July 27, 2006
good lord, I have no idea what this is all about
I had a hard time getting dressed this morning; I’m totally blaming Pantene, by the way. And Old Navy. And the people at Playmobil.
Charlie has some new Playmobil pirates–122 pieces! that I assembled! while the boys ate bagels and said, “ARE YOU DONE? ARE YOU DONE? ARE YOU DONE?” four million times–which SHOULD have kept everyone happy for the twelve minutes it takes me to shower and put my makeup on. And yes, they were indeed busy, because it takes a LOT of energy to fight about who will have which pirate and which dagger is the NEW dagger.
I finally negotiated a truce and got in the shower and realized that I had bought the WRONG shampoo which was why my hair has looked so crappy all week. No moisturizers! Moisturizers are bad! Moisturizing shampoo makes my hair all weird! So I had to lather rinse repeat and then repeat THAT with ANOTHER shampoo that just happened to be in the basket. So now my seven minute shower is running a little longer than I planned and I can hear the boys fighting. I figure I should put some clothes on before I go break it up, so I grab a tank top and pull it on and . . . get stuck. I can’t get the damn thing over my HEAD and I’m thinking oh my god I ate so many Hershey Kisses that now my stretchy TANK TOP doesn’t fit! Then I realize that the hem is sewn wrong and doesn’t stretch. At all. Whaddya expect for like five dollars?
But! I have ANOTHER white tank, somewhere! I pull out the entire pile of tanks from my closet (because I have like 20, I wear them ALL THE TIME) and I have every other color you can imagine (two hot pink! two VERY SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT hot pink tank tops!) but no white. But! There is white laundry in the dryer! Dry, unfolded white laundry! My OTHER tank MUST be there!
So I run through the house in my undies. I’m trying NOT to be seen by either my kids (who are fighting over Playmobil pirates) or my neighbors (who are elderly and sit outside watching each other’s houses ALL DAY LONG) because I’m topless and all my blinds are open. Although I did stop to put some flip flops on because you never know what you might step on in my kitchen. I dig through the laundry and NO TANK TOP.
Just fifteen pairs of little boys’ underpants. Dammit.
Run back to the bedroom, yelling, “STOP FIGHTING OR I WILL TAKE ALL THE PIRATES AWAY!” Find a camisole that hugs every single fat molecule in my stomach. One of my contact lenses is folded in HALF. IN MY EYE. Go into the bathroom to take the lens out; realize that I’ve never put any makeup on and I have a zit the size of a dime between my eyes and that my hair is sticking STRAIGHT UP, probably from all the washing.
Think to myself, SHIT, GOOD THING I’M NOT GOING TO BLOGHER. Because apparently I would have shown up mostly naked.
Oh, wait, that’s like the whole point, isn’t it?
Eventually, I got dressed and got some mascara on and tamed my hair (sort of) and implemeted a cease fire between the warring pirate factions and fed the wild children and . . .
And then my sitter came. For THREE HOURS.
I’ll say it again: THREE HOURS without my children.
When I came home, Charlotte said, “Did you get a lot done?”
And I said, “Yes!” And I did! I exchanged the faulty tank at Old Navy (and possibly picked up two more tanks), went shoe browsing (no buying), flipped throught the new InStyle and drank a grande mocha frappuchino at the bookstore (dear InStyle editors, high waisted jeans are NEVER coming back, love, Susan), ran into Leslie and her boys (who asked “Where are your KIDS?” because apparently they were afraid I had sold them on eBay), stopped at Target and picked up bread and frozen fajita strips and shampoo (this time, I bought the right one).
We’re going to Albuquerque on Saturday, for a week, and I still haven’t done laundry or paid bills or picked up all the toys because my housekeeper is coming while we’re gone. Plus my guest bed is COVERED with baby clothes that I’m sure my dad doesn’t want to sleep with while he’s here. Oh, and we’re going to a party tomorrow night.
Huh. Maybe I should have done some really USEFUL things with my three hours. Nah.
