Right now I have Fresh Beat Band's little melody "Here We Go" repeating itself in a deafening roar over and over and over in my already-overstimulated brain.
And I wonder why I've been having writer's block when catchy children's pop tunes have taken over what little wits I still possess.
I clearly need a break.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
The Unmentionables
It had been way too long since brand-new skivvies have been introduced to my dresser. As in, 8-10 years too long. As in, the rotation had dwindled to the low single-digits. So I finally took an opportunity and went to a random store in search of some undergarments. The whole process was nearly overwhelming and I wish someone at Kohl's would have been able to just show me where the normal stuff is that doesn't have pictures of unicorns or scratchy material. Somehow I feel help never would have come.
After poking around and wasting 20 minutes of my precious time, I grabbed some smallclothes that didn't appear atrocious and also might fit size-wise (and how does one know the right size after 10 years and 5 kids?).
Got home, opened up the package, and was surprised at how HUGE these babies were! I checked the box (I obviously spent loads of $$ here) and everything seemed fine. Maybe they'll shrink in the wash. Oh boy. John's going to make fun of me when he sees my enormous underwear. I'm going to be chastised for being cheap. Dang it!!! What a waste of time. I could have taken a serious nap and now I'm stuck with hideous granny-gear.
Wash, dry, grrr. I can't believe I'm wasting laundry detergent on these things.
So it was out of desperation the next morning that I grabbed a pair and...they fit. The enormous underwear I bought fit onto a bottom that I obviously believed was smaller than reality.
Depression. Ice-cream needing depression.
After poking around and wasting 20 minutes of my precious time, I grabbed some smallclothes that didn't appear atrocious and also might fit size-wise (and how does one know the right size after 10 years and 5 kids?).
Got home, opened up the package, and was surprised at how HUGE these babies were! I checked the box (I obviously spent loads of $$ here) and everything seemed fine. Maybe they'll shrink in the wash. Oh boy. John's going to make fun of me when he sees my enormous underwear. I'm going to be chastised for being cheap. Dang it!!! What a waste of time. I could have taken a serious nap and now I'm stuck with hideous granny-gear.
Wash, dry, grrr. I can't believe I'm wasting laundry detergent on these things.
So it was out of desperation the next morning that I grabbed a pair and...they fit. The enormous underwear I bought fit onto a bottom that I obviously believed was smaller than reality.
Depression. Ice-cream needing depression.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Daddy
John wants me to document that Miss Annie has said his name first. To be accurate, she said Ainsley's name first and she did that weeks ago. What he really needs is for it to be known that she looked at him and said "DaDa" before she has even considered "MaMa".
It would have been nice for ONE of my children to have thrown me a bone or two. Turkeys.
It would have been nice for ONE of my children to have thrown me a bone or two. Turkeys.
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