Today I finally got a crown (well the temporary one) put on a tooth that had a root canal 4 years ago. I am honestly afraid of the dentist. I had a dentist I liked back at our old house who did not tell me I needed a crown, but I took my good ol' time finding a new dentist here & she told me I needed one (or else, apparently, the tooth can break... look, I'm not a dentist.) Anywho, today was the day. I had my Valium at the ready, thanks to a very bad experience with a filling during which they could not, no matter how hard they tried, numb my tooth. That was a white knuckle ride on the pain train. After that, I would have NO dental work done without happy pills first. Now, in my current state of residence, they cannot prescribe anxiolytics. I had to take an expired Valium left over from my old dentist. I was a little fuzzy for a short period of time, but not nearly fuzzy enough OR for long enough... but oh well. It had to do. At least I didn't sing crazy little made up songs for them... Ever do that? Oh, me neither.
So everything was going fine, until they went to replace a nearby filling that was reaching the end of it's days, and found out that was the tooth the other doctor couldn't numb, either. Apparently he didn't fully remove the cavity before filling it (probably due to my pain), and it had gotten much worse underneath. Well, surprise surprise... they couldn't numb the tooth, either. So, the Valium got me through the door, but didn't help much in the chair! After over 20 sticks with the novocain, seriously, I could not feel much of my face. I didn't even know where my tongue was. She asked me to bite a few times, and I had to tell her to let me know when I was biting, because I couldn't tell. She asked me to bite one last time, and I made a funny face because I realized I was biting on my tongue, and that's why my teeth wouldn't close. But that damn tooth, still super painful. She said it may need a root canal. They can knock me out, thankyouverymuch. I'm not doing that again. That is enough of this tomfoolery.
The best part wasn't me slurring my answers to her (99.9% from the excessive novocaine... only 0.1% early on from the valium, unfortunately), and it wasn't the adorable Droopy the Dog face that accompanied the novocain overkill, it was the dentist dropping my tooth on the floor.
So, the little crown "tooth" they put over your old tooth (which they whittle down to a nubbin), needs to be shaped and such... so she's working on this crown with some little spinning tool... when it catches the crown and flings it across the room. The dentists look of horror was quickly replaced by laughter as I yelled "Five second rule!!!" Of course, it was a little slurry, but the hygienist and the doc got it, and were quick to assure me they had things to clean it with before putting it back in my mouth. Apparently "A little dirt never hurt." is frowned upon in dentistry.
My Dad was watching the baby, with great success I might add, in the waiting room. We had to pick up my oldest son at school, so my Dad treated everyone to lunch after that. On the way home, I was sipping my drink... which entailed holding the one side of my mouth closed in order to get anything out of the straw, and then trying to hold it closed until I swallowed. I only learned about that second part after an entire mouthful of soda fell out of my face onto my hair.
After all that, my face hurts. I'm not up for eating, and not even too thrilled about drinking. All those shots of novocain, and the painful drilling. I am hoping tomorrow goes better. Also, I'm not allowed to floss that tooth. Those who know me best, know I have some obsessive compulsive issues, and flossing is one of them. It's driving me crazy (yeah, I know, I'm already there...) not being able to floss that tooth, and in the proper order that I floss my teeth. (That space is #7, every single time.) However, even though I'm feeling a bit bummed about my sore mouth and flossing disruption, my kids kept me smiling today. As a bonus, I'll share a little kid-ism from my oldest son, today.
Son Mom! I forgot, there is sauce in my pocket!
Me No kidding.
His pocket was, quite literally, oozing BBQ sauce all over the place. Apparently, claiming he was doing some sort of magic trick, he had hidden the BBQ sauce packet in his pocket. When he plopped down on our driveway to color with chalk, explosion! And "sauce pocket" was created. There is never a dull moment... or one that doesn't require stain remover.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Pull out the parka, it's tax season
I know some folks hate tax season. I know people who look forward to it, and have already planned what they will do with a refund they may be expecting. I don't hate it, and I don't usually plan out how to spend money I do not know for sure I'm getting (not that I don't have an ongoing "wish list" for when I might have a few bucks come my way, but I"m not going to be Clark Griswold and find out I am the newest member of the jelly of the month club, when I've already ordered my swimming pool... or (let's be more realistic here...) Manolos). I kind of look at doing our taxes like a game. Like any game, you might lose a turn, or maybe you hit the jackpot. (Though, that jackpot isn't like a million dollars when you've not even earned anywhere near a million... but you get the idea). Sometimes you just get to pass Go, but you do NOT collect $200, but you don't owe it either so it's a wash. I always go in with my lucky "PICK ME BOB!" shirt, and my pep rally cry of "Big bucks, no whammies!" Now, of course, getting money back usually just means you did a shit job of accounting for how much you'd owe and planning for it by having the proper amount taken out of your paycheck each week or so. I mean, wouldn't it be better to keep what you will be getting and make interest on it, than let someone else hold onto it for you for the entire year, then get it back in one lump sum? So, I guess getting a return means you did bad math to begin with, but I think most people like the surprise extra money that they did not have all year to blow on Angry Birds upgrades and snuggies.