Posted by Susan @ 7:38 pm • Uncategorized
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July 27th, 2006 at 8:23 pm, llama Says:
What a coincidence - I wrote the exact same letter to InStyle Australia!
July 27th, 2006 at 9:05 pm, Kristen Says:
Good god. I hate trying to shower when both boys are awake and feisty, which is, like, every single minute after 6:30 a.m. GAH.
What’s with all the damn fighting, anyway? They have a bajillion toys, a bajillion NEW toys, even! Again, GAH!
July 27th, 2006 at 9:11 pm, Susan Says:
Llama, I am both relieved and HORRIFIED to hear that the fine people at InStyle are trying to pass the Mom Jeans off on BOTH their American AND Australian readers.
It’s just WRONG.
July 27th, 2006 at 9:19 pm, daysgoby Says:
But you DID do useful things with your allotted free time! USEFUL, IMPORTANT things! With the bonus of NO PIRATES!
I seriously would have questioned your sanity if you had used your free! I’m free! time to go to a movie. ‘Specially a pirate movie.
(Hey, both the boys are alive and you’re smiling. Win-win. Are you sure you didn’t do some shoe shopping?)
July 27th, 2006 at 9:28 pm, adria Says:
I agree - high-waisted jeans are no good!
I hear you. We are leaving next week, and I feel I am not getting anything done. No matter how much I did get done today, there is so much more to do tomorrow and the next day. I always feel like there is more to do when we are going away.
July 27th, 2006 at 9:39 pm, Candace Says:
I lived through high-waisted jeans once already. I’m NOT doing it again and InStyle can’t make me. I’ll shove those damned jeans so far up their collective asses (or would that just be “ass”) that they’ll (the jeans) come out their collective eyeballs (or eyeball).
I’ve had a lot of wine tonight.
(so maybe that explains why I’m laughing *my* collective ass off because the word verification is: omahmfkr.)
July 27th, 2006 at 10:19 pm, Meredith Says:
Ah, the perfect blend of insane mom moments and wonderful mom relaxation time. I love the line about all the boys underwear in the laundry. My son uses his clean cloth diapers as his loveys and when I am trying to find a paid of clean white undies for myself, I always end up with a fistful of diapers instead.
Oh, I am afraid the Bermuda Bags will come back. And names like Muffy.
July 27th, 2006 at 10:58 pm, Melissa Says:
I like how you don’t include Hershey’s on the list of who’s to blame for your difficulty dressing.
And can you imagine arriving at BlogHer with the WRONG SHAMPOO? See, it really is better that you’re not going this year. Really.
July 28th, 2006 at 5:53 am, Mamacita Tina Says:
Regaining your sanity is something useful.
July 28th, 2006 at 6:07 am, Susan Says:
Meredith, I hadn’t thought about Bermuda bags in twenty years! Mine had INTERCHANGEABLE covers; one was white eyelet and another was maroon corduroy WITH MY MONOGRAM.
Wouldn’t that be hott with my high-waisted jeans?
July 28th, 2006 at 6:10 am, Velma Says:
Twice this week, I have dropped the kids off at camp/preschool determined to go home and Set Things Right in the precious 2+ hours kid-free. Bills will be paid, laundry folded and put away, organization will rule!
Or not, since both times I have come home, cleaned for 15 minutes, then sat down in front of my laptop. But after catching up on all my blawgs and doing a little price comparision online, mentally, I’m more organized. Or at least more relaxed.
July 28th, 2006 at 6:57 am, Tara Says:
I am still trying to find the right combination of shampoo and hair products for my cropped hair- I am absolutley sure I resemble Ernest Borgnine some days.
July 28th, 2006 at 7:37 am, Sheryl Says:
Albuquerque? Albuquerque is my home town! Why are you going there? Will you have a blue-corn, green chile, chicken enchilada for me? Will you say hello to the sunset?
