It's been a while since I posted about our Bad Dog Shade. He's fourteen years old and he really needs to die already. I know, those of you who love your pets as if they were a child (and that would be those of you who don't have children, because I'm here to tell you, there is NO comparison! Dogs are not people!!!!), will think I'm a terrible pet owner. Disclaimer: He's not my pet. He came with the marriage and I would never have kept a pet like this pet. If you can even call him a pet. See, for me, a pet conjures up images of a loyal companion who loves you unconditionally and follows you around with undying devotion. Shade is not a pet. He's an animal who spends most of his time finding ways to irritate humans. He barks, he steals food, he eats wrappers, he drinks from the toilet, he pees on the floor, he drops little round turds from his ass end at random moments. This dog is a nightmare.
Recently, my husband built a nice fence around the dog potty area so they would stop littering our deck with poop. We had not been able to enjoy sitting outside on our own deck because it was covered in poop (with three dogs it's a poop minefield in about three hours). So, Jeff cleaned everything up, did some pretty landscaping, re-stained the deck, and put out some lounge chairs. Meanwhile, the dogs had their own space to do their business.
But. Shade apparently thinks this is his domain. When he's out there, he barks at the other dogs for drinking water, for sitting where he doesn't want them to, for everything. The dogs just BARKS. Non-stop. And for no apparent reason. It's an annoying, consistent bark and he never shuts up. No amount of yelling or discipline will make him stop. What does make him stop is spraying him with the hose. But only as long as he's being sprayed. Once you stop, he goes right back to barking. Eventually I have to bring him in the house because I feel bad for annoying the neighbors.
Once inside, though, he is so bad, he can't be left alone for even a second. So, into the kennel he goes. Basically he's now spending his days either in the dog run or the kennel and spending very little time in the house because of all the damage he's done. What kind of existence is that for a dog? We tried increasing his walks, but he poops as he walks, making that a very messy and time-consuming job, and not very pleasant for the dog OR the walker.
What to do? Everyone talks about "quality of life" for dogs and the "right" time to "put them down". When is that, exactly? Shade, in my opinion, adds NOTHING to our lives but aggravation. I mean, I'm kind to him, I take care of him, I TRY to make his life pleasant and give him attention. But he just seems miserable. He's been to countless vet appointments where he's pronounced healthy. So, why does he bark, whine and generally seem miserable every minute of the day? I feel badly for wishing the dog would just go to that big doggy house in the sky, but he's just 75 lbs of misery. Why can't he just be HAPPY? He's a dog, for cryin' out loud.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Words of wisdom.......
For my children, and for anyone.......some words of wisdom...........
1. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all. This means don't waste your time or energy spewing negative comments about others. No one wants or needs to hear it. And it really does nothing but cause pain.
2. Kill 'em with kindness. If someone is treating you badly, don't stoop to their level and dish it right back. Be kind. Be nice. And they won't know what to do with themselves. It may not change things, but you'll know you were the best you could be.
3. If all your relationships seem to be falling apart or bringing you down, look for the common denominator. It's you.
4. The only thing you have the power to change is yourself and your attitude about things. If you don't like something you can either walk away from it, or change your attitude about it.
5. Your family, no matter how weird, dysfunctional or odd, is the only one you've got. You don't have to like them all the time but you do have to accept them, and their role in your life.
6. We always hurt the ones we love the most. Why? Because they are the most likely to forgive us. And...because we can. Try not to do this. You can't take back hurts.
7. Remember that just one word uttered in anger or at the wrong time can change things forever. Think before you speak.
8. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. It's ok to say "I'm scared" or "I need help" or "I changed my mind".
9. Never underestimate the power of "I'm sorry". But don't put yourself in a situation where you have to say it too often.
10. Be careful with the words "you always" or "you never". Chances are neither are accurate.
11. Remember that everywhere you've been, everything you have and all you'll ever be was shaped and molded by many people. Appreciate that without them, you could never be where you are now. Don't take this for granted.
12. No matter what your age, remember that the world does NOT revolve around you. There will always be someone more needy, more in pain, smarter, prettier, better than you. You are good enough, but you share the world with a lot of other people and you will not always be first.
13.Be nice. Such a simple phrase, but really the most important thing you can do, every day, to ensure you are treated well and that you treat others well.
14. Life is not fair. It just isn't. Deal with it. There's no other way.
15. Optimism is your friend. Stay positive, accept changes and bumps in the road, and be flexible.
Ok? Ok.
1. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all. This means don't waste your time or energy spewing negative comments about others. No one wants or needs to hear it. And it really does nothing but cause pain.
2. Kill 'em with kindness. If someone is treating you badly, don't stoop to their level and dish it right back. Be kind. Be nice. And they won't know what to do with themselves. It may not change things, but you'll know you were the best you could be.
3. If all your relationships seem to be falling apart or bringing you down, look for the common denominator. It's you.
4. The only thing you have the power to change is yourself and your attitude about things. If you don't like something you can either walk away from it, or change your attitude about it.
5. Your family, no matter how weird, dysfunctional or odd, is the only one you've got. You don't have to like them all the time but you do have to accept them, and their role in your life.
6. We always hurt the ones we love the most. Why? Because they are the most likely to forgive us. And...because we can. Try not to do this. You can't take back hurts.
7. Remember that just one word uttered in anger or at the wrong time can change things forever. Think before you speak.
8. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. It's ok to say "I'm scared" or "I need help" or "I changed my mind".
9. Never underestimate the power of "I'm sorry". But don't put yourself in a situation where you have to say it too often.
10. Be careful with the words "you always" or "you never". Chances are neither are accurate.
11. Remember that everywhere you've been, everything you have and all you'll ever be was shaped and molded by many people. Appreciate that without them, you could never be where you are now. Don't take this for granted.
12. No matter what your age, remember that the world does NOT revolve around you. There will always be someone more needy, more in pain, smarter, prettier, better than you. You are good enough, but you share the world with a lot of other people and you will not always be first.
13.Be nice. Such a simple phrase, but really the most important thing you can do, every day, to ensure you are treated well and that you treat others well.
14. Life is not fair. It just isn't. Deal with it. There's no other way.
15. Optimism is your friend. Stay positive, accept changes and bumps in the road, and be flexible.
Ok? Ok.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Things they are a'changin'............
Today, for some reason, I was driving along, thinking of making smoothies for my kids for breakfast. Not today. No, I was thinking about the school year and how I could get them to eat something nutritious before school and I thought of smoothies. And then I realized that they are teenagers and no teen in their right mind ever wants to eat ANYTHING before school, and besides, was I really going to get up every day and make them smoothies when I could be sleeping? No freakin' way! See, at times I do fantasize about being a perfect mother but I embrace mediocrity at all costs.............
