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Archive for the month “January, 2012”

SuPURGEatory

As any normal mother of young children will tell you, life is consumed by keeping the kids clean, fed, occupied, injury-free…you get the idea. Due to the nature of my day (and night) job, my bosses have had more clout on where we end up journeying when a new boss is added to the mix. It has become increasingly more difficult to just get up and go to places that are not child-centric now that I have three bosses.

The result? The kids are really well dressed, and I have found myself in need of some clothing since much of my time over the past several years I have not been my normal size, due to either pregnancy (all-over) or nursing (make room for the girls). Needless to say, I took a look at my wardrobe and some of the tops that were acceptable before children/ when I was a few years younger just don’t cut it anymore. Now I’m at the point where I like my shirts to fall a little lower than just over the top of my waistband, and don’t really want to flash a bit of belly when I reach for something.

Thankfully, I have not had any problems getting back to my normal size, but girlfriend needed some new tops, aside from the fact that I’m not a t-shirt and sweatpants girl. I own one pair of yoga pants, and even those only see the light of day when I am exercising or, very occasionally, tossing something on fast to bring my daughter to school in the early AM. Even then, I get changed once I return home. I always tell my husband that if I ever buy a pair of sweatpants, lounge pants, or anything velour to wear outside of the house or for not-PJs to just shoot me, because at that point I will officially be done. (I used to be asked why I was “slumming” in college on any day I wore jeans. That was before they really became trendy in a not-just-the-easiest-thing-to-put-on sort of way.)

Ahem, I digress.

So, I found myself looking through my closet at all of the things that I would probably never wear again, but I hate to throw things out, especially if I have even a glimmer of thought that I could wear it again. There was a skirt that I had held onto from high school days that came in handy just two years ago for part of the perfect Halloween costume, and my nieces have been able to get some new wardrobe pieces that have come into style again, so it’s not that far-fetched. And I hate having to buy something that I know I already have, so I find myself in what I’ll call, supurgeatory.

I managed to get out for a couple of hours solo last week, though, and scored some cute tops and skirts, promising myself that I would remove at least one item per thing I purchased from my closet. It was harder than I thought…just because of that whole could-I-possibly-wear-it-again thing (see above).

My husband and I cleared out a bunch of things a couple of years ago in a joint effort to clean house. We ended up donating 8 bags between the two of us, and knew we could have probably purged more, even then. Plus, I had the nieces over to “shop” through things before making any donations, so there was even more than that. I have to get on one of those bents again. Clothing? Gone. Shoes? Adios. (Though I do love, Love, LOVE me some shoes.)

Let’s see how it goes.

Murphy’s Law

This morning, I set my alarm extra early so I could cut up some apples for my oldest’s class since we were assigned to bring the snack today. Nine apples, a bag of carrots, and eighteen zip-loc bags…shouldn’t have taken more than about ten minutes. Silly me…

I set my alarm for 6:00am, knowing full well that I probably wouldn’t get a shower in before taking her to school at 7:45. My two-year-old gets up by 6:30 at the latest, so I figured half an hour shoudl be plenty. Off went the alarm, signaling me to scoot to the kitchen.

First things first. I have three cutting boards, two of which are plastic ones that can take a tri pthrough the dishwasher, and I couldn’t find either, despite knowing that one was just removed from the dishwasher and put away within the past two days. Since this was really bothering me, I kept looking for at least one of them for several minutes, until my son came down the stair sto greet me, not a second past 6:10. My older daughter following within minutes, and still no board, hence no cutting. At least I had washed the things by this point.

To my son’s room to change his bottom and dress him for the day, and get him to start his turn of brushing teeth. Then, to have my daughter start on her teeth, and get some clothes out for her. (Thank goodness she can completely dress herself.) Did I mention that the baby woke up and wanted to eat right after the other two woek up? Yeah, that happened, too, so I went to her room next, changed, dressed, and fed her, then put her back down so I could finish brushing teeth and get things ready for school.

