Sisterhood of the Expanding Pants

Back in 2005, I bought what will probably go down in history as my favorite pair of jeans. Ever. Yes, it really was THAT dramatic. I got them at American Eagle and they fit perfectly, were comfortable and I looked great in them. I loved them so much that I wore them to their death.

Five years is a long time to withstand what I put those jeans through. About a year and a half ago, they developed a hole in the knee. That just made them even more awesome and I continued to wear them. About six months ago, the denim around the back pocket started wearing really thin. They made it a few more months until they broke down and the pocket and the pants began parting like the Red Sea. It was time to let them go. I mourned their passing by wearing yoga pants- defiant at buying a new pair of awesome jeans for fear it would disrespect the memory of the AE jeans.

I believe I am beginning to heal, because deep within my soul, stirs the desire for a new pair of fabulous jeans. The desire comes and goes but tonight, when a covert Halloween costume mission brought me to the mall, I finally felt I was ready. I walked into American Eagle.

Lining the wall were various washes and cuts of "skinny jeans." I began to pout.

"Can I help you?" the skinny, young sales girl that was probably in middle school when I bought my last pair of AE jeans asked.

"Um, er, I'm just looking at the jeans."

[sweet smile]

"Any ones in particular?"

"No, I'm just looking right now, thanks."

I scan the wall in front of me and see that they are all skinny jeans. I walk to the next wall which is displaying "slim boot cut jeans".

"Hi there! Is there anything particular you are looking for?" another slightly-older but still twenty-something salesgirl asked.

"Well, yes. I had a pair of AE jeans that I wore until they literally came apart at the seams and I was looking for another pair. They were not skinny jeans. They were just regular jeans."

"Well by 'regular jeans' I'm not sure what you mean because they all have a name. Were they perhaps The Boyfriend Jean?"

[blank stare]

" I don't know what they were called. They had a classic fit, snug in the thighs, mid-rise and slight boot cut."

"Ohhhhhh..... how long ago was this? Because we had the original but have discontinued making them. I suggest you try these slim jeans, though. Don't let the name 'slim' scare you. They fit really well."

I grabbed two different sizes in that pair and proceeded to the dressing room to try them on. I will spare you the details, but one pair did fit. They even looked pretty good with my longer tee. That is, until, I had to bend or squat at which point anyone within twenty feet of me would get way more than they bargained for in the form of a clear view of all that God gave me. In other words, they were pretty low-rise. And, when you are a mom, bending and squatting tends to come up on occasion.

I walked out of the dressing room where older (and by older I mean this one was possibly of drinking age, but still far younger than myself) salesgirl was waiting on me with a hopeful look. I shook my head and told her the rise was too low. She took the jeans and said, " Those are the highest rise we have..."

[WOW]

"... Perhaps you can try The Gap. They still carry their classic jean."

Embarrassed, I walked out making a bee-line for the mall exit with no intention of stopping by The Gap or any other store.

As I headed out of the store, I heard salesgirl #1- the younger one- say, "Sorry about that. Have a great night!" chirpily. I glanced over my shoulder at her to bid her farewell, and I noticed she had that look on her face.

Pity.

She was smiling, but it was a pity smile. She was pitying me for having that awkward mom shape and for walking my old, uncool badonk-a-donk into her store.

I hurried out the nearest exit to my awaiting mini-van, cranked up the Springsteen and made a mental note that perhaps I should be on the lookout for these...

{Saturday Night Live Mom Jeans}

...and that in the future, I should remember that, from this day forward, AE is dead to me.

Wordful Wednesday- Bringing Da Halloween

If you know me, you know when it comes to Halloween, I like to bring it!

It all started innocently enough, when Noah was only 14 months old and we were pondering what costume to get for him for Halloween that would incorporate a stroller since he wasn't walking very well yet. We were strolling through IKEA, as we often did back in those simpler days, and passed a cute little tin garbage can and I off-handedly said, " How cute! We could make Noah Oscar the Grouch and roll him around in that can!" And the lightbulb went off and the wheels started turning.


We took him to the Halloween party at the base indoor pool that year and he won first prize. And that was it... we were bitten by the bug. We had to represent and defend our title.

So, the Halloween when Noah was two, his favorite character was Bob the Builder. So, I set out to make him a costume that was awesome and unlike any Bob the Builder costume you can buy.