Anyway. It suddenly occurred to me, with one of those gripping "Holy Shit!" moments that, even if I were to embrace the good mommy fantasy and actually make my children a smoothie for breakfast, I will not be making ANY type of breakfast for my eldest child. Because she will be going away to college! And furthermore, she won't be here for dinner either! Waahhhh!!! I mean, it's not like I didn't know this. I've known for a good, long, time that she's headed off to college in a few short weeks. But, like all parenting moments, occasionally you clutch your gut in pain from the imaginary blow that is the realization that you actually have to let your kids GO.
I remember saying to a friend once that sending my baby to first grade was like "feeding her to the lions". Just throwing her to the unknown, the big, bad world, to face people from all walks of life....how could I DO that? But I did. When my son, my youngest, was in preschool, he cried every single day. I left the preschool crying at times, once I even had a mini panic attack, and wanted to rush back, collect him from the evil world of Legos and rice tables, and hide both of us under a blanket at home. Like I said, I panicked. But I didn't go collect him. I let him work it out. Just like every other situation my kids have faced.
Last night my 13 year old came home from cheer practice bruised and battered from being dropped too many times. You see, she's a "flyer" which means she's the tiny girl who gets tossed in the air and (hopefully) caught by her teammates. But they dropped her. Over and over. So, she came home with a bruised tailbone, ribs and wrists and was in a state of highly charged anxiety over the whole thing. Of course, my first thought was to pull her out of this obviously dangerous and crazy sport and hide her under a blanket at home. But instead, she texted her coach with her concerns and things started to look up. What maturity! What grace! And I didn't even have to go all "mommy" on anyone.
Today my eldest is at work for a ten hour shift and she's sick. She feels horrible, nauseated and just plain worn out. She called me and texted me several times, but the thing is, this isn't high school. I can't write her a note or go pick up her from the nurse's office. She has to deal with it on her own. I offered to bring over some Tums, and suggested she eat something, but in the end, it's really between her and the boss whether she gets to take a "sick day" or not. Of course I wanted to bring her home and tuck her into bed and feed her chicken noodle soup. But.....that's not my job any more. Well, it IS. Just not all the time.
Last night we had a discussion, my college-bound daughter and I. She said her boss could keep her on staff and when she returned home on weekends or for school breaks, she could pick up a few shifts here and there. I said "OR....you could just stay home and earn the same degree from your college's branch campus which is right down the road" to which she replied "No, mommy, it's time to let me spread my wings and fly". To which I replied "It's much cheaper to clip them!" Sigh. She's right. So am I.
Anyway. It suddenly occurred to me, with one of those gripping "Holy Shit!" moments that, even if I were to embrace the good mommy fantasy and actually make my children a smoothie for breakfast, I will not be making ANY type of breakfast for my eldest child. Because she will be going away to college! And furthermore, she won't be here for dinner either! Waahhhh!!! I mean, it's not like I didn't know this. I've known for a good, long, time that she's headed off to college in a few short weeks. But, like all parenting moments, occasionally you clutch your gut in pain from the imaginary blow that is the realization that you actually have to let your kids GO.
I remember saying to a friend once that sending my baby to first grade was like "feeding her to the lions". Just throwing her to the unknown, the big, bad world, to face people from all walks of life....how could I DO that? But I did. When my son, my youngest, was in preschool, he cried every single day. I left the preschool crying at times, once I even had a mini panic attack, and wanted to rush back, collect him from the evil world of Legos and rice tables, and hide both of us under a blanket at home. Like I said, I panicked. But I didn't go collect him. I let him work it out. Just like every other situation my kids have faced.
Last night my 13 year old came home from cheer practice bruised and battered from being dropped too many times. You see, she's a "flyer" which means she's the tiny girl who gets tossed in the air and (hopefully) caught by her teammates. But they dropped her. Over and over. So, she came home with a bruised tailbone, ribs and wrists and was in a state of highly charged anxiety over the whole thing. Of course, my first thought was to pull her out of this obviously dangerous and crazy sport and hide her under a blanket at home. But instead, she texted her coach with her concerns and things started to look up. What maturity! What grace! And I didn't even have to go all "mommy" on anyone.
Today my eldest is at work for a ten hour shift and she's sick. She feels horrible, nauseated and just plain worn out. She called me and texted me several times, but the thing is, this isn't high school. I can't write her a note or go pick up her from the nurse's office. She has to deal with it on her own. I offered to bring over some Tums, and suggested she eat something, but in the end, it's really between her and the boss whether she gets to take a "sick day" or not. Of course I wanted to bring her home and tuck her into bed and feed her chicken noodle soup. But.....that's not my job any more. Well, it IS. Just not all the time.
Last night we had a discussion, my college-bound daughter and I. She said her boss could keep her on staff and when she returned home on weekends or for school breaks, she could pick up a few shifts here and there. I said "OR....you could just stay home and earn the same degree from your college's branch campus which is right down the road" to which she replied "No, mommy, it's time to let me spread my wings and fly". To which I replied "It's much cheaper to clip them!" Sigh. She's right. So am I.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Ra-dick-a-lus!
Today was really long. I mean, technically, it had the same number of hours and minutes as any other day (funny how that works) but there was just a lot packed into this day that made it stretch like silly putty.
It started out with me delaying and delaying getting a shower until the last minute because I had to take Hannah to camp. But I knew I was coming home after, so I skipped makeup. And face lotion. Which always makes my face feel weird. Don't you hate that? Anyway. I dropped her off and then went to satisfy my insatiable craving for an iced mocha and a delectable little treat, aptly named "muffin top". No, seriously! This little espresso stand near my house sells muffin tops. Not the doughy white abdominal fat that squishes out of a tube top on a fat chick! No....a "real" muffin top, ergo, the top of the muffin which, as everyone knows, is the best part. But of course, this is one supersized muffin top, guaranteed to pack on the pounds so you, too, can sport your own modern version of the "spare tire". Mmm......the chocolate chip one is divine!
So, I enjoyed my muffin top and coffee while accomplishing "a lot of stuff" on the computer, which loosely translates to: I finally filled out some forms and checks and stuff and called a few places and got that stupid college loan thing figured out. Before I knew it, it was time to head up to my attorney's office.
Now. The thing about attorneys is that they're so intimidating. I mean, really, they are worse than cops in the "I'm way more important than you" department (apologies to nice attorneys, if there are any). I would rather poke a hot fork in my eye than meet with an attorney ANY time, but alas, it appears that my ex has created a bit of a stink over helping pay for our daughter's college education (I know, WHY would anyone want to do that?). So, off I went. And do you know....that guy was SO rude. He actually texted and typed on his computer (no doubt on Facebook!) the entire time and never even made eye contact with me. Also, he didn't give me very good advice. I mean, I'm not belittling his bar exam and all, but I could have figured that out myself. I really hope he doesn't charge me for the fifteen minutes I spent watching him check his Blackberry.
