I love you…no I hate you…no I love you…no I hate you…………..

“I don’t see how an article of clothing can be indecent.  A person, yes”  ~Robert
A. Heinlein

The other day I posted on Facebook, “I have this love/hate relationship with spanx, and honestly right now I don’t know if I’m loving or hating.”  And one of my friends responded….”sounds like good material for a blog.”  So here it is…..

Okay, first a little history…what are spanx.    When I speak of spanx, I am talking about the body shapers…the uber tight undergarments we wear under our clothes to give us a smooth, blemish free, muffin top free look.  And for better or for worse, it appears that spanx have become a necessary part of our daily lives.  Okay, I’ll back track here…a necessary part of our daily lives for those of us that desire a smooth, blemish free, muffin top free look…  For me, rather than shoving my expanding assets into a tight fighting body shaper on a daily basis, I normally will cover up with loose-fitting tunics and leggings.  But…on those days when more than loose tunics and leggings are required, I will squirm my way into one of these tight-fitting garments and bitch about it the rest of the day.  Now, as much as I hate to wear spanx…I don’t think I could live without them.  They do help me mask that extra 5 or 10 pounds…however, once I get over 10 pounds, I can pretty much forget the masking and try for a little damage control. 

So now lets discuss this love/hate relationship.  My love…the ability to still manage to fit into some of my favorite clothes, and look “okay” in them.  And quite honestly, spanx are an effective body shaper that actually looks pretty.  My hate…I just basically hate them…they are unyielding, they are controlling, and incredibly restrictive…kinda like some of the men I have dated.  But…they do make me look good…not necessarily like some of the men I have dated.   And again,  backtracking, …let’s not really say “good,” maybe just better.  But should I bitch…is it fair of me to bitch?  I remember walking into my grandmother’s room while she would be struggling to get her girdle on.  Now my grandmother was a sweet woman, but I never really saw her exercise or workout…except when she was trying to get her girdle on…then I would see her bend, and jump, and do whatever was necessary to get her girdle on, and get it on right.  And then after she got the girdle on, then she had to attach the stockings.  Which brings me to another topic…panty hose.  Who wears panty hose anymore?  I love the cute little patterned hose and tights…but if we’re just talking about just regular, everyday panty hose, especially tummy control…well you can forget about that…Okay, I’m struggling here…I would rather _______________than ever wear another pair of panty hose….stick toothpicks in my eyes, stick tooth picks under my finger nails, wear 1970′s polyester…well you get the point…I haven’t worn panty hose in years, and I’m not planning to any time in the near future…in the far future either. 

Now I could tell you this revolution…this body shaping revolution is just another attack on women…however, whooo hooo, spanx are made for men too, so we can all look fabulous together. 

So do I love them or hate them….a little bit of both.  What about you, love them or hate them????? 

Take me back to the ball game….

“Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.”  Erma Bombeck

When I was younger…much, my dad used to play softball.  He would play in a summer league and I have some wonderful memories…not so much about the games, but the smell of the parks, running around the bleachers, and the best part…after the games, on those beautiful summer nights, we would go to the root beer stand for a frosty mug of root beer, or go the watermelon stand for cool slices of watermelon. 

Soooooo…you would think when my son wanted to play tee-ball I would have been excited…not so.  Not only was I not excited, but I just envisioned a spring full of watching paint dry…I could think of nothing more painful.  But…….when I saw those precious little 5 year olds in their precious little uniforms with their precious little tee-ball bats, I was hooked…but not nearly as hooked as my little tee-ball player. 

Now, 7 years later I always look forward to the beginning of little league baseball season…I still love the smell of the park, but I don’t run around on the bleachers as much…and I pay a lot more attention to the games since my little munchkins are playing.  But you know the real reason I love little league baseball…it doesn’t change.  You can go to practically any little league park today, and it’s like stepping into a Norman Rockwell picture…it’s nostalgic.  The uniforms the players wear are the same, the banners affixed to the outfield fences are still there cheering on the players or promoting a local restaurant,  and you can get hot dogs, peanuts and bubble gum in the concession booth.  One local field actually has a short order cook that makes some of the best hamburgers in town.  And the kids that play…so many of them dream about becoming the next A-Rod, Jeter, Pujols… and still, Ruth, Berra, Mantle, Jackson.  These dreams that these players of today have are no different from the dreams the little league players of the 1940′s, 1950′s, 1960′s had.  These dreams are pure, and in the world today, that’s refreshing.

So now on game day, I once again look forward to the game.  I look forward to munching on some bubble gum, watching my guys play ball, chatting with the other ball moms…but most of all, I look forward to sneaking back to a simpler place, if only for a little while.

And with that I say, “Play Ball!!!”

I can’t see clearly now….

