mopped up easily. And it happened once a day, sometimes twice a day, for four or five days a week. Obviously I took him to the doctor and we discovered he has: 1) acid reflux, and 2) an underdeveloped esophagus muscle that doesn't always contract correctly to bring the food into the stomach. I was told this would go away with time, once his stomach and esophagus muscles were strengthened and had grown bigger.
After several more trips to the doctor, and several months of vomit later, we figured out if we fed him small portions, allowing him to get up and leave the table when he wanted (while also feeding him standing up to allow for a clearer passage) that it helped to control the vomit situation. So this is what we did for several months. Right around January of this year (when he turned 2) he stopped vomiting, and we've been vomit free for about 5 1/2 months! Yay!
...Until the past couple of weeks...
Only the difference now is he can communicate a little better since he's older and he motions to his mouth when he is about to get sick. So now on to the funny part of this disgusting story (I'm really sorry if you were eating during all this and now can't digest your snack)...
We were in Carls Jr. today sitting in a booth, and next to me was Ben, across from me was my Mom and next to her was Jake. Well, in the middle of our lunch Ben stops and puts down his nugget... and so I stopped eating to watch him carefully. Sure enough he looked at me with his huge eyes and pale cheeks and pointed to his mouth and said, "Sick!" Now any normal Mother would probably say something soothing to him, stroke his back, tell him to take deep breaths... not me. I knew what was coming! I yanked my $300 Dooney and Bourke bag away from its spot on the bench between myself and Ben, dumped it on the floor and scooted it under the table toward my Mom. Then I eyed Ben suspiciously, and while I hurriedly lifted him out of the bench I paused at the edge of the table thinking he was about to show us his lunch right then and there, I glanced down at my bag and back at Ben... bag, Ben, bag, Ben... and realized if he got sick on the floor it could splatter onto, or worse, into my bag. Thinking only of myself, I kicked my bag further beneath the table and ran with Ben to the bathroom. Luckily we made it just in time.
We came back, resumed our eating and I gingerly picked up my Dooney and brushed off the lint particles it had accumulated. I looked at my Mom and said, "How do you like that? My son is about to get sick and all I could think about was 'please don't get sick on my $300 Dooney'. How ridiculous am I?!" She started laughing at me and then I started laughing at me, and while the boys finished their lunch I gingerly tucked my Dooney up against my side, back in its rightful place.
When Ben was about one years old he started vomiting A LOT, especially during a mealtime or right after it. Not to be gross, but we're not talking about a little spit up, we're talking the whole nine yards. Sometimes I was blessed to clean it up in the car, or in his bed, on my couch, or all over my carpet. He almost never got sick on the kitchen tile floor or in our laminate floored hallway... no, never in a place that could be mopped up easily. And it happened once a day, sometimes twice a day, for four or five days a week. Obviously I took him to the doctor and we discovered he has: 1) acid reflux, and 2) an underdeveloped esophagus muscle that doesn't always contract correctly to bring the food into the stomach. I was told this would go away with time, once his stomach and esophagus muscles were strengthened and had grown bigger.
After several more trips to the doctor, and several months of vomit later, we figured out if we fed him small portions, allowing him to get up and leave the table when he wanted (while also feeding him standing up to allow for a clearer passage) that it helped to control the vomit situation. So this is what we did for several months. Right around January of this year (when he turned 2) he stopped vomiting, and we've been vomit free for about 5 1/2 months! Yay!
...Until the past couple of weeks...
Only the difference now is he can communicate a little better since he's older and he motions to his mouth when he is about to get sick. So now on to the funny part of this disgusting story (I'm really sorry if you were eating during all this and now can't digest your snack)...
We were in Carls Jr. today sitting in a booth, and next to me was Ben, across from me was my Mom and next to her was Jake. Well, in the middle of our lunch Ben stops and puts down his nugget... and so I stopped eating to watch him carefully. Sure enough he looked at me with his huge eyes and pale cheeks and pointed to his mouth and said, "Sick!" Now any normal Mother would probably say something soothing to him, stroke his back, tell him to take deep breaths... not me. I knew what was coming! I yanked my $300 Dooney and Bourke bag away from its spot on the bench between myself and Ben, dumped it on the floor and scooted it under the table toward my Mom. Then I eyed Ben suspiciously, and while I hurriedly lifted him out of the bench I paused at the edge of the table thinking he was about to show us his lunch right then and there, I glanced down at my bag and back at Ben... bag, Ben, bag, Ben... and realized if he got sick on the floor it could splatter onto, or worse, into my bag. Thinking only of myself, I kicked my bag further beneath the table and ran with Ben to the bathroom. Luckily we made it just in time.
We came back, resumed our eating and I gingerly picked up my Dooney and brushed off the lint particles it had accumulated. I looked at my Mom and said, "How do you like that? My son is about to get sick and all I could think about was 'please don't get sick on my $300 Dooney'. How ridiculous am I?!" She started laughing at me and then I started laughing at me, and while the boys finished their lunch I gingerly tucked my Dooney up against my side, back in its rightful place.
Results
This morning I went to Curves and got weighed and measured. *rolls eyes* There was hardly any change AT ALL with my body. Like it isn't embarrasing enough to get weighed and measured the first time, but to come back six weeks later, after working out 4-5 days a week, and I gained two pounds!! The only success I had was losing one inch in my hips (yay!) and a half-inch in my thighs (I think she was just being kind).