So, I hit the road back home (and did I mention my attorney's office is about 30 minutes away on a good traffic day so what a total waste of gas?). I called my husband to vent about the meeting and the general state of things and he mentioned that he needed some cash for a fishing trip he was taking that evening with a work buddy. Gas money and all. So, I stopped at the ATM and did a quick withdrawal. Then, I went home.
When I got home, precisely at 2 p.m. which I had told my kids about a hundred times was the time we'd be leaving, I found them not ready (again!) and realized the dogs had not been let out. So, I yelled a little bit and sent my husband an irate text (to vent, again, sorry Jeff!). Then I sent one of them back in to let the dog pee and the other one back in to put the cash I got from the ATM for my husband on THE BATHROOM COUNTER (remember that, it's important later). Off we went. I had a doctor's appointment because my back has been killing me for ten days, but of course, on the day of the appointment, I woke up feeling much better. Still, I had the appointment, might as well check it out. So, I gave the kids $20 and sent them to the local burger joint to eat lunch while I did the boring doctor thing.
Did I mention I was really hungry at this point? You know, because that muffin top was wearing off (the pastry not my stomach, much to my dismay). But I figured I'd be an hour, tops, and then I could grab a snack. Hm. Why do I EVER think a doctor's appointment will be just an hour? I actually arrived at 2:20 which was ten minutes before my appointment. I was checked in and ready five minutes before my appointment. And I waited. And waited. And was finally called into an exam room where a medical assistant took my vitals and asked me a bunch of questions. And she left. And I waited. And waited. And finally the doctor came in and had me do a bunch of stretches and movements to prove that my back really did hurt, and then decided I should get an x-ray. Oh, but first they had me pee in a cup to rule out kidney infection AND pregnancy. HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
At this point, I was SO HUNGRY that I thought about eating the emergency protein bar I keep in my purse for just such emergencies, but the truth is, when it really comes down to it, that protein bar seems so ICKY that I can never bring myself to eat it. I'd rather gnaw on my arm. But I did text the kids to see what they were up to, and found out they were near a donut shop. I told them how hungry I was and they asked if I wanted them to go back to the burger joint for a bacon burger. Oh my goodness, yes! But, alas, they only had $4. So, I told them to hightail it back to the donut shop and get me a donut and some milk, STAT! At this point, I was waiting for my x-ray. My blessed saviors arrived with my donut and milk and I realized we only had fifteen minutes before they needed to be at camp. So, I left. I hightailed it out to my car and dropped the kids off at camp and headed back to the doctor's office. And do you know that I was still in the queue for my x-ray? It was like I was never gone!
After finally getting my x-rays, I headed back up to my exam room with my films. And waited. And waited. And finally the doctor came in and ushered me out to the lightbox in the hallway to show me and everyone who walked by my lovely spine, which is quite curvy and has some compressed disks. But nothing too serious. So, I got a prescription for muscle relaxants and physical therapy. Neither of which I will probably even take advantage of, because, like I said, the miracle of paying my $15 copay had miraculously cured me.
So, I went back to pick up the kids and headed straight for cheer practice (not for me, silly, can you imagine?). Dropped off the cheerleader and drove home. I had about twenty minutes of checking in with the kids, and the TV was on and it was a show about making wedding cakes so I had to get out my wedding album to show the kids my most wonderful, best ever wedding cake. But I could not find my wedding album. Well, actually I COULD find the album from my FIRST wedding, but not my most recent and BEST wedding. So, first I showed them my first wedding cake, which was pretty traditional and not at all interesting, and then I finally found my BEST wedding album and showed them my most delicious, tiered wedding cake with tuxedo strawberries all over it. It was really the best cake ever. EVER! And Hannah mentioned that she never got to taste my wedding cake and I thought that was just a tragedy so I need to go to Spokane and visit Just American Desserts and have another wedding cake made.
Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. After that, my friend picked me up and we went to dinner at Blazing Onion. And boy howdy, was I ever hungry, seeing as all I'd had to eat was sugar (I wonder if that's why I was talking so fast?). So, I got a big, huge, California bacon burger and sweet potato fries and an Olympic Sunset which was a delightfully fruity beverage just perfect for capping off a busy day. Then, we went to see "The Help" which was a wonderful movie and a bit of a tearjerker, but please don't see it until you read the book because it's just that good. The book, I mean. And I had Reese's Pieces at the movies and now I feel as though I might explode.
And then I came home and my husband had cleaned fish and the kitchen smelled faintly of fish guts and he complained about a noise coming from his truck and then grumbled about not being able to find a video camera but all I heard was "blah, blah, blah". And then he said "Hey, I just found this $40 on my desk". Which was the money I sent the child to put on the bathroom counter. Remember? Bathroom counter/desk. Yep, they sound pretty much the same.
At 11 p.m. I heard my 13 year old come in the door from an outing with the neighbors and ask if she could have a sleepover. Sleep over what? It was already practically the next day!
Oh look, it's already the next day! And I hear my children up and doors closing and kitchen sounds which usually means someone's making a mess. Or maybe that's the boyfriend leaving. I don't know. And so, I will officially close this very long, and very busy day and try to get some sleep. How was your day?
It started out with me delaying and delaying getting a shower until the last minute because I had to take Hannah to camp. But I knew I was coming home after, so I skipped makeup. And face lotion. Which always makes my face feel weird. Don't you hate that? Anyway. I dropped her off and then went to satisfy my insatiable craving for an iced mocha and a delectable little treat, aptly named "muffin top". No, seriously! This little espresso stand near my house sells muffin tops. Not the doughy white abdominal fat that squishes out of a tube top on a fat chick! No....a "real" muffin top, ergo, the top of the muffin which, as everyone knows, is the best part. But of course, this is one supersized muffin top, guaranteed to pack on the pounds so you, too, can sport your own modern version of the "spare tire". Mmm......the chocolate chip one is divine!
So, I enjoyed my muffin top and coffee while accomplishing "a lot of stuff" on the computer, which loosely translates to: I finally filled out some forms and checks and stuff and called a few places and got that stupid college loan thing figured out. Before I knew it, it was time to head up to my attorney's office.
