Please God, Tell Me It's A Phase

So I can't tell you EXACTLY when it happened, but sometime in the last few weeks, my sweet, loving angel baby daugther has morphed into the 3-year-old Leona Helmsley...sassing, talking back, ordering Hubby and me around like the hired help...and defiant as hell. What in the world?!?

Now...I can endure a lot of things in this world, but what I can't take is my 3-year-old daugther talking to me like I'M the ignorant one in the conversation.

I mean, this has become such a REAL problem in our household lately that we've gotten to a point where Hubby has started insisting that Miss P answer us with "Yes, ma'am" and "No, sir" as a way of reinforcing just who exactly runs the show in the K-mom and Hubby household.

Thankfully, our Sunday school class is doing a study on parenting and several of the chapters and discussions in class have come in pretty handy lately. In fact, on Sunday we were actually talking about children who display a lack of respect for their parents. Divine timing, right?

One of the guys in our class used to be a youth minister and he said, "It never failed. I could tell the kids something and they would take it to heart and trust that I knew what I was talking about. But if their parents tried to tell them the same thing? Forget it. Their parents were clueless...they didn't understand...they didn't know what they were talking about."

And this got me to thinking...WHY is that? Why DO kids go through a phase where they think their parents are stupid?

Shouldn't the fact that we've successfully brought them into this world, provided them with a roof over their head, food to eat and clothes to wear qualify us as people who might know a thing or two about life?

I mentioned this very thing to Hubby in the car on the way home from church and I asked him, "Why do you think it is that kids think their parents are clueless?"

And his response was, "Well, maybe because we ARE?"

Oops. I forgot that part.

Please Pray

I don't know how many of my readers pray to a higher authority, but if you do, would you please pray for my friend and her husband?

She is one of my best friends here in Birmingham and yesterday morning, her husband suffered a mild stroke. Thankfully, he is okay and doesn't appear to have suffered any long-term effects, but for several hours yesterday, he wasn't able to speak.

Now the waiting game begins. The doctors want to know WHY someone so young could have suffered a stroke so they are running a battery of tests on him today.

Please pray for wisdom and guidance for the doctors while they try to get to the bottom of this and please pray that this occurence was just a one-time freak thing and not the symptom of a larger problem.

I am a strong believer in the power of prayer. But even if you're not one to pray, your good thoughts are just as appreciated and effective!

Jennifer Anniston, A Pair of Boots, and Karma

Karma is a funny thing. We are always quick to point out when karma has had it's retribution on someone else, but rarely do we ever recognize it when it kicks us in our own ass. Instead, we're more apt to say, "Why do these things ALWAYS happen to me?!"

I mean, I know I do. But this weekend, I had to face up the fact that karma had just delivered me a big 'ole heapin' helpin' of bitchslap and frankly, I had it coming.

So, awhile back I was watching some movie that starred Jennifer Anniston. The name escapes me right now, but that's not the point. The point is that, in this movie, she was wearing a cute pair of boots and I really, really liked them. So much so, that I embarked on mission to find a similar pair.

I searched this city high and low...went to every shoe store and shoe department I could find and even shopped online. I found several pairs that were similar, but if they were the right color, they didn't have my size. If they had my size, it wasn't the right color. VERY frustrating!!

I was going to put my search on hold and wait until we went to St. Louis for Thanksgiving weekend and pick up my mission there, when a stroke of fate lead me right to my perfect boots.

Miss Priss and I were shopping in Belk on Saturday. It was busy and hectic and had all the earmarks of the Holiday shopping rush. I had several bags in my hand and was trying to keep up with my busy three-year-old. Seriously, I wish I had a dollar for every time I'd said, "No touching!" "Stay where mommy can see you!" "Hold my hand." I could have bought three pairs of these stupid boots, I'm sure.

So anyway, Miss Priss and I had stopped near the shoe department in Belk and I was bending down to tie her shoe when suddenly I looked up and "TA DA!!" There.they.were!!!

