Fit Test

I forgot to tell you all but when we were in Orlando, I got to go to the Lululemon outlet there. I was more excited about this than Disney World.

It was smaller than I expected and we get a lot of clearance Lululemon stuff in the yoga studio, some of which I even get a discount on (thus the whole paying to work thing), but I still found a pile of clothes to try on. There was a line for the fitting rooms and I waited patiently before finally getting my own stall.

I tried everything on and did my downward dog mirror test on all of it, when I found myself at the last piece of clothing--a cute tank with a built-in bra. I really liked it, I decided to put it in the "keep" pile.

Then I tried to remove it.

I managed to get it halfway off and then I was stuck. Really, really, really stuck. I struggled for a moment and managed to become more entangled. One arm was stuck in the air, one caught up oddly in the shirt, my face halfway covered and my belly exposed, the shirt not budging...not up or down.

I considered my options. Mr. Ashley was at the front of the store but my only hope would be to call him on the phone--my limited mobility was not going to allow that kind of maneuvering. And what, he was going to march past the line of people and break into the fitting room to rescue me? I mean, he would and all, but ugh. I struggled for another minute and started to panic. I was in pain from my contorted arm.

At this point I was really freaking out. 

I thought about calling out for the fitting room attendant, and then remembered that it was an attractive young guy. I struggled some more, genuinely afraid I was going to obstruct my face and suffocate for a minute there.

I decided I might just have to use Hulk strength to bust myself out of the top and hope the checkout person didn't notice the tattered condition of the shirt as I bought it. I gathered myself for a mighty struggle, quickly cursing the durability of Lululemon clothing and giving up again, feeling exhausted.

I just could not call for help, I was having visions of the fire department coming in with the jaws of life; everyone in line pissed about the hold up, the fitting room guy telling his friends at the bar later that night.

I calmed myself, took a few deep breaths and told myself that much like a fox stuck in a trap, I was going to do whatever it took to get out of that fucking shirt, up to and including chewing off a limb. Like a wild person I fought and wriggled and squirmed and after practically dislocating a shoulder, managed to free myself.

That was some scary shit. I'm pretty sure I almost died.

I did not buy that shirt and I will never even attempt to buy a shirt like that ever again.

People Haters

Last night Mr. Ashley said, "I hate people."

"Me too!" I said. "I was just thinking earlier about how much easier life would be if it was just me and a world full of cats. If I only had to associate with cats."

He scoffed. "No! Cats are assholes!"

"People are assholes! A world of cats would be wonderful. All quiet and everyone just doing their own thing. No phones, no traffic, no working, lots of naps."

"Ashley, they'd be running around shitting and pissing everywhere."

"They'd be outside! Running free! I wouldn't have to clean their litter boxes, who even cares?"

"There would be kittens everywhere. Cats breed like crazy."

"Kittens are in the 'plus' column! I love kittens! There aren't nearly enough kittens running around. Kittens are cuter than babies."

"I don't know about living in a world full of cats."

"I don't know about living in a world full of people!"

"True."

Fashion Advice from Kids

Although he hates it, I love taking Big Kid shopping.

He has a good eye and no poker face whatsoever.

"You look like you think you're a toddler," he said of a bathing suit with a ruffle.

"You are too old for polka dot pants," he once reminded me firmly.

"I'm sorry but it just looks...not good," he's said with a head shake.

"Your stuff is kind of out," he reported, making a vague motion to where cleavage would be if he had it.

Occasionally I'll try something on that he can tell I like and he pauses before cringing and apologizing.  He tries to be gentle.

Sometimes when catalog shopping, I'll hold up the page and say, "Cute or ridiculous?" and he'll answer with just a glance.

I take his advice 98% of the time.

(But I do think a little cleavage is okay.)

little kid thinks everything I've ever considered looks amazing. He means it too. The other day he stopped dead in his tracks at Sears and BEGGED me to try this outfit on:

Seriously.

"Oh my God, NO!" Big Kid gasped.

"Why do you like that?" I asked, highly amused at the thought.

"You would look like a kung fu girl! Like a black belt!!"

I would, indeed.

I love him to death. But won't be asking him for fashion advice.

Family Anniversary

This weekend marked the very special occasion of our 12 year anniversary.

We chose to take the kids to Disney World. Where we experienced a freak cold front and were forced into buying $40 Mickey sweatshirts. And my flip flop broke 5 minutes after arriving, so I got to rock some Mickey flip flops too.

We were supposed to go to a water park but got rained out. We were supposed to have a nice dinner at Downtown Disney but again, the pouring rain canceled those plans. We ended up at Medieval Nights. Where we ate meat with our fingers and watched a show comparable to Wrestlemania but with horses and swords.