Back to the kitchen to get the kids breakfast.  I finally found one of the boards, after asking my husband where they were stashed (not in the usual place, and one is still missing). Everything was bagged, drinks and paper products in a bag and out to the car (not to mention the important show-and-tell bag for the day), and finally I was ready to get myself somewhat presentable. Then the baby started crying.

Blowout city. Really, baby? You were already dressed for the day, and couldn’t hold that in for any more than fifteen minutes? And you rolled over so it was all squished up the front, and all over your sheets? Awesome. Oh, and while I was rinsing poop-clothes in the sink, my husband mentioned that he had to be in for an early meeting, so couldn’t be much help. (I will say he is usually very helpful, and I’m lucky that I am afforded the opportunity to stay home to raise our children. That being said, girlfriend still stays up way too late to put in a couple of hours for my own job each night, and needs a nap. Which the kids have not been taking at all this week.) 

Long story short (or as short as it’s going to get), I managed to get myself dressed, get everyone out the door, and make it to school with minutes to spare. We actually had to wait in the lot for them to open the doors, we were that early. How did that happen?!?

A Bird in the Hand…

You know that old saying, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?” Well, the bush is gone.

I came home from a friend’s house with my kids this morning, and noticed a new phone book up on my porch, so I darted out the garage to the front door to grab it. While I was there, I happened to noticed a small package that had been delivered next to the step.

When I say “small package,” I mean a flat mirror box weighing 41 lbs. We have had good luck with other furniture that we ordered online recently, so we ended up ordering a set for our daughter, with the first piece of the delivery being the mirror. It was scheduled for Friday, and the remainder for today, but we’re not on some sort of schedule with this, so no big thing. The big thing is the 41 pound package that was not only dropped in our landscaping, but took out half of our holly bush on the way. (Now is about when I had a replay of that youtube video of the FedEx guy throwing a computer monitor over the gate from a few weeks back.)

What the what? About a month ago, UPS delivered several large boxes and scratched our hardwood inside, but that was from pushing one of the boxes that they were being very helpful in bringing in for me (bummed about the scratched floor, but they were super nice and I would not have been able to bring those things in myself). I get one mirror from FedEx and it’s not only not visible unless I’m at the front door, but the delivery notice (that they leave on the door to let you know where they delivered something) was on said box (not helpful, since I couldn’t see the box), and I now have a BROKEN BUSH from a box that was clearly not carefully placed that had marking indicating “fragile” and “glass” aaaaalllll over it. I’m just debating whether to contact FedEx today about it, or wait until the rest of the shipment is delivered so I don’t end up with something worse than a bush that’s been snapped to pieces.

The good news? The mirror is not broken. The bad news? The mirror isn’t broken…The back of the top wood frame is a little cracked, I’m guessing from the fall, but I’m not sure that it’s enough of a problem to report damage and get a replacement from the furniture company.

Out the Door

As [almost] any parent will attest (anybody catch the Tracy Gold Celebrity Wife Swap this past week? Never late, not even once? Really?), sometimes we just can’t get out the door when we planned. This morning was a good illustration of how that happens.

Sunday mornings are reserved for a usually leisurely breakfast, reading the paper, playtime, then getting ready to head out to Noon Mass. We live exactly one mile from Church, so it should be easy. Somehow, we are still scrambling to get out the door and in the pew before the bells start ringing, and we’re usually in the pew right as Mass starts, occasionally with even a few minutes to spare. This morning, though, left us a wee bit late.

My husband bathed the kids while I changed the baby, got her dressed, and picked out the older two’s clothing and my own. Then he showered and dressed while I took care of the other two, then I head to get ready. While I’m finishing up and we’re doing the everybody-head-downstairs-roundup, we tell the oldest to go to the potty, to find that the outfit that I had her put only not even 30 minutes before had been removed to make way for dress-up clothes. The result is never as simple as just getting the other clothes on, we have to find her regular clothes among the dress-up options, which is exactly why I had them stored on a high shelf for a couple of months until a friend came to play the other day.

