Life According to Me

Kid Two is 7. We are having a conversation about braces. He is the poster child for braces. He tells me he's concerned about how they take them off. He says it is "nasty". "How do you know this??" I ask. " Youtube ." Kid Two is 7. I'm writing, and wonder, aloud, how to spell a word. From the other room, Kid Two shouts... " Google it ." When I was 7 I had a Viewmaster and Speak & Spell.

I saw a young, first time mom at the grocery store. I knew she was a first time mom, because she had one of those shopping cart protector things and giant bottle of hand sanitizer clipped to her bag.  Her daughter had a sun hat, sunglasses, and an invisible force field to protect her from a strangers stray sneeze or cough. First time mommy right of passage. It made me think back to when my own kids were brand new, and our initial baby steps back into everyday life...  My first outing with Kid One was to his first doctor visit. I got myself ridiculously over dressed and packed the diaper bag like we were going on safari. I felt victorious as I stepped out into the sunlight. Then he spit up an entire bottle of milk right down the front and back of me.  I stepped back inside. Sat on the couch. And ugly cried. My first outing with Kid Two was 5 days after he was born.  I still looked pregnant. Nothing fit, and I was puffy...like I had eaten a en...

Prior to  leaving on a long car trip. Prior to arriving in the front doors of Target/Costco... There is an announcement. "Go to the bathroom NOW. There will be NO stopping. There will be NO detour." Out of fear of wetting themselves, Kid One and Two follow these orders religiously. Two hours into a very long car trip....who has to pee? Me. All the way, deep into the bowels of the Costco refrigerator...who has to pee?? Me. In the middle of the snowy forrest, while chucking snowballs...who has to pee??? Me. Apparently it's time to for me to STOP! Collaborate and listen.....to my own propaganda, and get in line for the loo , too.

What's totally embarrassing?  Realizing I've had my leggings on inside out.... all day .  Leggings with seams and a little tag at the bottom that scream "I'M INSIDE OUT EVERYONE! SHE HAS NO IDEA!!?....LOOK AT ME!!"  AND .... Only realizing this as I'm about to get out of the car to pick up kid two at school. It was a long walk of shame....

The pantry is cleaned and organized... for now.  It's been a while since I've made it to the back of the shelves. A couple cans of Spaghetti O's that expired in 2007 are proof. Not sure I remember anyone even liking Spaghetti O's? While in there, purging, I discovered something about myself. I am a crappy grocery shopper. Extra crispy, crappy. My pantry is stocked like a fall out shelter for the random and obscure . There's cans(notice this is plural??!) of coconut milk, panko bread crumbs, smoked oysters, mac and cheese, chipotle peppers in adobo, black licorice extract, lavender extract... And 10 cans of italian stewed tomatoes?! Whatever I was planning on making never came to fruition..... MANY TIMES Someone needs to put down the Bon Appétit....and walk away quickly....now.....forever.

The mailman hates us.  Really, I think he positively loathes us.  We never collect our mail. Well, maybe "never" is a slightly exaggerated word.  Hmmmm. Nope.  I believe "never" is pretty accurate .  Our mailbox is one of those little community "mail apartments"  and it is eight houses up the street from mine. When I was  a kid, our mailbox was on/attached/connected to   our house.  Those were the days.... Mailman Russ....has had it.  In the mail box he leaves us a note. A very official looking note. I can tell he's fantastically pissed, because the words are written in all caps, and he has pressed so hard with the pen he almost broke through the skin of the paper. YOU!! CAN!! GET!! ALL!! OF!! YOUR!! MAIL!! AT!! THE!! POST!! OFFICE!! So.  Nothing changes.  We still suck.  And never check our mail.

I am a Mom. My purse contains fruit snacks, granola bars, hand sanitizer, and crumbs. My car contains gum wrappers, Monster cans, Star Wars guys and crumbs. My pockets contain the broken arm of a Star Wars guy, his light saber, a small rock and crumbs. My brain contains tonights dinner menu, the grocery list, a memo to return a movie(i'll still forget) and crumbs. My belly contains coffee, Monster, wine, dark chocolate and crumbs. My life contains chaos, fun, frustration, happiness, disappointment, love... and of course....crumbs.