“Rose-colored glasses are never made in bifocals. Nobody wants to read the small print in dreams“  Ann Landers

Okay, so I say this a lot these days…”Getting old sucks!!!”    And it does, kind of.  I do think  many of the clichés and sayings about age are true, “With age comes wisdom,” “Youth is wasted on the young.”  I mean it would amazing to be 20 years old and have the knowledge that comes with 50 years of life’s experiences.  But that’s not how it works…  And, to a certain extent I have embraced aging…after all these many years I am going to “love” my gray hair (maybe)…and I am not ready to, nor do a think I ever will (but I will never say never) be ready for surgery, injections or any thing like that to make me look like an older young version of myself…if that makes any sense.  I’ve earned these wrinkles on my face…along with the stretch marks on my belly…and when I look at these war scars I can proudly say, “Damn, I look old.”   But although I have embraced it, that does not mean that I’m prepared to go down without a fight.  I have been getting to the gym more than I have in years, and I’ve started to live a healthier lifestyle including giving up my sodas…but not the beer…they say beer has health benefits.     And it seems as if, when we get older, there are certain correlative events that go on…for instance…often as our hair lightens up, our complexion does as well…complimenting one another in a profoundly beautiful way.  Okay, but this is what has me so confused…as we age, our metabolism slows down while our willpower completely abandons us; our trips to the bathroom become more urgent while we start to move much slower; and our eye sight becomes worse, necessitating glasses, while at the same time our memory begins to fade, making it difficult to remember where we put our glasses.  And as far as I’m concerned, if I can’t see, I might as well eat a cookie, which requires another trip to the gym.  (Oh BTW the gym entails swimming, check out the swim cap…kids say they don’t want to be seen with me…but they will still ask me for money.)    But hey, I’m old, so I can wear this.

So yeah, I think getting old sucks…and I was especially thinking that I was driving to the store tonight to buy the three pack of reading glasses for $14.99.  Does getting old beat the alternative…you bet!!!

And with that I say…”Damn…I forgot what I was going to say!!!”

First Day

Labor Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to school
the next day.  It would have been called Independence Day, but that name was
already taken.  ~Bill Dodds

Today when we got to Little Bit’s school the front lawn was full of people taking pictures of their kids to memorialize the first day of school 2012.  Big Guy asked what everyone was doing….

M (Me/Mom…either works)  “They are taking their first day of school pictures.”…

BG   ”Oh, why don’t you ever do that?”

Okay, the reason I write this is because I try to take their pictures, every year, I try to take their pictures…but as much of a tradition it is for me to take their pictures, it is just as much of a tradition for them to avoid the camera.  So, here are some of my first day of school pictures through the years….

2009

First day of School 2009

First Day of School 2009

2011…there is no 2010…I guess I was just too tired that year.

First Day of School 2011

First Day of School 2011

And then this year…2012

First Day of School 2012

And you know what…I don’t think I would want it any other way…because when they are all grown, and when I will look back at the pictures of them growing up, I will know that any smiling face in front of the school would just not have been as sincere as an outstretched palm.

And with that I say…”I hope everyone had a great first day of school!!!”

Once upon a time….

“Do not ask questions of fairy tales”  Jewish Proverb

The other day I went shopping to find a multiple ball, acrylic display case for the growing collection of baseballs my oldest son keeps on the shelf in his room.  We need a new way to display the balls, because if any roll on the floor, then Crazy Lacey gets it, and her new favorite toy will be the Manny Ramirez autographed baseball…that I personally chased Manny Ramirez down to get.  I had no luck with the display case, but there was this cool, distressed wood sign that said, “It’s never too late for Happily Ever After.”  I stood there for a second imagining what happily ever after might be like.  Happily ever after happens in fairy tales…right? 

Okay, so happily ever after…  There was another sign at the store that said…”Once in a while right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.”  So, here was another piece of the puzzle…a sign suggesting that “love” will provide us that fairy tale…hmmmmmm.  Love is a beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing…the thing that fairy tales are made from, so maybe that is our key to happily ever after…or is it?  I can not tell you how many times I have sobbed, somewhat uncontrollably when some cartoon princess falls in love with her cartoon prince, and they live happily ever after…while their cartoon dwarfs, cartoon wildlife animals, or cartoon everyday household items happily sing in the background.   So is love what creates our happily ever after?

And if it is love, love of what…someone else, something else, ourselves…chocolate????  Oh, does it really matter….  If you were to ask me to describe myself, I’ll tell you that I am a blissfully ignorant person.  Things haven’t always gone my way…life hasn’t always been perfect, but honestly, I refuse to give up on my happily ever after.   Will love be a part of it…absolutely.  Not like the love of another person necessarily…because quite honestly, when my happily ever after is contingent upon another person, then I’m kinda screwed.  But, it’s kinda like this...”You don’t have to go looking for love when it’s where you come from.”  ~Werner Erhard.  And that’s pretty much it…live a life of Love.