We are preparing to see our accountant, and he always sends us this little "preparation guide" thing-a-ma-jig that reminds me of why we are paying him (because there's always a handful of important things I always forget about until he points them out). I'm not good at tax law, so I have "a guy". But, have you had one of my cakes, because I'm really good at making those. Cake skills are much more fun, and decidedly more yummy than tax skills.
My husband was filling out the little check list, and one question was "Have you made any changes in your home to improve energy efficiency?" He took it upon himself to go into detail about this one...
Husband Yes. I told my wife to stop dressing like a floozy and put some clothes on during the winter. Now our heating bill is way lower, therefore we are being much more efficient.
Me Wait, what? Does the definition of "dressing like a floozy" change as you get older? Because, seriously, it just does not seem to take much to enter into floozy territory anymore. I mean, my lounge pants, two tank tops, plus a long sleeve shirt = floozy? I wish when I was young and single someone would have told me "Wait until you pass 30... you won't have to try so hard. A roomy pair of lounge pants will do it." I mean, that may have changed my life, having that kind of information. Is there any question on this paper that says something like "Does your husband make you wear a parka and ushanka because he's too cheap to turn up the heat?" or "Is your house so cold that you start to hallucinate that your wife is "showing too much skin" because she's only wearing 3 layers of clothes?" Oy. You know, maybe this is just some convoluted idea the tax man had to ask what your wife is wearing. Now how do you like your answer?
Husband Don't bring him into this.
Me He's the one asking dirty questions.
Husband No, I'm pretty sure that's just you being... well you.
We get to go meet with thispervert tax-guy accountant next week. At that time, he will probably reveal that he does not care what I was or am wearing, and my husband and I will both look at each other like "HA! You were WRONG!". Then he will tell us that we pay a higher tax rate than Mitt Romney and then he will look at us like "HA! Suckers!" Oh that tax guy, he has this one in the bag. We can't compete. There is nothing more ridiculous than that. Not even implying that the tax man's accountant job is part of some complicated plan to find out what women are wearing.
We are preparing to see our accountant, and he always sends us this little "preparation guide" thing-a-ma-jig that reminds me of why we are paying him (because there's always a handful of important things I always forget about until he points them out). I'm not good at tax law, so I have "a guy". But, have you had one of my cakes, because I'm really good at making those. Cake skills are much more fun, and decidedly more yummy than tax skills.
My husband was filling out the little check list, and one question was "Have you made any changes in your home to improve energy efficiency?" He took it upon himself to go into detail about this one...
Husband Yes. I told my wife to stop dressing like a floozy and put some clothes on during the winter. Now our heating bill is way lower, therefore we are being much more efficient.
Me Wait, what? Does the definition of "dressing like a floozy" change as you get older? Because, seriously, it just does not seem to take much to enter into floozy territory anymore. I mean, my lounge pants, two tank tops, plus a long sleeve shirt = floozy? I wish when I was young and single someone would have told me "Wait until you pass 30... you won't have to try so hard. A roomy pair of lounge pants will do it." I mean, that may have changed my life, having that kind of information. Is there any question on this paper that says something like "Does your husband make you wear a parka and ushanka because he's too cheap to turn up the heat?" or "Is your house so cold that you start to hallucinate that your wife is "showing too much skin" because she's only wearing 3 layers of clothes?" Oy. You know, maybe this is just some convoluted idea the tax man had to ask what your wife is wearing. Now how do you like your answer?
Husband Don't bring him into this.
Me He's the one asking dirty questions.
Husband No, I'm pretty sure that's just you being... well you.
We get to go meet with this
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
When pre-schoolers collide, they will eat their vegetables.
Today my 4 year old was injured at school. It was the first time he has gotten hurt at school, and I think he was traumatized. The teacher brought him out to the car with ice on his face, and he burst into tears while she told me what happened. He and his best little buddy had a collision that resulted in his friend headbutting him in the nose. It was a complete accident, but my son was worried that it meant they were no longer friends. It took me longer to heal his emotional wound than to treat his bruised nose.
My son inherited my complete lack of grace and balance. He combines these deficits with a total disregard for the location of his body in space. What does that all mean? He is constantly trying to kill himself. Well, I'm sure that is not his desired outcome, but to any onlooker it would look that way. He is a daredevil. I'm actually more shocked that he did not get hurt at school before this! Maybe he just saves all the calamity for me here at home.
It must have been some blow to the head he received, because the kid who will only eat hot dogs and chicken nuggets (no matter how hard I try to get him to try and eat other food short of sending him to bed hungry), actually tried something different at dinner tonight. My husband came home early, so I had to change my plans for dinner. When he came home and asked what was for dinner, I explained "I don't know. It's just some shit in a pan." He gave me a funny look, went upstairs to change, and when he came back downstairs... the boys were eating what they were served... spinach and all! My oldest told him "Daddy, sprinkle a little cheese on it, it's super good with that cheese!"
