Something unexpected happened when I posted that entry about The Wrong Shoes.
A handful of odd and wonderful readers commented and emailed me about leg shaving. You could re-read that if you wanted, but I don’t mention leg shaving there at all. Which means y’all actually enlarged that picture and checked my two inches of exposed ankle to see if it was hairy. That is bizarre and amusing at the same time. Not just one or two of you, either, you weirdos. I emailed this to Christina, but there is enough interest that apparently it must be made public.
Q: How do you work in time for leg shaving when you have 4 kids, since that takes 5 whole minutes?
A: I don’t. Y’all are right. I do not have 5 extra minutes in the shower. (who does?)
This is what you do: see your ankles? Shave from there, up three or four inches. That’s it. If your jeans ride up a little and a picture is snapped and people enlarge it to SEE if you’ve SHAVED, you will fool them. ha ha, aren’t you smart? This method takes less than 30 seconds, is fine for winter, and no – my husband doesn’t care nearly as much as y’all do. (Or, at all, actually.)
And thank you. Will try the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. I’d heard of it on Mom to the Screaming Masses’ site, totally forgot to buy one, and then didn’t remember the raving reviews until you echoed them here.
I know what you’re thinking. There can be ‘pros’ to Large Amount Vomiting…? Oooh, yes. Totally.
But first, the cons to LAV:
1. Caden-2yr’s little tummy is unexplainably, but clearly, very unhappy.
2. There were several Vomiting Incidences, none of which involved the use of a toilet, sink, or tub. And there is stinky carpet stainage.
3. I gag at the sight, smell, or thought of vomit. This is particularly unhelpful to me as a stay at home mom of four.
4. Sometimes I follow suit and do my own LAV.
5. Tonight I will be half-sleeping as I listen intently to the staticky baby monitor on the highest setting in case he needs me.
6. When Caden-2yr began the unexpected LAV, he was being held by an adult who became COATED in LARGE AMOUNT VOMIT. (Then that adult RAN to the nearest shower – which was occupied by Ethan-5yr, evicted a soaking wet and confused Ethan-5yr, and stepped in with Caden-2yr to add lots of water to the Vomit Attire.)
Pros to LAV:
1. That adult? Was NOT me. So sorry Mike, but I am praising God with a happy heart tonight for I walk in BLESSING, oh yes I do.
I could come up with others. No one else is puking. Seems non contagious, and this kid is the sort to not freak over vomiting, but really? Almost all other ‘pros’ pale in comparison to number 1.
Thank you, God, that I was not the one wearing vomit tonight. Really, I sooo needed that today.
Since most of you are female and seem to care about The Wrong Shoes, I present the following:
(I’m holding a sleeping kid so i just stuck my foot up in the air)
Cute, huh? Black, suede. Two of my favorite features in a shoe: contrast stitching, and a bow. Love that. These shoes were never The Wrong Shoes before I had Seth-4mth, but now my feet don’t fit in them quite the same. My sister has the identical shoes in red suede.
They remind us of these, and that cracks us up to no end. Ah, the vintage Barbie shoe.
In other news, does anyone know how to get ink off ‘flat’ no gloss paint (I’ve tried hairspray and multitask spray cleaners), or purple marker off the bathroom cabinet? (tried several cleaners including those strong smelling, orange ‘goo gone’ kinds)
Apparently, Ethan-5yr’s bathroom needs numerous reminders as to the identity of its non-flusher.
By all means, click on the shoe to see all its cuteness close up. It seems Ethan-5yr at least chose to use his best handwriting. I’m glad, since it might stay there for, well, FOREVER.)
Randi’s site offered up this challenge: In the spirit of encouraging each other and having a good laugh, post a picture of your "real life", your "real house" or your "real self" on Monday, February 27 and add one surprising fact about yourself. (Nothing gross, rude or embarrassing, just surprising!)
Ha. No problem. Lotsa Real Life around here. Start with this not entirely messy drawer – we’ll get to the Real Life in a minute:
Now that’s a little Real Life.
And here’s a little more.
That’s actually a baby bath seat BURIED in the dirty clothes, crying out for help. I’ll get to it tomorrow. (Or not.)
