Superpaige's Pad

The Trials of a Busy Mom

Category: whining and complaining (Page 6 of 12)

Zits and facial hair–must we go there?

August 15, 2010 / / 8 Comments


Am I the only one who puts toothpaste on zits?

Don’t laugh. It works.

When you’ve got a big old zit under the skin and you can tell in 2 or 3 days it’s going come out of the closet and explode onto your face, you put a dab of white toothpaste on it before you go to bed. Yes, it might tingle a little bit, and yes, it might smell minty (what’s the downside of that?) and you might get a little on your pillowcase, and your kids or husband might mock you when you go in to their rooms to say prayers or kiss them goodnight, but pay no attention, because it works.

In the morning, that zit will be significantly less—big. The toothpaste must suck out some of the oil or puss or whatever is in there, and dries it up. I’m not saying it’s going to totally go away, but it will be smaller. And then you could do it again the next night if you want.

I know some of you must have heard of this because otherwise, where else would I learn such a thing? It must have been from a roommate or something.

Speaking of faces (yes, we were kind of speaking of faces, right?) Something’s happened to my husband’s face that is more than a little bit disturbing.

That’s him standing with Cole and Megan.

I know you were thinking, “Who is that strange man standing by Paige’s kids? Isn’t she worried that he’ll abduct them and run off with them?” or “Hey, I think I’ve seen that guy in a movie once before. Yeah, Grizzly Adams, that’s it.”

Here’s the story. Ryan claims that when he went to Korea back in June, he forgot his shaver, and then it was too long to shave. Or something like that. And from then on I think he’s just been growing it to annoy me. He gets comments from GUYS like, “cool beard” or, “looking snazzy” or just admiring his ability to grow facial hair in general. But really, unless you’re in the band ZZTop, I don’t see how that’s a valuable skill. And now it’s getting all “tufty” and icky looking, it’s just about more than I can stand. And hair in your nose when you kiss your husband? Let’s not go there.
Pioneer Day is over, dude.

I’ve encouraged him to even shave it into a nice goatee or just trim it AT ALL, but my pleas fall on deaf ears.

So–let’s put it to a vote, which face do you like better?

Clean shaven man who liked babies? or angry looking scary man?

It’s not a tumor (say it in your best Schwarteneger voice)

June 29, 2010 / / 8 Comments

A few weeks ago, I walked into my bedroom and smelled a smell. Kind of a dusty-electrical kind of smell. Like when the curling iron heats up or you turn on the heat for the first time in the fall. That’s the best way I can describe it. I sniffed around the room a bit and couldn’t figure out what it was, but decided that the telivision area was the culprit. It’s not just the tv, but a DVD player and some other random “equipment” that I don’t really know what it is or what it does. Not wanting to come home from my errands to find the house in flames, I turned off the power strip. It probably messed up some kind of settings, but I thought it was best.

I smelled a similar ‘burning electrical’ smell in the bathroom a day or so later. After sniffing around and finding no clear culprit, I unplugged the hair dryer and curling irons. I asked my husband Ryan if he could smell it, but he couldn’t smell anything. But that’s not unusual. I seem to have SUPER smelling powers, and can smell a rotten potato from 30 feet. Ryan, on the other hand, tends to suffer from allergies, and can never smell the offending smell, UNLESS, of course, it is lotion worn by me.
nose
If I happen to put on lotion and then (gasp) use his computer or walk by his office, his ‘stuffed up’ nose immediately perks up and stages a revolt. He claims my lotion smells
a-make him sneeze
b-give him a headache
c-just about cause him to break out in hives
While he can’t prove anything, I think he would blame ‘smelly lotion’ for wrinkling his shirts, causing weeds to grow in the yard, and leaving streaks on the windows as well.
But I digress.

As the days went by, I was smelling the burning smell with increasing frequency, and in more and more places. In the family room, in the kitchen, and in the laundry room. Yes, all of these areas have lights, electrical appliances and other things plugged in, and the heat could have come on. When I smelled it in the car, I knew something strange was up. I smelled it at rehearsal one night, and asked my friend Diana, “Can you smell that burning smell? Like a hot curling iron or something electrical?” She did NOT smell anything.