Now. The thing about attorneys is that they're so intimidating. I mean, really, they are worse than cops in the "I'm way more important than you" department (apologies to nice attorneys, if there are any). I would rather poke a hot fork in my eye than meet with an attorney ANY time, but alas, it appears that my ex has created a bit of a stink over helping pay for our daughter's college education (I know, WHY would anyone want to do that?). So, off I went. And do you know....that guy was SO rude. He actually texted and typed on his computer (no doubt on Facebook!) the entire time and never even made eye contact with me. Also, he didn't give me very good advice. I mean, I'm not belittling his bar exam and all, but I could have figured that out myself. I really hope he doesn't charge me for the fifteen minutes I spent watching him check his Blackberry.
So, I hit the road back home (and did I mention my attorney's office is about 30 minutes away on a good traffic day so what a total waste of gas?). I called my husband to vent about the meeting and the general state of things and he mentioned that he needed some cash for a fishing trip he was taking that evening with a work buddy. Gas money and all. So, I stopped at the ATM and did a quick withdrawal. Then, I went home.
When I got home, precisely at 2 p.m. which I had told my kids about a hundred times was the time we'd be leaving, I found them not ready (again!) and realized the dogs had not been let out. So, I yelled a little bit and sent my husband an irate text (to vent, again, sorry Jeff!). Then I sent one of them back in to let the dog pee and the other one back in to put the cash I got from the ATM for my husband on THE BATHROOM COUNTER (remember that, it's important later). Off we went. I had a doctor's appointment because my back has been killing me for ten days, but of course, on the day of the appointment, I woke up feeling much better. Still, I had the appointment, might as well check it out. So, I gave the kids $20 and sent them to the local burger joint to eat lunch while I did the boring doctor thing.
Did I mention I was really hungry at this point? You know, because that muffin top was wearing off (the pastry not my stomach, much to my dismay). But I figured I'd be an hour, tops, and then I could grab a snack. Hm. Why do I EVER think a doctor's appointment will be just an hour? I actually arrived at 2:20 which was ten minutes before my appointment. I was checked in and ready five minutes before my appointment. And I waited. And waited. And was finally called into an exam room where a medical assistant took my vitals and asked me a bunch of questions. And she left. And I waited. And waited. And finally the doctor came in and had me do a bunch of stretches and movements to prove that my back really did hurt, and then decided I should get an x-ray. Oh, but first they had me pee in a cup to rule out kidney infection AND pregnancy. HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
At this point, I was SO HUNGRY that I thought about eating the emergency protein bar I keep in my purse for just such emergencies, but the truth is, when it really comes down to it, that protein bar seems so ICKY that I can never bring myself to eat it. I'd rather gnaw on my arm. But I did text the kids to see what they were up to, and found out they were near a donut shop. I told them how hungry I was and they asked if I wanted them to go back to the burger joint for a bacon burger. Oh my goodness, yes! But, alas, they only had $4. So, I told them to hightail it back to the donut shop and get me a donut and some milk, STAT! At this point, I was waiting for my x-ray. My blessed saviors arrived with my donut and milk and I realized we only had fifteen minutes before they needed to be at camp. So, I left. I hightailed it out to my car and dropped the kids off at camp and headed back to the doctor's office. And do you know that I was still in the queue for my x-ray? It was like I was never gone!
After finally getting my x-rays, I headed back up to my exam room with my films. And waited. And waited. And finally the doctor came in and ushered me out to the lightbox in the hallway to show me and everyone who walked by my lovely spine, which is quite curvy and has some compressed disks. But nothing too serious. So, I got a prescription for muscle relaxants and physical therapy. Neither of which I will probably even take advantage of, because, like I said, the miracle of paying my $15 copay had miraculously cured me.
So, I went back to pick up the kids and headed straight for cheer practice (not for me, silly, can you imagine?). Dropped off the cheerleader and drove home. I had about twenty minutes of checking in with the kids, and the TV was on and it was a show about making wedding cakes so I had to get out my wedding album to show the kids my most wonderful, best ever wedding cake. But I could not find my wedding album. Well, actually I COULD find the album from my FIRST wedding, but not my most recent and BEST wedding. So, first I showed them my first wedding cake, which was pretty traditional and not at all interesting, and then I finally found my BEST wedding album and showed them my most delicious, tiered wedding cake with tuxedo strawberries all over it. It was really the best cake ever. EVER! And Hannah mentioned that she never got to taste my wedding cake and I thought that was just a tragedy so I need to go to Spokane and visit Just American Desserts and have another wedding cake made.
Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. After that, my friend picked me up and we went to dinner at Blazing Onion. And boy howdy, was I ever hungry, seeing as all I'd had to eat was sugar (I wonder if that's why I was talking so fast?). So, I got a big, huge, California bacon burger and sweet potato fries and an Olympic Sunset which was a delightfully fruity beverage just perfect for capping off a busy day. Then, we went to see "The Help" which was a wonderful movie and a bit of a tearjerker, but please don't see it until you read the book because it's just that good. The book, I mean. And I had Reese's Pieces at the movies and now I feel as though I might explode.
And then I came home and my husband had cleaned fish and the kitchen smelled faintly of fish guts and he complained about a noise coming from his truck and then grumbled about not being able to find a video camera but all I heard was "blah, blah, blah". And then he said "Hey, I just found this $40 on my desk". Which was the money I sent the child to put on the bathroom counter. Remember? Bathroom counter/desk. Yep, they sound pretty much the same.
At 11 p.m. I heard my 13 year old come in the door from an outing with the neighbors and ask if she could have a sleepover. Sleep over what? It was already practically the next day!
Oh look, it's already the next day! And I hear my children up and doors closing and kitchen sounds which usually means someone's making a mess. Or maybe that's the boyfriend leaving. I don't know. And so, I will officially close this very long, and very busy day and try to get some sleep. How was your day?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Bad mommy goes to college..........
Actually, I'm not going to college. So, why do I have a headache after spending an hour or so filling out an online application form to pay for my oldest daughter's college education? I'm certain I should have done this a very long time ago, and perhaps then I would not be running into trouble whilst the site says to me "your name does not exactly match the name on your master promissory note". Which it DOES, indeed. Because, I KNOW MY NAME! And guess what? I went to college. Earned a degree and everything. So, I do not appreciate being dragged back into the red tape that is "paying for college" and getting a headache in the process.
A good mommy would have done all of this by now. A good mommy would know exactly how much their eldest child's education was going to cost, and have a large stockpile of money to cover that cost. But, alas, bad mommy strikes again and I do not have such funds, nor the brain capacity to comprehend everything that is "going to college" these days.
For one thing......I had a very different college experience than my daughter is going to have. I went to community college, then a university, and paid for most of it along the way, getting loans the last year. Actually, my parents got a loan on my behalf, and ten years after I graduated, I found out my dad was still paying $101.50 a month. TEN YEARS!!! I said, "Dad, really...." and took the payment book (haha how much does that date me? Remember payment books? And coupons you tore out once a month to send in with your payment). I paid off the loan in short order, because, by that time, I was an adult. And had children! For goodness sake.
