On the way to the video store last night, my 12 year old son says to me, “Mom, I don’t understand what these are.” He’s pointing to a tampon stashed in the center console of my car. I think at this point I broke out in a cold sweat. “It’s a tampon that women use when they’re on their periods.” Saying this to him makes me cringe, but we’ve already had “the talk” and he’s been learning all of the facts on the matter at school. “I still don’t get it,” he says frowning. Ugh! Sometimes I’d prefer not to have THIS open of a relationship, but deep down I know it’s for the best so I muster up the courage to simply say, “When a woman is on her period, she bleeds.” OhMyGoodness did that just come out of my mouth?! I'm sweating more now. He frowns again; I can tell he’s thinking this one over very carefully. More frowning... more thinking; and then I see the light bulb go off as a look of total disgust comes across his face. “Ewwwwww! That’s disgusting!” he exclaims. You have no idea, son.
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
“No.”
Whew!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
What happened to being nice?
Yesterday I came down with one of the worst bugs ever, thanks to my hubby. I know our marriage vows said in sickness and in health, but I’m pretty sure that didn’t mean to share the actual sickness. Every bone in my body ached, I was running a fever, sneezing, coughing… the works. Already behind at work, I drug myself out of bed (shedding a few tears in the process) threw on some clothes, pulled my hair in a pony tail and even managed to apply a little mascara. I looked in the mirror. What I saw wasn’t good, but it would just have to do. I just couldn’t bring myself to put forth any more effort than what I already had. What is the very first thing that was said to me as I walked through the door? “You look sick.” Well thank you, Captain Obvious. I heard a variation of that so many times that by yesterday afternoon I was ready to punch the next person with something smart to say about my appearance or well-being square in the face. But who was I kidding? I didn’t have the energy for that.
This morning, as I was getting ready, I vowed to make myself look at least well enough to nip the sick comments in the bud. I covered up what I could of the dark circles under my eyes and even curled my hair for Pete’s sake! Want to know the first comment I got? “You look tired.”
I freakin’ give up. If I’ve got to feel this bad and still come into work, the rest of you will just have to look at me. So there!
This morning, as I was getting ready, I vowed to make myself look at least well enough to nip the sick comments in the bud. I covered up what I could of the dark circles under my eyes and even curled my hair for Pete’s sake! Want to know the first comment I got? “You look tired.”
I freakin’ give up. If I’ve got to feel this bad and still come into work, the rest of you will just have to look at me. So there!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Security!!
Okay, I mean it this time. I’m going to blog again if it kills me. I’ve been MIA for a while. I don’t even know where to begin as to why. Our lives have unfortunately been full of hospitals, nursing homes, and funerals here lately. Not pertaining to anyone in our immediately little family of four, but close enough in relation that it’s hard to pick up and move on after the fact. But don’t worry, I’m not going to blog about that because it’s quite depressing and I’m through with sad stuff for a while. Today, I’m going to blog about the most wonderful hubby I’ve ever had. (Yes, I’ve only been married the one time, but I still think he’s pretty great.)
For Valentine’s Day this year, the plan was that there was no plan. We normally take a little weekend trip, but as I mentioned earlier, things have been a wee bit hectic and it just didn’t seem to be in the cards for us this time around. I came into work the Friday before Valentine’s Day expecting it to be just like any other day. As I turned the corner into my office, I saw a vase of roses, a box of chocolates, and a card. How romantic is that?! The card contained tickets to the symphony and reservations for a hotel room afterward. Woo Hoo! I was excited that I immediately started planning what to pack in my head.
The drive there was great! My husband drove and I read a book. (It’s the little things that make me happy. Can you tell?) It was freezing cold outside so a turtleneck sweater, pencil skirt and hooker boots was the closest thing to sexy that I cared to pull off for our evening’s date. Women were there dressed anywhere from evening gowns to jeans. Some were even down right scandalous in tube top mini dresses and bare legs. I had to wonder if those same women walked to the venue in the same frigid temps I did. I was feeling pretty comfortable since my attire fell somewhere in between the two extremes. As we were waiting to be seated, I noticed the lady in front of us. Perhaps I should say there was no way to miss the lady in front of us. She wore a one-shouldered black mini dress. Her hair was bleached blonde and came down to her waist (extensions I’m assuming) and she had it curled and pulled into a low side pony tail. As she turned around, I noticed she was at least 20 years her date’s junior and I hate to sound petty, but I’m guessing he was rich because they just didn’t quite match, if you know what I mean. She was eyeballing my date but I can’t say that I blame her. He’s a pretty good piece of eye candy if I do say so myself.
The symphony was wonderful. The only downfall was that I was seated next to a young woman who insisted on running her fingernails down the length of a strand of her hair over and over. Hubby suggested I simply ignore it but it literally had the same effect on me as nails on a chalkboard. Despite the fact that I kept giving her the stink eye, she continued to push me to the brink of insanity until after intermission when I swapped seats with my good looking date to let him endure the madness for a while. He didn’t find it so easy to ignore her once he was in my shoes, or rather my seat. Ha!