So I resigned myself to the fact that I was either
a-crazy or
b-had a brain tumor

While it’s not burning feathers, it is a burning smell, and I seemed to be smelling it with more and more frequency. I stopped asking other people if they could smell it, since I was pretty sure they could not, and I didn’t want to SOUND like I was going crazy, even if I felt like I was.

Curious, I consulted “dr Google” to see if there were other people out there having strange smell issues. Well that was less than reassuring. I read: This symptom, which is known to doctors as an “olfactory hallucination,” is potentially very worrisome. Olfactory hallucinations are occasionally a symptom of a brain tumor, so you need to bring this problem to the attention of a neurologist immediately. Olfactory hallucinations may also be a symptom of epilepsy; once again, you would be best served by consulting with a neurologist. While I was reassured that I was not the only person in the world who was smelling things when other people were not, all the “answers” or advice I read suggested brain tumors or worse. And how could I go to my doctor and say, “I just keep smelling this burning smell that nobody else seems to smell”? I’m pretty sure he would laugh at me. Seriously. So, I kept my little neurosis to myself and just silently thought, “I hope I don’t have a brain tumor. Or worse.” whenever I smelled that smell.

Well, it’s been over a month of the on again off again smelling of the smell. Today I was walking to the bathroom and I smelled that smell. Walked a few feet and it was gone. Back up–smell it. Walk forward–don’t smell it. I looked down, and saw an innocent looking pair of sandals on the floor. Could that smell be connected with….? I picked them up, and smelled the smell.

Seriously? This smell is coming from a pair of sandals? It makes sense. I could smell the smell in the car, at rehearsal, at a friend’s house, even outside because I had been wearing the sandals! The sandals were causing the smell!

I don’t have a brain tumor!! I’m not going to die! Well, at least not from that silly phantom smell. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to find the source of that smell! Big old sigh of relief here, folks!

And what have I learned from this situation? A couple of things.
First–Never consult google with your own symptoms. Unless you want to spend days deliberating about all the reasons you are going to be dieing very soon. Especially if you tend to have a touch of the hypochondria. I’m not going to mention names here, but I have told one friend this more than once, so I don’t know why I couldn’t follow that advice.

Second–Smell your shoes before you buy them. This whole mess could have been avoided, had I taken a whiff of these cheap sandals from Target and noticed that they had a smell before I bought them and brought them home into my house.

Third–Enjoy life. Enjoy every day. Because you never know when something bad really IS going to happen, and you really don’t want to waste time worrying.

Nothing, honey. I’m just sitting here at the computer.

May 27, 2010 / / 8 Comments

I hate it when my kids ask me what I do all day.

Isn’t it obvious?

I keep this place running!
I do the laundry,
I clean the toilets,
I grind the wheat,
I bake the bread,
I buy the birthday presents,
I clip the coupons,
I shop the sales,
I buy the groceries,
I buy the socks,
I wash the socks,
I look for the socks,
I mend the socks (ok, I don’t really mend the socks, but I do occasionally mend OTHER things),
I take kids places,
I pick kids up from places,
I organize the fun,
I carry out the fun,
I go to meetings of all sorts (PTA meetings, Relief Society Presidency Meetings, planning meetings),
I volunteer at the school (did you not SEE me in your classroom grading spelling workbooks?)
I volunteer more at the school, (skirts? Remember the skirts?)
I volunteer with the PTA,
I vacuum,
I dust,
I wash walls,
I unload the dishwasher when certain children forget to do it before they go to school,
I go visiting teaching,
I weed the flower beds,
I plant the flower beds,
I plant the garden,
I plant the garden AGAIN when my garden dies from a late spring snow,
I unclog toilets (OK, I may not be the best toilet unglogger in the house, but I do unclog my fair share)
I paint bedrooms,
I organize and reorganize,
I switch our phone plan to try to save us money,
I call the repairman,
I wait for the repairman,
I host playdates,
I get books from the library,
I try to find the books that go back to the library,
I pay the library fines,
I plan the vacations,
I try to win the vacations,
I make breakfasts, lunches, snacks and dinner,
I clean up from those breakfasts, lunches, snacks, and dinners,
I sew curtains for your bedrooms,
I sew curtains for other people’s bedrooms,
I help with homework,
I read with kids,
I help with the piano practicing,
I gently remind the kids to do the piano practicing,
I drive the kids to the piano lessons,
I drive the kids to sports and sports practices,
I schedule the dentist and doctor appointments, then drive kids to those, too.
Sometimes I even exercise.