So, if you don’t have to look for love, if it is where you are, and if love makes your fairy tale, and happily ever after happens in fairy tales, then I guess I have my happily ever after…and I’ll be honest…it’s not a bad gig. 

And with that I say, “Pardon me while I enjoy my happily ever after…”

The Power in a Pair of Shoes

“God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.”  ~J.M. Barrie,
Courage, 1922

Every year my kids go away for a couple of weeks with their dad…and every year I take advantage of that time to clean around the house.  The annual purge is not a  particularly a happy time…there are a few days there where I feel like I am one of the people being profiled on, “Hoarding, Buried Alive,” because the reality is, before you can reconstruct, you got to deconstruct.      But happily the final result is this… and this….   If you want to know how long these closets will stay this clean…well, that’s a question I just can’t answer…not sure if anyone can.  If you take into account that they’re boys, and then add in the fact that they’re boys…I would guess one week, possibly two…but at least I  know that at one time they were clean and that makes me happy.

Now as much as dread the annual cleaning, I always feel so accomplished when I’m done.  And then there are those unexpected surprises.  I’m not talking about the things the kids have hidden in there, although I’m sure those things will start popping up soon.  But as I was going through Little Bit’s room I came across his first pair of real shoes.    Please understand, I am not a sentimental person…there are very few things that I save, but I have kept both of my boys’ first pair of shoes.  When I pulled the shoes out of the box, I was overwhelmed with memories.  I got this image of my precious little baby, and remembered why the toes of the shoes were so worn… he was such a wild man baby.  He had the most precious orange glow to his head for months after he was born.  The orange glow eventually turned into big ginger curls, but it took a while.  So many strangers would walk up to Little Bit in the grocery store, restaurants, everywhere, and rub his little red head for luck… I was afraid he was never going to grow any hair.  It was so refreshing, in the midst of the mundane task of cleaning out closets, to be able to take a momentary stroll down memory lane.  I put the shoes back in the box, put them in the memory box with the few other pieces of sentimental memorabilia that I keep, and went back to cleaning out the rest of the closet….pulling out the shoes that he most recently outgrew and putting them in a bag of things to be given away.   It’s not as if there aren’t memories attached to the newer shoes…there are always going to be memories attached to everything my guys touch…but not like that first pair of shoes.  So…as much as a hate the annual purge…I love the perks…it almost makes me look forward to next year…almost, but not quite.

And with that I say, “Damn, I can’t remember where I put the screw drivers…oh yeah, the tool box, oh wait, the tool drawer…has anyone checked the refrigerator?”

Time Won’t Give Me Time.

“Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t
own it, but you can use it. You can’t
keep it, but you can spend it. Once you’ve lost it
you can never get it back.”  Harvey MacKay

After reading some rather disturbing reviews, last night I decided to watch “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.”  I watched two episodes and I loved it.  I watch all the Housewives of wherever shows too and find them entertaining…but Honey Boo Boo I really enjoyed, and let me tell you why….    Honey Boo Boo and her family are real, or as real as reality TV gets.  Honey Boo Boo, she is precious, but it kind of stops there…but that’s okay.  These folks aren’t trying to impress anyone…what you see is what you get.  Mom June really seems to like being a mom, and unlike the Housewives shows, people seem to enjoy each other’s company.   Okay, the constant publicizing of farts gets a little old…I’m sure the housewives fart too, we just don’t hear about it.  And the Boo Boo gang, they genuinely seem happy.  Quite honestly, if you were to ask me if I wanted to spend time at an upscale Orange County restaurant with a bunch of rich housewives or rolling in the mud…in something a housewife would wear, I’m going with mud…but that’s just me.  However, as wonderful as the simple pleasures may seem, I would like to have enough money to buy one thing…and that would be time. 

Now, when I say I would like to buy time, I’m not talking about being able to live longer or anything like that…I’m talking about just having more time.  My little guys that I just had yesterday, are already on the verge of being teenagers.  And for better or for worse, I have to work a full-time, 40 hour a week job.  I don’t have the option of being there for them the way I would like to be…and a home cooked meal around our house is something someone else cooked.  And not only do I not have enough time for my guys, but my parents as well.  As my folks have gotten older I realize how important it is to spend time with them…quality time.  Not to mention time with friends, and of course, “me time.”  …Time, is such, a valuable commodity…I mean a really valuable commodity.  And sadly, by the time we are able to retire…the kids are grown, and our parents gone, it kind of doesn’t seem fair.     

So to summarize….money doesn’t necessarily buy happiness.  However, if you could buy time with your money then you could be happy…so, the moral of this story…Who the hell knows!!!!  But….no matter what…use your time wisely, cherish your time with those you love…and do what makes you happy whether you’re rich or poor…another Queen Kara proclamation.

And with that I say…”Go watch Honey Boo Boo…it’s good.”