The first thing they did was weigh me, and the trainer kept saying, "hunh" under her breath, like she couldn't believe I was gaining instead of losing. She actually started over at one point and re-weighed me. I told her, "It was right the first time, I'm just fat I guess. Let's move on..."
Then that girl needed to take a phone call so another woman stepped in to do all my measurements. I swear every time she measured something she would check her chart and say, "hmm", because nothing had changed! Arms: exact same, "hmm". Waist: exact same, "hmm". The hip measurement and results were exciting, but then she kind of killed it by saying, "There you go! There's a little progress. These past six weeks didn't go entirely to waste!" *rolls eyes* Basically I could have saved my $40 for the month and layed off the soda for a couple of weeks and probably gotten the same results. And my half-inch off my thighs... well let's just say that was the absolute last thing she measured and I'm pretty sure it was a pity half-inch. After this I'm definately going to have to step up the diet and exercise at home, too! *groan*
The first thing they did was weigh me, and the trainer kept saying, "hunh" under her breath, like she couldn't believe I was gaining instead of losing. She actually started over at one point and re-weighed me. I told her, "It was right the first time, I'm just fat I guess. Let's move on..."
Then that girl needed to take a phone call so another woman stepped in to do all my measurements. I swear every time she measured something she would check her chart and say, "hmm", because nothing had changed! Arms: exact same, "hmm". Waist: exact same, "hmm". The hip measurement and results were exciting, but then she kind of killed it by saying, "There you go! There's a little progress. These past six weeks didn't go entirely to waste!" *rolls eyes* Basically I could have saved my $40 for the month and layed off the soda for a couple of weeks and probably gotten the same results. And my half-inch off my thighs... well let's just say that was the absolute last thing she measured and I'm pretty sure it was a pity half-inch. After this I'm definately going to have to step up the diet and exercise at home, too! *groan*
Monday, June 16, 2008
Tie Continued...
Read the "Tie" post first and this one will make more sense after...
Before everyone gets all judgemental on my Hubby for him not being the world champion of ties, you have to understand where he comes from:
When I first met Hubby, and while we were dating and engaged, he was a driver for a liquor distribution company (Charming career, huh? Sorry ladies, he's taken!) and his daily attire consisted of jeans and a tee-shirt. And then he acquired a job with the Department of Defense at our local Air Force Base (where he's also serves our Country as a Reservist) and again, his dress code was extremely casual. He actually has two types of jeans in his closet: work jeans (faded, stained, holey) and going-out jeans (darker in color, more expensive).
We rarely have an occasion to dress up, even our Church is pretty casual, so for Hubby tying a tie hasn't always been an obligation or a priority. I can even remember a wedding we went to years back where we were having a tie-tying dilema and so I told him, "Just wear your button down shirt open at the collar. It's all the rage!" He looked great, and to my satisfaction there were a few other men at that wedding with the same open collar outfit. Kudos to me!
So when you read the "Tie" post have a little compassion and understanding.
Before everyone gets all judgemental on my Hubby for him not being the world champion of ties, you have to understand where he comes from:
When I first met Hubby, and while we were dating and engaged, he was a driver for a liquor distribution company (Charming career, huh? Sorry ladies, he's taken!) and his daily attire consisted of jeans and a tee-shirt. And then he acquired a job with the Department of Defense at our local Air Force Base (where he's also serves our Country as a Reservist) and again, his dress code was extremely casual. He actually has two types of jeans in his closet: work jeans (faded, stained, holey) and going-out jeans (darker in color, more expensive).
We rarely have an occasion to dress up, even our Church is pretty casual, so for Hubby tying a tie hasn't always been an obligation or a priority. I can even remember a wedding we went to years back where we were having a tie-tying dilema and so I told him, "Just wear your button down shirt open at the collar. It's all the rage!" He looked great, and to my satisfaction there were a few other men at that wedding with the same open collar outfit. Kudos to me!
So when you read the "Tie" post have a little compassion and understanding.
Tie
This morning my Hubby had an important meeting to go to at 9:30. This was the kind of meeting that required a leather binder-folder, a resume, a list of questions, a fresh hair cut, and a suit and tie.
Yesterday he laid out his suit and tried on the pants to make sure everything still fit *rolls eyes*, and in doing so decided that he needed a new "power" tie. So off to Ross I went, which is the best place to go for stuff like this. I got him a Calvin Klein tie for $12.99 which was "compared to $40.00" originally.
Then later in the evening I "cut his hair" (all three pieces) and he trimmed up his goatee and sideburns all nice and clean. Also last night I threw out the suggestion of "typing up a resume", which he thought was a good idea but that it could wait until the morning to be done. Fine by me because my all-time favorite movie was on cable, While You Were Sleeping, and I happily hunkered into bed to watch it.
So here we are this morning and Hubby's running around frantic ironing his shirt, trying grab a bite to eat, yelling different suggestive phrases at me for his resume which was still un-typed, trimming nose hairs or whatever it is guys actually do in the bathroom... meanwhile the kids and I are huddled in the corner of the living room trying to stay out of the way. Then the house falls silent for a few moments so I peek around the corner and find hubby mesmorized by the glow of our computer screen. Curious, I sneak up behind him and realize he's located a website with instructions on how to tie a tie. So after a few failed attempts, he starts to get a little frustrated and I gingerly step in and tell him to go do something else to get ready, and I'll take care of the tie.