I’m not perfect. Sometimes, I admit, I sit and watch tv. Usually I stand and watch tv while I do some of that other stuff.
And yes, sometimes I blog about all of this.

So when you come home from school and say, “What do you DO all day, Mom?” and I look at you in befuddlement, do NOT say, “I know, I know, you were Blogging.”

Sometimes it rains inside

May 10, 2010 / / 4 Comments

If you read the last post about Mother’s Day, you might have seen my mom’s comment about their unfortunate end to a lovely day. She wrote,
“Just before we went to bed, we checked on a leak we had under the kitchen sink. Our collector thing for the leaking water had filled up and spilled over and gone through the floor and leaked onto one of the beds downstairs. We had to shut off all the water last night and get a plumber in today to fix things. Not exactly the greatest ending to Mother’s Day.”

Ugh.

So, they had a plumber come and take care of some things, and hopefully it’s all fixed up.

Well, today, we had our own bit of plumbing emergency. My daughter called me on my cell phone while I was waiting for my other daughter to finish up her softball practice, and said, “Mom, you know that light in the kitchen? Well, it’s filled up with water and dripping on the floor.” What? I indeed freaked out a bit. I asked her to run up and see what’s leaking upstairs. The laundry room? The bathroom? Turns out the kids’ bathroom toilet, which was clogged, was overflowing and leaking through the floor, filling up this light, and then dripping onto the floor in the kitchen. “What should we do?” she asked. Since I was at least 15 minutes away, I told her to call Dad and ask him what to do, and I would hurry home as quick as I could. I grabbed the girls and sped home. I called back to tell them to turn off the toilet–there’s a little handle in the back, and Cole told me he had already done that.

Arrrg!

John told me when he had clogged the toilet, I tried to plunge it, but couldn’t, and I just left it. I forgot that this is also the toilet that needs a new valve or something and it continues to run even when it’s not being flushed. That filled up the toilet, spilling out onto the floor, thus flooding through the ceiling and into this light fixture. I purposely did NOT take a picture to show you all, because–ick.

When I got home, I ran in, and the kids had things pretty much under control by then. I had told them on the phone to throw towels down in both the kitchen and the bathroom, and they did that. After that, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do. I ran upstairs to try to plunge that STUPID toilet (you may recall that I recently called the plumber to unclog that toilet, and after about 2 minutes of work, they charged me a very unholy amount. I had a ’30 day guarantee’, but that was on March 22, and that’s been more than 30 days. BLERG!), but it was unplungeable. I couldn’t budge it. And what good will it do to mop the floor if the toilet situation isn’t taken care of?

Ryan soon came home, and he tried the plunger, too. He even went to Ace hardware and bought a new and improved plunger (he’s long complained that none of our plungers do the job, and I guess I have to agree with him), but even he can’t get that blankety-blank toilet clog cleared. He unhooked the light and dumped out all toilet water that had collected in it, cleaned it, and put it back up. I hope that it was a direct shot from the potty to that light and there isn’t a bunch of water waiting to turn our ceiling to mold.

So–what do we do, internets? Do I pay another plumber to come and snake that stupid toilet? Will my capable friend Janice, who claims she has superior snaking skills, come and rescue me? Perhaps we’ll replace that old crapper with a better toilet, I don’t know.

But yes, folks, sometimes it rains inside. And to my sister, who was also with us at my mom’s house on Sunday night, I say–watch out for your flood, because perhaps it’s going to hit us all.

Dream on!

May 4, 2010 / / 4 Comments

This morning I told my kids that if they saw any Sabertooth tigers around, DO NOT approach. Especially the really really big ones with the huge claws.