Surprising fact, per Randi’s instructions. Hmm.
Last week someone asked for my Embarassing 80s Crushes, when a mention of Scott Baio came up. So ok, here goes. These are especially bad. Not even run-of-the-mill bad, just baaaad.
uh huh, really.
Now go to I Have To Say… to see more dirty laundry and Real Life!
( Following up on [this post], today. )
While Mike drove us to church, I frantically tried to get white cat hair off my black wool coat, using the sticky side of the clear packing tape i’d brought just for this purpose. We arrive 4 minutes late.
The church meets in a children’s science museum, which is closed on Sunday mornings – now you see why they have a building project and are eager to sell us land so we can help finance said building project? Since we’re late, and I am NERVOUS, we duck straight into the service, and I lead us to the back rows on the far side where there are lots of empty seats. Perfect.
Until ten minutes later I realize that in this room of 300 people – we are the only ones with children. It’s 296 adults, and our 4 children, 2 of whom are playing tug of war with a Bible, and that’s NOT the impression we’re going for, thank you very much, and 1 of the kids is trying to decide if he’s hungry. That’s Seth-4mth, of course, and that would be my fault entirely since I am his sole food source and it’s been a couple of hours.
I ask Mike if he wants me to find the other children and take ours to join them, and the answer is no. Then he almost immediately changes his mind, and I do not even want to know what one of our kids did to make him look at me and say "YES. NOW. THAT WOULD BE GOOD."
So I take Ethan-5yr and Caden-2yr by the hands, and we shimmy past two people – politely and apologetically. I find the other kids, and after filling out 2 part, carbon copy style paperwork, I can leave Caden-2yr with his class. He’s happy.
1 down, 1 to go. I fill out 2 part, carbon copy style paperwork (isn’t that a little over the top?) for Ethan-5yr and a nice man tries to show me where the five year olds meet. Remember, we’re in a children’s science museum. We go to two wrong classrooms, downstairs, and Ethan-5yr is thrilled to be able to see the Tyrannosaurus Rex in near darkness, not roaring, as it is his day off. We pass by lots of displays and exhibits Ethan-5yr really wants to go explore, but we press on.
I’m wearing The Wrong Shoes. We do not find the class. The nice man apologizes, and we go back upstairs so he can ask directions. He’s gone awhile and Ethan-5yr and I look at another dinosaur exhibit while we wait. We follow the nice man baaaack downstairs, past the Tyrannosaurus Rex who is not roaring as it is still his day off, and eventually find the missing 5 yr old class. Ethan-5yr is ecstatic, and off he goes.
I find my way all the way back to the room with the adults, shimmy past two people – politely and apologetically – and sit next to Mike. I am so painfully aware of how I am wearing The Wrong Shoes.
Seth-4mth is happy to see me, having made up his mind that yes, he’s hungry. I hear the pastor say something about turning to John, chapter 6. I take Seth-4mth, shimmy past the two people – politely and apologetically, and realize the only place to nurse – besides next to the T Rex on his day off – is the bathroom.
I go in, and there are a row of bright purple stalls. Although it’s empty, it smells like Poo. A LOT of poo. Like, maybe a dinosaur amount of poo or something.
I adapt to my new surroundings like a pro and switch to mouth-breathing only, scouting for a place to nurse. I find none. I go in the handicapped stall, as it is the roomiest, and nurse while leaning on the wall. Then I notice a poo shmear on the opposite wall, and quickly straighten. (I don’t even want to know how that got there.) I’m wearing The Wrong Shoes for this, but I end up nursing while SQUATTING. Seth-4mth didn’t have the patience to wait while I spread toilet paper on the seat, so that option was out. Nursing while squatting for 15 minutes? Not good.
Back aching, I go back to the room where the adults were, and shimmied past the two people. Not politely, not apologetically, because I JUST DON’T FEEL LIKE IT anymore, and sit down. Seth-4mth burps loudly. I think that’s my favorite part of the entire morning.
The pastor seems to wrap up the sermon I didn’t hear, then spends 20 minutes going over the vision of the new building project, complete with color brochures explaining ‘phases.’ It comes with a DVD and an envelope for giving to the project.