A shoe clerk was taking my lovely boots out of a box and was showing them to another lady!

Now, here's where the story gets a little murky. I don't remember every little detail, but I do remember standing up, walking over to the salesman, INTERRUPTING the lady he was already helping and asking him if they had those same boots in MY size.

I KNOW! Totally rude, right? And if you knew me at all, you would be surprised because I'm not a rude person at all. In fact, I'm usually the person that OTHER rude people take advantage of because I look like a patsy. But I have to admit, something came over me in the Belk that day and suddenly, I was a woman on a mission to score me some boots.

So after a slightly dazed and confused salesdude brought me my boots, I went upstairs to buy a dress to go with them, found the perfect one, and proceeded to check out.

In the frenzy of keeping up with Miss Priss, our bags, my boots, etc. I somehow made it out of the store WITHOUT my dress! And the worst part? I didn't even realize it until Sunday night when I couldn't find my dress anywhere. And the receipt?

You guessed it. In the bag. With the dress.

So I have no way to prove that I bought the dress. My only recourse? To dispute the charges with my bank, but Hubby says I shouldn't hold my breath.

I guess this is karma's way of saying, "Enjoy your rude boots, K-mom."

Observations On Going Back To Work

So I've officially been a full-time working mom for two months now. For the most part, I would say it's going...okay. I love my job, think highly of my boss and I'm having a pretty good time, but I think now would be a good time to pause and make a few observations about how things have changed since we became a dual-income family. Here they are in no particular order...

(1) It seems counter-intuitive, but my house actually seems to stay cleaner for longer now, even though I have A LOT less time to devote to housework. I guess it's because our little Dirt Devil now only has about an hour-and-a-half in the morning and about three hours at night to do her worst and even she seems to have realized that it's just not worth the effort anymore.

(2) I find myself shopping for clothes a lot more. When I stayed at home, I had two outfit choices: My GOOD sweats (the kind that matched and when worn with makeup made me look stylishly casual, or at least somewhat presentable) and my BAD sweats (the kind that if someone knocked on my door unexpectedly, I would hide and pretend I wasn't home rather than let someone see me looking like a homeless crack whore.)

Maybe it's shallow, but I like to look cute when I'm working. I feel like if I'm rocking my outfit, I'm rocking my job. PLUS it's a whole lot easier to drag my lazy hiney out of bed at 5:30 in the morning if there is a new outfit waiting for me in my closet.

(3) So it should come as no big surprise to learn that #2 has lead to a lot of "talks" with Hubby about my "alleged" inability to control my spending. Whatever. I can stop anytime. In fact, I WILL stop...starting tomorrow. I have some Belk Bucks that expire today, you see.

(4) And speaking of #3, Hubby has found the fact that I am no longer at his beck and call to be a wee bit frustrating, and has been overheard cussing my decision to go back to work full-time...especially when it's interfered with his schedule and plans.

(5) That is EXCEPT for payday. On payday, I can do NO WRONG in Hubby's eyes...that's when he thinks EVERYTHING I do is awesome and wonderful. So of course, I've figured out that THAT'S the best time to go shopping.

When Is Enough Enough?

Back in the day, when Hubby and I were first engaged, a well meaning acquaintance said to me, "Now just remember, K-mom, the things you love about him today will drive you crazy years from now."

Such sweet advice for an optimistic, blushing bride-to-be, don't you think?

Well, turns out that person wasn't too far off the mark.

You see, one of the things I was most attracted to when I met Hubby was his ambition. I'm an ambitious person and I really didn't see myself married to someone who didn't want the same things from life that I wanted...and frankly, that ambition was most comforting during those years we were living off nothing but Ramen noodles and a dream.

I always knew that if Hubby and I stuck together and kept focused on our goals we would achieve the life we both wanted.

So, here we are.