They of course proceeded to laugh at me and tell that sabertooth tigers are extinct. Like I don’t know that. Sillies! But in my DREAM (which was brought about by howling wind that was so loud and obnoxious that it made me have crazy scary dreams) I not only watched some of our most valuable possessions blow away in the wind, (like my harp. I know, we don’t HAVE a harp, but remember, this was a dream) but we saw HUGE sabertooth tigers roaming the neighborhood. That was when I turned to Ryan and said, “We’re not letting the kids walk to school.” Like the kids would even be going to school in a tornado! As we walked in the front room, the door had blown in. I looked at Ryan like, “Well, you are the man–fix it.” and went about comforting the kids. Some old lady came to the door and I simply told her to come in. No idea who she is or if she was an important character in the dream. That was when I saw a red car (probably my dream car, a red Mazda 6, but I couldn’t tell you for sure) crashing through the front window, and in what seemed to be the same instant, Ryan was whisked away by the angry tornado.

That was when I had had enough. I couldn’t sleep with this noisy wind, and since I couldn’t find my earplugs in the dark, I grabbed a blanket and headed downstairs. It was 5 am. First I got comfy on the family room leather couch (my favorite couch for both sitting and resting) but with the motion sensors and the automatic lights, I seemed to be turning the lights on every time I adjusted my blanket. And there were windows right over my head, and it was still noisy. So I went into the front room. Less windows, and no motion sensors. I must have slept there until the kids started getting up, at around 6. The good thing was, I was awake to say goodbye to my son as he left at about 6:30 for early morning seminary. He asked me if I could bring his pinata to school during lunch. Hooray. Of course I will, darling. For that is my job.

Before the girls left, I imparted to them the little tip about avoiding the tigers, and Megan told me HER dream. It was much better than mine. She dreamt that she and Ryan were on the amazing race together, looking for clues in boxes, and they must have come in first place on the leg, because they won a trip for the whole family to go to Finland!
(Finland, Finland, Finland
That’s the country for me!

(VARIOUS ANIMAL NOISES)

MAYOR:
Finland is the country where we dance
Finland is the country where we play
Here in Finland boy and girl can find a true romance
In traditional Scandinavian vay!)

Sorry–I got carried away there.

Any-who, I like Megan’s dream MUCH better than my dream. I’m going to try to forget my dream ever happened, as well as the lack of sleep that the whole wind thing caused. And I’ll try to think about how cool it would be to be on the Amazing Race. (cue race music….)

Not exactly what I was hoping for, but still not a total loss

April 23, 2010 / / 7 Comments

When we were put in as a Relief Society Presidency a little over one year ago, we tried to think of something fun to do for the sisters when they had a birthday. Send a card? Take over a small gift? Nice, but we wanted to do something different. Our decision was to host a birthday dessert once a month for everyone who had a birthday that month. They could come over to a member of the presidency’s house, have a nice dessert and a fun evening chatting with the other birthday guests. As the year finished out, we hadn’t gotten the turnout we had hoped for. Sometimes it was just one birthday guest who came. So we decided to tweak it a little bit and only do the birthday desserts every OTHER month. That way there would be 6-15 people invited instead of just 4-8 people.

I was assigned the March and April birthdays. “Great,” I thought. Two of my good friends have birthdays this month, and there are at least 12 birthday, so I was looking forward to a fun evening.

I cleaned my kitchen and family room. I ended up doing a whole kitchen tear apart this week as I started washing curtains, which led to cleaning blinds, which led to washing windows (the inside, at least), which led to cleaning walls and ceiling, which led to taking down all the pictures that were hung on the walls and cleaning and dusting them, then the endless sweeping and mopping of the floor, cleaning bird cages, etc. Finally I had everything put away and the kitchen and family room looked GREAT. The bathroom was clean, although with a clogged toilet it wasn’t going to be available, so I don’t know why I bothered, but it was still clean. (on a side note, my big strong man came back from his business trip last night and unclogged that stupid toilet that had been clogged since right after he left. I don’t know how he can get it done when I can’t, but I am eternally grateful. Love you, babe!)

I didn’t go to a huge amount of trouble making dessert, but I did have pound cake with strawberries and blueberries and whipped cream, and it made for a very pretty and fresh treat. After running the kids to soccer and baseball practice (and the last minute ultimate Frisbee game–ugh) I was ready for the guests.