Me I cannot believe they are eating this. I thought for sure they'd turn their nose up at it. Of course they'd eat the one thing I think they won't touch.
Husband It's really good. You should probably change the name, though. "Shit in a pan" does not sound very appetizing.
Me Good point. It's "assorted food stuffs I threw together in a pan and cooked until it was hot."
Husband Much better.
I'll have to remember that happy moment at the table, everyone eating what I spent my precious time cooking up for them. I'll try to think of it later in the week when I slave over the stove, cooking up homemade chicken pot pie... which is delicious, mind you. My oldest will act like I'm feeding him poison and razor blades, after I have spent 2 hours cooking that pot pie. I'll have to remember to laugh at the vision of him eating what I referred to as "shit in a pan", as he refuses to eat the down home cookin' version of the frozen thing he normally adores. There is nothing more confusing than a kid's gastronomic preferences.
My son inherited my complete lack of grace and balance. He combines these deficits with a total disregard for the location of his body in space. What does that all mean? He is constantly trying to kill himself. Well, I'm sure that is not his desired outcome, but to any onlooker it would look that way. He is a daredevil. I'm actually more shocked that he did not get hurt at school before this! Maybe he just saves all the calamity for me here at home.
It must have been some blow to the head he received, because the kid who will only eat hot dogs and chicken nuggets (no matter how hard I try to get him to try and eat other food short of sending him to bed hungry), actually tried something different at dinner tonight. My husband came home early, so I had to change my plans for dinner. When he came home and asked what was for dinner, I explained "I don't know. It's just some shit in a pan." He gave me a funny look, went upstairs to change, and when he came back downstairs... the boys were eating what they were served... spinach and all! My oldest told him "Daddy, sprinkle a little cheese on it, it's super good with that cheese!"
Me I cannot believe they are eating this. I thought for sure they'd turn their nose up at it. Of course they'd eat the one thing I think they won't touch.
Husband It's really good. You should probably change the name, though. "Shit in a pan" does not sound very appetizing.
Me Good point. It's "assorted food stuffs I threw together in a pan and cooked until it was hot."
Husband Much better.
I'll have to remember that happy moment at the table, everyone eating what I spent my precious time cooking up for them. I'll try to think of it later in the week when I slave over the stove, cooking up homemade chicken pot pie... which is delicious, mind you. My oldest will act like I'm feeding him poison and razor blades, after I have spent 2 hours cooking that pot pie. I'll have to remember to laugh at the vision of him eating what I referred to as "shit in a pan", as he refuses to eat the down home cookin' version of the frozen thing he normally adores. There is nothing more confusing than a kid's gastronomic preferences.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Say What?
I still can't really figure out these two conversations, though I was an active participant....
Husband She has a lot of teeth.
Me Um... what?
Husband She has a lot of teeth. They are small, and fill up her mouth.
Me As opposed to...
I am still waiting for an explanation for that... at least one that doesn't make my brain explode. I mean, aren't all teeth small and fill up our mouths? I mean, it's not like we're living in Alabama here...
Sorry, Alabama.
And, in his defense, this one took place while he was half asleep...
Husband *whispering* I think people can enter and exit this room through these three doors. I think they can gain access to where we are currently located.
Me You think people can enter or exit through these three doors, right here? Like they might just open them and walk through?
Husband Yes. I think they could gain access to this area by going through those doors.
Me Well, I believe you are correct. That is, after all, how doors work. Usually you are able to open them and enter or leave a room through the doors.
Husband Oh, okay.
Thank goodness he accepted that. I was afraid I was going to have to find paper and pen, at 2 AM, to draw a diagram. I asked... he does not remember what he was dreaming about. I'm guessing it had something to do with doors.
Husband She has a lot of teeth.
Me Um... what?
Husband She has a lot of teeth. They are small, and fill up her mouth.
Me As opposed to...
I am still waiting for an explanation for that... at least one that doesn't make my brain explode. I mean, aren't all teeth small and fill up our mouths? I mean, it's not like we're living in Alabama here...
Sorry, Alabama.
And, in his defense, this one took place while he was half asleep...
Husband *whispering* I think people can enter and exit this room through these three doors. I think they can gain access to where we are currently located.
Me You think people can enter or exit through these three doors, right here? Like they might just open them and walk through?
Husband Yes. I think they could gain access to this area by going through those doors.
Me Well, I believe you are correct. That is, after all, how doors work. Usually you are able to open them and enter or leave a room through the doors.
Husband Oh, okay.
Thank goodness he accepted that. I was afraid I was going to have to find paper and pen, at 2 AM, to draw a diagram. I asked... he does not remember what he was dreaming about. I'm guessing it had something to do with doors.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
And I wore that shoe like nobody's business...
