Call me Marcia Brady

I know all you moms out there are hoping for something fantastic for Mother's Day this weekend (at least all you moms who live here in the US where Mother's Day is being celebrated this weekend).

Well, you'll never guess what my kid gave me for Mother's Day on Thursday.  Yes, it was a few days early so I'd have that much more time to enjoy it...............

She gave me this - a possibly broken nose.  I know I definitely heard a crunching sound as she tripped while climbing into my lap on the couch to read her homework book to me and her rock-hard skull came crashing down into my nose.


To quote the ever-groovy Marcia Brady: "OH MY NOSE!"





I confess I yowled in pain, which was a lot better than the word that popped, unbidden, into my head at the moment of impact.  *That* word would have caused a lot of trouble, so hallelujah that my record of Not Swearing in Front of the Kid remains intact.  Let's just say that the word I'd been thinking has been redubbed as "Monkey Fighting" or "Monday to Friday" in the broadcast TV version of that piece of cinematic dreck Snakes on a Plane...







So, I managed to only scream "OWWWWWWWWWW!" as my eyes began tearing of their own accord.  Of course it was entirely accidental and Kiddo felt *terrible* about it.  (She actually asked me specifically to please tell Hubby that she "felt really, really terrible about it" when I related the story to him when he got home later that night.)  I immediately went for an ice pack and after a few moments, returned to the couch where Kiddo quite gingerly set herself down next to me and proceeded to read me another scintillating book full of facts about the life cycle of a frog.


I kept icing it and took some ibuprofen for good measure, and by three hours later, it looked like this:

It was hard to tell if I was going to wind up with black eyes, but I took the lack of a nosebleed as a good sign and went off to bed.  Sleep was not restful for me, though, because I am a habitual stomach-sleeper, face down on my pillows, so although I carefully arranged myself on my side with my nose well clear of the pillows, as soon as I was deeply asleep enough, I'd automatically roll over and then OW OW OW wake myself up, wait for my eyes to stop watering, carefully rearrange myself on my side and repeat until morning.  A few times, I felt my nose running and though "Oh crap, now I do have a nosebleed" but it was just a plain, old, garden-variety runny nose, likely due to all the tears that my rolling onto my face was causing.


When daylight arrived, I did a quick survey - nothing seemed to have fallen off or swelled up to any grotesque proportions, and my pillowcase was delightfully clear of any bloody nose type stains.  I went into the bathroom to observe what time had wrought -

Whew, no black eyes and the bruising and swelling weren't too bad, either.

So yes, for Mother's Day, I get to channel my inner Marcia Brady.  She was so pretty and cool and popular - who wouldn't want to be Marcia, Marcia, Marcia? She did get to hang out with Davy Jones and have him sing to her, after all...

Now, while you're doubtless sitting there wishing your kid could accidentally be so thoughtful for you, let me wow you further - do you know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow?  What my big plans are for Mother's Day?  Well, hang on to your hats, because I'm going to be................ painting!  (Are you jealous yet?)  I'm actually rather excited about it, just because it means we're making progress on our renovation project list.  Our current To Do List has a deadline on it - we want to have everything completed before Kiddo's seventh birthday party, which we're having here at the house (eep!) and to which Kiddo's inviting her whole class, Daisy troop and a few other friends (I believe we have 30 kids total who will be invited - double eep!) and which will have a Secret Agent theme.  Speaking of the theme, I'm a bit miffed because I entered a contest to win food and beverages for a kid's birthday party through a group of organic food companies, and while I didn't win, they still posted my idea as one of their top "ideas we love" - what's up with that?  You loved my idea but don't want to give me a few cases of organic snacks?  Grrrr.  (You can find their list here, and my idea is #3 - the Kim Possible Secret Agent theme. THIRD on the list, but I didn't win.  There were multiple winners, btw.  No, I'm not bitter.  Okay, yes, I am a little bitter.  I was so hoping to win!!)  Anyway, we want to have the foyer, living room, dining room, hallway, stairways and downstairs bathroom done by then - we've got 3 more weekends before the party.  Then there's the actual party, which is going to take some planning and preparation.  There's also a bunch of school/PTSA and Girl Scout stuff going on in the next three weeks and the yard which won't stop needing mowing, just in case I thought I was going to be relaxing any time soon.

