July 23, 2008

The Highlight of My Trip…Or At Least Saturday Night

These very amazing sales ladies managed to convince me to buy a Coach Purse. I’ve always wanted one…but never felt like it was a necessity. The guilt of spending lots of money on a handbag used to eat away at me. But then I was standing in a room full of expensive designer bags at the Macy’s cocktail party, intoxicated by the fabrics, the leather, the straps.

I caved. I bought one. She is gorgeous. The handbag isn’t half bad either. Haha. No but seriously…look at that bag. I’m in love. Absolutely, totally in love. I know. It’s silly. Get over it.  This high won’t last forever.  Sneaky, sneaky Macy’s.  Way to sponsor a cocktail party for shopaholics like me.  You’re not stupid, that’s for sure.

Paying for my new love. That was the most fun I’ve ever had — signing my life away on a my credit card…let me tell ya. It was totally worth it. It was my first Coach experience, and I can’t wait to do it again. Mocha‘s daughter, Mallory, said it best, “It’s like a drug…isn’t it!?”

So very, very true!  I’m shaking from withdrawals already.  Time to buy the matching wallet, I think.

April 30, 2008

Let’s Catch Up, Shall We?

It’s been five days since my last entry, but it feels like five years. I’ve struggled to find the appropriate words upon my return to the blogosphere after this short hiatus (I’m referring to my error in judgment at BlogHer last week).

I could write an entire post, expressing my sorrow for offending so many people, but I’ve made my sincerest apologies both publicly and privately and I feel it’s best to use all of the wonderful resources, book recommendations, blog references and advice given to me, so that I may learn from my mistake.

I’m very grateful for all of the support many of you have given me, in spite of my grave offense, and I appreciate every phone call, every blog comment, and every e-mail that has been sent my way. I have tried my best to respond to everyone. If I haven’t gotten back to you, it is because my heart is overflowing from the kindness. I’m terribly sorry if I’ve missed the opportunity to thank you personally. Please know how grateful I am.

The last few days have been insanely busy. In addition to catching up on all matters online, I’ve been trying to keep up with life in general.

So far this week, I have enrolled Dawson in preschool for this fall, scheduled doctor and dentist appointments for myself and Dawson, gone grocery shopping, weeded the flower beds, caught up on laundry, watched Juno, Atonement and 27 Dresses (I loved all three movies), and spent some much needed time with my family.

Earlier this morning I went to Best Buy and bought a brand new laptop. Doug and I received our stimulus (rebate?) check and decided to spend half the money on a new garage door (ours is as old as the house and only opens manually, which is a total pain in the ass in the winter) and then we split the remaining money in half to spend as we wished. My wish was a faster laptop as the old one still runs Windows 2000.

I bought a Gateway laptop and it’s Garnet Red in color. I love it. I’ll take a picture of it soon. The cool thing is that it has a built-in webcam. I have the urge to do a blog chat, but it’s late and my hair is a mess (excuses, I know).

This afternoon my mother-in-law and I took a trip to Sam’s Club. Dawson came along as well and he was so excited to ride in Grandma’s new mini-van because it has a DVD player. He was able to watch SpongeBob SquarePants (of course!), and my MIL and I were able to carry on a conversation without constant demands and whines of a 3-year-old.

Also, I went over to Johnson’s Baby Cause, a charitable organization (through Global Giving) which is hosting a celebrity auction on e-bay. I bid on this travel system just for the heck of it. I don’t even need a stroller/car seat combo, but I thought it would be fun to win it and tell everyone I know that my favorite co-host of The View used this item. More about this here. (And more about this fun PBN blog blast here.)

That’s about all I’ve been up to these days. Now, I just have to catch up on your blogs and the world will be right again.

April 1, 2008

A Tale from the Dressing Rooms

While frantically running around my house, packing, re-packing, cleaning and re-cleaning (Doug doesn’t think he’ll have time to clean while I’m gone, so he asked me to do it before I leave for NYC tomorrow, how nice of him…), I realized I forgot to tell you about my shopping trip.

Let me preface this by telling you that I had this favorite pair of jeans that I bought three months before I got pregnant. I loved those jeans. The were low-rise, they fit nicely in the hips, thighs and buns, and they were straight leg so they made me look really thin. When I woman finds a pair of jeans she loves, she doesn’t care how much they cost. I spend $70 on those jeans. I think they were New York Laundry, or was it Chinese Laundry? I can’t remember. The fact is I loved them.

When I got pregnant and couldn’t wear them after my third month, I was heart broken. At one point I considered writing a letter to the company to ask them to make the same jeans in maternity sizes. Doug teased me because I wore those jeans at least three times a week.

“Don’t you have any other jeans to wear?” He’d ask.

“None that I love as much as these.” I’d reply.

After Dawson was born, I couldn’t wait to lose the baby weight and fit into those pants again. It took six months, but it was like my jeans had been waiting for nearly a year and a half for me to slip back into them. I still believe that my jeans loved me just as much and actually conformed to my body shape (even when I gained a few pounds) because they still fit perfectly. Like they were made for me.

Two Fridays ago they ripped. There was a tiny little hole at the bottom of the pocket, hardly noticeable over the years. The last time I put those jeans on, I heard a sound. A ripping sound. I felt a draft. I checked my ass in the mirror and saw pink underwear peeking out. The hole near the pocket grew to the size of a saucer.

As I was standing in front of the mirror in tears, my husband walked in, saw the hole and began laughing.

“I think it’s time to buy new jeans. Those have definitely outgrown YOU.”