While we’re headed into Church on this unseasonably warm day, I noticed, since her jacket was open, that her shirt was actually on backwards. It’s a cute little gymboree number with a “necklace” that attached to buttons, but the closure buttons from the back were on the front, and the necklace was backwards. That was help from dad. She wanted to hit the bathroom before we headed in to switch it, but we were already late, so I figured no one would notice.

Otherwise, things were pretty smooth. Until I picked up the baby and she pooped through. I guess that *technically* that was smooth, too.

At least we were not the last ones in. So there’s that.

Junk in the Trunk

Nope, I’m not talking about my boo-tay, I’m talking about actual junk.

Today, I promised my daughter that I would take her to Wal-Mart to use a gift card that was given to her months ago. Before, I told her it would be a better idea to wait until after Christmas to use her “very own credit card” (as she called it) to see what she might have wanted that didn’t pan out.

Off to the store we went, full of wonder of getting pretty much whatever she wanted, as long as it totaled $15 or less. I would supplement up to a couple of bucks, but otherwise, it had to come out of her piggy, and we don’t want to do that.

She has been talking for at least a week or two about getting a Barbie car, so much so that in the store where we went first, the cashier was told that we were on our way to get a car for Barbie, using her very own gift card. Once we got there, there were aisles of marked-down toys, including Barbies that sprayed glitter, lit-up and sang, swam, sparkled, and came with play-sets, not to mention a Polly Pocket boat set that was spotted. And the garbage truck that Santa had a hard time tracking down anywhere before Christmas was at this very store for half-off of what (I’m guessing) Santa paid. Boo.

Despite having a glitter Barbie in hand, plus enough left over to get something else, we trekked up and down the regular toy department aisles in search of the Barbie car.

There is was. I was so happy that they actually had it, with the added bonus that it was within gift card range. She looked at it, said, “nah,” and continued, wide-eyed, to peruse the options available for getting (almost) anything she wanted.

“Nah?” Really? Apparently, the kicker was that it was light, not hot, pink, plus she saw “doll not included” on the box. Lalaloopsy dolls were a little out of range, but we revisited the discussion of dipping in the piggy bank and mom supplementing a little for her good performance on her responsibility chart the week before, a wild card she saved for her trip (she gets some sort of treat, piggy bank money, a piece of candy, or a small toy for reaching her goal in the week).

Further down was a Disney princess CD player, a la the Fisher-Price record players from when I was a kid. Never had one; always thought they were cool. But this just struck me as cheap, overpriced junk. It came with 3 “CDs” that amounted to nothing more than small plastic circles with a sticker on them. $14.97. So, I tried to get her to shy away from it, but she kept coming back to it, and carried it around, even while I tried to get her to take a gander at actual CD players. “I know, mom. This one won’t play real CDs, and only plays what it comes with, but I still want it.”

Fast-forward to a price-check loving little girl, a pile of no less than four Barbie dolls, three mini-Barbie playsets, the aforementioned Polly Pocket Boat, and some Barbie toothbrushes that someone left by the price scanner (that resulted in a trip to the toothbrush aisle to check those goods), and we ended up with the same junky Disney princess CD player from before.

I still think it was way over-priced, but she does really like it so far, and mentioned how easy it would be for her younger brother and sister to use when she outgrew it. A very wise 4-year-old. So we listened to all five of the 30-second clips of digital music-only Disney songs that it came with, and a small handful of other allegedly princess-y tunes that also came on the player. I don’t know why I was so averse to it, but the joy on her and her brother’s faces as they dined on PB sandwiches and raisins to fine music, then jumped on a jumpy-cushion to the same songs over and over was priceless.

I’d still have never bought the thing myself in a million years.

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