July 28th, 2006 at 8:50 am, melynda Says:
Ugh! The wrong shampoo. I have an oily scalp, but dry, color-treated hair (sounds oh-so attractive, yes?) and the perfect shampoo-conditioner-combo-and/or-application is my health and beauty Holy Grail.
Have fun in Albuquerque (did I spell that even remotely right?). Hope they have wi-fi somewhere near you!
July 28th, 2006 at 8:57 am, Susan Says:
Don’t worry, Melynda–my parents’ house is FULLY WIRED. I will be able to sit on the patio and drink martinis and surf the web while my kids beat the crap out of each other in the yard.
Ahhhh . . . .
July 28th, 2006 at 9:27 am, Laura Says:
I feel roughly the same way when I am putting little rubber clothing on those damn Polly Pocket people over and over again. And then, invariably, a piece of clothing rips. And S wants me to fix it. “Can’t you sew it?” A piece of rubber the size of my fingernail??? Not so much!
And Mom jeans? Shudder. I just got out of that fashion hole.
Have fun in NM! Glad you were able to have time all to yourself! Your package is on its way!
July 28th, 2006 at 11:00 am, Heather Says:
Those three hours to yourself sound amazing! But goodness, what a time just getting out of the house!
July 28th, 2006 at 11:13 am, Misfit Hausfrau Says:
You absolutely DID do useful things! Herr is due home in about 30 minutes after being gone for two weeks. While he might think we will immediately engage in afternoon delite, I will be meeting him at the curb as he pulls up. I will pull him out of his car, kiss him, and head to Starbucks. Or old Navy to get tank tops.
Have fun in NM!
July 28th, 2006 at 11:19 am, Karyn Says:
ALL RIGHT, NOW, JUST A SECOND: Dear InStyle! HighWaisted Jeans will be welcomed back up here where I live because my “waist”, such as it is, exists approximately 1.5″ below my boobs. It is high! This low-waisted jean fiasco has wreaked utter havoc on my jean-loving days and I have been relegated to schlumping around in yoga pants for years! Which kind of worked per the pregnancies, but that is not the point. Let the skinny, normal and low waisted chicks have their low rise jeans, but please send some high waisted ones back up north! Waaah!
Ok. Ditto on MY Old Navy tanks! And one of mine has a run in it. A run! Ugh!
And I’m totally jealous of your kid-free three hours.
And your shower. Because my evil offspring use my bathroom time to move furniture around and plot to overthrow my regime. They also get into things like the Lysol and the Cutter bugspray, but that is another story.
Hmmph.
July 28th, 2006 at 11:55 am, Jenorama Says:
Your three hours sound blissful!
Pics of my hair are up, just so you know.
Next year: BlogHer. I promise. I swear. And now with more SJ.
What else was I going to tell you or ask you about? I am now on the Grapenuts diet. Isn’t that interesting?
No, seriously, go read my blog.
July 29th, 2006 at 10:45 am, MommyWithAttitude Says:
Funny! It’s nice to hear I’m not the only one who frantically runs through the house half naked screaming things like, “We’re not going to have ANY MORE toys if you don’t be nice to each other!”
Sometimes these things just can’t be helped.
July 29th, 2006 at 4:53 pm, wordgirl Says:
Either you would have shown up to BlogHer naked…or you may have been carrying some pretty keen Playmobil swords as accessories. Or maybe both.
July 29th, 2006 at 10:04 pm, nina Says:
Next year we will both go to BlogHer! yay! maybe. sigh.
shampoo is a very difficult thing. I change shampoos about once every three months because I am fickle and I cannot decide. At least you have a shampoo that you know works for you.
July 29th, 2006 at 11:55 pm, The Zero Boss Says:
Yeah, anyone who works at Playmobil has a playdate in Hell, as far as I’m concerned.
July 30th, 2006 at 3:30 am, Alessandra Says:
you sound like Lynette from desperate housewives. i’m a single mom and i usually experience the same emotional breakdown when my kids get really crazy. good thing i got the internet to calm myself and cheer myself up by dating online at webdate*dot*com