So, tomorrow when all you other moms out there are having mani/pedis or champagne brunches with George Clooney or hot stone massages or just sleeping in until noon and then watching whatever you want on TV completely undisturbed with snacks and beverages brought to you on demand, think of me, Marcia Brady with a paint roller.  I'll raise a gallon of primer in a toast to you and wish you a very happy Mother's Day!

(Okay, I should mention in all seriousness and officially for the record that Hubby has said we will be going out for breakfast tomorrow morning, after Kiddo lobbied hard for "going out to eat for all three meals" for Mother's Day.  I also know that Kiddo has a Mother's Day present for me hidden in her closet, as I've been expressly forbidden from looking in her closet before tomorrow.  So, I don't mean to imply that they're not planning on doing anything in terms of celebrating tomorrow, just that once we're done with the celebrating, lots of painting type stuff will be taking place.)

I will leave you with a short video clip that has had all three of us Smiths cracking up this weekend - 





Hee!

Tug, tug, tug

Will it ever stop tugging at my heartstrings to see my kid taking her leave of me?

Don't get me wrong - I am perfectly happy to let her go. Thrilled, most mornings. I couldn't wait for her to leave this morning, as she was cranky and copping a major attitude. I can confidently assure you of my heartfelt wish that the bus arrive NOW after an hour and a half of the eye rolling, selective hearing (seriously: she was looking right at me as I clearly and crisply enunciated the words "Please clear your plate right now" and all she did was continue to look at me, utterly blankly, as though my mouth had not just opened and her native language poured forth) and "Whatevering" that was tossed my way, not to mention the hands on the hips, dramatically heaved sighs coupled with mutterings under her breath and the occasional "Mo-ooom!" for that final, finishing touch to completely stomp all over my very. last. nerve. Hoo boy, was I ready for her to head off to school and leave me in the relative peace and quiet of the house.

And yet... watching those skinny, little legs poking out from under the ginormous, Princess backpack disappear up the steps and onto the bus, and then seeing the tiny, tiny hand waving goodbye and flashing the "I Love You" sign out the window, even as her face turned away and she began merrily chatting with her seatmate.... tug, tug, tug on the heartstrings once again. Gets me every time.

So, she's in first grade now. I'll be totally over the tugging at the heartstrings by middle school, right? High school? College? *sniff* I'm the tiniest bit afraid I won't be, and also the tiniest bit afraid that I will.

Prayers for Addison

Debbie, a fellow "mom blogger" whom I follow regularly (read: stalk) is sitting in a hospital waiting room right now, as her gorgeous, almost-three-year old daughter, Addison, undergoes a lengthy operation. On her brain. Her FOURTEENTH operation, by the way. I've never met Debbie in person, but I've been following her blog for a while, so I think of her as one of my blogging buddies. Again, I'm just a stalker - I don't even know for sure that she knows I exist, beyond my occasional, typically lengthy comment...

Anyhow, Debbie has asked those folks who read her blog to keep them lifted up in prayer today. I would like to ask that of anyone who reads this post and is of the praying sort as well. Please feel free to drop by Debbie's blog and read up on everything, but also to oooh and aaah over the pictures of Addison - she's one of the cutest redheads around! - and her equally adorable big brother Noah, and then please do say a prayer for them. I am so freaked out about Kiddo's upcoming eye surgery, which is such small potatoes compared to what Addison is going through right this moment, that I cannot imagine being in Debbie and her husband Shawn's shoes. They certainly can use all the prayer support they can get today. If you're not the praying sort, any good thoughts or wishes sent out on their behalf would be great, too. Thanks!

Happy Mother's Day

I don't have my scanner, so I can't scan this in to share the illustrations, but Kiddo came home with a book she made in school for Mother's Day. (They also painted flower pots for Mother's Day, but I knew about that because Kiddo is the World's Worst Secret Keeper and spilled the beans ages ago, even without any prompting from me.) Each page has a "fill in the blank" format and each page is wonderfully illustrated.