Two college degrees, two good jobs, a beautiful, healthy and smart little girl, a busy social calendar and a lovely home...more home than I ever thought we'd have, really.

So, here I am thinking we've made it. We're living the dream. I mean, what more could a person possibly want out of life? Wouldn't we be tempting fate to ask for more?

Apparently, Hubby doesn't think so.

I don't know if you know this or not, but Congress recently passed a bill designed to stimulate the housing market in which they have expanded the tax credit to include existing homebuyers who upgrade into a larger, more expensive home...and Hubby is ALL ABOUT IT.

So he said to me the other day, "K-mom, what do you think about Greystone?" (It's a neighborhood on the complete opposite side of town from where we live, for those of you who don't know.)

"I don't think about it," was my response. "I'm happy here."

"Well, I was thinking we might drive out there after church and look around. Next year will be a good time to buy."

"I don't want to buy."

"Wouldn't you consider it? Wouldn't it be nice to, FOR ONCE, live in a house that doesn't need to be renovated from top-to-bottom? I mean, we need to make a decision about this house. If we stay here, we're looking at having to renovate the kitchen and the master bathroom and now that you're working, who's going to manage the contractors?"

"Can't you do it?" I responded.

"I'm out of town all the time."

"Well, you have a point, but two-income families do it all the time. Surely we can manage. I love our house. This is Miss Priss's home...the only home she's ever known. I'm not too hip on the idea of moving."

So Hubby, who honestly knows how to work me like no one else in this world (except maybe my mother) dropped it...until Sunday after church.

"K-mom, do you want to go get lunch and maybe drive around and look at houses for awhile?"

"Yes (because I'll do anything if someone buys me lunch), but I'm telling you...I don't want to buy a new house. So you're wasting your time."

"Okay...I hear you. Let's just enjoy the day."

So, we're driving through Greystone and Hubby's chatting about this, that and the other...how most of his clients and friends live out this way and it would help him with his job to live over here, and how Miss Priss would still be zoned for the high school we want her to go to...blah blah blah...and I'm just sitting there, with my arms folded sending the silent message... "It doesn't matter what you think...I'm dug in. I'm not moving. NOTHING is going to change my mind."

And then we saw it...

The most BEAUTIFUL house I've ever seen. We stopped and picked up the flyer. Oh.My.God. It was as if someone had asked me, "K-mom...what's your idea of the perfect home? And then built it for me and said "HERE, take it."

So now I'm wavering. If we make a decision, it probably won't be until next year, but now I'm left to wonder..."When is enough ever enough?"

Halloween: The Parent's Version

I realize that I am days late in posting these pictures, but it has been a crazy busy week!

Here are Hubby and me in ALL of our Halloween glory. Can you guess what we are?














We're a delegation from the United Nations. Can't you tell?

When Did Halloween Become Stripperween?

Hubby and I are going to a Halloween party on Friday night and we're both really looking forward to it. For weeks now, we've been tossing around costume ideas but haven't been able to agree on anything.

Finally, more out of desperation and lack of time than anything else, we decided to drive over to the Halloween store with a pact that we weren't leaving until we both came out with a costume...ANY COSTUME...in hand. This was a scary proposition because when you wait until the last minute like we did, you're pretty much limited to what's left and what fits.

So we walk into the Halloween store...after church...and with our daughter in tow and start looking at the costume selection. And I was immediately struck by how nearly every single costume for women looked like it was intended to be worn by a stripper or a porn star.

I don't know about you, but I am not a size 4, Double D and the class on working a stripper pole was already full when I tried to register for it in college.

So I ask you, WHEN did Halloween become all about dressing as if you're expecting some skeez to shove $20 down your G-string? Are only the super-sexy people allowed to dress up for Halloween?

What about the rest of us? The suburban moms of the world with muffin tops and stretch marks? Shouldn't there be options for us? Shouldn't we be allowed to enjoy getting dressed up for Halloween without being referred to as "that skank" at the party?