So I had to make it more about the accessory than the outfit. He wouldn't put on his hard hat for the picture, so it is sitting on Scoop. But, alas, we did not win the costume contest at the pool this year. And I was out for blood. By golly, I would WIN IT next year.. I mean HE would win it next year. Ahem.... **blushing**

So, when Noah was three, it was just weeks before Halloween and I was feeling the pressure. I had no grand revelations. Nothing was jumping out at me. So, we made a visit to the Halloween store and I saw the cutest little top hat.. and thought of Moneybags from Monopoly, and VOILA!




He won the contest at the pool that year. WOOT!

So, when Noah was four, Zoe had just entered our lives two months earlier. I now had TWO children to worry about. Noah discovered Legos that year and his favorite color was blue.



And Zoe was only two months old, so she had no opinion on what she wore and I needed something that could just BE.


And much to Noah's chagrin, Zoe won the costume contest that year.

The following year, when Noah was five and Zoe was 14 months, Noah was still holding a grudge for losing the costume contest the previous year and insisted on a store-bought Darth Vader costume. I complied.



Then,I focused my attention on Zoe. Turns out, the few months prior, she finally started growing hair and it was red!! So, I went with it.


Zoe won the costume contest again at the pool party.

The following year, Noah was still bitter about Zoe winning the contest two years in a row and a little angry at himself for taking himself out of the running the previous year by going with a store-bought costume. I had already decided I wanted Zoe to be a scarecrow and I wanted him to be a crow. He refused. That is, until I found an article on Halloween decorations and showed him a "scary Halloween raven" and convinced him to be a raven. ( to be confused with a crow by everyone else, but that was what I wanted... shhhh.. don't tell him)




The bases had recently merged into one super joint base and we learned that the pool Halloween party had lost its funding, so we attended my husband's squadron party. Zoe won. Noah was mad.

So, this year, Noah has stepped up the competition, but, alas we have no costume contest to attend. The pool will not be funded again this year and my husband's new squadron has their kids' party on a Thursday afternoon at 4pm rather than a Saturday like his previous squadron. Zoe has a soccer game that Thursday afternoon and Noah doesn't even get home from school until 4:05, so we will not be attending the squadron party.

As for the specifics. I got off easy this year. My husband is making Noah's costume ( which is AWESOME and will have to be revealed in a later post because it is not yet finished) and my mother made Zoe's costume. I decided what I wanted Zoe to be and when my mother was visiting in August for Zoe's birthday, we went to pick out a pattern for a dress that looked like I envisioned in my mind. I already had the hat (from THIS prank) and bought the tights.





Now, if I could just find some strawberry-scented body spray to make her smell....

**this post is being linked to Wordful Wednesday hosted by Dumb Mom and is also being linked and entered in Dumb Mom's Happily (un)Haunted Photo Contest ( see how I still found a way to enter a Halloween costume contest? It's a sickness, really.)

**and apparently, when I blog past midnight, I use the word "so" a lot. I could easily just edit this and clean it up. However, I cringe when I read it, so I'm leaving it as is to remind myself if I do happen to blog past midnight, to save it and proofread in the morning BEFORE I publish.

Zen and the Art of Cleaning the Fish Bowl

There are lessons to be learned in everything in life. One just has to pause and look around them for all the wisdom the universe is just waiting to impart through experiences, revelations, intuition and struggles.

For example, let's take my recent experience of cleaning the fishbowl:

Lesson 1- Don't trust adorable little rugrats when they promise and swear with all their allowance, Legos, princesses and candy that they will take care of the fish.

I didn't want the fish. They skeeve me just a little bit and I didn't want to be the one that had to take care of it. But, basic human compassion made me have pity on the poor thing. I feed him at least one meal a day and sometimes two because my responsible offspring forget. When I walk in Noah's room, Phineas (get it? "Fin" for short!) gets very excited to see someone that might throw him a pellet. The poor guy is virtually ignored with only some Lego space ships and a Halloween window cling to keep him company most of the time. Eventually, his water starts to resemble a junior high science experiment and I give in and clean his bowl.

Lesson 2- Regarding self-fulfilling prophecies- if you fret about something enough, you will bring it to fruition.

Reason numero uno for my not wanting to clean the fish bowl is having to scoop Phin out of his bowl with the little net thingie. Those suckers jump and my biggest fear was him jumping out of that net and having to scoop his flopping, writhing body up with my hands. While cleaning the bowl the other day, this very thing happened. Phin- half fish, half kangaroo- bounced his scaly self out of the net and onto my kitchen island where he promptly started flopping around. Luckily I was the only one at home because I may or may not have screamed like a little girl.