What a weekend! I'll get to an update about my crime spree at the end of this post, but for now... let's start with more pressing matters... Manolo Blahniks.
My husband and I had our annual "Mommy and Daddy get to go out on the town like grown-ups" yesterday. It was his new(er) company's holiday party. I had gotten myself a new party dress (and a super cute sweater, which, as it turns out, will not play nice with a sticky name tag), and *the most important part* some Spanx that go all the way up to your cheek bones. I was set! A few days before the party, I did my research on the venue and found it was being held at a galleria that housed nothing but luxury shops with anchor stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus. They had me at Saks, but when I saw Louis Vuitton, I knew I had to start making a wish list... also know as "This woman is delusional, and has created a list things she will not be purchasing with her imaginary millions of dollars to take back to her pretend castle to live out her princess fantasy even though she is a grown adult." It was exciting for me to think about going somewhere that would remind me of some of my favorite places in New York, so, for maybe a hot minute, I could pretend I was back in the city I love. Also, it was beyond exciting to go somewhere other than our local "mall" which is smaller than my old elementary school, and consists of, pretty much, a Sears, a Belk, and broken dreams.
We intended to head out early, mostly because of the ice and snow that threatened to spoil our day yesterday. We didn't leave as early as we wanted, but we still got there 40 minutes early, which meant I had to prioritize. We cut my itinerary down to Saks, Neiman Marcus, and Louis Vuitton. I found the next purse I just have to have at Louis Vuitton. It looks like a "Stewart's Strawberry Soda label", as my husband says. It's also available for the low low price of $1,080.00 I bet, if I had asked, they would have just given it to me for free, simply because I deserve it. We will just have to assume that is the case, because, thanks to our time restraint, I did not have time to discuss these matters with the salesfolk. I had to move along to shoes.
Neiman Marcus had what almost every girl dreams of... designer shoe sale racks. It was 65% off, last call, and it was Heaven. I immediately found these pink and black, super cute Manolos. Of course, they only have out the right shoe, so I could only try on one. Once I had it on, though, I spent the next half an hour walking around the shoe department with that shoe on one foot, and the sad, ordinary shoe I had come in with, on the other foot. At one point, my husband was standing there holding my shoe and my purse, as I made my way through the racks... fondling any shoe that caught my eye. The salesman would come up to me, ask "Is there anything I can get for you, like the other shoe?" and I would answer "No, nope. I'm good with this one. I'm still looking." He'd back away, slowly, and come back about every five minutes. My husband pointed out that maybe I should take the shoe off. I told him that the salesman would probably ask him to take me out of the store before that happened, and then he'd have to drag me out. Or maybe I'd just act all cool and natural and walk out with half a pair of shoes on my feet. No one would notice, right? One bright pink shoe would not catch anyone's eye next to a plain black shoe and black stockings, right? *le sigh*
Husband *who suddenly has the Joker's grin on his face* Oh I will. I will DRAG you out of here. I don't have a problem doing that.
Me But, the shoes, they need me!
Husband I will drag you out of here. You can go put your new car on your foot.
Me I can't put a car on my foot! I can put my foot on a car, but that is totally different. I can't wear my car in to a party, and, besides, it doesn't really match my outfit.
Husband You are missing the point. I can explain it to you while I'm dragging you out of here. Oh, look at the time, the party is starting.
Me *whispering to the shoe I am reluctantly taking off, and putting back on the rack for someone who, I'm sure, will not care about it the same way I do* Wait for me!
So, we headed over to the party. I had not previously met any of my husband's coworkers, and I was so happy to find out they were all so very nice... but, more importantly, funny. I counted zero sticks in the mud, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I believe these two things are related. The food was great, and the drinks looked wonderful, too, but I did avoid any alcohol, lest I become a swollen, purple/red tomato (thanks to an alcohol allergy). Instead, I had soda. Now, I'll remind you all that we had a long drive to get there, I had already been there shopping for 40 minutes before the party, I now had 3 drinks between my soda and water, and I'm wearing Spanx. I made the decision to wait it out. I knew, in order to use the bathroom, there would be a wrestling match with those "underlies", as I prefer to call them. I was not looking forward to that. We all know, that since the increase in the usage of Spanx, they have not appropriately increased the size of the bathroom stalls to accommodate the struggles of women wearing them who have the unfortunate circumstance of having to pee. Spanx are wonderful, and I cannot possibly gush about how effective they are, but they are a nightmare in this department. Putting them on in the first place, is difficult, and once you're in .... you're in. Between the laughing, grunting, jumping up and down, rolling on the bed... it might seem like I'm wrestling with a terrifyingly large, stuffed bunny to anyone inside our house who can hear the commotion. However, 20 minutes later *as long as you haven't poked a hole through them with your finger nails* you emerge a thinner, smoother version of yourself. That's priceless, and well worth the fight to get them on. Hooray for Spanx!