But how else to pay for college? Unless you're lucky enough to have a trust fund or rich grandparents, or both, I don't know anyone who can afford to outright pay for college. So, we get loans. Or we try to, until the stupid computer system tells us we don't know our own name. Which we DO!
So, not only do I have NO clue how much college is going to cost (except we did get this one letter, which I just found tonight on my daughter's bedroom floor, that contained some numbers which I'm pretty sure are important), but I don't feel like I'm ready at ALL to send her off to college.
I'm not talking about "oh, she's so grown up" and "I'm going to miss her", although I most certainly will. I'm talking about the fact that I've bought her bedding but not books, towels but not tape, storage containers but not scissors. Every day I think of things she will need. Like bandaids and cough medicine. And a stapler. Important stuff!
School starts for the other kids in less than three weeks and I have not purchased so much as a ream of college-ruled paper. No supplies, no clothing, no new shoes. I guess it's my way of rebelling against the LAME summer we've had. It's just now getting nice out on a consistent basis and the kids are up the their eyeballs in camps until school starts. So much for all those beach and park trips I envisioned. So, I say screw school shopping. We have a couple of weeks left.
But this college thing.......it's not going away! At some point, they are going to REQUIRE me to pay them a large sum of money that I do not have. And so, I will have to quickly conjure up an alternative source. I gave it a gallant attempt tonight, but, honestly, it might be easier to sell one of my offspring, or pawn my old wedding ring to pay for the books, the tuition, the room and board. Holy COW is that stuff expensive! We're talking premium rent for a tiny, stuffy room and a few squares a day.
So, I continue on in my fog of uncertainty. I stare in confusion at those parents who have it all figured out. Those parents who spent a ton of money on SAT prep courses, college visits across several time zones, a $175 an hour college "consultant", those parents who actually went to the orientation. I meant to go, I really did, but we had a trip scheduled and I didn't find out about the conflict until it was too late. So, I missed out on what was apparently the meaning of life and the location of the holy grail by not attending the orientation. All I got was a logo bag filled with more paperwork that filled my brain with too much information.
But, boy, it's a good thing I got MY college degree! It made me so smart..............
A good mommy would have done all of this by now. A good mommy would know exactly how much their eldest child's education was going to cost, and have a large stockpile of money to cover that cost. But, alas, bad mommy strikes again and I do not have such funds, nor the brain capacity to comprehend everything that is "going to college" these days.
For one thing......I had a very different college experience than my daughter is going to have. I went to community college, then a university, and paid for most of it along the way, getting loans the last year. Actually, my parents got a loan on my behalf, and ten years after I graduated, I found out my dad was still paying $101.50 a month. TEN YEARS!!! I said, "Dad, really...." and took the payment book (haha how much does that date me? Remember payment books? And coupons you tore out once a month to send in with your payment). I paid off the loan in short order, because, by that time, I was an adult. And had children! For goodness sake.
But how else to pay for college? Unless you're lucky enough to have a trust fund or rich grandparents, or both, I don't know anyone who can afford to outright pay for college. So, we get loans. Or we try to, until the stupid computer system tells us we don't know our own name. Which we DO!
So, not only do I have NO clue how much college is going to cost (except we did get this one letter, which I just found tonight on my daughter's bedroom floor, that contained some numbers which I'm pretty sure are important), but I don't feel like I'm ready at ALL to send her off to college.
I'm not talking about "oh, she's so grown up" and "I'm going to miss her", although I most certainly will. I'm talking about the fact that I've bought her bedding but not books, towels but not tape, storage containers but not scissors. Every day I think of things she will need. Like bandaids and cough medicine. And a stapler. Important stuff!
School starts for the other kids in less than three weeks and I have not purchased so much as a ream of college-ruled paper. No supplies, no clothing, no new shoes. I guess it's my way of rebelling against the LAME summer we've had. It's just now getting nice out on a consistent basis and the kids are up the their eyeballs in camps until school starts. So much for all those beach and park trips I envisioned. So, I say screw school shopping. We have a couple of weeks left.
But this college thing.......it's not going away! At some point, they are going to REQUIRE me to pay them a large sum of money that I do not have. And so, I will have to quickly conjure up an alternative source. I gave it a gallant attempt tonight, but, honestly, it might be easier to sell one of my offspring, or pawn my old wedding ring to pay for the books, the tuition, the room and board. Holy COW is that stuff expensive! We're talking premium rent for a tiny, stuffy room and a few squares a day.
So, I continue on in my fog of uncertainty. I stare in confusion at those parents who have it all figured out. Those parents who spent a ton of money on SAT prep courses, college visits across several time zones, a $175 an hour college "consultant", those parents who actually went to the orientation. I meant to go, I really did, but we had a trip scheduled and I didn't find out about the conflict until it was too late. So, I missed out on what was apparently the meaning of life and the location of the holy grail by not attending the orientation. All I got was a logo bag filled with more paperwork that filled my brain with too much information.
But, boy, it's a good thing I got MY college degree! It made me so smart..............
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Things to do at a party........
If your child has ever attended a party at my house, you probably shouldn't read this.....haha. Just kidding. I just thought I'd mention some of the shenanigans that have gone on at my house during the many parties we've hosted with an abundance of teenagers. Here's a sampling:
- whipped cream "shots"..can't remember which kid introduced this one, but the idea is that you squirt whipped cream on the back of your hand then hit the bottom of your hand with your other fist and try to get the whipped cream to shoot up in the air and catch it with your mouth. Here's a hint: It doesn't work. EVER. What it does is create a very sticky floor.
- covered an entire sliding glass door with writings (some of them NOT g-rated), thankfully, in window marker
- tossed a pillow pet into a chandelier
- spun the cupcake "tree" so violently that cupcakes actually went flying around the room
- filled each other's mouths with carbonated water to see who could handle the most
- purchased dry ice (because they were newly 18) and made dry ice "bombs" with water bottles
- filled each other's mouths with whipped cream
- stolen the "kids at play" green plastic "child" sign from the neighborhood streets and placed it atop a mailbox and/or several cars
- thrown candy/cereal/nuts at each other
- run in circles through the house, including the kitchen where a piping hot pizza was being removed from the oven (gasp! What if they got burned? Jeff says "survival of the fittest...that'll teach 'em")
- slept three or four to a bed - sideways
- stayed up all night (always)
- and likely countless other things that happened when I went to bed, whether it was 1 a.m. or 5 a.m. And I don't really want to know about those things..........
