You Tell Me

Is it ironic, or just extremely unfair, that after having gone through the intense torture more commonly referred to as "leg waxing", I have hardly been able to wear anything but pants? Oh summer, where art thou? Get here before my legs return to their former gorilla state!

Gotta Maintain!

Just wonderin'....

If I have, say, two different kinds of pie left over from two separate occasions, would it be wrong to eat both kinds in a single day? Like, if I had one kind after breakfast, then the other kind after lunch.... Oh-- but what about dinner? Could I have a piece after dinner, too? Is that too excessive? I'm just speaking hypothetically here, because of course I watch my diet closer than that! Duh!

But then again.... It takes work to keep these curves nice and full and round. I mean, c'mon, folks, how do you think I maintain all that "junk in my trunk"? Well I'll tell you one thing, it's not from grazing in my veggie garden! And, shoot, since I'm a regular exerciser I find I need a little extra caloric help to prevent skinniness from setting in. After all, the reason I horde all those clothes that are a size too small is not because I actually want to fit into them again someday. No, no. I keep them because they look great in my closet. Fantastic, really.

So, yeah, I think I just answered my own question: I definitely should have some more pie.

An Unwelcome Pattern

As I was reading through my list of quotes (which has been building up for a few weeks) I noticed a sort of theme. My kids have kinda been stinkers lately! (Am I allowed to say that??) I mean, I love 'em to death, but they've definitely been giving me a run for my money. And there's only, like, 1000 days of summer left. Oh my....

1. LM: "Hey, enemy! I have a friend for you to meet!"

(I think the little guy may be on to something there!)

2. Ruby: "Mom, let's measure." (Proceeds to stand back-to-back with me.) "I'm almost as tall as you! Now let's see if I'm as fat." (Proceeds to try and measure her girth against mine. Nice....)

3. Ruby: "Uh, Mom, your teeth are blue! No, wait.... They're yellow."

(Um, either way....)

4. Ruby: "Mom! I seriously think there's something wrong with LM. His poop smells SO bad!"

LM: (from the bathroom) "For Pete's sake, Ruby! A man's poop is supposed to smell bad!"

(Count that as one of my new all-time favorite quotes!)

5. Kids' Song: "...she puts TLC in every pie!"

LM: "Mom, is TLC good for you?"

6. Me: (addressing the fact that my children have been at each other's throats lately) "Guys! Remember, we're supposed to build each other up, not tear each other down."

Kids: (still arguing, but apparently listening).

LM: "Mom! Ruby's tearing me down!"

7. Ruby: "LM, show me your angry eyebrows."

LM: (scrunches up his eyebrows into a great mad face.)

Ruby: "Wow! Pretty good!"

LM: "Yeah, they're my best angry eyebrows yet!"

(I am so glad he's practicing this valuable skill.)

8. Ruby: "Mom! LM said he hated me-- and now he's trying to 'cute' out of it!"

9. Me: "LM, have you brushed your teeth yet?"

LM: "No, but I'm really close to doing it."

10. Me (in a public place): "LM, it's time to go!"

LM: (ignoring me as only he knows how).

Me: "LM, I need you to obey right now, please."

LM: (trying a new tactic) "Mom, if you don't let me play with these toys, I'll cry and everyone will look!"

(Wow. Rest assured I won that battle, but it wasn't pretty.)

11. LM: (looking at the woman in the car next to us) "Whoa-- she's hot!"

(The lady, by the way, was a fifty-ish woman with chin-length gray hair. Cougar-city!)

12. LM: (talking about what he said to a friend after watching her break a toy) "I was like, 'What in the heck-- are you insane?'"

Yeah, it's true I cringe rather than giggle at many of those, but I'm hoping that the rest of you can find some amusement amidst my pain. That's right, yuck it up! After all, most of you have either been at this stage already, or will be arriving very soon. Then it will be my turn to laugh! Wahhahhahhhaaaahahaaaa!

Waxing: A Spiritual Journey

It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. And not the good kind of tears. I mean the kind of tears you get when you stub your toe really hard on the door jamb.

Hubby thought he would treat me to a day of "pampering" in honor of Mother's Day. He acquired some gift certificates at an auction for next to nothing, not knowing exactly what they were for. He just knew they were for "girl stuff". Well, in reality, they were for waxing and reflexology. One word: ouch.