Someone did point out to me that the point probably is to NOT admit to wearing them, but I have nothing to hide... except for what I'm hiding with my Spanx... that I DO want to hide. And you probably should thank me for doing so, as you're the ones who have to look at me.
I did, eventually *after waiting it out 'til the last second to make it count* throw in the towel and enter the ladies room for the "Saturday Night rumble". I emerged victorious. The Spanx never stood a chance. Also, it helped that the handicapped accessible stall was available.
Despite the physical labor involved with dressing up, I had a fantastic time. We had some fun and interesting conversations, learned new things, and had time out without the kids! The best take home lesson of the day was some very creative parenting advice. Consider having older children clean large household appliances, and detail the family cars, as consequences for inappropriate behavior. At some point, though, it seems you reach the point of just hoping they smartmouth you, cause the fridge could stand to be cleaned. Chances are, though, they will.
Alright, quick update on my thievery.... I did return to Walgreen's first thing the next morning, and paid for my vaporub and toothbrushes. The conversation started with:
Hey, I shoplifted, accidentally, these things, yesterday. Well, really my stroller did, but I was an accomplice. I did give these things to the stroller to hold, and then it completely hid them from view, so I forgot about them once I got to the register and paid for the rest of my stuff. Sorry about that. I'm pretty sure the stroller is sorry, too. In the very least, it should be ashamed of itself.
The cashiers actually hugged me, had a good laugh, and told me what a wonderful person I was. I told them they just didn't have the full picture of me, so their judgement was overly generous, but I'd take the compliment while I could get it.
In summation, I'm no longer a petty thief. Although, I have been told, I wasn't really a criminal to begin with, as there was no intent to steal. So, now it's even less edgy and "dangerous", and even more pitiful. So, I guess it was just an unintentional, unaware-of-the-thrill, non-criminal, crime. *again, le sigh*
I hope everyone else had such an action-packed weekend. Now, back to my "normal" life...
My husband and I had our annual "Mommy and Daddy get to go out on the town like grown-ups" yesterday. It was his new(er) company's holiday party. I had gotten myself a new party dress (and a super cute sweater, which, as it turns out, will not play nice with a sticky name tag), and *the most important part* some Spanx that go all the way up to your cheek bones. I was set! A few days before the party, I did my research on the venue and found it was being held at a galleria that housed nothing but luxury shops with anchor stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus. They had me at Saks, but when I saw Louis Vuitton, I knew I had to start making a wish list... also know as "This woman is delusional, and has created a list things she will not be purchasing with her imaginary millions of dollars to take back to her pretend castle to live out her princess fantasy even though she is a grown adult." It was exciting for me to think about going somewhere that would remind me of some of my favorite places in New York, so, for maybe a hot minute, I could pretend I was back in the city I love. Also, it was beyond exciting to go somewhere other than our local "mall" which is smaller than my old elementary school, and consists of, pretty much, a Sears, a Belk, and broken dreams.
We intended to head out early, mostly because of the ice and snow that threatened to spoil our day yesterday. We didn't leave as early as we wanted, but we still got there 40 minutes early, which meant I had to prioritize. We cut my itinerary down to Saks, Neiman Marcus, and Louis Vuitton. I found the next purse I just have to have at Louis Vuitton. It looks like a "Stewart's Strawberry Soda label", as my husband says. It's also available for the low low price of $1,080.00 I bet, if I had asked, they would have just given it to me for free, simply because I deserve it. We will just have to assume that is the case, because, thanks to our time restraint, I did not have time to discuss these matters with the salesfolk. I had to move along to shoes.
Neiman Marcus had what almost every girl dreams of... designer shoe sale racks. It was 65% off, last call, and it was Heaven. I immediately found these pink and black, super cute Manolos. Of course, they only have out the right shoe, so I could only try on one. Once I had it on, though, I spent the next half an hour walking around the shoe department with that shoe on one foot, and the sad, ordinary shoe I had come in with, on the other foot. At one point, my husband was standing there holding my shoe and my purse, as I made my way through the racks... fondling any shoe that caught my eye. The salesman would come up to me, ask "Is there anything I can get for you, like the other shoe?" and I would answer "No, nope. I'm good with this one. I'm still looking." He'd back away, slowly, and come back about every five minutes. My husband pointed out that maybe I should take the shoe off. I told him that the salesman would probably ask him to take me out of the store before that happened, and then he'd have to drag me out. Or maybe I'd just act all cool and natural and walk out with half a pair of shoes on my feet. No one would notice, right? One bright pink shoe would not catch anyone's eye next to a plain black shoe and black stockings, right? *le sigh*
Husband *who suddenly has the Joker's grin on his face* Oh I will. I will DRAG you out of here. I don't have a problem doing that.
Me But, the shoes, they need me!
Husband I will drag you out of here. You can go put your new car on your foot.