- whipped cream "shots"..can't remember which kid introduced this one, but the idea is that you squirt whipped cream on the back of your hand then hit the bottom of your hand with your other fist and try to get the whipped cream to shoot up in the air and catch it with your mouth. Here's a hint: It doesn't work. EVER. What it does is create a very sticky floor.
- covered an entire sliding glass door with writings (some of them NOT g-rated), thankfully, in window marker
- tossed a pillow pet into a chandelier
- spun the cupcake "tree" so violently that cupcakes actually went flying around the room
- filled each other's mouths with carbonated water to see who could handle the most
- purchased dry ice (because they were newly 18) and made dry ice "bombs" with water bottles
- filled each other's mouths with whipped cream
- stolen the "kids at play" green plastic "child" sign from the neighborhood streets and placed it atop a mailbox and/or several cars
- thrown candy/cereal/nuts at each other
- run in circles through the house, including the kitchen where a piping hot pizza was being removed from the oven (gasp! What if they got burned? Jeff says "survival of the fittest...that'll teach 'em")
- slept three or four to a bed - sideways
- stayed up all night (always)
- and likely countless other things that happened when I went to bed, whether it was 1 a.m. or 5 a.m. And I don't really want to know about those things..........
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Beauty IS only on the surface.........
The old saying "beauty is skin deep" isn't really accurate. Because what someone is on the INSIDE is really what counts, right? A beautiful soul, etc.? Well, that doesn't apply to everything.
Like, for example, Lake Washington. Today we kayaked around the lake and it was so beautiful. The sky was blue, the clouds were white and fluffy, there were baby ducks and magnificent birds. The lake was dotted with picturesque lily pads with perfect white lilies. But........
Underneath all of that, was the most disgusting, horrifying, slimy, scary and icky stuff ever. The water was positively thick with weeds, all green and slimy and swaying in a spooky way just under the surface. It was like floating on top of a haunted forest. The "land"scape was dotted with various broken logs, covered in slime and looking like gravestones. Every other paddle dredged up seaweed that hung off the paddle like hair. I tried to shake it off but it just wrapped itself around my paddle. Ick, ick, ick!
I soon figured out that as long as I did not look down, everything was fine. It was serene and beautiful, so peaceful just floating along. Every so often a fish would jump. That got Jeff all excited and he decided to bait our hooks. I dropped my worm in the muck and waited for a bite. But all I caught was more seaweed. Jeff caught two perch. Sigh.
A couple of times I actually got stuck in the muck, and it slowed my kayak down. I momentarily entertained thoughts of my kayak flipping over and me flailing around in the scary weeds. I mean, really, what would I do? Jeff actually practiced flipping his kayak on purpose, so he could ensure he could actually get back in the boat in case of emergency. Me? I figured if I went over in the boat, I was a goner! The minute my leg wrapped around that slime, I'd have a panic attack that would put me in cardiac arrest.
I guess I should really be more prepared just in case. I mean, it's just weeds, right? Shudder. Maybe next time I'll wear my wetsuit just in case.
Like, for example, Lake Washington. Today we kayaked around the lake and it was so beautiful. The sky was blue, the clouds were white and fluffy, there were baby ducks and magnificent birds. The lake was dotted with picturesque lily pads with perfect white lilies. But........
Underneath all of that, was the most disgusting, horrifying, slimy, scary and icky stuff ever. The water was positively thick with weeds, all green and slimy and swaying in a spooky way just under the surface. It was like floating on top of a haunted forest. The "land"scape was dotted with various broken logs, covered in slime and looking like gravestones. Every other paddle dredged up seaweed that hung off the paddle like hair. I tried to shake it off but it just wrapped itself around my paddle. Ick, ick, ick!
I soon figured out that as long as I did not look down, everything was fine. It was serene and beautiful, so peaceful just floating along. Every so often a fish would jump. That got Jeff all excited and he decided to bait our hooks. I dropped my worm in the muck and waited for a bite. But all I caught was more seaweed. Jeff caught two perch. Sigh.
A couple of times I actually got stuck in the muck, and it slowed my kayak down. I momentarily entertained thoughts of my kayak flipping over and me flailing around in the scary weeds. I mean, really, what would I do? Jeff actually practiced flipping his kayak on purpose, so he could ensure he could actually get back in the boat in case of emergency. Me? I figured if I went over in the boat, I was a goner! The minute my leg wrapped around that slime, I'd have a panic attack that would put me in cardiac arrest.
I guess I should really be more prepared just in case. I mean, it's just weeds, right? Shudder. Maybe next time I'll wear my wetsuit just in case.
Cheap toilet paper........
There are some things you should never skimp on. For example, I always use Tide and Clorox bleach to clean my clothes, some store brands just don't cut it for me, and there's just no substitute for good shoes (but most of mine are from the bargain store!). Still, I sent my oldest to the store a few weeks ago to get toilet paper because we were down to one roll and that constitutes a state of emergency in our household of six. (Plus, there's no telling what the kids would do if we actually ran out. I feared for the dirty clothes on the floor of their bathroom!) She came back from the store with two large packages of a bargain brand toilet paper. No worries, I thought, it's just toilet paper. Boy, was I wrong!
I have never, not even in the grimiest, most remote rest stop bathroom, never in my life seen toilet paper so thin! I'm telling you, onion skin, rice paper, Kate Moss........NOTHING was thinner than this toilet paper. I had to wrap it around my hands thirty or so times to make a square thick enough to do the job. I've heard of two-ply and even one-ply but this toilet paper was half-ply at best. And the really amazing part? IT LASTED FOREVER!
I thought we'd never get rid of these two packages of paper shavings! Which is weird, because normally we blow through a Costco pack of 48 rolls in record time, but buy 24 rolls of parchment and it lasts forever. I think we FINALLY put the last roll on this weekend and I cannot wait to replace it with my Kirkland Signature TP from Costco, which now seems a thick as a mattress. I actually started to notice how thick and luxurious the toilet paper was at other establishments. For example, yesterday, at a doctor appointment, I used the restroom and marveled at how they could "afford" such thick and strong toilet paper.
The moral of this story is: never skimp on toilet paper and appreciate the seemingly mundane. You never know when you'll actually be happy for a roll of two-ply!
I have never, not even in the grimiest, most remote rest stop bathroom, never in my life seen toilet paper so thin! I'm telling you, onion skin, rice paper, Kate Moss........NOTHING was thinner than this toilet paper. I had to wrap it around my hands thirty or so times to make a square thick enough to do the job. I've heard of two-ply and even one-ply but this toilet paper was half-ply at best. And the really amazing part? IT LASTED FOREVER!
