Retail Antitherapy

You know how they say that some people use shopping as therapy? I've heard that for some, pleasure centers in the brain are triggered when they buy stuff. I think that I have the opposite of that. Instead, my displeasure center gets stimulated.

For example, I decided that this year I would use some of my Christmas money to buy a pair of boots. From the beginning, I could see these boots in my mind...tall, black, 2 1/2 or 3" skinny heel, real leather, straight (not slouchy), little to no bling. Real leather was necessary because I am a shoe killer. As in, I wear my shoes for years. Just ask my sister who is very tired of the brown loafers I've been wearing since '97. My two pairs of fake leather boots all lived very short lives, no good. So off I went on my boot search. DSW, JCPenney, Bass, Nine West Outlet. I bought a pair at Nine West that I knew I shouldn't--they were 4". I wore them around the house for 30 minutes, then took them back the same day. TJ Maxx, DSW (a different one), The Shoe Dept, Dillards, Macys, Sears--nothing. Nordstroms, Bakers, Nine West, Rockport, Dillards (a different one). I fell in love with a pair at Dillards that didn't fit. I bought an acceptable pair at Nine West, came home, and called five different Dillards in search of the boot I really wanted. Ordered it over the phone. Now waiting five business days to try it on and return the other pair. This is absurd. But I can't throw down more than ten bucks without feeling 100% confident that I'm getting exactly what I want and that I'm going to get significant use out of it. Am I crazy? Don't answer that. If I were not the crazy money pincher that I am, I would have bought these:


Only $500. And not real snake skin, in case you're wondering. The sales lady said that if they were, they would be "much more expensive(!)"

Ending with a Bang

I should be asleep. But instead I thought I would share a little piece of the Alley pie with you. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Charlotte has been sick for about two weeks now, and I was on the verge of losing my mind today. But the second half of the day was fabulous. Something about the trip to the grocery store must have awakened Charlotte's desire to be chipper, because I don't think she did the "I'm going to cry and force you to hold me even though I'm not tired, hungry, dirty, or in desire of companionship" thing after 12:30 pm. Yay!!! Or maybe it was the desperate prayer that I sent to the Lord this morning. Probably that.

We also have an extra companion in our home to add to our excitement. A rat. Yep. Gotta love it. Actually, he hasn't presented himself since we got back home from visiting family, so maybe he decided six is a crowd. But he certainly had a great time while we were gone. Pooped all over our bedroom. Ate a hole in my sheets. Peed on my kitchen counter. You know that last post where I said I hate cleaning? Nothing like a little rat urine to bring out a girl's desire to scrub the crap out of her kitchen (pun intended). I knew that our area has had some trouble with roof rats, but this is the first time one of them has found a way in. I have two very sticky professional traps in my bedroom that dare one of them to do some more exploring. Is it wrong to wish death upon them? I think not. I'm tired of sleeping on the pull-out in the living room.

On a happier note, Charlotte clapped today. And Owen showed off his skipping skills at the library. Fun times.

Complaints and Confessions

Will was talking to a friend the other day and told him that I only tell the happy stories on the blog. So I'm proving him wrong, today I'm going to share my messier side.

It irritates me when people ask questions of my ten month old instead of directing them to me..."How old are you?" "What's your name?" I'm very tempted to reply with, "I'm sorry, she hasn't learned to talk yet." This also applies to people who criticize my parenting choices through statements to my child. If you're a mom, you know what I'm talking about. "I bet your little feet are cold aren't they sweetie, too bad you don't have any shoes on." "I'd give you some ice cream, but you're mommy won't let me."

I detest cleaning. My family has clean clothes to wear. I make sure they have breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But my floors haven't been mopped in 10 months. I dust the furniture on a biannual schedule. And the bathroom toilet MIGHT get cleaned once a month. I keep pretending that this is going to change about me. That I'm going to come across some fantastic plan that will work for me. But I'm thinking about accepting myself just as I am. Of the four people in my house, I'm the only one who judges myself for this. I'm sure there are those who have been to my house and passed their own judgment, but really, who cares. If they love me, they will get over it. I'm tired of being disappointed in myself.

I am a hypocrite. I can present a fantastic argument for why we should all be doing more to care for the poor, then go out and eat lunch at Qdoba that I could have foregone for a sandwich at home. I can rail on about the latent racism and classism in the church today, while busy judging the crap out of the people who are commiting said sins.

If you invite me to a shower, don't ask me to bring food as well as a gift. If you don't have the money or time or space to throw a shower by yourself, ask a person or two to help you. But please, don't ask fifteen different women to give of their time, food, and gift budget.

