Friday, February 26, 2010
You should also know I have sworn off walking into Victoria's Secret:
1) because the salespeople in there are second only to associates of The Buckle in their annoying clamoring to sell you something. I mean seriously lady? You don't have to feel me up to make a sale.
2) Because they don't have my size-except in underwear-and if I'm spending that much on underwear I want them to match the bra! Am I right?
So you can imagine my excitement when I walked into Lane Bryant and realized they have a bra section in the back. Which you can't see from the front of the store and thus the reason I didn't know it was there (after all these years).
I start looking through the racks, and guess what?
They don't have my size. But wait, you say, how can neither of these places have your size?
Victoria: cup size too small!
Lane Bryant: band size too big!
So it relegates me to my continued internet ordering of bras, getting them in the mail, trying them on, gnashing my teeth because I don't like the way they fit, and shipping them back.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
is how long my child cried between the hours of 7:35 p.m. and 11:20 p.m. last night.
No, nothing is particularly wrong with him...except a stubborn streak a mile wide.
He didn't want to sleep in his own bed. So after miserably failing at normal parenting last night, and extremely tired, I thought I would try a little attachment parenting.
I really only have one comment to make about this particular sleeping arrangement:
So I slept in on Monday because my dear husband was watching Holden. This is what I found when I woke up.
I really don't mind wearing them while driving or around the house because the right earpiece is still functional, but yesterday I went to get the oil changed and forgot I had them on.
I'm still hoping the guy didn't notice.
We were up off and on all night last night.
More than 10 times.
This is what my dear child looks like in the morning.
Sadly, I so do not.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
But still. Sequins.
When I tried it on to show my dear husband (before the cardigan went on), he said,
"It looks like you're going to the bar."
Can you do homework at the bar? Because that's pretty much all I do these days.
You may (or may not) be interested to know you actually can do homework at the bar and I know this because my dear husband spent one afternoon (and $24 on beer) doing his homework at the sports bar.
They do have WiFi.
Who takes their laptop to the bar? Besides my husband, I mean.
Another fun thing about this week:
My kid vomiting everywhere.
I was sitting at my desk when from the living room in a frantic voice I hear,
"Honey! Honey! Get in here now!"
I round the corner to see what is going on because I'm afraid Holden is choking and I see a man and his sweet toddler drenched in vomit. After I stripped Holden down, stood him in the shower and rinsed him off, I ended up lying in the recliner for the rest of the night holding him and listening for the "Eh...Eh..." which is Holden-speak for,
I think I did get vomit in my hair. All I know is that when I woke up for the day on Friday at 5:40 a.m. everything seemed to reek of it.
My sweet kid feels better now, but the poor hubby seems to have caught it (who knew vomit all over you may make you sick too?) and is now sleeping sitting up in the recliner.
I'm considering putting a trash can next to him just in case.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I know it's only Thursday, but it's been a really awful week.
I'm prone to exaggeration and I consider it part of this blog/creative medium, but I'm not exaggerating when I say awful.
I don't know if I even feel like telling you about it.
Then why, you ask, would I even mention it?
I don't know.
Maybe I just want you to think of me today and know I'm having a really rough day/week. My wonderful and supportive husband can be there for me and talk with me, but today I think I need a few additional prayers from my loyal readers.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live
deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life
and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.” Henry David Thoreau
I came home yesterday, my body aching all over-especially my knees and ankles. I've been trying to lose weight thinking this will make these aches better. I'm not that old-do other people ache like this and just not say anything or is this abnormal for age 28? I have to take ibuprofen just to get through most days-which I don't think is normal for someone my age.
As I was taking off my shoes I felt a pang of sadness, missing my dad. I don't know why really. Nothing seemed to trigger it, I just felt like talking to him on the phone.
Have you ever had one of those times when you just felt like calling someone on the phone but the only person you wanted to talk to was unavailable? It's kind of like that, only for the rest of my life.
I've been longing for the summer today. I keep thinking about going out to the lake, or walking around the children's zoo, with the sting of the sun on my shoulders. Thinking about the oppressive 3 p.m. heat at a dusty baseball game. It's getting me through for now. This winter seems so long.
Despite all that has gone on in the past few years, I find myself feeling that I am right where I am supposed to be...which is remarkable because I've rarely felt that feeling in my adult life. Has it been difficult, yes. It will continue to be so.
But I finally have a burning passion/ambition for life that was lacking for many years. I felt for quite a long time that even though I was happy, something was still off...something was lacking. I think this road I'm on now is the right one.
I know it is.
The joy, and grief, and frustration, and success of the past few years has become a life better than I could have ever imagined.
"Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted."
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I'll leave you with one more pre-superbowl, haven't stuffed yourself with pigs-in-a-blanket/tostitos/hot wings/spinach-artichoke dip thought.