Girly Mom

I’m a good mother.  I take care of my kids.  I bathe them and feed them.  I help them with homework.  I buy them clothes and shoes that they like (usually).  And I buy them toys.

But some of those toys, well, I just don’t have words for how much I hate them.  Today’s toy that I despise above all others is my daughter’s Slushee Maker.  I’m sitting here at the computer at a complete loss for words.  I HATE that thing.

First of all, I have to assemble it because it’s too hard for anyone under the age of 30.  Then, I have to add the ingredients because the canister gets so cold that your hands can go numb if you even touch it.

Next, I have to turn the handle because it’s too hard for anyone without body building experience.  So, I stand there for at least five minutes turning this impossible crank until my arm falls off on the floor.  That’s how we know when it’s ready.

Then, I have to endure my daughter’s pitiful look when the liquid doesn’t freeze (which is most of the time).  So I either do it all over again or refuse and try to live with her disappointment.

And she wonders why I never want to get that stupid thing down from the pantry so she can play with it.

I’m throwing it in the garbage!

OK, OK.  I know I won’t because, remember how I said I’m a good mother?  I’ll keep it and try to avoid getting it down for several more months.  Then, one day, I’ll give in, get it down, and go through the whole thing again.

I guess I wouldn’t fuss so much if it worked more often.  It might be worth the effort if we got something even partially frozen to come out.  I’ve just got to be more careful when buying toys for my kids.

And don’t even get me started on the Baby Alive that wet all over my stairs!

I’m not much of a crier.  Now that may seem odd, seeing as how I’m a self-proclaimed girly-girl.  I do get sad in movies and you might see a few tears roll down my face on occasion, but you will rarely see me blubbering uncontrollably.

I’m not saying blubbering is good or bad, it’s just not me.

Enter Trace Adkins.

I heard this song a few months ago.  I’m not so much a fan of country music, so where did I hear a song by a country musician?  Well, I was watching the season finale of Celebrity Apprentice (I kinda hate admitting that).

At the end of the show, Trace Adkins performed this heart-breaking little ballad called You’re Gonna Miss This.

Oh my word!

I was practically curled up in the fetal position on the sofa.  I’m a horrible person.  I’m missing all the good stuff.  He’s right!  He’s right!  I am going to miss this.  I already do.  These are the good times.  Help!  Someone make him shut up!

He finally ended his assault on my emotions.  I composed myself as best I could and tried to go about my day.  But I could not get those words out of my mind.  And even months later, here I am, blogging about how those words affect me.

When I hear or even mention that song, I fight back the urge to fall to the floor, wailing and bemoaning my failure to enjoy the moment.  I ask myself over and over, “Am I appreciating that spilled milk?  Am I enjoying listening to this tantrum?  Am I going to miss this argument?”

I think the answer to each specific question is no, I can live a fulfilling life if no one ever spills milk again.  But is that my focus?  Are these the times of spills and tantrums and arguments?

Or are these the times of learning and laughing and playing?  Am I focusing on the good things about right now?  I know I get caught up in all the negatives to the point that I fail to enjoy the fun stuff.

I relate to the line in the song that says,

“Dog’s barkin’, phone’s ringin’

One kid’s cryin’, one kid’s screamin’.”

Sometimes it seems like everything erupts simultaneously.  Two kids start fussing, the phone is ringing and I’m trying to make dinner while helping another kid study 4000 vocabulary words.  It’s difficult to feel like these are the good times.

But my parents assure me I will miss this time in my life.  They subtly remind me to enjoy this time with the kids.  They smile at the mess my kids make.  They laugh at little things my kids forget to do.  They sit back and enjoy watching it all.

These are good times.  I’m going to want them back.  I’m going to wish they hadn’t gone by so fast.

So thank you, Trace, for reminding me to appreciate right now.

Summer is all about sun, sand, BBQ and flip flops.  Yes, flip flops.  I love them.  They are comfy, cute and I can get several pair for the price on one pair of winter shoes.  What’s not to love?

Now, I love Havaianas.  They are absolutely the most comfy flip flop I’ve ever worn.  But sometimes, they just don’t work right with that little summer skirt or those cute capris I just got.

I wanted to find something different.  You know, a flip flop that looks a little dressier.  OK, I know that a flip flop can only be so dressy, but I wanted something that didn’t look like I just walked off the beach.

So,  I began my search for some new flip flops.  I looked in stores, through several catalogs and online.  Oh the work that we girls endure when shopping.