He mentions that the nice people who are buying the land (that’s us) were invited to be here and he hasn’t seen them, but he wants them to come in a couple of weeks and he hopes to introduce them then. GAAAH.
We have to do it AGAIN.
Really by that point, I just wanted to RUN to The Front and say, "Here we are! I’m Kelsey. This is Mike. He’s the one with all the bucks buying your land and helping you meet your ‘phase 1′ goals. Praise God and hallelujah to heaven for y’all getting a place where you don’t need hiking boots to take a five year old to class. There’s a need in the Kingdom! Can I get an amen? So let’s give generously RIGHT NOW so that the church can have kids ministry in the same zip code as the adults ministry, and maybe even some air freshener for that bathroom. Now who will give to this need, because I’m all for it?!"
And every mother in The Wrong Shoes would have been with me. No DVD or full color brochure required.
Life will get in the way. Life will come SUCK the fun out of it if you’re not really really careful. And we were not.
The laundry will beg to be done. The cat will hock hairballs everywhere, and you HAVE to clean them up, since you’re actually there and not really on vacation. Your husband will say, "Hey, let’s go to Sam’s." (And then? THEN, he will misinterpret your blank stare, as "Sure honey, great idea!" when really it meant, "Are you nuts? NO WAY.")
Uh huh. Sam’s, as in Home of the Bulk Size Miracle Whip. Sam’s with 4 kids, is not what you do on Real Vacation, and not what you should do on Pretend Vacation.
So if y’all really do go ahead with this idea in your own families and towns, as some of you have indicated, remember to COMMIT to the concept fully. Really. You don’t want to sign up for tourist-y stuff and then WHAM, there you are with 2 baskets and 4 kids and can you please hand me the package of 42 paper towel rolls?
Hi, y’all. We’re home for naps, then out for more Pretend Vacation excitement. We’ve visited a fascinating museum, and had the honor to be shown around by the nicest, 87 yr old WWII veteran ever.
We had the pleasure of changing a poo diaper in the back of the SUV while it was 40 degrees outside (Just like a Real Vacation!)
The glory of the poo diaper in all its ‘whiffiness’ stayed with us in the SUV for way too long as there was NO trash can in sight. (The 2 yr old, the Originator of the poo diaper held his nose and complained the loudest.)
We ate lunch out. Just like a Real Vacation.
Am doing laundry. Just like a Pretend Vacation.
Having a lovely time, and I strongly recommend you do this in your own town! Or you could come to my town, but then it would actually turn into a Real Vacation, and a rather lame one at that, since we live in the middle of West Texas, and no one really vacations here intentionally.
Except our family.
One more thing. I WON AN AWARD. I’m very proud of it. I wanted to put up a banner in my sidebar, but since my site went all fancy, putting things in my sidebar is much more complicated, i think. But please celebrate it with me, as it is worthy of some hoopla! It is the Jeana Likes Me Award, and I am most proud of the category. "I Need Depends In Order To Navigate Her Site." Isn’t that the BEST?! (It’s totally mutual, of course, the co-like we have as well as the needing Depends) Only a precious few of these awards were given, which can only mean that y’all need to be introduced. Go say hi, and don’t forget anything that might… be… necessary.
To the Whole Internet:
If you’re here, I like you. If you share my faith, great. Let’s talk. If not, whatever. We can still talk. I’m good with: shoes, kids, chocolate, or how our views are different IF you want. Either way, you’re welcome here anytime, so please stay awhile, ’cause I like you.
(Judging from emails and comments, there’s a lot of you that don’t share my faith that come to visit. I like that. Really.)
This weekend we are pretending to be on vacation. Isn’t that a lovely idea? We’ll sleep at home – including naps for the little ones i hope – but that’s about it. The rest of the time we’re going to live it up in our town doing all the touristy things we’ve never bothered to do before. (We don’t live in a tourist-y town at all. I mean, a museum or something. Ha!) The kids are off school tomorrow, Mike’s taking off work (’cause he’s the owner and he can) and our vacation will be Friday and Saturday.