7:30 turned into 7:45
then

Our Relief Society Second counselor came.
We chatted for a bit, hoping that a few of the ladies would come.
The Stake had planned an auxiliary training meeting on the same night,
which took away a few of the ladies,
and in truth, both the second counselor and I
should have been at the meeting, but
we decided to go ahead with the
desserts,
since we had sent out invitations and had it on the calendar for a while.
Soon it was 8:00,
then 8:15.
Saddened,
I called my kids down from my bedroom
where they were watching a movie on my bed
and invited them to eat the dessert.
*
*sigh*
*
Is it me? Am I a bad hostess? I seem to host a lot of things where No one comes. I hosted a way fun clothing party for myself and one of my friends, once. Seriously. Out of the 50 invites I sent out, one person came.

Well, at least it’s not a total loss. My house is clean (well, the main floor, at least) and if I can avoid feeding my children or letting them eat any food, do any homework, or even get the mail, I can keep it clean for my family party–who I KNOW will come– on Sunday. Yes, I know that the keeping it clean part is a dream, but at least it’s clean NOW, and I can look at the nice clean counters and be happy.

Well, that’s a load of crap

March 23, 2010 / / 2 Comments

Our house is no longer NEW. Appliances are starting to wear out and paint is chipped and scuffed. And we are starting to have our share of plumbing problems. Our toilets seem to be clogging every day, and try as I might to get them UN clogged, my poor husband often comes home with the lovely greeting of “the toilet’s clogged, and oh yes, how was your day?” We plunge and plunge, but sometimes those darn potties just do not cooperate. Such was the case recently. The kid’s bathroom, which does indeed get a lot of use, especially when we have guests (as it doubles as the “guest bath”. I know. We’re terrible hosts, yet people continue to come). But This weekend even Ryan with his magic plunger skills couldn’t get it unglogged. He even tried with some kind of toilet snake, but that didn’t work, either. It was Ununcloggable.

So, Monday morning I called a plumber. I tried to find a local plumber, but the one I found in American Fork didn’t have a current number, so I called one who I’ve heard advertised on the radio. The nice lady on the phone refused to give me any kind of a quote, because, as she said, “I have no idea what they will find when they get to your house.” But she assured me that someone would be there within the hour. I think that was around 9:00. I got a phone call at around 11 am, assuring me that the next available serviceman would be coming to my house, so it shouldn’t be long, now. At about 12:45, I called the nice lady back and asked that she didn’t send anyone out just then, since I had to go and pick up my kids from various schools, but I would be back at 2:00, and then she was welcome to send someone.

I got another call at 3:15, apologizing for the wait and assuring me that there would be someone there within the next 15 minutes. No problem, I thought, I didn’t have anything else to do today except wait for a plumber. Of COURSE I don’t mind. (Big Sigh).

3:45 and the truck pulled up. Hooray! Two guys came in and told me the price to insert the 25 foot snake thing into my toilet and unclog whatever was clogging it. I almost passed out. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? And if that doesn’t work and they have to take the toilet off and then reset it, it will be another $69. Not having plumbing experience myself, I signed the permission slip so that they could go to work on my toilet. From downstairs in the kitchen, I could hear some serious noise coming from the upstairs bathroom, and then I heard the sound of running water. They were done. Less than 10 minutes. BUT, I have a 30 day guarantee that this toilet will work.

I’m tempted to flush a hot wheels car and a bottle of lotion down that toilet just so they’ll have to come back and work on it again. I mean, for that price, I should have SOME kind of fun, right? I guess we’ll all just use that toilet and ONLY that toilet. Because if one of the other toilets clogs, there’s NO guarantee on them, and I can tell you right now I am NOT calling for a plumber again. I’ll just make the kids start going outside. “New policy, kids. Make sure you do ALL your pooping AT school! And on the weekend, let’s just try to hold it until church. If not, you can go outside. What are you whining about? It’s getting warmer every day. Oh, sure it’s warm enough–just go far away from the house, behind those trees.”