I thought we'd never get rid of these two packages of paper shavings! Which is weird, because normally we blow through a Costco pack of 48 rolls in record time, but buy 24 rolls of parchment and it lasts forever. I think we FINALLY put the last roll on this weekend and I cannot wait to replace it with my Kirkland Signature TP from Costco, which now seems a thick as a mattress. I actually started to notice how thick and luxurious the toilet paper was at other establishments. For example, yesterday, at a doctor appointment, I used the restroom and marveled at how they could "afford" such thick and strong toilet paper.
The moral of this story is: never skimp on toilet paper and appreciate the seemingly mundane. You never know when you'll actually be happy for a roll of two-ply!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
I was told I don't blog enough.........
I received a wall post on Facebook this morning reminding me that I had not blogged in a long time. Goodness, yes, it's true! And I'm very sorry to disappoint my staggering Blogger followers that total.....20. That, and a smattering of Facebook fans equals my "fan base" but hey, it's a fan base nonetheless and so I shall not disappoint. My apologies for being remiss! (What does that even mean? Wait a sec while I look it up on dictionary.com. OH! It means "negligent, careless or slow in one's duty". See? It's perfect. I have a way with words, even if I don't know their exact meaning from time to time!)
Today it's hot and sweaty. Well, I'm hot and sweaty and it's sunny and 80 ish. And, in true Seattle fashion, the sky is cloudless and stunningly blue and the green trees pop and it just looks like the perfect place to live. As much as I love it, though, I am not being fooled. I know what it's like most of the time here. But a sunny day in Seattle is like the amnesia that sets in moments after a mother gives birth, causing her to think she might just do this little shenanigan filled with blood, sweat and terror one more time. One sunny day in Seattle and we're all gaga over it saying it's "God's country" and all that. I refuse to be sucked in. But I'm enjoying it just the same. Except the sweaty part. I hate sweating.
Currently I'm starving and not expecting to eat dinner until sometime after 8 when we will meet some friends of Jeff's downtown for dinner at Cutters. Which, hey, who wouldn't be excited for that? Dinner at an excellent seafood establishment on the waterfront? But refer back to the "starving" part. I've had this today: a glass of Ovaltine with a little protein powder thrown in for good measure (I was heading to yoga), a tall, decaf, nonfat iced mocha and a ham and swiss panini sandwich at Starbucks, and a cup of frozen yogurt (with some Reese's peanut butter cups tossed on top to negate any healthy aspect of fro-yo). That's all and it's been three hours since that indulgence and now I'm starving!!! I don't want to eat and ruin my dinner but.....something's gotta give.
This week has been good. Monday morning I woke up in a glorious bed and breakfast with the sun streaming through my windows, so, hey, how's that for the start to a great week? In addition I'm "kid free" this week, which is technically true because all persons under 18 have vacated the premises for a week, but the newly minted adult is still here leaving dirty dishes all over and barging in at odd hours. Still. On Tuesday I got to watch my rock star son perform with his band. Nothing like watching the pre-pubescent set perform "Slow Ride", a song about sexual exploits. For the record, their band coach told them it's about driving slow in a car. Um yeah, they have the internet remember? Yikes. But he rocked it out so we'll just be happy about that and forget about the inapropo lyrics.
Did you see that? How I just used abrevs? Do you know what abrevs are? Yes, you do, if you are under 20. Or a tragically hip momster like me! How totes awk is that, kids? Supes cool, if you ask me. Whatevs.
My super studly husband participated in TWO races this week. Not one, but two. One was called a "quadrathon". This involves swimming, biking, running and paddling a kayak. For a mile. A MILE! Never mind you just did a triathlon. Now, paddle a kayak for a mile, and THEN smile because you're still alive. I fail to understand these endurance sports. They amaze me. I, in the way only I can do best, clapped and cheered for him. I'm a champion at clapping and cheering. And taking photos to commemorate the event. Oh, and he suffered an injury! This has never happened at a race before. But he fell on his bike, in the rain, going around a corner and left a sizable chunk of his right knee on the asphalt. In return, the asphalt left him seriously large patches of road rash on his entire right shin, his elbow and one ass cheek. But can I just say how grossly amazing he was running and kayaking with a river of blood running down his leg? Ew. (P.S. He placed second in his age group. Woot!).
The second race was last night. He was very casual about it. It involved a swim and a run. A duathlon, albeit untraditional, because normally a duathlon involves biking and running. This one had a twist and Jeff was excited to do something new. However, his cavalier attitude about it resulted in him not checking the details so that at 5:40 p.m. I was online checking the race details and found out the swim start was at 6:20! On Mercer Island! In rush hour traffic! Over 40 minutes away on a good day! So, we dashed out the door. On the way there, he insisted I retrieve his swim goggles and cap from his race bag so he could "be ready". In the end, we pulled into the parking lot and he grabbed his race bag and ran off, leaving the car running with an empty driver's seat. Okay.....I jumped in the driver's seat and spent the next half hour looking for a place to park. Which turned out to be the park and ride a half mile away. And when I parked, I noticed his swim cap and goggles still in the car. Crap. Long story short, I never caught up with him, he apparently ran straight from the car into the water, stopping only long enough to offload his race bag. He did not get his race number, nor his timing chip. So, essentially, he was a race hijacker (although he did pre-pay for it) and ended up dashing across the finish line untimed, unchipped, and very unofficial. I arrived in time to snap a picture. What a cluster.
So, that's my week so far. The weekend looms with possibility, although Mr. Late to the Race seems to be filling his with boring stuff like meetings and scary stuff like fishing for salmon in the sound in his kayak. So, I will explore some other, tamer options. Like, perhaps working on my tan, or doing some retail therapy. Or maybe watching a marathon of horrifying shows like "Dance Moms" and "Toddlers in Tiaras". Who knows? The kid-free days are not over yet! Bring on the me time!
Today it's hot and sweaty. Well, I'm hot and sweaty and it's sunny and 80 ish. And, in true Seattle fashion, the sky is cloudless and stunningly blue and the green trees pop and it just looks like the perfect place to live. As much as I love it, though, I am not being fooled. I know what it's like most of the time here. But a sunny day in Seattle is like the amnesia that sets in moments after a mother gives birth, causing her to think she might just do this little shenanigan filled with blood, sweat and terror one more time. One sunny day in Seattle and we're all gaga over it saying it's "God's country" and all that. I refuse to be sucked in. But I'm enjoying it just the same. Except the sweaty part. I hate sweating.
Currently I'm starving and not expecting to eat dinner until sometime after 8 when we will meet some friends of Jeff's downtown for dinner at Cutters. Which, hey, who wouldn't be excited for that? Dinner at an excellent seafood establishment on the waterfront? But refer back to the "starving" part. I've had this today: a glass of Ovaltine with a little protein powder thrown in for good measure (I was heading to yoga), a tall, decaf, nonfat iced mocha and a ham and swiss panini sandwich at Starbucks, and a cup of frozen yogurt (with some Reese's peanut butter cups tossed on top to negate any healthy aspect of fro-yo). That's all and it's been three hours since that indulgence and now I'm starving!!! I don't want to eat and ruin my dinner but.....something's gotta give.