We spent a lot of one day locked in a hotel room with two wild kids. Mr. Ashley knocked for re-entry at one point and I pretended the security guard was with him, just out of sight, asking us to please be quiet and quit jumping on the beds, more for my own sanity than out of consideration for other guests. Later in the day, little kid locked himself in the bathroom and insisted he wasn't coming out because he was tired of being in trouble and demanded that our behavior change, when he was the one acting like a monkey on meth. We refused to change our behavior and insisted he stay in there.

We looked at each other around that time and said, "Remember the last time we said we were never celebrating our anniversary with them again?"

That was the time one child spent the entire dinner show at a Japanese restaurant stink-bombing the bathroom so bad that people were just turning around and leaving upon entering. Then when we got back to our food, the other kid barfed all over our shared table and down a hallway.

We can pretty much never go back there.

But that was a few years ago so we forgot. We always forget because we love them so much...but while locked in our hotel room, I pointed out that if we were at The Standard in Miami, we wouldn't care if it was raining. That our feet wouldn't be sore from walking, that they would be getting massages from beautiful people in a luxurious room together, and lounging around in the heated marble hamam, and taking baths on the hotel room's patio. That there would be no kids. That no one would be locked in our bathroom making absurd demands.

At one point, while hugging and reminiscing about what we were doing 12 years ago at that time, little kid came and hugged us, making sure to wedge himself in between us.

"You do not belong in that hug, little kid!" Big Kid shouted.

"I belong in this hug! It's my anniversary too!" He replied. 

We rolled our eyes and laughed and whispered "Never again!" and we mean it (at least for a few years).

But despite things not going as planned, it was still wonderful. I love being at Disney World because the boys are so happy there, and now that they are older we have a blast on the roller coasters and maneuver easily through the park.

Medieval Nights was hilarious--an accidental treasure. I would have never chosen that, but we had so much fun cheering, and as a mom of boys, I'm embarrassed to admit that Wrestlemania is kind of right up my alley these days.

Those cheesy Mickey hoodies? I just bought myself the same hoodie the boys got...so the three of us wore matching hoodies all weekend. When else could I get away with something so ridiculous? We loved it. (I did, at least. They didn't mind.)

I love them and I love being with them and I love seeing them happy. These are the moments our memories are made of.

But next time I'll be at The Standard.

Can't be Beat

little kid got beaten up by a 3rd grader on the bus this week, and I have spent the last two days on the phone and in meetings. It has been a roller coaster of emotions and a highly calculated battle on all sides, and I think I've finally got everyone's attention and have learned this ridiculous bureaucratic dance one must do to get anything accomplished. Exhausted does not even begin to describe how I feel right now--it feels like I've been crying for 3 days, and I've been too mad to cry at all.

Because they are also parents, I believe the school administration now realizes I'm a really good parent...but they will also probably be cringing at the sound of our name for a while. I feel bad about that, but not really. I'm confident they'll get it right if there's a next time, though.

Anyway, little kid is mostly fine and his regular, hilarious self. The day after it happened he came home and did jumping jacks and push ups, and stacked his bean bags up to practice punching them as hard as he could, asking me if I thought he hit hard enough to hurt someone. He's getting karate lessons and permission to defend himself however necessary. (Yeah, I'm that mom now.)

Yesterday morning while we were snuggling, he told me that I was so beautiful that someone should build a building that looked just like me.

"Yeah?" I asked, imagining a huge Kim Jong Il-like statue of myself.

"I'd build it myself, but it would be super hard." He offered.

"True." I said.

"It would have to be a pretty small building because you are pretty small and I really don't know how to do that. But if I could, I would. A building of you--that would be awesome."

Hell yeah, it would. How could you not love this child?

Then today he mentioned that he thought his brother would be rich when they grew up.

"I think you could be rich. You have charisma and you're a hard worker. You're good with people. I could see your bubby being some successful creative genius and you making a ton of money off of something more technical. Or politics! You could be the president!" I told him.

He wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to be the president?"

"You would be famous! And you could change the world."

He looked unimpressed.

"Or you could be a lawyer. Or maybe just a governor or something. Someone who talks a lot would be good."

"Wait, wait!! Who are those guys who boss around the president?"

"Secret service? You'd be a great--"

"No! No! Those other guys...the ones against everything?"

"Do you mean...congress?"

"Yes! I will be a congress." He said triumphantly.

I laughed so hard. Yes. He would be the perfect congressman. God help us all.

Especially this little jerk on the bus.

Last Day for Giveaway

Today is the last day of the Shabby Apple $50 gift card giveaway!

Did you enter?

Why not? If you hate cute clothes and jewelry, you could give the gift card to me. Because I'm serious about wanting that dress.