After about twenty minutes and fifteen different tries and tying this stupid thing I realize Hubby is watching me. "Just lay it on the back of the chair and I'll do it later. I don't want it to get wrinkled." ...he tells me. So I moved on to typing the finishing touches on his resume and printing out some various papers he needs done.
A little bit later I find him again in front of the computer trying to tie the tie, this time fully clothed with his button down shirt and slacks in place. It took the two of us another fifteen minutes, with three trips to the bathroom to try tying it in front of a mirror, to get it completely tied. The problem: Hubby is rather tall and the tie came to just above his belly button (about 6" north then it should have been). So off it came and back to the drawing board we went. I looked at him at one point and said, "We're two very capable, grown adults, and this is a piece of skinny fabric. How is this not working??" To which he replied, "You better not blog this. I'm serious, I don't want to see this online." Which caught me off guard and made me laugh hysterically and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah right! This is a blogger's dream!" But I settle for telling him, "You realize there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my mouth shut about this..."
Needless to say, he was out the door, tie fixed appropriately and all, at 9:15. I shut the computer off and tried to start my morning. Then Hubby calls me at 9:25 to say, "I'm at the wrong place. Look it up online for the right address!" So I have to wait for the computer to re-boot so I can find the correct address. He turned out to have a great meeting, but good grief! If he starts wearing a tie on a day-to-day basis I think I might develop an ulcer.
Yesterday he laid out his suit and tried on the pants to make sure everything still fit *rolls eyes*, and in doing so decided that he needed a new "power" tie. So off to Ross I went, which is the best place to go for stuff like this. I got him a Calvin Klein tie for $12.99 which was "compared to $40.00" originally.
Then later in the evening I "cut his hair" (all three pieces) and he trimmed up his goatee and sideburns all nice and clean. Also last night I threw out the suggestion of "typing up a resume", which he thought was a good idea but that it could wait until the morning to be done. Fine by me because my all-time favorite movie was on cable, While You Were Sleeping, and I happily hunkered into bed to watch it.
So here we are this morning and Hubby's running around frantic ironing his shirt, trying grab a bite to eat, yelling different suggestive phrases at me for his resume which was still un-typed, trimming nose hairs or whatever it is guys actually do in the bathroom... meanwhile the kids and I are huddled in the corner of the living room trying to stay out of the way. Then the house falls silent for a few moments so I peek around the corner and find hubby mesmorized by the glow of our computer screen. Curious, I sneak up behind him and realize he's located a website with instructions on how to tie a tie. So after a few failed attempts, he starts to get a little frustrated and I gingerly step in and tell him to go do something else to get ready, and I'll take care of the tie.
After about twenty minutes and fifteen different tries and tying this stupid thing I realize Hubby is watching me. "Just lay it on the back of the chair and I'll do it later. I don't want it to get wrinkled." ...he tells me. So I moved on to typing the finishing touches on his resume and printing out some various papers he needs done.
A little bit later I find him again in front of the computer trying to tie the tie, this time fully clothed with his button down shirt and slacks in place. It took the two of us another fifteen minutes, with three trips to the bathroom to try tying it in front of a mirror, to get it completely tied. The problem: Hubby is rather tall and the tie came to just above his belly button (about 6" north then it should have been). So off it came and back to the drawing board we went. I looked at him at one point and said, "We're two very capable, grown adults, and this is a piece of skinny fabric. How is this not working??" To which he replied, "You better not blog this. I'm serious, I don't want to see this online." Which caught me off guard and made me laugh hysterically and all the while I'm thinking, "Yeah right! This is a blogger's dream!" But I settle for telling him, "You realize there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my mouth shut about this..."
Needless to say, he was out the door, tie fixed appropriately and all, at 9:15. I shut the computer off and tried to start my morning. Then Hubby calls me at 9:25 to say, "I'm at the wrong place. Look it up online for the right address!" So I have to wait for the computer to re-boot so I can find the correct address. He turned out to have a great meeting, but good grief! If he starts wearing a tie on a day-to-day basis I think I might develop an ulcer.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Weigh In
This Tuesday at Curves will be my weigh-in and measurement day. I'm as about excited for this as I would be to get a root canal done. My scale at home says I've gained weight, my pants and shorts still fit as tight as ever, and aside from being a little more tan on my arms and chest, my upper body hasn't changed much either.
I've been working out at Curves every week, about 4 or 5 days a week. I think that's pretty good (considering I hate working out) but if I don't see any results on Tuesday then I'm afraid I'm going to have to up the anty. I might consider doing some work-out videos at home several days a week too; then I can "Walk Away The Pounds" with Leslie Sansone and "walk" about 2 miles everyday in addition to my Curves exercising. *sigh* I'm very excited for this.
I guess it would help if I continued to watch what I ate. I was exhausted yesterday from having a hard, tiring, week and so we ordered take-out from Round Table. OH MY GOODNESS, I could have eaten the entire large pizza... it tasted that good to me. If it wasn't for Jacob asking, "Are we going to save some for Daddy?" as I was hovered over my "cardboard" plate, I would've gone way past my limit on slices. Instead I gave him a sideways glance, sighed, and packaged up the remaining few pieces.