Because some days are like that

January 3, 2010 / / 4 Comments

The other day, after a day full of normal Christmastime activities like school parties, wrapping gifts and shopping, I was just the tiniest bit grouchy (“What? You grouchy?” I KNOW!) John had a friend over to play, and they didn’t seem to be getting along to well, either. They kept arguing about what to do. When I was upstairs changing laundry, John came upstairs and said that his friend had got out the perler beads, and John didn’t want to play perler beads today. This kind of ticked me off a little bit, because EVERY time this kid comes to play, he wants to play with the beads. Then he makes something that ends up getting spilled on the floor before I have a chance to get out the iron and iron it for him. I don’t mind if they play with the beads, but the fact that he just went into my office and got it out without even asking irritated me a little bit. I mean, there were presents in there. Plus the fact that it irritated John. So, I went down and asked him to please put away the beads, we weren’t going to be doing beads today. He didn’t really like that idea and did NOT start to put away the beads, and in fact, totally ignored me. I raised my voice a little bit and asked him to PLEASE put away the beads, that we would be doing a game or a puzzle or something else. He finally started to put them away. But not so willingly. I was around the corner, but I could still hear him singing in his little 6 year old voice, “John’s mom is SO stupid. John’s mom is SO stupid. John’s mom is so stupid.” What a nice little song. Do you not realize I’M STANDING RIGHT HERE AND CAN HEAR YOU!?

As he turned the corner and saw me standing there, I’m sure I did not look very friendly. “We do not talk like that here,” I said very firmly. I demanded an apology, then told him to go and put away those beads immediately, and NEVER talk like that in our home again. I had to walk away and calm down.

After that, that kid couldn’t leave soon enough for me. Too bad his mom wasn’t home at the time. When she did call a bit later and ask that we could get him ready so she could pick him up in 10 minutes, I helped him find his shoes and his coat and we were both waiting outside on the porch for when his mom came to get him.

So, yeah, I was feeling a little bit grumpy. Then my other kids came home, and through no fault of their own, they were annoying me. Too loud, too hyper, too excited, too hungry. Really, they were acting normal for this time of year. They were excited for Christmas and all the fun of the season. I ate some more Christmas goodies and went upstairs to do something at least semi-productive, but hopefully away from the noise. I avoided looking into any of the kids’ rooms, and went to my room, which was also pretty much a mess. I decided to call a friend so I could vent. That helped. Robin and I talked. “I hope it’s PMS here, because if it’s not, I just hate everyone,” I said. She laughed, and sympathized. While we talked, I cleaned up my room a bit. I hung up clothes and put things away, which made me feel a tiny bit better. But there’s still so much clutter and crap in there. “I want to throw EVERY last thing that I see away,” I told her. “Then you should!” she said, “throw it ALL away and get it out in the trash before you have a chance to change your mind.” She’s a bit of a minimalist at times. I did NOT throw everything away, but I did get most of the clothes put away. Talking to a friend and cleaning up helped my mood a little bit.

As I look back and laugh a little bit at myself and this experience, it just brings to mind how thankful I am to have good friends.

To all my friends out there–thank you!

Would you like a side of Drama with those jeans?

December 3, 2009 / / 8 Comments

If you are anything like me, even though you may have 5 or 6 pairs of jeans in the closet, you really only have one pair of jeans. The jeans that actually fit right. They don’t pinch, squeeze, or gap. They’re the perfect length, they aren’t cut too low, they feel fine every time you wear them, and you are comfortable in those jeans. I know it takes a while to get them that way. They probably weren’t perfect the first time you wore them, but they were close. And after several wearings, they fit just right.

So, while I don’t wear the jeans every single day, now that it’s colder and the wearing of capri pants is not practical, I wear those jeans about 4 times a week. Is that wrong? Should I be branching out more and wearing other types of pants?

However happy I am in my relationship with my jeans, there comes a time in every pair of jeans’ life when the “Go-to” jeans become the “up and went” jeans. They eventually wear out. -sigh- In my case, I developed some bare places where bare places shouldn’t be. I had to admit that the jeans were just too worn out to wear anymore.

Then I was faced with a dilemma. What to wear? And do I go out and shop for another pair? Ugh. Not jeans shopping. While not quite as ridiculous and painful as swimsuit shopping, jeans shopping can also be embarrassing, time consuming, and pricey. And even then, a pair of jeans may look and feel ok in the store’s dressing room, but when you get them home and introduce them to your other clothes, they just don’t behave. They gape in areas where they should hug, or they’re not quite as long as you thought they were, or they’re just too darn tight. It’s like you’re adopting a pet. The jeans must act all nice and obedient while in the store to convince you to take them home and away from that dark and lonely place that is the store, but once they get out, all bets are off. Plus, who has the TIME or the MONEY right now?

