Friday, April 26, 2013

Things found in the laundry: a story of confusion and general horror

Since the 'caterpillars in the washing machine' incident from kindergarten, my growing boys have become disgusting in other ways. Usually they come home covered in dirt and smelling like something died in their shoes, pretty standard for 11-year-olds.

And I'm used to finding dirt in their pockets when I do the laundry, along with candy wrappers, little notes from school, and the occasional crushed Cheez-It.

But today, things took a turn.

There I am sorting through the 72 pound basket of dirty clothes I managed to drag to the basement, which smells like mud of course, and as I'm emptying pockets making a pile of the usual wrappers, coins, and rock fragments, I pull out three slightly petrified edamame shells.

What?

Sadly, I can't recall the last time we had edamame. Has it been that long since I've done the kids' laundry? And why the hell would the kid stuff spent edamame shells in his pocket???

This will require a follow up conversation about how it's inappropriate and not at all sanitary to store perishables in your pants.

But now I have another story to share with their girlfriends.





Friday, March 29, 2013

I didn't have enough challenges to call my own

I clearly didn't have enough going on in my already insane life, so we decided to throw a puppy on it.

Many weeks ago Richard and I decided to put a deposit down on a 1 week old baby french bulldog, one of a litter of five, and then proceeded to wait 7 very long weeks for him to be old enough to come home.

All the while attempting to keep this hidden from the kids so we could surprise them with the puppy they have been asking for for months only to be told "hell no" every time.

Enter "Puppy". The day finally arrived when he was 8 weeks old and able to come home. We drove the 2 hours to the breeder's home and proceeded to spend 2 more full hours contemplating exactly which puppy to choose. We had the choice of three that remained and it was almost a tougher decision for Richard than it was for him to buy his condo 5 years ago (worst decision ever) so he could barely be trusted anyway.

Eventually, we let our guts speak for us and we walked away with the one with the prettiest face.

And we're so glad we did. The kids were very surprised and are quickly learning how to pick up poop with those little waste bags you get from the pet store. At least they'll have some skills in the sanitation and waste management field if everything else goes south.

All our friends are completely sick of the seemingly endless Facebook and Instagram posts. But I don't care, because if that puppy is caught sleeping on his back looking like a rubber chicken I'm taking a damn picture and it will be shared!

He's turned out to be a very good little pup and although we all still can't agree what to name him, he's added a lot of fun to the house. That and the need to get up every 2-3 hours at night to take him out.

The exhaustion is worth it and I'm certain he'll end up being one of the better decisions we've made in a while.

After all, he's the most well-behaved creature in the house right now.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

It was only ONE hour

....and it's taken us more than TWO weeks to recover.
Anyone on the planet who has school age kids will waste no time giving shout-outs in agreement that the annual "Spring Forward" Daylight Saving Time that comes around in March is the one thing that jacks up an otherwise stable household faster than a stomach bug gone astray.

But I never understood why.

We sprang forward, even went to bed a little earlier to stay on the same schedule, and the next day we awoke to a slightly darker morning where all that could be heard was the sweet sound of birds chirping in the trees...and kids screaming about how they couldn't possibly get out of bed to go to school.

But it was just an hour. Why did it hit them like they had spent the weekend doing keg stands and taking bets to see who could handle a kick to the nuts??

I was tired, yes. But I'm pretty sure that was a mental sign that I would have rather gnawed a finger off than go to work that cold morning. The kids on the other hand were comatose. And they stayed that way for days.

So here is my official plea to whomever controls Daylight Saving Time....if you're gonna take an hour from us every Spring, take the one between 3:00 and 4:00 pm on a crappy Tuesday. Everyone hates that hour anyway.

If not, then next year I plan to be living in Phoenix.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

I see you looking at me....

I love pedicures.

Of course I used to give myself pedicures on a regular basis and it was no big deal. But why do it yourself when you can pay someone to do it for you and then you don't have to hover over your own toes hoping you can see them well enough to not make it look like your kid did it for you?

So that brings me to my next observation....

While enjoying a well-deserved pedicure (the kind you run out of the house to escape your kids for) I didn't have a magazine to read so I spent my time taking in the sites around me.

Four pedi chairs on either side of the room, facing each other, filled with women with krunk toes that needed attention, and the hard-working pedicurists making them beautiful again with people buzzing about.

That's when I realized.....

There's always at least one chick in a pedicure chair, in a crowded salon, who can pull off the perfectly-executed bitch-face.

I've been accused of having bitch face (on occasion) and that's why I do my best to smile. And if I'm not smiling, I at least try not to look like I'm smelling something bad.

You know that look.

Well, all of the other ladies were minding their own, reading magazines or scrolling through their iPhones, and then I spotted the "one".

She sat in that chair getting her toes done and just eyeballed everyone in the room equally as if they were about to stab her and she had to be paying attention to avoid certain death.

I felt a little bad for her because I knew it was just the involuntary bitch face.

We've all seen that girl. Poor thing.

I'm probably her right now.

Although I'm watching Justin Timberlake on SNL right now and the only bitch face I have is for Jessica Biel.




Friday, March 1, 2013

Naughty kids have to go to Costco

Rainy Saturdays suck. They suck because I can't shove the kids out the door to play outside and they suck because the kids get raging cases of cabin fever....we all suffer.