I've been working out at Curves every week, about 4 or 5 days a week. I think that's pretty good (considering I hate working out) but if I don't see any results on Tuesday then I'm afraid I'm going to have to up the anty. I might consider doing some work-out videos at home several days a week too; then I can "Walk Away The Pounds" with Leslie Sansone and "walk" about 2 miles everyday in addition to my Curves exercising. *sigh* I'm very excited for this.
I guess it would help if I continued to watch what I ate. I was exhausted yesterday from having a hard, tiring, week and so we ordered take-out from Round Table. OH MY GOODNESS, I could have eaten the entire large pizza... it tasted that good to me. If it wasn't for Jacob asking, "Are we going to save some for Daddy?" as I was hovered over my "cardboard" plate, I would've gone way past my limit on slices. Instead I gave him a sideways glance, sighed, and packaged up the remaining few pieces.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Movies
My kids love movies. Any movie at all, they're up for it. Think of them as miniature Epert and Ropert experts. A couple of days ago the magical movie in our house was Montsers, Inc. They watched it about three times... in one day. I had it memorized by dinnertime (Billy Crystal is only funny the first time through). Yesterday was Toy Story, which was also watched multiple times... followed today by The Wild.
On their list of "important things to do this summer" going to see Kung Fu Panda is at the top, followed closely by Wall-e, and the new animated Star Wars epic that is supposed to air later this summer. I must admit they do sit well through a movie, hardly talking or budging from their "spot" on the couch. Will they sit through getting their hair washed? No. Will they sit still through dinner? No way. Through a Church service? *snort* I wish. On the potty? Forget about it. But when Darth, or Buzz, or Cinderella (yes her, she's a favorite remember...) is before them, all eyes are focused and concentrating. If only I could direct that attention toward tidying up their rooms, or unloading the dishwasher...
On their list of "important things to do this summer" going to see Kung Fu Panda is at the top, followed closely by Wall-e, and the new animated Star Wars epic that is supposed to air later this summer. I must admit they do sit well through a movie, hardly talking or budging from their "spot" on the couch. Will they sit through getting their hair washed? No. Will they sit still through dinner? No way. Through a Church service? *snort* I wish. On the potty? Forget about it. But when Darth, or Buzz, or Cinderella (yes her, she's a favorite remember...) is before them, all eyes are focused and concentrating. If only I could direct that attention toward tidying up their rooms, or unloading the dishwasher...
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Olive Garden
Every now and then as a treat, Hubby and I order take-out from Olive Garden. My two-year-old has been sick all weekend so tonight was one of those nights when we needed something yummy. However, I ordered dinner, not drama...
I ordered one child's cheese pizza, one seafood alfredo pasta, and one five-cheese baked ziti pasta (we all know that diets are for Monday through Friday only). When I got there the woman gave me my total: $54.30. I said, "Yeah... um, no." And then, "Really? Fifty-four dollars?" To which she responded with an eye-roll and a sigh and repeated my order back to me: "Two seafood pastas, one five-cheese baked ziti, and one child's pizza." I said something about how I only ordered one seafood pasta, and she insisted that I distinctly said "two" and that she had repeated it back to me when we were on the phone and I agreed to it. *silence*
Then, "Okay, well I didn't hear that and we only need one seafood pasta please." This was met with another eye-roll and an exasperated request for me to wait while she gets the Manager to remove the extra pasta dish from my order. Then a couple of other women that worked there whispered amongst themselves (which was so obvious that it was about me) and finally the Manager returned. She rung me up and I paid, and then had to wait for my food to be ready.
While I was waiting, an older gentleman was also picking up his food and the snotty check-out woman accidentally called him "Jennifer" (lucky me) so they had a little joke going on. And then the man turns to me and starts this conversation: "That'd be nice if I was a woman. I've been told when we die we all come back as the opposite sex, and then I could come back as a Jennifer. But you know I think I'd rather come back as a whale. Did you know that they keep the same mate for life?! There's no divorce or any of that nonsense. And the eagles, I could come back as an eagle..." He pauses and waits for me to respond. Meanwhile I'm having the hardest time trying not to stare at his wandering eye (seriously, couldn't tell which eye he was using to look at me), and trying not to gag from his B.O., which was hard considering he was about six inches from me. Seriously, during the eagle part his arm hairs touched my sleeve so I pretended to be interested in a nearby flyer so I could move over.
Since I felt forced to encourage this behavior, I said, "Oh? An eagle?" Which of course only led him on. "Why, eagles fly from country to country. If I came back as an eagle then think of how much of the world I'd be able to see!"
Just then my food came out (thank goodness)... but it was minus one salad. When I--very nicely--pointed out the error, she hastily lifted up the receipt and said that when I "changed my order" (LIAR) it cancelled one of the salads. So then I puffed up my feathers and said, "Regardless, there's still two adults entrees in here and only one salad. So I think I'm supposed to have another salad." And believe it or not, the smelly, twisted-eyed, old man has moved up to stand next to me and is still lecturing me on the lifestyles of the eagle.