I admit I’m totally not a designer jeans girl. I’ve never spent over $50 for a pair of jeans, and I’d to keep it that way. I don’t get how they can charge hundreds of dollars for a pair of jeans. I mean, maybe I would get that super great fitting pair if I was willing to fork out half of my mortgage payment for a pair of jeans, but that’s not gonna happen. I’m going to buy them on sale, or with a coupon code, probably from Coldwater creek or my favorite store, Kohl’s. Don’t look down your nose at me, but that’s how it is. Maybe if I had a great body so that the jeans would actually look hot, but really, even with a great pair of jeans, I’m still going to be chubby.

And what’s up with all these different “rises”? By “low rise” they mean that these jeans will give you a plumber’s crack even before you bend over. Mid rise should be just about right, and high rise would be Mom jeans, I would guess. I can’t figure it out. I put on a pair of mid or high rise jeans and I still feel like I’m going to be pulling on the jeans all day to make sure they stay up.

Jeansless, I headed to the closet to see what else I could wear. I pulled out a few pairs of jeans to try. Let’s see, there’s the pair that fits but is obviously too short, and every time I sit down I’m painfully aware that everyone can tell if I shaved my legs or not. Denied. There’s the pair that fits pretty well, but it’s got a flower pattern on it that was started out gold, but now looks as if I was standing by the side of the road when a big truck drove by and splattered me with mud (kind of like in the movie “How to lose a guy in 10 days” with hunky Matthew McConaughey). Denied (I’m feeling very Suze Orman here). There’s the pair that has flower applique down the leg. Is applique in? Out? I don’t know, but when I wear those jeans I feel a little self conscious, like “Hey, look at me! I’m wearing my fancy jeans!” And I just don’t want to draw any undo attention to myself today. Denied. There’s the WAY cute pair that will look FABULOUS of me when I lose 10 or more pounds, but at today’s weight, they are most likely unzipable. Denied. There’s the other cute pair that are long enough and fabulous if I lose just 5 pounds, and I could wear them today if I weren’t planning on sitting down. They do “stretch”, right? But today, right after Thanksgiving, is not the time to try to pull that one off. Denied. There’s the pair of Khakis that fits fine and is long enough, but they are actually too long, and I feel kind of like puddle pants when I wear them. They need to be hemmed. Not feeling like hemming or wearing heels today, so they are denied. I found a pair of black pants that looked like a possibility. I put them on, and realized that while they did indeed fit, they were tapered leg, making me look OH SO HIPPY. How old ARE these things? I wonder to myself. I don’t buy tapered leg anything anymore. So Denied they go straight in the “donate” box.

What’s a gal to do?

Once again, I’m reminded why it would be so much easier to be a guy. Guys don’t have issues with their jeans. In fact, half of the time, they don’t even try them on. They just pick their waist size, and the length they want–Boom. Done. My husband doesn’t even buy his own jeans. Never. He hates shopping. He just asks me to get him a couple of pairs of jeans now and then. He likes the $13 jeans from Costco. Seriously. I tried to fancy him up last month, and bought him some Calvin Klein jeans. Still from Costco, but just a little nicer jean. He FINALLY tried them on, and said he doesn’t like them, and would I please just get the regular kind. Oh, well, if you want to keep on wearing the budget jeans from Costco, I guess I shouldn’t complain.

Way in the back of the closet I found a pair of jeans I didn’t remember. Hmmm. Whatever. I’ll try them on, I thought. I put them on, and they fit pretty well. They seem to be long enough, but not TOO long. Not too loose. Tight enough, but not TOO tight (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s just after Thanksgiving, of course they’re too tight, but not unbearably tight.) I can sit down in them. I think these might just work. I looked at the tag again, and they are Old Navy “curvy” jeans. I don’t know when the last time I was actually in an Old Navy store, and I don’t remember buying them. And what’s with the “curvy”? Is that a nice way to say fat? At this point, I just don’t care. I pull on the jeans. They are a little bit low in the back for my taste, but with a long shade shirt, I’ll be fine.