When we got back to the hotel, we were both hungry but didn’t feel like fighting the young, partying crowd that lingered outside. Instead, we ordered pizza and hubby went down to the lobby to pick it up. As he watched out the door for the delivery, he opened the door for several guests returning to their rooms. (He really goes overboard with the southern hospitality sometimes.) One of the times he did so, three inebriated middle aged walked inside. Hubby said something like “welcome back” and their only reply was “thanks”. A few minutes later, the front desk received a call concerned because when the women arrived to their room to find the door ajar. They requested someone from security come check things out. An elderly man promptly answered the call and returned a few minutes later laughing. Apparently, the women thought my husband was security and made up the whole story so he could come upstairs. I have to give them an 'A' for effort on that one but I do have to wonder what they were going to do with him once he got there…
I’m thinking he may need full supervision from now on.
For Valentine’s Day this year, the plan was that there was no plan. We normally take a little weekend trip, but as I mentioned earlier, things have been a wee bit hectic and it just didn’t seem to be in the cards for us this time around. I came into work the Friday before Valentine’s Day expecting it to be just like any other day. As I turned the corner into my office, I saw a vase of roses, a box of chocolates, and a card. How romantic is that?! The card contained tickets to the symphony and reservations for a hotel room afterward. Woo Hoo! I was excited that I immediately started planning what to pack in my head.
The drive there was great! My husband drove and I read a book. (It’s the little things that make me happy. Can you tell?) It was freezing cold outside so a turtleneck sweater, pencil skirt and hooker boots was the closest thing to sexy that I cared to pull off for our evening’s date. Women were there dressed anywhere from evening gowns to jeans. Some were even down right scandalous in tube top mini dresses and bare legs. I had to wonder if those same women walked to the venue in the same frigid temps I did. I was feeling pretty comfortable since my attire fell somewhere in between the two extremes. As we were waiting to be seated, I noticed the lady in front of us. Perhaps I should say there was no way to miss the lady in front of us. She wore a one-shouldered black mini dress. Her hair was bleached blonde and came down to her waist (extensions I’m assuming) and she had it curled and pulled into a low side pony tail. As she turned around, I noticed she was at least 20 years her date’s junior and I hate to sound petty, but I’m guessing he was rich because they just didn’t quite match, if you know what I mean. She was eyeballing my date but I can’t say that I blame her. He’s a pretty good piece of eye candy if I do say so myself.
The symphony was wonderful. The only downfall was that I was seated next to a young woman who insisted on running her fingernails down the length of a strand of her hair over and over. Hubby suggested I simply ignore it but it literally had the same effect on me as nails on a chalkboard. Despite the fact that I kept giving her the stink eye, she continued to push me to the brink of insanity until after intermission when I swapped seats with my good looking date to let him endure the madness for a while. He didn’t find it so easy to ignore her once he was in my shoes, or rather my seat. Ha!
When we got back to the hotel, we were both hungry but didn’t feel like fighting the young, partying crowd that lingered outside. Instead, we ordered pizza and hubby went down to the lobby to pick it up. As he watched out the door for the delivery, he opened the door for several guests returning to their rooms. (He really goes overboard with the southern hospitality sometimes.) One of the times he did so, three inebriated middle aged walked inside. Hubby said something like “welcome back” and their only reply was “thanks”. A few minutes later, the front desk received a call concerned because when the women arrived to their room to find the door ajar. They requested someone from security come check things out. An elderly man promptly answered the call and returned a few minutes later laughing. Apparently, the women thought my husband was security and made up the whole story so he could come upstairs. I have to give them an 'A' for effort on that one but I do have to wonder what they were going to do with him once he got there…
I’m thinking he may need full supervision from now on.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Who knew lip gloss could be so exciting?
Dear Bath and Body Works,
I recently purchased your C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Cordial Triple Hot Chocolate. I was so excited about this purchase because my husband is a chocoholic and I am a lip gloss fanatic. I thought this product would be the perfect pairing of our two addictions. After purchasing, I put the product in my purse so it would be readily available for our family outing later that evening. On our drive to the restaurant, I remembered my exciting find and reached into my purse. I unwrapped the plastic seal, giddy with anticipation of how great this new lip gloss was going to be. I puckered up and applied the lovely gloss over my lips just waiting for the aroma to fill our car. And then it happened. First, one child began to cough. A fluke, I thought. There’s no way my lip gloss is making the kid cough. Then, the other one started gagging. Surely it’s not the gloss, I thought. But then my husband confirmed my suspicions when he asked, “What IS that smell?” Before I could respond that the foul stench was actually coming from my lips, my daughter announced that it must be her brother’s butt. (She’s only three and we do not allow her to talk this way, but I could not help but find it both hilarious and horrifying anyway.) I seriously had to use a tissue to wipe the gloss from my mouth and crack a window to get the uproar to settle down.
I’m sure you can understand my dissatisfaction with your product. I would never intentionally buy a product that smells like “butt” to apply to any part of my body, much less my face. I started to throw the tube of gloss in the garbage, but I’ve decided to keep it as a gag gift for my sister. I can’t wait until Christmas!
Sincerely,
Kelly
(In case you're wondering, yes did I actually send this to Bath and Body Works.)
(In case you're wondering, yes did I actually send this to Bath and Body Works.)
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