I was driving the other day and the car in front of me had a bumper sticker that caught my eye. Here is what it said:
High Maintenance Psycho Chic Drama Queen with Issues
Now that's honesty.You know what you're getting with this woman. If you don't like something she says or does, you can't say you didn't know it was coming. It's kind of like her own mini disclaimer - if you mess with me today (or any day), here is what you'll get.
Wouldn't it be great if you could wear a sign that warned everyone what kind of day you're having, or what you're feeling, or what subjects are best to be left alone today? I'd love to have the guts to say it without having to say it out loud.
I liked this idea so much that I'm starting a new feature of the blog.
What's your Brutally Honest Bumper Sticker today?
From time to time I'll post my Brutally Honest Bumper Sticker - my short but effective, no-holds-barred, statement of the day. Like a mood ring with words.
So here's today's BHBS:
Tech-loving, old-feeling, pie-eating mommy with too-tight jeans
Please share yours in the comments. Be brave - tell the world how you REALLY feel today!
(If anyone has seen this bumper sticker before, I should note that I've edited it slightly. This is a family friendly blog, after all.)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
My Dryer Taunts Me
When we moved into our house, it came with a washer and dryer. It was one of the early front-loaders, and I was anxious to try it out. That is, until I saw what was inside.
You've seen the size stickers they put on clothes - the ones on the outside of the item so you can't possibly forget what size it is when you're looking in the dressing room mirror. Well, there is one stuck to the inside of my dryer.
It's not just any old size sticker. It says "XS".
For those of you who are normal like me, you've never seen such a sticker. Allow me to educate. That's "Extra Small." It is a real size that only swimsuit models wear. And, I guess, the dryer's previous owner. Ugh. Like I need to be reminded every time I do laundry that I could stand to lose some weight.
Some day that dryer will go to whatever heaven there is for teasing household appliances, and I'll gladly get rid of that sticker. Maybe I'll add my own sticker to a new dryer.
In a REAL size.
You've seen the size stickers they put on clothes - the ones on the outside of the item so you can't possibly forget what size it is when you're looking in the dressing room mirror. Well, there is one stuck to the inside of my dryer.
It's not just any old size sticker. It says "XS".
For those of you who are normal like me, you've never seen such a sticker. Allow me to educate. That's "Extra Small." It is a real size that only swimsuit models wear. And, I guess, the dryer's previous owner. Ugh. Like I need to be reminded every time I do laundry that I could stand to lose some weight.
Some day that dryer will go to whatever heaven there is for teasing household appliances, and I'll gladly get rid of that sticker. Maybe I'll add my own sticker to a new dryer.
In a REAL size.
Monday, November 8, 2010
When Grocery Shopping Takes a Festive Turn
I went to the grocery store on Saturday, which is a feat in of itself as I usually end up putting it off until the last possible second on Sunday evening. I was very proud that I got myself organized and made it there early! Unfortunately, that joy quickly disappeared as I realized it was the worst possible day to go to the grocery store.
It was...I can barely say it...
the HOLIDAY OPEN HOUSE!
The grocery store Holiday Open House is a horrible mess disguised as a festive party. It's the day when all the workers break out their Santa hats and man tasting stations all over the store, offering free cookies and drinks, coupons, and samples of all kinds of things that their bakery staff will be sick of making by December 26th.
On this day, they bring out all their wares and attempt to woo us into having them cook or bake our holiday fare. OR, at minimum, get us to shop there to buy what we choose to bake ourselves, surrounded by their holiday cheer.
But in reality, the holiday open house at the grocery store isn't cheerful at all. It's when the already-narrow aisles are clogged with extra tables and displays, and those of us trying to just buy our groceries and get the heck out of there get stuck in long lines of people waiting for a free cookie. While my frozens are melting, I can't get past the lady with her three kids taking up the entire aisle while they wait to sample apple cider in a cup the size of a thimble.
Now I'm no scrooge...I love to cook at the holidays, and I enjoy the early part of the season when people are still happy about it instead of later when they are stressed out about their to-do lists. But when I go grocery shopping, I'm not in the mood to stand around and visit with strangers over pumpkin pie samples. I'm there to get what I need and get out, especially if I have one or both of the kids with me. At the open house, that is impossible. Everyone's in a dawdling kind of mood.
And, aside from that, everyone thinks they can eat and drive. A shopping cart, that is.
Even people who would never dream of eating while driving think they can eat and push a cart. This is not true. I've never seen so many people bumping into displays, other carts, and other people as those who have a bunch of empty Dixie cups sitting in the seat of their cart. I'm starting to wonder if they spike the cider.
It was...I can barely say it...
the HOLIDAY OPEN HOUSE!