Me I can't put a car on my foot! I can put my foot on a car, but that is totally different. I can't wear my car in to a party, and, besides, it doesn't really match my outfit.
Husband You are missing the point. I can explain it to you while I'm dragging you out of here. Oh, look at the time, the party is starting.
Me *whispering to the shoe I am reluctantly taking off, and putting back on the rack for someone who, I'm sure, will not care about it the same way I do* Wait for me!
So, we headed over to the party. I had not previously met any of my husband's coworkers, and I was so happy to find out they were all so very nice... but, more importantly, funny. I counted zero sticks in the mud, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I believe these two things are related. The food was great, and the drinks looked wonderful, too, but I did avoid any alcohol, lest I become a swollen, purple/red tomato (thanks to an alcohol allergy). Instead, I had soda. Now, I'll remind you all that we had a long drive to get there, I had already been there shopping for 40 minutes before the party, I now had 3 drinks between my soda and water, and I'm wearing Spanx. I made the decision to wait it out. I knew, in order to use the bathroom, there would be a wrestling match with those "underlies", as I prefer to call them. I was not looking forward to that. We all know, that since the increase in the usage of Spanx, they have not appropriately increased the size of the bathroom stalls to accommodate the struggles of women wearing them who have the unfortunate circumstance of having to pee. Spanx are wonderful, and I cannot possibly gush about how effective they are, but they are a nightmare in this department. Putting them on in the first place, is difficult, and once you're in .... you're in. Between the laughing, grunting, jumping up and down, rolling on the bed... it might seem like I'm wrestling with a terrifyingly large, stuffed bunny to anyone inside our house who can hear the commotion. However, 20 minutes later *as long as you haven't poked a hole through them with your finger nails* you emerge a thinner, smoother version of yourself. That's priceless, and well worth the fight to get them on. Hooray for Spanx!
Someone did point out to me that the point probably is to NOT admit to wearing them, but I have nothing to hide... except for what I'm hiding with my Spanx... that I DO want to hide. And you probably should thank me for doing so, as you're the ones who have to look at me.
I did, eventually *after waiting it out 'til the last second to make it count* throw in the towel and enter the ladies room for the "Saturday Night rumble". I emerged victorious. The Spanx never stood a chance. Also, it helped that the handicapped accessible stall was available.
Despite the physical labor involved with dressing up, I had a fantastic time. We had some fun and interesting conversations, learned new things, and had time out without the kids! The best take home lesson of the day was some very creative parenting advice. Consider having older children clean large household appliances, and detail the family cars, as consequences for inappropriate behavior. At some point, though, it seems you reach the point of just hoping they smartmouth you, cause the fridge could stand to be cleaned. Chances are, though, they will.
Alright, quick update on my thievery.... I did return to Walgreen's first thing the next morning, and paid for my vaporub and toothbrushes. The conversation started with:
Hey, I shoplifted, accidentally, these things, yesterday. Well, really my stroller did, but I was an accomplice. I did give these things to the stroller to hold, and then it completely hid them from view, so I forgot about them once I got to the register and paid for the rest of my stuff. Sorry about that. I'm pretty sure the stroller is sorry, too. In the very least, it should be ashamed of itself.
The cashiers actually hugged me, had a good laugh, and told me what a wonderful person I was. I told them they just didn't have the full picture of me, so their judgement was overly generous, but I'd take the compliment while I could get it.
In summation, I'm no longer a petty thief. Although, I have been told, I wasn't really a criminal to begin with, as there was no intent to steal. So, now it's even less edgy and "dangerous", and even more pitiful. So, I guess it was just an unintentional, unaware-of-the-thrill, non-criminal, crime. *again, le sigh*
I hope everyone else had such an action-packed weekend. Now, back to my "normal" life...
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Livin on the edge...
Today I became an accidental criminal. I totally shoplifted a Vick's vaporub and 2 sesame street toothbrushes from Walgreens. Now, before I get any further, since I am aware that I have thieved... I will be returning to the store tomorrow, after dropping my kiddo off for school, to pay for the items.
I can't knowingly steal chest rub and kiddie cavity prevention devices... that would be humiliating. It's not like I pulled off some big, dangerous, gutsy, cool heist. I mean, one of my two accomplices still poops his pants. Cool & dangerous... sadly, not. It was a case of putting these things in a "safe spot" in the stroller, where they wouldn't fall out, while I finished shopping and made my way to the front of the store. Then, my oldest was trying to con me into candy (um, no), and I was busy keeping him from helping himself to the M&M's. It wasn't until I arrived home, went through the bag and said "Where's the vaporub?" Then, dammit! I ran out to the car, pulled out the stroller, popped it open, and there was the Vicks and the Bert & Ernie and Cookie Monster toothbrushes... still in that "safe spot". Indeed, they did not fall out. The baby was napping, so I just kept the boxes, and I'll go back with them tomorrow so they can ring them up.