So after about an hour of looking around, I FINALLY found a costume that I thought would be suitable. But, I'm not going to lie to you, people...there's not a whole lot of options in between "Nurse Nips" and the happy cow costume...but seriously don't most of us fall somewhere in between? I was also feeling the pressure of knowing that some of the people who will be at the party are clients and/or colleagues of Hubby so I needed to steer away from anything that would be considered politically incorrect or offensive in any way...so as you might imagine, that narrowed my options EVEN MORE!

So what did I finally decide on?

I guess you'll have to check back next week and see!! :o)

Monster Bash

Our country club is made up mostly of young families with kids so the new president decided we needed to have more family-friendly events and also throw fun, theme parties for the adults and do away with the "old school" dinner-dances. I agreed with this decision 110%. In fact, before the new regime took over, we hardly ever went to club events because they just didn't sound fun enough to spend the money on a babysitter.

This year alone, they've had an Easter egg hunt, a camp-out on the putting green, an outdoor movie and picnic, a 70s party, an 80s party, and for the first time (that we know of) a Halloween party for the kids.

So Hubby and I decided to take Miss Priss and as hoped for, she had a total blast! When we got in the car to go home, Miss Priss said, "That was a good Halloween party!" Like she's an expert on Halloween parties and knows how to spot a good one. LOL!

Anyway, here are some pictures....

Here's Miss Priss getting ready to leave. We ALWAYS hydrate before we party...teach 'em early, teach 'em right. That's our motto.

Havin' a little ice cream sundae before the festivities begin...



The princess and her minions...

Cuttin' the rug with Mommy...




Dancin' with Daddy...

The Gift That Keeps You Living

For my birthday this year, Hubby gave me a Snuggie. Are you familiar with these?

They are the blankets with sleeves built in that you wear backwards? They kind of look like the robes that monks wear? Anyway, I LOVE mine. It's super comfy and it's pink...and I have to say one of the best presents Hubby has ever bought me.

Now I know you're probably sitting there thinking, "Really? One of the BEST presents ever? That's pretty sad."

Yes. Yes it is.

Hubby is a lot of wonderful things in this world...he's honest and respectful, a good provider, a force to be reckoned with at Checkers and a fairly decent singer, but an excellent gift-buyer? He is not.

You're probably also thinking that I've been picking on Hubby a lot lately in my blog posts, but you know, after eleven years of marriage, stuff gets on your nerves. What can I say?

And for me? One of my biggest complaints about Hubby is his below-average gift giving skills.

At first, it was okay. I just chalked it up to the difficulty men suffer when buying gifts for girls they're dating. If I get her something too flashy, she'll think I'm desperate with a propensity for stalking. If I get her something too simple, she'll think I'm cheap. If I get her something funny, she'll be mad because it's not romatic enough. Seriously, guys...I feel your pain. It must be hell being you at the gift-giving holidays.

But after about ten years of receiving gifts along the lines of golf shoes (twice actually, and I don't even play golf), a book light (that I'm pretty sure was a free gift with purchase) and a lap desk with a pillow attached to it...I decided it was time to tell Hubby that he buys crappy gifts.

Unfortunately, my mom was present and she said I was a bit too harsh in my delivery, but seriously folks? That was in response to the lap desk!

A lap desk, people. COME ON!

So I said to Hubby, "Look, from now on when you are confronted with a gift-giving holiday and you haven't heard me tell you straight up that I want a specific thing, you can just get me a gift certificate to the day spa. That way, I'm happy and YOU get to keep on living. It's a win-win."

So for the past couple of years, things have been going swimmingly. Now I get to look forward to a massage or facial approximately four times a year. I LOVE IT!

And then my birthday came and Hubby said he'd gone off the grid and gotten me a present.