And if I leave you a message on your phone...call me back. I'm becoming a fan of texting (I know, hard to believe since I just got a cell phone a year ago), but I should not have to text you to get you to communicate with me. Speaking of which, it is rude to text someone in the middle of a conversation. It is rude to make other people wait while you finish your conversation in the grocery check-out line. It is rude to cut me off on Granby Street because you are talking on your cell phone! Stop being rude.

I think I'm done now. Merry Christmas!

My Heart is Full

Someone asked me how I was doing today. And I am great. I think joyful might be a better word. Fantastic and superb sound too melodramatic. Wonderful sounds too cheesy. The reason...everything I suppose. I love Christmas. Will has a decent schedule right now. We know where we're going to be moving in seven months. We get to visit our families soon. My friends are amazing. Owen warms my heart and makes me laugh. Yesterday contained the perfect example of both:

I made Owen pancakes for breakfast. Usually I just throw frozen ones into the microwave, but we were out, so I actually MADE pancakes. About ten minutes or so after he finished eating, Owen stopped playing and said in the most heartfelt manner, "Mom, thanks for making me pancakes." If people would only understand how effective I sincere "thank you" is, they might find themselves inundated with pancakes. Later in the morning I was pulling out of our driveway and headed slowly down our street. About ten houses away, a van was also pulling into the road. With great feeling, Owen declared from the back seat, "Mom, there's a van in the road, supply the brakes!"

Charlotte is learning something new every day it seems. She learned how to wave yesterday. She had been throwing out the random wave, but yesterday she really figured it out. I think she discovered the Christmas tree this afternoon. It's been up for two weeks, but today she finally decided to scoot over and touch it. I put her in my lap so she could reach the branches, lights and ornaments. She tentatively touched everything, awed by the prickliness, the brightness, the dangling egg ornament. With a huge smile on her face, she waved at the Christmas tree. Too bad it couldn't wave back.

Voices

When I was a teenager I dreamed of becoming an actress. Playing the role of the murderer in our high school Moustrap production lit a spark in me that I never had the resources or drive to fan into flame. But part of that aspiration still lingers and shows itself when I'm alone in the house, reading to my children. Tonight it was The Princess and the Pea. For those of you who don't know (because you have a had a traumatic brain injury which left you without memories from your own childhood), the story revolves around a queen in search of a "real princess" for her son. In my mind, this queen is British and haughty, so that's the way her words come out of my mouth. This evening Charlotte, Owen and I were all in the floor of his room. She was preoccupied with a toy while Owen was listening to the story. Every single time I spoke in the voice of the queen, Charlotte would stop chewing on the toy and laugh. Not just giggle, but truly and deeply laugh. This would make me laugh, which would make Owen laugh, and before long I didn't know if I was going to be able to make it through the book. These are the moments that overwhelm me and fill me with joy. I'll take mom over actress most any day, but particularly today.

Pea pods

Today is Will's birthday. In light of that fact, I would like to get some memories down on paper, so to speak, that I don't want to forget.

During the spring of my freshman year I had a crush on a guy named Robbie. He signed up to take Shakespeare in the fall, which I needed for my major, so I decided that would be a perfect time for me to take it as well. This was a bit short-sited of me, seeing as how my crush had dissipated by the time fall semester rolled around, and I was left watching him gush his ooey-gooeyness all over his new girlfriend every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Thankfully, Will (who I met my freshman year but did not know very well) was also signed up for Shakespeare, and on the first day of glass I gratefully took the seat in front of him.

I'm sure there was some flirtatious chatter going on during Shakespeare, but I can't remember any specifics. I do recall the tentative twirls of my long hair from the seat behind me. And the time he rode with me to The Sign of the Fish (a Christian book store in the next town over). During a pause in conversation on the ride home I made a request that I had tried on another guy (who failed miserably), "Tell me something." Will immediately launched into a description of his love for Stewart's Cream Soda, which he overindulged earlier in college, so he was now drinking Orange 'n Cream Soda instead. My heart fluttered. You see, the failure of the other dude was his response of, "What do you mean??"

Another moment which makes me smile occurred during our first date. We had eaten at Ham's and were heading back to the car. Will walked to my side and opened my door. I was beaming inside. However, somewhere along the way, my friends and I had joked about dating etiquette, and one thing mentioned was that a guy should always walk around the front of the car. Will did not do this (I'm pretty sure we were parked too close to the wall or car in front of us for him to go that way). So when he got in I dryly joked, "They say you shouldn't trust a guy who walks around the back of the car." He immediately replied, "They say a girl doesn't like you if she doesn't unlock your door from the inside." We are two peas in a pod. And I suppose we have been from the beginning.

Argh

I just uploaded a ton of birthday and Halloween pictures, and most of them need some work--red eyes, bad lighting. However, I knew if I waited until editing was complete before posting anything, it might be a month from now, and I'd just feel too lame to post my old pictures. So here you go.