I was looking at my Garnet Hill catalog at some super cute skirts and there they were.  They were just what I was looking for.

Look at those fantabulous colors!  I love them all.  I ordered the red patent and the silver.  About a week later, I went back to order more and the color I wanted was on back order.  I really wanted to take them on our vacation, so I checked at Zappos.

And of course, I found them.  I love Zappos, just take a look at my credit card bill.  (Just kidding, honey.)

Zappos doesn’t carry all the same colors but they have most of them.  And you can’t beat the superior service from Zappos. Their free returns policy is insane!

So, I now have them in red, silver, and brown.  And today, while I was making sure my Zappos link worked, my fingers slipped and I accidentally ordered the yellow.  Oops…

I found the best lipstick ever.  It’s the perfect shade for me.  It looks great.  I mean, when I wear this stuff I look like a blonde Cindy Crawford.  OK, I don’t, but I think I’m lookin’ pretty not-so-bad when I wear it.

I went to the store to buy more, only to find that my perfect color had been replaced with a new trendy shade, some horrible shade of puke that no one would be caught dead wearing.  I guess the manufacturers thought no one would be caught dead wearing my “so last week” shade.

Why?  Why do they always do this to me?

Another example: I finally found a good facial cleanser, the kind that doesn’t cost 8 grand and removes all my makeup without sending my skin into a breakout frenzy.  After a month or so, I attempted to purchase more and what did I find?  There on the shelf, in MY cleanser’s place, was some new improved, i.e. totally different and more expensive, rash-causing version of my beloved cleanser.

I remember this happening when I was younger, too.  I’ve been left foundation-less, moisturizer-less, even Chipsters-less (these were the best chips ever and *they* just took them away).

This has even happened to my husband.  He found (OK, I found them) this underwear that he absolutely loves.  Want to guess what happened?  Yup, they got to those too.  At least I got lucky and found them at a local TJ Maxx and bought about 10 pair.  But what is he going to do when those wear out?

(Oh, honey, if you read this, don’t worry.  Nobody reads my blog and so no one will ever know I’m talking about your underwear, baby.  Mwah!)

What is a girl to do?  I hate going through the trial & error phase with products just to find the one that works for me, especially on everyday stuff like cleanser, foundation and moisturizers.

Thankfully, I have found a new lipstick.  And I replaced my cleanser a year ago.  But I’m living in a state of uncertainty, just waiting for my favoritest products to be banished from the shelves.

I’ve always been able to find replacement products that I like as much and sometimes even better.  But I want to change products when I’m ready, not when the manufacturer decides they’re tired of a product.  I mean, I know if a product isn’t selling well, it doesn’t make sense for a company to sell it.  But I hate being left all lipstick-less.

OK, this is just a little rant.  I really don’t spend all day (usually) crying over lipstick or screaming about discontinued potato chips (but they were so yummy).  It just irritates me when I’m forced to scramble for new stuff when I was perfectly happy with what I had.

So, what have you lost to the Discontinued-Product Nazis?

I’m a nice person. I really am.  I assume the best about people. I presume I’m the one who misunderstood the rude thing someone said. Or I figure others are having a bad day and really don’t mean their nasty remarks. I give them the benefit of the doubt.

Now if you’re mean constantly, I’ll be nice to your face, but I WILL start thinking that you just might not be a nice person.

Are you scared?  I know you are.

I think that makes me a big coward.

Shouldn’t I be able to stand up to someone who is being offensive and say, “Hey! No, no you icky person”?

Sadly, I cannot.  Maybe I should take a class? Any meany teachers out there?

I’d like to have a small can of mean I could open up on somebody that needed it.  I’ve tried, but it always seems to come out as a lame compliment.  I want to tell people that I don’t like what they’re saying or doing to their face.

My husband says I’m good at standing up to him if he’s being mean. I think that’s because I know he loves me and he won’t judge me or think bad about me if I tell him the truth.

Hey, there’s a clue. Maybe I’m so afraid of someone not liking me or thinking bad about me, that I don’t want to risk telling them the truth. That’s pretty pathetic. Why should I worry so much about the opinions of all the yucky people?

I’m on a mission now. I’m going to try to be mean at least once a week (to someone other than my husband). I don’t mean MEAN for the sake of being mean. I mean MEAN as in, if you are being a condescending little dolt, I just might think about perhaps asking you to consider the possibility of acting in some more positive way while in my general vicinity.

Yeah, that sounds mean. I can do that.