When I posted on Facebook that I was on the lam, several of my friends mentioned incidents where they were undercharged for items, and went back to have the bill fixed. It was so refreshing to hear about honest people in the world! That STILL happens! People STILL do the right thing, believe it or not! So, all in all, I'm glad I shoplifted. I got to see a honest, and quite nerdy, side to people that I thought was becoming extinct.
My son is sleeping so much more peacefully tonight, thanks to the stolen vaporub, by the way. I think the fact that it's criminal really increased it's effectiveness. I can't be sure, but it's possible.
I also have to mention, I almost went to Safeway for these items. One of my very first thoughts, when I realized what I'd done, was "Thank goodness I didn't go to Safeway!" All I could think about was that pregnant woman who ate a sandwich while shopping, then paid for all her groceries but absentmindedly forgot to pay for the sandwich, so they had her arrested. Could you imagine what they would have done for a vaporub and two whole toothbrushes? Surely a public flogging would have been a best case scenario.
Now that you've read this, are you an accessory to my crime? At least until tomorrow morning when I go turn myself in to the cashier? You should probably be ashamed of yourself.
I can't knowingly steal chest rub and kiddie cavity prevention devices... that would be humiliating. It's not like I pulled off some big, dangerous, gutsy, cool heist. I mean, one of my two accomplices still poops his pants. Cool & dangerous... sadly, not. It was a case of putting these things in a "safe spot" in the stroller, where they wouldn't fall out, while I finished shopping and made my way to the front of the store. Then, my oldest was trying to con me into candy (um, no), and I was busy keeping him from helping himself to the M&M's. It wasn't until I arrived home, went through the bag and said "Where's the vaporub?" Then, dammit! I ran out to the car, pulled out the stroller, popped it open, and there was the Vicks and the Bert & Ernie and Cookie Monster toothbrushes... still in that "safe spot". Indeed, they did not fall out. The baby was napping, so I just kept the boxes, and I'll go back with them tomorrow so they can ring them up.
When I posted on Facebook that I was on the lam, several of my friends mentioned incidents where they were undercharged for items, and went back to have the bill fixed. It was so refreshing to hear about honest people in the world! That STILL happens! People STILL do the right thing, believe it or not! So, all in all, I'm glad I shoplifted. I got to see a honest, and quite nerdy, side to people that I thought was becoming extinct.
My son is sleeping so much more peacefully tonight, thanks to the stolen vaporub, by the way. I think the fact that it's criminal really increased it's effectiveness. I can't be sure, but it's possible.
I also have to mention, I almost went to Safeway for these items. One of my very first thoughts, when I realized what I'd done, was "Thank goodness I didn't go to Safeway!" All I could think about was that pregnant woman who ate a sandwich while shopping, then paid for all her groceries but absentmindedly forgot to pay for the sandwich, so they had her arrested. Could you imagine what they would have done for a vaporub and two whole toothbrushes? Surely a public flogging would have been a best case scenario.
Now that you've read this, are you an accessory to my crime? At least until tomorrow morning when I go turn myself in to the cashier? You should probably be ashamed of yourself.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
My top five child birthday parties I will never throw...
Today my son had a birthday party to attend. It was at one of those bounce places with the inflatable castles and obstacle courses. We were excited for him, because he loves those things. He had such a great time at a bounce-theme birthday party a couple years ago. We assumed that was representative of all bounce parties. Upon arriving to today's party, however, we soon realized we had embarked on a journey to the innermost circles of Hell for the following 2 and 1/2 hours.
I don't enjoy party games that are pretty much "which two kids are going to bang heads, and demonstrate to everyone why there is an enormous advertisement for "urgent care" on the wall of the bounce room". And, although I like cake just as much as the next person, I don't enjoy mine served with a side of snot. I also never think "I hope everyone who just rolled on the floor, picked their boogers, and made snow angels in inflatable birthday cakes that, let's be honest, someone probably puked in within the last 24 hours... touches all the food sitting on the table, seasoning it with the latest super bug." Never, I never think that.
We showed up at the party, all ready to go, and the first thing we see is this poor, sick baby, who cannot keep his eyes open. He constantly had snot covering at least 50% of his face, looked miserably ill, and was struggling to stay awake... however, he was at the party. Not only was he there, but assorted relatives kept carrying him into the bouncy contraptions and bouncing him around, as he looked at everyone with the saddest "please help me" eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. The Dad even said "He's getting better, he's just exhausted because he hasn't slept for 2 days." Yes, I wanted to hose my kids down with lysol at that point, every 5 minutes after that, and strip them for one last coat of it when we got home... but I was more upset that this poor baby was being subjected to this when he should have been home, resting (if possible). I still want to scoop him up and take care of him, wipe his poor little face, and rock him to sleep.
About 15 minutes into the party, they spiced it up a bit by throwing in 2 children between the ages of 10-12, who were about MY size, and were mean and super aggressive. Why these things were released into a crowd of pre-schoolers, I do not know. Kids were getting plowed down, my kiddo got hit in the face, and they were pushing kids down the back of the inflatable slide and not letting them go down the slide. Fun times.