Lesson 3- Don't be ashamed to admit when you need help and have the courage to ask for it.

I tried to scream loud enough that a neighbor might hear and come to my assistance. When that didn't work, I asked for Divine intervention. If God wouldn't kill the innocent fish for me, then would He please just strike me down so that I would have an excuse for not picking up the fish. It would all look like some horrible aquatic accident and I would escape being known as a murderer by my children.

Lesson 4- There are some things for which you must forgive yourself and let them go.

I may have hoped, for just a nanosecond, that the dog would swoop in and just eat the fish and I wouldn't have to worry about it.

Lesson 5- When overwhelmed, take a step back, assess the situation and allow your intuition to present you with a solution.

After completely freaking out and losing control of all my senses for a moment, I realized that Phin was flopping on the school lunch menu and was able to pick up the paper menu with the fish on it and plop him back in the water without having to touch him.

Lesson 7- No harm, no foul.

If nobody or nothing was hurt in the process, it is okay to pretend it never happened.

Lesson 8- Adversity builds character.

And vocabulary. I was a pretty colorful character with an even more colorful vocabulary.

Lesson 9- Surviving a traumatic experience makes you aware of your inner-strength.

Shut up. It WAS traumatic. And I'm a freakin' rock.

Lesson 10- Pass on the knowledge. Don't hoard the wisdom, you are meant to go forth and teach what you have learned to others.

And thus, this is my gift to you, young Grasshopper. If you are diligent in your studies and meditation ( or persistent in your refusal to get a fish), you too can be as wise as I am someday.

You're welcome.

The Dark Side of Motherhood- Raising a Girl with Confidence

Jennifer from Momma Made it Look Easy has been writing a series on her blog regarding moxie. It's a very serious subject that hits home for me. I am the mother of a daughter and I want her to grow up to be a strong, confident woman. Jennifer opens the discussion on how to raise a girl/woman like that primarily focusing on setting a good example for our daughters to follow. You can read one of her moxie posts (which includes links to her other ones) here. I strongly suggest you read them. I'll wait.

You back? Great! Moving on...

I think this is something we all struggle with. We want our children to understand boundaries and know their limits. We want them to understand when it is not okay to cross the line, but we don't want to break their spirit in the process and render them unable to take action when action is needed.

If you've been reading my blog for more than two posts, you know my daughter is full of strong-will. And attitude. Right now, it irks me to no end. It tires me and sometimes I think SHE is breaking MY spirit! I have to remember that I am the adult and I have to make her understand who is in charge here and what her boundaries are WITHOUT making her think she always needs to back down when challenged. It's a fine line.

I think what I am trying to say is that I want her to grow up feeling absolutely beautiful (enough to dress like a princess if she likes), yet strong and independent enough to protect herself and her domain (or her side of the galaxy- whichever may apply).

Like this:

When this, umm, Princess Vader? Lady Dark Lord? Queen Sith? appeared in my kitchen, I knew she totally had it.

And I think I want to borrow some of it.

** I am also linking this post with Dumb Mom's Mom Tip Tuesday- my tip? The yin and the yang- how to balance the masculine and the feminine. Okay.. it's a stretch, but she's understanding like that... so if you don't like it, then my tip is to first leave me a comment, and then go away with your critical self.

A Dog, A Medley, Poop and a Favorite Television Show

Since one of the main reasons I started this blog was to document the little things my kids do and say so I don't forget them in the future, I sometimes include posts with random snippets of conversation around our house.

The highlight reel from this week includes:

[Noah talking to his MeMaw on the phone] "We got a dog, she's a boxer!" [pause] "No, she's not white, she's, ummm... [I'm waiting for "tan", "brown", "beige" or even her official color of "fawn"] ... she's hardwood floor color!"