Sunday we’re visiting a new church for business reasons. Oh… sorry, does that sound wrong? We’re buying land from a church for MIke’s new office building, and the purchase is helping them build a new church building. They want to introduce/thank us as the people who are helping meet a financial goal. I think.
GAH. Have I mentioned I’m not good in social settings? It just occurred to me the New Church People might want to call us ‘to the front.’ Not a place I ever like to be. "The Front." It evokes meterological images of a horrific, powerful cold front doesn’t it? I’m not one who like being in The Front of anywhere, especially some new church where I dont’ know if I’m dressed ‘correctly.’
In fact, if they want to introduce/thank us, going to The Front is sort of implied is it not? Horror. Seth-4mth will surely yarp on my shoulder, or grab my boobs or something. Explosive poo could shoot out from one of us – hopefully not me – right when we get to The Front. Someone could vomit. (That could easily be me, y’all.) Ethan-5yr could test out his new word, ‘irritated’ in his special, loud voice right at that moment. Kim-11yr could give us all her Prepubescent Death Glare. And all of those who aren’t paralyzed with fear would surely begin praying fervently for our little family, which would probably be a good thing.
Oh my gosh, I’m so glad I’m going on Pretend Vacation tomorrow.
I need a new place for my Fun Size M&M stash. They were in my bathroom, in a childproofed drawer, but they have to move. They were there because I NEVER get time in the bathroom, so I thought this was perfect! I’d rarely eat them. Which has worked. Except that now Caden-2yr knows which drawer they’re in, as well as how to open it despite the childproofing.The m&ms can’t go in the bedroom because I’ll eat them way too fast, due to serious lack of willpower on my part. They can’t go in the kitchen, because the kids will eat them. And I do not share. So that leaves… my closet. the garage. and the laundry room. All those places seem even stranger than keeping them in the bathroom. Do any of you have ideas on this?
1. He’s Mr. Family Man at home and Mr. FancyShmancy Businessman at work. (The two rarely mix.)
2. He sometimes buys lots of flowers and cuts them and sticks them in vases all over the house, as a surprise for me.
3. He could not possibly care less about flowers and sometimes they give him asthma attacks but he does this anyway.
4. He hunts, golfs, and plays XBOX on a wall sized screen in the basement.
5. He believes in my dreams and goals – usually more than I do.
6. Great legs. Ahem.
7. He showed up an hour early for our first date (I wasn’t ready) and nervously talked about marriage. And wanting 5 kids. (Married him anyway, and we stopped at 4.)
8. If I’ve had a rough week sometimes he’ll tell me to go shoe shopping.
9. He’s good at diapers, handling the kids’ tantrums, and kids’ homework projects.
10. He takes the kids to all their friends’ birthday parties, because he knows I am too antisocial to enjoy or survive them.
11. He lets me put my cold feet on him, and never complains about it.
12. He likes the color orange. Suddenly, and A LOT.
13. He’s the most optimistic, positive person I’ve ever met.
Bonus One (NOT a 14th, cause that would just be wrong. It’s a ‘bonus one.’): He can do the airplane foot thing really well. It’s a big hit.
click to enlarge only if you promise not to look at the clutter in the background. email me if you know how to make photos bigger in typepad without flickr. (which is too hard for me.)
Yes, that’s marker on Caden-2yr’s face.
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Busy day, today, so I’ll check in again with BlogLand late tonight.
Must come up with a -preferably homemade, no sew – ensemble for Ethan-5yr’s Wacky Wednesday. Have no ideas. Am considering duct taping empty cereal boxes to his clothing. Seriously. I must think quickly, because that is clearly a bad idea.
Also, must take Challenging Kid to meet with our pastor. Challenging Kid will be scared to pieces and not happy about this at all. Hehehe. I mean, oh golly. I hope that helps.
And? Most exciting is that Leanne at eWebscapes is going to put up the new gorgeousness of blogdom for me sometime today. Yea! No, this does not require any of my time today, except of course trying to check every few minutes to see if it’s on. And that IS time consuming, actually.
Ew. Just ate a cat hair by accident. (They waft through the air around here.)