Oh no, I thought. I couldn't even begin to think what he'd gotten me. The last thing I need is another LED light keychain. So with a smile of mild trepidation, I opened the box and what I found inside filled me with delight! The SNUGGIE! IN PINK!

I frikkin' LOVE this thing...and have decided that EVERYONE I know is getting a Snuggie this year...including Hubby.

So I said to him last night, "Hubby, you HAVE to get yourself a Snuggie too. That way we can be Snuggie Sisters."

To which he responded with a look that said he'd rather run naked through K-mart on a Saturday than be my, quote, Snuggie Sister. So I pushed on...

"Here, try it on."

"No," he said, "I'd really rather not. I'm glad you like it, but I'm not really a Snuggie kind of a guy."

"How do you know until you try it?" I responded, as I forced one arm through the Snuggie and then the other and then tucked the blanket all along his legs and feet. "There," I said, "What do you think?"

And after a minute or two, his response was, "You know, it's not so bad. I actually kind of like having my arms free. It makes it easier to use the remote."

VICTORY!! And the moral of this story is?

I don't really know what the moral of this story is...I guess if you forced me to come up with one, it would be boys, get your girl a Snuggie and she JUST MIGHT let you live to give another day!

Way to Go Hubby! Sorta.

So since I've gone back to work Hubby has had to step up in a big way and help with the general day-to-day things that keep our house running in a smooth, efficient manner. You know, things like unloading the dishwasher, putting away laundry, taking Miss Priss to school, etc....and to his credit, I must say, he is doing a fabulous job!

Well, fabulous for him.

I would be lying if I didn't tell you that we've hit a few bumps in the road...

Like the other morning, for instance, I had an early breakfast meeting so Hubby said he would get Miss Priss up and off to school. This was a BIG step for Hubby because usually, I'm the one who wakes her up, fixes her breakfast and gets her dressed, and then Hubby does the school run.

So I said to Hubby, "I'll lay her school outfit on her bed so all you have to do is put it on her." And to his credit, Hubby actually seemed offended at my offer of help and said, "K-mom, I'm sure I can get her dressed for school. Don't worry about it. I've got it."

Now, I have to tell you, this filled me with lots of warm, fuzzy love for Hubby and I left the house strutting and smiling and thinking, "Hey, maybe me going back to work right now wasn't such a bad idea after all."

But then I picked Miss Priss up at school.

People, she looked like a sad, little homeless child in a mis-matched outfit and tights that were so big on her that the crotch was hanging down between her knees...and she'd been like that ALL DAY!

Was I embarrassed? Sure. Was I slightly annoyed? You betcha.

But I tried not to be discouraged. So Hubby was going to need a little help with the outfit selections from now on. That's okay. It only takes me a minute to do it, so I'll do it.

Which leads me to Tuesday...

I laid out Miss Priss's outfit onto her bed...a cute little cotton dress from Baby Gap that my mom sent her a few weeks ago. She looks adorable in it and not at all homeless. My only concern was the weather that day seemed iffy and I wasn't sure if she needed to wear tights or go bare-legged and just wear socks with her shoes. I decided to lay the tights and the socks out on the bed and let Hubby make the call. I also didn't bother with laying her underwear out on the bed because I figured underwear is always a given and Hubby knows that.

I was wrong, people. So wrong. So terribly wrong.

That night, I went to pick up Miss Priss from school and get her changed for her ballet class and I found that Hubby had taken her to school wearing not only the socks I'd laid on the bed, but the tights too, and NO underwear.

Really? In what alternate universe would someone think that socks and tights together are NOT overkill and underwear is a take 'em or leave 'em kind of a thing?

AND what in the world must her teacher think? Probably that Hubby and I are a pair of collective idiots who have no business raising this child.

HOWEVER, even with these (~deep breath for patience~) minor little setbacks, I remain, as always, the eternal optimist.

One day soon, my child will make it to school dressed in matching, weather-appropriate clothes and underwear... at least I hope she does before the teachers call CPS on us.