This week has been good. Monday morning I woke up in a glorious bed and breakfast with the sun streaming through my windows, so, hey, how's that for the start to a great week? In addition I'm "kid free" this week, which is technically true because all persons under 18 have vacated the premises for a week, but the newly minted adult is still here leaving dirty dishes all over and barging in at odd hours. Still. On Tuesday I got to watch my rock star son perform with his band. Nothing like watching the pre-pubescent set perform "Slow Ride", a song about sexual exploits. For the record, their band coach told them it's about driving slow in a car. Um yeah, they have the internet remember? Yikes. But he rocked it out so we'll just be happy about that and forget about the inapropo lyrics.
Did you see that? How I just used abrevs? Do you know what abrevs are? Yes, you do, if you are under 20. Or a tragically hip momster like me! How totes awk is that, kids? Supes cool, if you ask me. Whatevs.
My super studly husband participated in TWO races this week. Not one, but two. One was called a "quadrathon". This involves swimming, biking, running and paddling a kayak. For a mile. A MILE! Never mind you just did a triathlon. Now, paddle a kayak for a mile, and THEN smile because you're still alive. I fail to understand these endurance sports. They amaze me. I, in the way only I can do best, clapped and cheered for him. I'm a champion at clapping and cheering. And taking photos to commemorate the event. Oh, and he suffered an injury! This has never happened at a race before. But he fell on his bike, in the rain, going around a corner and left a sizable chunk of his right knee on the asphalt. In return, the asphalt left him seriously large patches of road rash on his entire right shin, his elbow and one ass cheek. But can I just say how grossly amazing he was running and kayaking with a river of blood running down his leg? Ew. (P.S. He placed second in his age group. Woot!).
The second race was last night. He was very casual about it. It involved a swim and a run. A duathlon, albeit untraditional, because normally a duathlon involves biking and running. This one had a twist and Jeff was excited to do something new. However, his cavalier attitude about it resulted in him not checking the details so that at 5:40 p.m. I was online checking the race details and found out the swim start was at 6:20! On Mercer Island! In rush hour traffic! Over 40 minutes away on a good day! So, we dashed out the door. On the way there, he insisted I retrieve his swim goggles and cap from his race bag so he could "be ready". In the end, we pulled into the parking lot and he grabbed his race bag and ran off, leaving the car running with an empty driver's seat. Okay.....I jumped in the driver's seat and spent the next half hour looking for a place to park. Which turned out to be the park and ride a half mile away. And when I parked, I noticed his swim cap and goggles still in the car. Crap. Long story short, I never caught up with him, he apparently ran straight from the car into the water, stopping only long enough to offload his race bag. He did not get his race number, nor his timing chip. So, essentially, he was a race hijacker (although he did pre-pay for it) and ended up dashing across the finish line untimed, unchipped, and very unofficial. I arrived in time to snap a picture. What a cluster.
So, that's my week so far. The weekend looms with possibility, although Mr. Late to the Race seems to be filling his with boring stuff like meetings and scary stuff like fishing for salmon in the sound in his kayak. So, I will explore some other, tamer options. Like, perhaps working on my tan, or doing some retail therapy. Or maybe watching a marathon of horrifying shows like "Dance Moms" and "Toddlers in Tiaras". Who knows? The kid-free days are not over yet! Bring on the me time!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Squeaky bra syndrome.....
I have this bra. Two of them, actually. I know they fit because I was fitted for them. And they fit well, holding in the girls and all their double-d glory, but the thing is..........they squeak! Now, I'm sure one of my bra cups would make a nice nest for a family of mice, but I've checked and there are no rodents in there. The underwire squeaks when I move and it's not only annoying but WEIRD! I mean, it's bad enough when it's totally quiet in a room and your digestive noises start going off, perhaps before lunch or after a big meal. Silence, then........grrroowwwllll! But people expect that. Everyone's stomach growls. Bra squeaks? Not so much.
I first noticed this a while ago and chalked it up to the underwire being "weird" or perhaps made of plastic instead of metal? I even googled "squeaky bra" online and would you believe there were several posts about it? So, this is not an isolated incident. The offending squeak comes from the side of the bra so every time my arms move, there's an irritating squeak that is loud enough for the person next to me to hear. I can't imagine how to resolve this. WD-40 would be messy.
It's a shame, really, because these two squeaky bras fit me best out of all the many bras I have. What is it with bras? You get fitted for them, buy them, bring them home, and after a while they just don't fit well anymore. I try to take care of them - I wash them and hang to dry. Right now three of my bras are hanging on the laundry room door, and I'm sure they're quite a sight. One might mistake them for a double baby hat for conjoined twins. The cups are certainly large enough to nestle a baby's head. They'd make a nice slingshot. For boulders. I guess I could pack them with my camping gear. They'd made a great canteen. I could put a half gallon in each of those puppies!
But, alas, bras are expensive and these actually fit. They lift and separate and have "comfort straps" that don't dig into my shoulders. They do the job, squeaks and all. So, I guess I'm going to have to deal with Victoria's Squeakret. Please don't poke me in the side of the boob to hear it. I'll gladly demonstrate. Squeak!
I first noticed this a while ago and chalked it up to the underwire being "weird" or perhaps made of plastic instead of metal? I even googled "squeaky bra" online and would you believe there were several posts about it? So, this is not an isolated incident. The offending squeak comes from the side of the bra so every time my arms move, there's an irritating squeak that is loud enough for the person next to me to hear. I can't imagine how to resolve this. WD-40 would be messy.
It's a shame, really, because these two squeaky bras fit me best out of all the many bras I have. What is it with bras? You get fitted for them, buy them, bring them home, and after a while they just don't fit well anymore. I try to take care of them - I wash them and hang to dry. Right now three of my bras are hanging on the laundry room door, and I'm sure they're quite a sight. One might mistake them for a double baby hat for conjoined twins. The cups are certainly large enough to nestle a baby's head. They'd make a nice slingshot. For boulders. I guess I could pack them with my camping gear. They'd made a great canteen. I could put a half gallon in each of those puppies!
But, alas, bras are expensive and these actually fit. They lift and separate and have "comfort straps" that don't dig into my shoulders. They do the job, squeaks and all. So, I guess I'm going to have to deal with Victoria's Squeakret. Please don't poke me in the side of the boob to hear it. I'll gladly demonstrate. Squeak!
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