After the anxiety filled 2 hours of hoping my child, or any other kiddo, didn't break a limb, we went to the party room. I know I'm a germ-phobe who overreacts to dirt and germs, but there is just something about watching people dig in bare handed to food who are sick or were just playing with a bunch of sick kids on dirty equipment that turns my stomach. Great for the diet, though! I did whip out the hand sanitizer like any well prepared crazy person would in this situation. I did not, however, eat anything. My kids did, though. It's hard to explain to them, in a middle of a party, that they are sitting in a giant petri dish with a sample taken from none other than Typhoid Mary. People tend to look at you strange for mentioning her at a kid's party.
Anyway, after all of this, I decided to fill my husband in on the types of kid's parties I won't be throwing. I know the title says top five, but really there are only 2 on that list right now....
1. Bounce party... after the above, it really goes without saying
2. Chuck E. Cheese
I'm not a big fan of Chuck E. Cheese. This post is getting long, so I'll cut to the chase, and sum it up with a quote from my husband
"What do you mean, you don't like Chuck E. Cheese? Pizza, a giant rat, and knife fights... what's not to like?"
So, there you have it. The kids had a ton of fun, but my anxiety was through the bouncy castle roof.
Since I included a quote from my husband in here, I'll throw in an extra one from this evening... it's pretty much classic-him...
Husband What?! Cat beatings?!
Me Yeah, I just said "I was way over doing it with the cat beatings." Now when I ask the baby what a kitty says, he says "No, Mommy, no!"
I will give him some credit, though. Caffeine, cat beatings... they are almost the same thing some mornings.
I don't enjoy party games that are pretty much "which two kids are going to bang heads, and demonstrate to everyone why there is an enormous advertisement for "urgent care" on the wall of the bounce room". And, although I like cake just as much as the next person, I don't enjoy mine served with a side of snot. I also never think "I hope everyone who just rolled on the floor, picked their boogers, and made snow angels in inflatable birthday cakes that, let's be honest, someone probably puked in within the last 24 hours... touches all the food sitting on the table, seasoning it with the latest super bug." Never, I never think that.
We showed up at the party, all ready to go, and the first thing we see is this poor, sick baby, who cannot keep his eyes open. He constantly had snot covering at least 50% of his face, looked miserably ill, and was struggling to stay awake... however, he was at the party. Not only was he there, but assorted relatives kept carrying him into the bouncy contraptions and bouncing him around, as he looked at everyone with the saddest "please help me" eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. The Dad even said "He's getting better, he's just exhausted because he hasn't slept for 2 days." Yes, I wanted to hose my kids down with lysol at that point, every 5 minutes after that, and strip them for one last coat of it when we got home... but I was more upset that this poor baby was being subjected to this when he should have been home, resting (if possible). I still want to scoop him up and take care of him, wipe his poor little face, and rock him to sleep.
About 15 minutes into the party, they spiced it up a bit by throwing in 2 children between the ages of 10-12, who were about MY size, and were mean and super aggressive. Why these things were released into a crowd of pre-schoolers, I do not know. Kids were getting plowed down, my kiddo got hit in the face, and they were pushing kids down the back of the inflatable slide and not letting them go down the slide. Fun times.
After the anxiety filled 2 hours of hoping my child, or any other kiddo, didn't break a limb, we went to the party room. I know I'm a germ-phobe who overreacts to dirt and germs, but there is just something about watching people dig in bare handed to food who are sick or were just playing with a bunch of sick kids on dirty equipment that turns my stomach. Great for the diet, though! I did whip out the hand sanitizer like any well prepared crazy person would in this situation. I did not, however, eat anything. My kids did, though. It's hard to explain to them, in a middle of a party, that they are sitting in a giant petri dish with a sample taken from none other than Typhoid Mary. People tend to look at you strange for mentioning her at a kid's party.
Anyway, after all of this, I decided to fill my husband in on the types of kid's parties I won't be throwing. I know the title says top five, but really there are only 2 on that list right now....
1. Bounce party... after the above, it really goes without saying
2. Chuck E. Cheese
I'm not a big fan of Chuck E. Cheese. This post is getting long, so I'll cut to the chase, and sum it up with a quote from my husband
"What do you mean, you don't like Chuck E. Cheese? Pizza, a giant rat, and knife fights... what's not to like?"
So, there you have it. The kids had a ton of fun, but my anxiety was through the bouncy castle roof.
Since I included a quote from my husband in here, I'll throw in an extra one from this evening... it's pretty much classic-him...
Husband What?! Cat beatings?!
Me Yeah, I just said "I was way over doing it with the cat beatings." Now when I ask the baby what a kitty says, he says "No, Mommy, no!"
I will give him some credit, though. Caffeine, cat beatings... they are almost the same thing some mornings.
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