“Ooohh… you’re soooo funny.” I seethed.

I threw the jeans in the garbage and made a vow to go shopping for new ones. I kept putting it off, but finally, I headed out to Kohl’s last Tuesday.

I confess, I’m a plus size. Hopefully not for long. I didn’t think that Kohl’s would carry anything cute in my size, but surprisingly they had some really great things from Villager (a Liz Claiborne company; I love Liz Claiborne and own a lot of pieces from when I worked at Elder-Beerman).

I began piling clothes into my little shopping cart and noticed two women standing near me. They were looking at me intently and I couldn’t figure out why. I pretended to ignore them and carried my pile to the dressing room. I had been in my stall for several minutes, trying to see which jeans looked better on my behind, when I heard two other women come into the dressing rooms, speaking French.

Now, you should know I took five years of French classes in high school and I can understand almost everything as long as the person speaks very slowly. These women were yakking loudly and quickly so I only caught bits and pieces of their conversation.

“blah….blah, blah….blah….que la grosse vache….blah, blah…” one of them said.

“Oui….blah, blah…blah….sauter d’un batiment, blah blah blah….pantalon.” the other replied.

They were laughing and giggling and then it hit me.

Gross vache. That means fat cow. Sauter. I know that doesn’t mean “to fry in a pan”. Sauter! That means “to jump”! Oi! Batiment. Basement? No. Not basement. Building!
Pantalon. That’s easy. Pants.

Holy shit. Fat cow, to jump, off a building and pants. These women were talking about me! For what other reason would they be staring at me as I gathered clothes to try on?

They were saying that “the fat cow will need to jump off a building to fit in those pants.” I was proud of myself for figuring it out. I was mortified. Then I got mad.

I sat down on my dressing room bench, trying to convert the meanest insult I could think of into French. For example, “Listen here bitches, I know I’m not thin, but I’m not a fat cow. For one thing I don’t have utters and I don’t chew a cud. And as for you…..”

That would take ten years for me to figure out, and conjugate the verbs properly. Poor Madame Severson, my french teacher, would die if she heard me speak it incorrectly.

Just as I was going to open my door and give those women a what for, I caught this:

“blah, ma belle-mere, blah, blah, besoin du gastrique saute, blah, blah, elle est juste condamne aussi du gras.”

Let the translation begin, I thought. This could take awhile. Ma belle-mere. My beautiful mother? No, no, no. That’s not right. Aha! Mother-in-law. Okay…besoin due gastrique saute. Needs gastric jump? What? What the hell is a gastric jump? Oh, duh! Gastric bypass! Ahhh. Okay. Condamne aussie du gras. She is just too fat.

It was then that I realized I really couldn’t be sure who they were talking about, considering I only caught certain words. I would feel stupid if I hurled an insult their way only to discover they were slamming someone’s mother-in-law. Granted, I still didn’t know who the hell needed to jump off a building to fit into a pair of pants.

I finished trying on my items and as I left the dressing rooms, I put my discards on the rack outside the door. I chose a new pair of jeans and a great sweater and headed for the check-out line.

As I waited to check out, the French girls suddenly got in the line next me. In the thickest accent ever, one of them said to me, “Pardon, but where did you get your hair cut? It’s adorable. Cherie has been admiring it the whole time we’ve been in the store, but she’s too shy to ask.”

Turns out this is why they were staring at me. Because of my adorable hair cut! Zut alors! Who knew? It really is a good thing I didn’t swear in French at them after all!

Very Adorable Hair

January 27, 2008

Super Dawson

We’ve entered the Super Hero stage and I’m not certain I’m prepared for it.

For several months, Dawson has been running through the house, jumping on bad guys; namely Murphy, our dog, who is the evil “so-so-rear” (sorcerer) from the planet Too Many Legos.

The horrible dragon (Mommy) must be slayed with his magic sword (empty wrapping paper tube). The mean overlord (Daddy) of the Great Blanket Castle (a comforter draped over two kitchen chairs) must be removed from his evil reign.

I’m happy to see that Dawson’s imagination is running wild. He’s brilliantly creating these amazing scenes. I’m not so sure I like being killed fourteen times each day.

“No, Mommy,” he yells. “You have to fall on the floor and die like this!”

I watch and learn as he dramatically drapes himself across the reclining chair and then rolls to the floor.

“Dawson, if I attempt to mimic such stunts, your father will have to call 9-1-1,” I tell him. “Don’t I get a body double for these tricks?”

Then this morning, the demands for a cape began. We were watching the Disney channel and a character named Captain Carlos came on the t.v.

“Mommy, I need to be a Super Dawson,” he said. “And I need a parachute for my back.”

“A parachute?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“You see right there, on Cap’n Cah-wos. He gots a parachute on his back!”

“Oooh. You mean a cape?” I queried.

“Yeah! A cape! A CAPE!!”

“Okay, Bug. I’ll try to find a cape.”

I grabbed an old receiving blanket and tried to tie it around Dawson’s shoulders. Too short. Next, I tried his favorite blanket and it was too long. I chose an old fitted crib sheet and wrapped it around his shoulders, but I had no way to fasten it. The crying began.

I hit the Internets. Thank the heavens for Google, which led me to this Etsy page. For about $45, Panjo will create a handmade, custom Superhero cape for your child and with the many different fabric choices to pick from, how can you go wrong? Your child’s initial will be lovingly sewn on the back, too.

Now I just need to distract the Doodlebug until it arrives. Super Dawson Patience Powers, activate!