I swear I almost screamed, "I just want my food!!! Is this my punishment for going off my diet? Just hand over the breadsticks and no one will get hurt!" I didn't, of course. After thinking such rude thoughts about this elderly ol' fart, I felt a little bad so as I was leaving I turned to him and said, "Have a nice evening." He nodded at me and wished me the same. Too late!
I ordered one child's cheese pizza, one seafood alfredo pasta, and one five-cheese baked ziti pasta (we all know that diets are for Monday through Friday only). When I got there the woman gave me my total: $54.30. I said, "Yeah... um, no." And then, "Really? Fifty-four dollars?" To which she responded with an eye-roll and a sigh and repeated my order back to me: "Two seafood pastas, one five-cheese baked ziti, and one child's pizza." I said something about how I only ordered one seafood pasta, and she insisted that I distinctly said "two" and that she had repeated it back to me when we were on the phone and I agreed to it. *silence*
Then, "Okay, well I didn't hear that and we only need one seafood pasta please." This was met with another eye-roll and an exasperated request for me to wait while she gets the Manager to remove the extra pasta dish from my order. Then a couple of other women that worked there whispered amongst themselves (which was so obvious that it was about me) and finally the Manager returned. She rung me up and I paid, and then had to wait for my food to be ready.
While I was waiting, an older gentleman was also picking up his food and the snotty check-out woman accidentally called him "Jennifer" (lucky me) so they had a little joke going on. And then the man turns to me and starts this conversation: "That'd be nice if I was a woman. I've been told when we die we all come back as the opposite sex, and then I could come back as a Jennifer. But you know I think I'd rather come back as a whale. Did you know that they keep the same mate for life?! There's no divorce or any of that nonsense. And the eagles, I could come back as an eagle..." He pauses and waits for me to respond. Meanwhile I'm having the hardest time trying not to stare at his wandering eye (seriously, couldn't tell which eye he was using to look at me), and trying not to gag from his B.O., which was hard considering he was about six inches from me. Seriously, during the eagle part his arm hairs touched my sleeve so I pretended to be interested in a nearby flyer so I could move over.
Since I felt forced to encourage this behavior, I said, "Oh? An eagle?" Which of course only led him on. "Why, eagles fly from country to country. If I came back as an eagle then think of how much of the world I'd be able to see!"
Just then my food came out (thank goodness)... but it was minus one salad. When I--very nicely--pointed out the error, she hastily lifted up the receipt and said that when I "changed my order" (LIAR) it cancelled one of the salads. So then I puffed up my feathers and said, "Regardless, there's still two adults entrees in here and only one salad. So I think I'm supposed to have another salad." And believe it or not, the smelly, twisted-eyed, old man has moved up to stand next to me and is still lecturing me on the lifestyles of the eagle.
I swear I almost screamed, "I just want my food!!! Is this my punishment for going off my diet? Just hand over the breadsticks and no one will get hurt!" I didn't, of course. After thinking such rude thoughts about this elderly ol' fart, I felt a little bad so as I was leaving I turned to him and said, "Have a nice evening." He nodded at me and wished me the same. Too late!
Dogs
We have two yellow labs, both are big, slobbery, hairy, loving creatures that do anything and everything to get our attention. Last Saturday was no exception. Our big, furry companions do not get to ride in the car that often (oh, it's such a big deal for them when they do... ladies, think along the lines of diamond jewelry treats)... so when Hubby opened the car up to vacuum it out, guessed who hopped aboard. That's right, both of them, in the back of my Explorer.
They never went anywhere, except back to the yard when Hubby needed to vacuum out the trunk. They sat like this for about twenty minutes and then reluctantly got down after much persuading and several mentions of a "treat". That's Chloe on the left, looking guilty, and Charlie on the right acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe you have to be a dog owner or lover to appreciate the humor in this, but the picture is cute enough to share regardless...
They never went anywhere, except back to the yard when Hubby needed to vacuum out the trunk. They sat like this for about twenty minutes and then reluctantly got down after much persuading and several mentions of a "treat". That's Chloe on the left, looking guilty, and Charlie on the right acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe you have to be a dog owner or lover to appreciate the humor in this, but the picture is cute enough to share regardless...
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Books
Since we do go to the Library so often (about twice a month) we end up finding some really great stories that I can't keep quiet about any longer! We found this fantastic, adorable book called The Rooster Who Lost His Crow by Wendy Cheyette Lewison, pictures by Thor Wickstrom. It's this sweet tale of a farm rooster who gets scared by a bee and "loses" his ability to crow. He looks for his crow all over the farm (behind a haystack, in the grass, in the pond) and then finds it in a moment of braveness as he scares away a fox in the hen house.
Another series of books my kids are absolutely entralled with are the Can You See What I See series by Walter Wick. Wick is the co-creater of the I Spy books, and these follow the same I Spy guidelines, with a little "added boost"... these have an adorable little red and yellow guy named Seymore that appears throughout the book, kind of telling a story. My children are completely taken with him, and totally consumed to the point that every time we go to the library those are the first books we head toward to see if there was possibly another "Seymore book" (as they call them) that we haven't checked out.
I highly recommend both of these. I think once a week or so I'm going to add a spot to my blog called "Books" that will be my personal recommendations. Look for it on the left side!