I decided to just go with it and have a full leg wax done (hey, summer's coming!). Now, this just shows how naive I am about the ways of the world. You see, the extent of my previous waxing experience has been limited to my eyebrows. Eyebrows.... A thin two-inch strip of hair. Piece of cake! My thick stumps, however, have approximately 50 square feet of surface area covered with hair that must be torn out by the roots. Why did I think that was a good idea?

As the gal started spreading the warm wax on a large strip of my lower leg, we began chatting amiably-- just like old friends. Yakity yak yak yak yak! Oh, isn't this fun-- just us girls? Then she placed a strip of muslin over the waxed area, and I was like a lamb being led to slaughter. Blah blah blah blah blah RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! I immediately stopped talking as unbidden tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't utter a cry (I have my pride!) but inside my head I was screaming. I think perhaps a profane word or two may have crossed my mind in that moment-- forgive me! I quickly assessed the situation. Can I go on? She has another 49 square feet to go! Will I make it?? But before I could even finish my thought, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Take me now, Lord! Jesus, please! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Father God, I know I'm a sinner! I'm asking for forgiveness right now! Have mercy on me! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Lord, I am prepared to offer you double the amount of Bible reading and prayer in exchange for rescue! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Triple! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Oh. My. Gosh. I. Am. Going. To. DIE! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!

An hour later, when it was all over, I lay there like a limp rag doll feeling utterly abused and violated. But, hey, I had legs as smooth as a baby's bottom! (Albeit quite red and irritated from all that misuse.) But I recovered enough to remember to thank the girl. (Thank her for...what? Her supreme skill in torture? Is torture a tip-able service? Why yes, indeed it is.)

Shake it off, girl! Reflexology is next! Ahhhhh-- a foot massage! Oh, naivety, how long will you afflict me? Reflexology has more to do with therapy than it does massage, I found out. It would be like if you sauntered over to the Chiropractor for an indulgent afternoon of vertebrae alignment. Not exactly a relaxing way to pamper yourself. (Or, who knows, maybe some of you actually look forward to getting your necks snapped gangster style?) By the end of it I was dizzy and out of breath-- from a lack of normal inhale/exhale action. But reflexology is also a tip-able service. So I coughed up more of my hard-earned cash and teetered out with a whimpered "thank you" on my lips. I am SO glad I wasn't busted for drunk driving on the way home.

Hubby came through the door after work smiling. "How was it?" he asked, wanting to hear all about my, er...fun day. My mind raced back through the last few excruciating hours of my life. "Awesome! Thank you so much, babe. You're the best!" Just lead me to the Tylenol and let me crash on the couch-- this girl is all pampered-out.

And God, whatever I did, I am SO sorry!

Anyone Else?

Sometimes I like to just throw a thought or two out there to make sure I'm not alone in this adventure called "parenthood". So, I'm just wondering....

Do any of you parents of boys find that when their pants come off, er...how do I put this delicately? The, um, "apparatus" instantly becomes a weapon of mass destruction? And I'm not talking about when the little guys were babies and tried to hose you down every time you changed their diaper. I mean when, say, they're getting dressed in the morning and they're in that "in between" stage (aka "naked") and suddenly you find yourself getting shot at by their...uh...gun. And it's a very versatile weapon, I've found-- able to shoot anything from lasers to bullets. But what I want to know is; at what point in a boy's life does this unique part cease being a toy? Never? I thought so....

Okay, one more. Am I the only parent (I already know the answer to this, being just one in a large family of "inappropriate laughers"-- but I still want to throw this out to the general population) who, hypothetically speaking of course, finds the thought of her daughter fainting in a nursing home due to the unpleasant smell absolutely hilarious? Alright, obviously this is not a hypothetical situation (but it was a run-on sentence). Ruby actually did faint in just such a manner. Her teacher called to try and ease the news to me in calming tones.

Teacher: "Nona, I don't want you to worry because she's fine, but Ruby had a little accident today. She fainted at the nursing home-- but I caught her! She's okay!"

Me: "Really?! Hahhahahhhahahhahhahhahhahhaaaaaaahhhhaaaaahahaaaaahahhaa!"

Fainting is funny. And I can't be the only one who thinks so or they wouldn't dedicate entire segments to it on America's Funniest Home Videos. (Dang, I may have missed a money-making moment there! But I did not miss the chance at alliteration.)

So...anyone else?