This past Saturday was one such rainy, sucky Saturday. And God help me, I had to go to Costco.

Sidenote: Both kids had weekend homework to do (always fun) and Alexander had managed to get most of his done so it was Clifford's turn.

Rainy Saturday + cranky Clifford + homework + needing to go to Costco = crappy day for all within a 30 mile radius of the house.

So since Alexander was all squared away and quietly reading is book, I decided to get Clifford started on his homework and head to Costco......enter epic meltdown.

Not sure what this was all about, but he lost his shit. Screaming and crying about how he didn't know how to do it (lie #1) and that he couldn't get through it without my help (lie #2) and there was no way I could leave this kid screeching like a howler monkey to go spend hundreds of dollars on Bagel Bites and Gogurt.

That's when shit got real.

"Fine, you're going with us....in your pajamas"

What's up, short pants??


Richard literally picked him up off his chair, I grabbed his coat and shoes, and he carried him to the car and threw him in the back. Congrats, you get to go to Costco....on a Saturday.

Nothing says "socially crippling" like a trip to an obnoxiously crowded Costco on a cold, rainy Saturday in pajamas that are 3 sizes too small where you may or may not run into one of the girls from school (totally happened, her name was Natalie, she saw him).

Needless to say he was silent in the car and will hopefully learn from this little experience.

Moral: Don't throw fits on rainy Costco Saturdays or you'll have to wander around in your PJs and see girls you know.

The end.

Monday, February 11, 2013

I don't care, I'm comfortable

I was having lunch today with two good girlfriends and was told, in no uncertain terms, that a new rant was needed. So Instead of complaining about how people in theme parks don't understand how to stand in a single file line, I will instead share the details of the discussion we were having to which I believe most women can relate.

When relaxing in the evenings or on weekends, particularly in the cold winter months, I know I'm always trying to stay warm. The blanket on the couch has gotten considerably more use than my pull-up bar, but the goal is to not freeze to death so I know if I put on a little workout T-shirt I could easily get hypothermia which is no good for anybody, especially me.

This is where home fashion comes into play.

Everyone has their favorite article of comfy, guaranteed-not-to-freeze-to-death-if I-wear-this, clothing. Definitely hideous, certainly has at least one hole, always the wrong size, and no one cares what it looks like....except for the husband.

I enjoy my yoga pants...they're awesome for sitting on the couch drinking wine. Super comfy, but Richard says they make my butt look "weird". My friend Nadia has her over sized Navajo-print, old-lady, cookie sweater that her husband (and a few others) would like to see unceremoniously set ablaze and reduced to ashes. We all have that one thing, and it's always the guys who are bitching about it.

So let's talk about the guys for a minute...

If I can't wear my yoga pants (without butt ridicule) and Nadia can't wear her cookie sweater....then your pit-stained undershirts and your boxers that have managed to stretch themselves to a size not meant for a human need to never see the light of day. Don't forget the miss-matched socks that have 47 holes in them and the jeans you refuse to wash rendering them fully capable of walking to the 7-11 on their own.

I will admit there are very valid complaints on both sides of the house, but let Nadia have her sweater. It's warm, and could mean life or death and she won't share with you, judgy bystanders who shall remain nameless. So that means YOU could freeze to death, think about that for a minute.

And as our lunch conversation moved into when to wear your "A" team underwear (vs. all the other more questionable teams) it occurred to me...it's not okay to stop trying.

So ladies, don't wait for a special occasion to wear the "A" team underwear, but it's still okay to be comfy.

And guys, if you still want to walk around with your hand in your pants (likely contending with the inhuman sized boxers) then we can have our cookie sweaters.
And we will wear them, because that shit is WARM.

Don't forget...you're one complaint away from hypothermia.

Monday, February 4, 2013

How to dress for the weather

Here's an idea...when planning to spend and entire day in a theme park, be sure to dress in comfortable clothing, preferably in layers in case it gets too cold or too warm.

Advice clearly NOT AT ALL taken judging (operative word) by how some of the people I saw at Epcot were dressed.

It was a very breezy 62 degrees in Orlando that day. The sun was shining, but all of us were dressed in jeans and light jackets and were comfortable. But on the way in I spied no fewer than 15 very inappropriately dressed teenage girls in short shorts (the kind where your cheeks fall out, or maybe that's just me) and toddler sized T-shirts.

What?

Naturally I immediately texted Megan and informed her of the fashion tragedies all around me. Her response? "Their obvious hotness keeps them warm. duh".

True.

But hey, just because it's Florida doesn't mean it's a beach day.

And who lets their daughter dress like that?? Apparently a lot of people because they were everywhere and they looked really cold.

Morons.

Every day before heading out I stepped outside to see what the temperature was like so I would be fully prepared when one of the kids started whining about being too cold. It's not hard to do.

What if that's all they packed and there's just nothing else to wear, you ask??

Please....buy stuff! That's what Disney is for, right? So you can spend your life's savings on sweatshirts with characters embroidered on the back.

I'm hoping their parents at least asked them to dress a little warmer and then refused to buy them overpriced clothing when they started to whine about it. Something tells me they gave in anyway.

I saw a few of the fashion disasters later in the day and they had their "I look super cute in this so I'm NOT wearing a sweatshirt" faces on. Way to stick it out, girls.

Next up...Obnoxious herding mentality. It's not just for wild animals.