Another series of books my kids are absolutely entralled with are the Can You See What I See series by Walter Wick. Wick is the co-creater of the I Spy books, and these follow the same I Spy guidelines, with a little "added boost"... these have an adorable little red and yellow guy named Seymore that appears throughout the book, kind of telling a story. My children are completely taken with him, and totally consumed to the point that every time we go to the library those are the first books we head toward to see if there was possibly another "Seymore book" (as they call them) that we haven't checked out.
I highly recommend both of these. I think once a week or so I'm going to add a spot to my blog called "Books" that will be my personal recommendations. Look for it on the left side!
Culture Awareness
I try to be a well-rounded Mom. I try to have a little diversity in my house. We do art projects, we dance to music, we donate money to an Animal Shelter and to a Children's Foundation...
I try to recycle, and once I tried to explain this act to my oldest child. I showed him the difference between throwing cans and milk jugs into a big blue recycle bin versus the big grey one for trash, explaining that the jugs and cans and other bottles and cardboards we use everyday can be manufactured together to make a different box or bottle, etc., in the future. Then the next day I found some rocks and some dirt and a couple of (old) toys in the blue recycle bin. "What exactly is going on here?" I asked him. His reply was: "I want to see what else they can make!" The lesson on recycling was a lost cause.
In my urge to be the well-rounded individual I hope to be, I drag my kids to the local Farmers Market just about every Saturday. I go with the attitude that my kids will see first hand the "art" of fresh vegetables and fruits. I show them the different types of squash, and cherries, and herbs, and tomatoes... and then they see the sign for "fresh baked donuts". And suddenly the Farmers Market came alive! This was the best place ever! That's my kids; they'd happily go to a vaccination clinic if they knew donuts would be there. Nevermind the other fresh fruits and such in my stroller, the fact that someone was "cool" enough to sell "fresh baked donuts" was over-the-moon exciting. I think the Farmers Market was a lost cause, too.
My last hope for my children to find some culture is in the Library. I used to love going to the Library, and the joy of it has continued into my adulthood. I borrow the latest books that have been released-- free of charge-- or borrow the newest movies that hit the DVD shelves. I'm happy to say my children also share my enthusiasm for the Library! They love to go and look at the rows and rows of children's books, all their pages begging to be touched and turned. We don't usually leave the children's section without reading a few books first to "try them out" as my oldest would say.
The Library is probably the only place in the world that my kids have learned to be quiet. They use their softest whispering voices, they don't run or act wildly, they stay obediently by my side clutching in their arms the new treasures they've discovered. They help me scan them out at the desk, and as soon as we reach the car their noses are devored into page after page of animated bliss. I love to read and have tried to instill the value of books within my kids. I think it's safe to say they love it too!
I try to recycle, and once I tried to explain this act to my oldest child. I showed him the difference between throwing cans and milk jugs into a big blue recycle bin versus the big grey one for trash, explaining that the jugs and cans and other bottles and cardboards we use everyday can be manufactured together to make a different box or bottle, etc., in the future. Then the next day I found some rocks and some dirt and a couple of (old) toys in the blue recycle bin. "What exactly is going on here?" I asked him. His reply was: "I want to see what else they can make!" The lesson on recycling was a lost cause.
In my urge to be the well-rounded individual I hope to be, I drag my kids to the local Farmers Market just about every Saturday. I go with the attitude that my kids will see first hand the "art" of fresh vegetables and fruits. I show them the different types of squash, and cherries, and herbs, and tomatoes... and then they see the sign for "fresh baked donuts". And suddenly the Farmers Market came alive! This was the best place ever! That's my kids; they'd happily go to a vaccination clinic if they knew donuts would be there. Nevermind the other fresh fruits and such in my stroller, the fact that someone was "cool" enough to sell "fresh baked donuts" was over-the-moon exciting. I think the Farmers Market was a lost cause, too.
My last hope for my children to find some culture is in the Library. I used to love going to the Library, and the joy of it has continued into my adulthood. I borrow the latest books that have been released-- free of charge-- or borrow the newest movies that hit the DVD shelves. I'm happy to say my children also share my enthusiasm for the Library! They love to go and look at the rows and rows of children's books, all their pages begging to be touched and turned. We don't usually leave the children's section without reading a few books first to "try them out" as my oldest would say.
The Library is probably the only place in the world that my kids have learned to be quiet. They use their softest whispering voices, they don't run or act wildly, they stay obediently by my side clutching in their arms the new treasures they've discovered. They help me scan them out at the desk, and as soon as we reach the car their noses are devored into page after page of animated bliss. I love to read and have tried to instill the value of books within my kids. I think it's safe to say they love it too!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Snips, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails...
My boys are very "boy-ish" boys. They like cars and trucks, they like machines that smash things and dump things. They ride bikes around in a circle on our patio pretending it's a race track. My boys get their shovels out and push up their sleeves and dig through flower pots for worms and slugs. Pirates are exciting; any superhero, especially one who wears a cape, is beyond cool; Star Wars competes with no other... all these things that make a boy a "boy" totally define my children.