I wore the jeans. All day. While not as comfy as my last pair, I may have found a suitable substitute for the time being. And if some kind soul wants to volunteer to find me the perfect pair of jeans, I wouldn’t turn them away.

Doomed?

November 9, 2009 / / 2 Comments

I feel like I’m doomed. Yes, doomed. Doomed to get sick. I feel like no matter what I do to protect myself and my family, there’s no hope and I’m going to get sick. At the very worst possible time, I’m sure. I’m remembering our cruise aboard the Disney Magic when so many people were getting sick from the Norwalk Virus. There were crew members cleaning the ship CONSTANTLY, and we still managed to all get sick. And here I am, armed with my Lysol wipes and my hand washing and my clorox and my vitamins just trying to keep healthy. But I feel like it’s kind of a losing battle, and I should just give up.

When I call the doctor’s office about my kids, they tell me, “Yes, it’s probably H1N1. Good luck.” When I ask about getting tamiflu, or about the possibility of getting vaccinated, they tell me that they are only vaccinating the very youngest kids, and after that only the high risk kids (those with asthma and other immune disorders), and that they are only giving tamiflu to a select demographic as well, and that unless you get it within the first 24 hours of getting sick, it doesn’t help much. Cole, my sickest family member, who was sick for a week, is now fever free and back at school. He’s survived! Megan is also doing well, and will probably go back to school today.

John, who seems absolutely fine in the day, has been crying at night. He just cries and says “OW!”. He’s not awake enough to tell me what’s wrong, and in the morning, when I ask him what hurts, he says nothing hurts and that he’s fine. I’ve kept him home from school and church for three days. When I called the doctor about him, they first said I should test him for strep, but then when they heard that two other members of the family had the swine flu, they said not to bother. He probably had swine flu, too. Well, after three days of this nighttime drama, I’m going to take him in to the doctor today.

Jenna, one of my “healthy kids” has developed a rash on her face, arms and hands. Yes, a rash. At first I thought it was that she had gotten something on her face (she said she ate spaghetti), but by Saturday it was a full blown rash, and so I took her to the doctor. They tested her for strep, just to see if that could be the cause, and I was hoping for strep. Please let it be strep, so that at least I can TREAT it. No strep. Viral. What do I do about it? Not much. No magic cream, no pill, nothing. While she’s most likely not contagious (rashes are usually contagious right BEFORE you break out, by the way), she looks so strange that I’m going to keep her home from school today. And by the way, if you are counting, we’re now into our second week of having someone stay home from school–Cole’s missed four days, Megan’s missed two, John’s missed two, and now Jenna. Natalie is my one hold out.

Oh, and Ryan’s still coughing up gunk.

Yesterday Natalie and I went to church. Where there are usually 7 of us, we had 2. Our neighbor asked me if I had killed off my family yet. Ha.

So, yes, I’m feeling trapped. I feel like no matter how hard I try, how well I clean, how many times I wash my hands or gargle with salt water, I’m doomed to get sick. And I’ll never send all of my kids to school again. Ever. When I was talking to the nurse, she said, “Well, the good thing is you can get all this over with and then everyone will be done with this flu, right?” Oh, right. There’s still a few of us who haven’t been sick and we might go through this whole thing again later. I asked her if, when I make it through this bout with sickness and don’t get it, if I am then immune, since I was exposed to the virus. “Oh, no,” she said, “unless you actually GET the virus, you don’t develop antibodies, so you aren’t immune.” What the what?

But I can’t get sick. I will keep myself healthy by the sheer strength of my will. I do NOT have time to be sick. This week is concert week, and I’ve put in many many hours of rehearsal (months of rehearsal) for this concert this week. I will NOT get sick. No matter what happens to this family of mine. And I will NOT get sick the next week, either. And I won’t get sick when we go on vacation. I will somehow get my hands on that vaccine and I will GET the shot. I will stay healthy. I will make a dress out of curtains if I have to, and I will never go hungry again! Sorry. I just went a little bit Scarlett O’Hara on you. How’s that for resolve?

And speaking of Gone with the Wind, here’s a classic just to make you smile today.

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