The grocery store Holiday Open House is a horrible mess disguised as a festive party. It's the day when all the workers break out their Santa hats and man tasting stations all over the store, offering free cookies and drinks, coupons, and samples of all kinds of things that their bakery staff will be sick of making by December 26th.
On this day, they bring out all their wares and attempt to woo us into having them cook or bake our holiday fare. OR, at minimum, get us to shop there to buy what we choose to bake ourselves, surrounded by their holiday cheer.
But in reality, the holiday open house at the grocery store isn't cheerful at all. It's when the already-narrow aisles are clogged with extra tables and displays, and those of us trying to just buy our groceries and get the heck out of there get stuck in long lines of people waiting for a free cookie. While my frozens are melting, I can't get past the lady with her three kids taking up the entire aisle while they wait to sample apple cider in a cup the size of a thimble.
Now I'm no scrooge...I love to cook at the holidays, and I enjoy the early part of the season when people are still happy about it instead of later when they are stressed out about their to-do lists. But when I go grocery shopping, I'm not in the mood to stand around and visit with strangers over pumpkin pie samples. I'm there to get what I need and get out, especially if I have one or both of the kids with me. At the open house, that is impossible. Everyone's in a dawdling kind of mood.
And, aside from that, everyone thinks they can eat and drive. A shopping cart, that is.
Even people who would never dream of eating while driving think they can eat and push a cart. This is not true. I've never seen so many people bumping into displays, other carts, and other people as those who have a bunch of empty Dixie cups sitting in the seat of their cart. I'm starting to wonder if they spike the cider.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Re-entering the life of glamour
So, I was away for a while and was recently inspired to pick back up with this blog. Why?
I looked down and saw spit-up on my shirt.
Yep...I didn't even realize it was there, and have no idea how long it had been there. That's when I realized I never really left this glamorous life, despite my son Christopher growing into an active, truly awesome nearly-four-year-old.
But the spit-up on my shirt didn't belong to him. It came from his new baby sister, Lydia...our 3-month-old bucket of sunshine.
Lydia didn't exactly come into this world like sunshine, though. In fact, it was down right scary the way she arrived. It was the morning of July 20, a week before her due date, and I had a contraction. Yep, just one. Then about an hour later I had another, and decided to maybe start writing them down. It's a good thing, because they started coming so often I could barely keep up! They were four minutes apart and getting closer quickly. I had suddenly gone from wondering if I was in labor to wondering if we were going to make it to the hospital in time!
In about three hours' time from that first contraction, Miss Lydia came into the world like a runaway train. I barely got my epidural and, if you know me, you know I'm an avid supporter of drugs while in labor. You get a baby whether you have the drugs or not, so why not have them and enjoy the experience? Well, we were almost too late, as everyone in the maternity wing learned as I screamed during the minute-apart contractions. But, we did make it by a few minutes, so I was actually able to enjoy her arrival. In fact, this all happened so quickly that later in the day, when I happened to see myself in the mirror, I noticed that my make-up was mostly still in place, and my hair still looked decent. That was probably the last day of make-up for a while.
So, now I'm back to wearing spit-up instead of make-up, as I now attempt to chase two crazy kids instead of one.
Welcome back into my world.
I looked down and saw spit-up on my shirt.
Yep...I didn't even realize it was there, and have no idea how long it had been there. That's when I realized I never really left this glamorous life, despite my son Christopher growing into an active, truly awesome nearly-four-year-old.
But the spit-up on my shirt didn't belong to him. It came from his new baby sister, Lydia...our 3-month-old bucket of sunshine.
Lydia didn't exactly come into this world like sunshine, though. In fact, it was down right scary the way she arrived. It was the morning of July 20, a week before her due date, and I had a contraction. Yep, just one. Then about an hour later I had another, and decided to maybe start writing them down. It's a good thing, because they started coming so often I could barely keep up! They were four minutes apart and getting closer quickly. I had suddenly gone from wondering if I was in labor to wondering if we were going to make it to the hospital in time!
In about three hours' time from that first contraction, Miss Lydia came into the world like a runaway train. I barely got my epidural and, if you know me, you know I'm an avid supporter of drugs while in labor. You get a baby whether you have the drugs or not, so why not have them and enjoy the experience? Well, we were almost too late, as everyone in the maternity wing learned as I screamed during the minute-apart contractions. But, we did make it by a few minutes, so I was actually able to enjoy her arrival. In fact, this all happened so quickly that later in the day, when I happened to see myself in the mirror, I noticed that my make-up was mostly still in place, and my hair still looked decent. That was probably the last day of make-up for a while.
So, now I'm back to wearing spit-up instead of make-up, as I now attempt to chase two crazy kids instead of one.
Welcome back into my world.
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