However, every now and then I'll be caught totally off guard by my children doing something sweet and tender, revealing a more gentle undercarriage to their rough exteriors. For example, my two year old, Ben, has a naked baby doll and has named it "Keira" after his beautiful baby cousin. And just the other day as I was walking down the hallway I saw him sort of "sneak" out of his room. He caught me watching him and put his finger to his lips and "shushed" me. Then he pointed his chubby finger into his room. Curious, I tiptoed over and stuck my head around the doorway. He had layed his baby doll in his bed and covered it with his treasured blanket. He then whispered to me "baby naptime" and slowly, softly, closed his door. He tiptoed down the hallway and went off to play. It was such a gracious, beautiful gesture of love toward that little plastic doll and it shocked me so hard it almost brought tears to my eyes.
Then today my oldest son, Jake, after he played for an hour in the backyard and was dripping with sweat and testosterone from his "Speed Racer Derby" extravaganza, he asked to watch a movie. I opened the cabinet and began reading off titles: "Cars, Madagascar, Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek 3, Mickey Mouse, Finding Nemo, Snow White..." He stopped me there, exclaiming, "Snow White! Snow White! That's the best movie! It's so good Mom!" Thinking he was finished but before I could open my mouth to reply he continued, "It's almost as good as Cinderella, huh Mom!"
These are the moments that stop me in my tracks, pull a smile from my lips, and make me chuckle softly to myself. Then one boy will "pass gas" or something else utterly grotesque, which will make the other one laugh hysterically and imitate said motion, and the fuzzy moment disappears... for now.
However, every now and then I'll be caught totally off guard by my children doing something sweet and tender, revealing a more gentle undercarriage to their rough exteriors. For example, my two year old, Ben, has a naked baby doll and has named it "Keira" after his beautiful baby cousin. And just the other day as I was walking down the hallway I saw him sort of "sneak" out of his room. He caught me watching him and put his finger to his lips and "shushed" me. Then he pointed his chubby finger into his room. Curious, I tiptoed over and stuck my head around the doorway. He had layed his baby doll in his bed and covered it with his treasured blanket. He then whispered to me "baby naptime" and slowly, softly, closed his door. He tiptoed down the hallway and went off to play. It was such a gracious, beautiful gesture of love toward that little plastic doll and it shocked me so hard it almost brought tears to my eyes.
Then today my oldest son, Jake, after he played for an hour in the backyard and was dripping with sweat and testosterone from his "Speed Racer Derby" extravaganza, he asked to watch a movie. I opened the cabinet and began reading off titles: "Cars, Madagascar, Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek 3, Mickey Mouse, Finding Nemo, Snow White..." He stopped me there, exclaiming, "Snow White! Snow White! That's the best movie! It's so good Mom!" Thinking he was finished but before I could open my mouth to reply he continued, "It's almost as good as Cinderella, huh Mom!"
These are the moments that stop me in my tracks, pull a smile from my lips, and make me chuckle softly to myself. Then one boy will "pass gas" or something else utterly grotesque, which will make the other one laugh hysterically and imitate said motion, and the fuzzy moment disappears... for now.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Whining
I can read the headlines now: "Mother of two becomes deaf from persistent whining".
Oh my goodness, this has been heck of a day! It started yesterday when my son had a big birthday party and received many attractive presents. My two year old, Ben, the one who doesn't like to share, seemed to think the gifts were all his and all last night he was continually whining over his "right" to have a turn. So we hurried the kids through their bath, shoved pajamas over their heads, and tossed them into bed head first... they were both out within five minutes.
But this morning Ben awoke with the terrible case of the "whines". Starting as early as seven o'clock he carried his voice in the most high pitched, fingernails on a chalkboard, tone of voice, arguing his "right" to have a turn with anything and everything my five year old picked up. Even when I put on a movie for Ben to watch he whined that "Daytub (Jacob) looking at movie". And when I explained that Jacob was allowed to watch the movie too, the octave level went even higher.
So I pushed the boys outside, encouraging them with new adventures in chalk drawing (as Jacob received some fun new chalk toys yesterday). One chalk set came with 3-D eye glasses to make the chalk drawings seem more "alive", but of course there was only one pair of glasses and... well you can imagine the drama that ensued. So back inside they went...
At about 10:45 I was developing a headache and had negotiated "Three more minutes and we need to pass it to brother" about seventy five times with about eighty different toys, when Ben whined for a snack. I suggested watermelon, grapes, string cheese and then applesauce and I heard "NO!" four times. So I opened the cupboard and suggested goldfish, which turned into a crying "NO!" Then I had the audacity to mention peanut butter crackers (how nice am I to offer so many things?!) and received a screaming fit over my dreadful suggestions. My head was beginning to throb so when he pointed to the tortilla chips and asked for cheese to dip I said yes. I told myself I would add some fruit to his plate and call it an early lunch.
A little bit later Jacob wanted a corn dog, and of course that lead to Ben throwing a full on temper tantrum that he was stuck with cheese and chips and wasn't offered a corn dog to begin with... So he went down for a nap an entire hour earlier than normal!
By late afternoon the whining had reached levels that even an opera singer would be impressed with. Ben didn't want to share his ball outside, nor did he want to share his boat in the bathtub. He didn't want to read the same book as Jacob at bedtime, and he wasn't happy that I sent him to bed with just water and not something sweeter to cleanse his palate. I skipped washing their hair in the tub or brushing their teeth before bed (I wasn't about to touch on those issues) focusing on getting them between the sheets so this dreadful day would be over!