[Zoe was walking through the living room, totally ATE IT- cartoon-style with legs flying in the air- jumped up, brushed herself off, giggled and said,] "I was being on the People Fall Down Show. " [ the name she uses to refer to Wipeout]

[I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when Noah came in and remarked that I needed to hurry because he had to go poop. I told him I would be done in a second and he was mouthing at me while walking down the hallway. I walked out of the bathroom and yelled,] "NOAH- JUST GO POOP ALREADY AND STOP SASSING ME!" [He continued to sass me and I yelled at him to,] "JUST GO POOP, NOAH!" And I heard Zoe reply with a great deal of attitude herself, "YEAH, Bubba!" [dramatic sigh] "Go poop. You GET a lollipop!" *

And finally, Zoe's, um, creative medley of the songs she's been singing at preschool: [imagine this sung at full volume in the minivan with a captive audience]

"Twinkle, twinkle, traffic light

On the corner shining bright

Red means stop

Green means go.

W-X-Y and Z

Now I know my A-B-C's

Won't my Mo-mmy be so proud of me

I'm squishing up my baby bumble bee

Won't my Mo-mmy be so proud of me.

TA-DA!"

*Zoe is potty trained as far as pee goes, but poop still requires bribery. She gets a lollipop when she goes poop on the potty.

Ten Things I Love About Fall

1. School starts!! ( or, the kids go away for a few hours!)

2. Soccer

3. Jacket weather
4. Beautiful Foliage

5. Pumpkin patch

6. Apple orchard7. Putting out the fall/Halloween decorations


8. Carving a jack-o-lantern

9. Halloween costumes

10. Family time outdoors



This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop- prompt#5 - Ten reasons why you are glad it's fall.

Our Newest Family Member

My husband has been trying to talk me into getting a dog since we got married ( 12 years ago). It isn't that I don't like dogs, there has just always been a reason NOT to get one. At first, we lived overseas and didn't know how often we would move. Dogs don't handle overseas flights and moving often as well as cats, so we got a cat.

Then, when we moved back State-side, we lived in base housing with a backyard the size of a matchbox. Okay, not really, but it was really small with no grass- they just poured cement for a patio and fenced around the patio. That was it. Behind the fence was the parking lot, so there was nowhere for the dog to run and play.

Then, when we realized the military didn't plan on moving us from here, we bought a house- with a back yard. But Noah was eighteen months old and I was being selfish and didn't want to have to take care of and clean up after a dog AND a needy baby.

About the time Noah was old enough to not require so much work, we had Zoe and then a repeat of the above paragraph.

Now, Zoe is three-years-old and in preschool. Our neighbors just got a puppy about a month ago and my husband and both of my children love her. They talk about her all the time and like to go over there and play with her. I knew it was coming. My husband started about a dog again. There is also the fact that he will deploy in the winter and be gone for four months. I really would feel safer with an extra set of ears in the house while he is gone. But, I just got my "baby" out the door to preschool and I was adamant that I did NOT want a puppy. They're cute, but I was in no mood to have another thing that whines in the night, tears up things around the house and needs to be potty trained/house-broken.

The compromise was to adopt an adult dog. I liked the idea of rescuing a dog that someone else had given up anyway. My husband had boxers growing up and really wanted one of them, so we decided to go through our local boxer rescue program. We filled out the paperwork, had someone come do a home visit to approve us, our home and our yard to adopt a dog. We were approved and had already found a dog in the online gallery that we thought would be a good fit. Most of the dogs were recommended for children 12 and older but this one said for children three and older. We made an appointment to go meet her this past weekend and drove two hours to meet her. We fell in love and she seemed to love us, so we brought her home with us.

Once we got home, she jumped out of the car and ran the perimeter of our yard and then started hopping and bouncing around like she wanted to play. We threw a ball and she brought it back to us. We asked her to "drop it" and she did. We told her to "sit" and she did. She's a really good dog and has already attached herself to the kids. She gets very excited when they come home from school. She doesn't jump up on people, she just wags her entire butt and licks them to death. She also doesn't get on the furniture.

At bedtime Sunday night, we weren't sure where she was used to sleeping and had showed her the bed in the corner of the family room. She sniffed the bed and came and laid down at my feet while we were watching television, so I suggested we take her dog bed in our room and maybe she would sleep in there. But, we turned off the television and the light and she got up, grabbed her toy and went and curled up on her bed in the corner of the family room and went to sleep. Wow. We didn't hear a peep out of her until the next morning when my alarm went off and I heard her get up and come down the hallway. She peeked into our room a little hesitant and then just came on in and greeted us.

I think we got lucky. This is an awesome dog. She is such a sweetie. So, without further ado, I want to introduce you to Lindy- our 5-year-old new addition to our family:




This is being linked to Wordful Wednesday at Parenting by Dummies.