I think I'll hide those darn "chalk glasses" so there isn't an issue tomorrow, and I'll shove the bathtime boat in the back of the cupboard. I've also decided to order some military issued earplugs online and have them shipped Overnight Express Mail to me so I can receive them first thing in the morning.
Oh my goodness, this has been heck of a day! It started yesterday when my son had a big birthday party and received many attractive presents. My two year old, Ben, the one who doesn't like to share, seemed to think the gifts were all his and all last night he was continually whining over his "right" to have a turn. So we hurried the kids through their bath, shoved pajamas over their heads, and tossed them into bed head first... they were both out within five minutes.
But this morning Ben awoke with the terrible case of the "whines". Starting as early as seven o'clock he carried his voice in the most high pitched, fingernails on a chalkboard, tone of voice, arguing his "right" to have a turn with anything and everything my five year old picked up. Even when I put on a movie for Ben to watch he whined that "Daytub (Jacob) looking at movie". And when I explained that Jacob was allowed to watch the movie too, the octave level went even higher.
So I pushed the boys outside, encouraging them with new adventures in chalk drawing (as Jacob received some fun new chalk toys yesterday). One chalk set came with 3-D eye glasses to make the chalk drawings seem more "alive", but of course there was only one pair of glasses and... well you can imagine the drama that ensued. So back inside they went...
At about 10:45 I was developing a headache and had negotiated "Three more minutes and we need to pass it to brother" about seventy five times with about eighty different toys, when Ben whined for a snack. I suggested watermelon, grapes, string cheese and then applesauce and I heard "NO!" four times. So I opened the cupboard and suggested goldfish, which turned into a crying "NO!" Then I had the audacity to mention peanut butter crackers (how nice am I to offer so many things?!) and received a screaming fit over my dreadful suggestions. My head was beginning to throb so when he pointed to the tortilla chips and asked for cheese to dip I said yes. I told myself I would add some fruit to his plate and call it an early lunch.
A little bit later Jacob wanted a corn dog, and of course that lead to Ben throwing a full on temper tantrum that he was stuck with cheese and chips and wasn't offered a corn dog to begin with... So he went down for a nap an entire hour earlier than normal!
By late afternoon the whining had reached levels that even an opera singer would be impressed with. Ben didn't want to share his ball outside, nor did he want to share his boat in the bathtub. He didn't want to read the same book as Jacob at bedtime, and he wasn't happy that I sent him to bed with just water and not something sweeter to cleanse his palate. I skipped washing their hair in the tub or brushing their teeth before bed (I wasn't about to touch on those issues) focusing on getting them between the sheets so this dreadful day would be over!
I think I'll hide those darn "chalk glasses" so there isn't an issue tomorrow, and I'll shove the bathtime boat in the back of the cupboard. I've also decided to order some military issued earplugs online and have them shipped Overnight Express Mail to me so I can receive them first thing in the morning.
Birthday Cupcakes
My son is turning five years old this week (wow!) and yesterday we had this big, elaborate birthday spectacular for him. It was a lot of fun, and it cost me an arm and a leg and another leg, but it was worth it. The kids had a great time, and since it was held at another location, it saved me from having to scrub my house! Let's face it, when you're a Mom of two boys you do what it takes to get out of unnecessary housework!
I made cupcakes (with help from Duncan Hines) in both chocolate and vanilla flavors, and to go along with his sports themed decorations, I decided to make the chocolate cupcakes footballs and the vanilla cupcakes baseballs. Jake told me, "I really like how the baseballs look Mom, but those (pointing to chocolate cupcakes) don't really look like footballs." I had just spent the better part of an hour frosting these darn things, cutting my thumb in the process, so I smiled sweetly at him and just "suggested" that he use his imagination.
The party is now over and I'm left with the crying of my tired and overwhelmed children, the paper pieces of ripped boxes and packages scattered throughout my house (on my bed under my pillow, in my shower, in Ben's diaper drawer... seriously, what went on here??)... and of course left over cupcakes taunting me from the fridge. I swear, just a few minutes ago when I walked by the fridge, the door flew open hitting me in the chest, the lid to the cupcake tupperware container popped up, and a "football" flew into my mouth! I would have protested but I was too busy scarfing down cake and frosting. All that remains is my paper wrapper carelessly tossed on the floor in my haste for cake.
I made cupcakes (with help from Duncan Hines) in both chocolate and vanilla flavors, and to go along with his sports themed decorations, I decided to make the chocolate cupcakes footballs and the vanilla cupcakes baseballs. Jake told me, "I really like how the baseballs look Mom, but those (pointing to chocolate cupcakes) don't really look like footballs." I had just spent the better part of an hour frosting these darn things, cutting my thumb in the process, so I smiled sweetly at him and just "suggested" that he use his imagination.
The party is now over and I'm left with the crying of my tired and overwhelmed children, the paper pieces of ripped boxes and packages scattered throughout my house (on my bed under my pillow, in my shower, in Ben's diaper drawer... seriously, what went on here??)... and of course left over cupcakes taunting me from the fridge. I swear, just a few minutes ago when I walked by the fridge, the door flew open hitting me in the chest, the lid to the cupcake tupperware container popped up, and a "football" flew into my mouth! I would have protested but I was too busy scarfing down cake and frosting. All that remains is my paper wrapper carelessly tossed on the floor in my haste for cake.
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