My Mother

by Kiddo

May, 2009


This is my mom. She is 41 feet tall and weighs 37 pounds. She is 37 years old. She has brown hair and brown eyes.



My mom works very hard. She is a home clenr.



My mom likes to let me scrach her bak.



My mom does not like to get swety.



My mom likes to eat chesbrgrs.



My mom is funny when she ticls me hy hy hy hy.



My mom is special because I have fun brthdas.

---
Translations and commentary...

37 pounds? I wish!

For the "home cleaner" picture, I am gleefully sweeping the kitchen floor, which is covered in grass and dirt. I don't think that I have ever had a look of glee on my face while sweeping the floor...

The "let me scratch her back" picture has us in matching outfits, me at my computer and Kiddo scratching my back. This one is totally true; I try to get Kiddo to scratch my back all the time.

As for the not getting sweaty, I'm not sure where Kiddo came up with this one. I mean, it's true enough - I am not particularly fond of being really sweaty, but still, I certainly wouldn't have said that for my top thing I don't like. The picture, however, is hilarious - I'm standing outside in the sun (who is wearing sunglasses, naturally) and there's a line of perfect, blue droplets dripping off the top of my head. I can only guess she was thinking back to when we were in WDW last summer and all it took to start sweating was stepping outside our hotel room and breathing...

The cheeseburger choice is another head scratcher for me. I mean, yes, I do enjoy a good cheeseburger - and the drawing she did certainly looks like a fantastic burger with a nice, fluffy bun covered in sesame seeds, but I can think of at least ten things I would say I "like to eat" way before I'd ever come up with cheeseburger myself. Perhaps this is because I like to sing along to the VeggieTales "His Cheeseburger" song.



I do love that song, that's for sure!

My mom is funny when she tickles me. That's "hee hee hee hee" and not "hi hi hi hi" by the way. This picture is hilarious, too. I once again have a look of utter glee on my face as I'm tickling Kiddo's feet. She is laughing in the picture, too.

And in closing, a little hint as to what kind of birthday cake Kiddo wants this year - the illustration for the "I have fun birthdays" page is a giant cake with Simba and Nala from The Lion King on it.

I told Kiddo that as soon as we get to our new house, I will plant the seeds (a packet of pansy seeds was included with the gorgeously painted flowerpot) - I bet they'll be quite happy out on the lanai...

So, along with Kiddo's stuff, Hubby gave me a Dunkin' Donuts gift card (I do love my DD hot chocolate) which was perfect timing as I just used up the last of the gift card he put in my Christmas stocking on Friday. Well, there's $.62 left on that one, but really, I don't even think that'd get you a Munchkin. Hubby also made omelets for breakfast, which was tasty *and* helped use up some of the eggs left in the fridge.

And that is about it for the Mother's Day festivities around our house. The rest of the day is going to be spent packing and packing and then cleaning and then packing some more. Our goal is to essentially have everything packed besides a suitcase and toiletries and be down to "mattresses on the floor" state by tonight. Then all we'll have to do is load up the moving truck Wednesday morning. I'm not sure if the everything will include my computer (and obviously, I'm hoping my computer is not in Hubby's intended list of electronics dismantling) but if my internet appearances get sporadic in the coming week, I apologize in advance. (You know if it is up to me, the computer will be the last thing to be unplugged as we're pulling out of the driveway for the last time Thursday morning.........) I was a little bummed when I woke up, because I'd been dreaming about packing and I had been so productive and then I woke up and realized that none of the stuff I packed was real. BUMMER. So, as I haven't yet apparently mastered the art of Dream Packing, I should get to it. Though I'd willingly stop packing for some Cheesy Eddie's carrot cake... hint hint hint, anyone who might be reading this (*cough*Hubby or Kiddo*cough*)....

I hope everyone has a wonderful Mother's Day, or alternatively, a wonderful Sunday!

Mmmmmmeme!

There's this alphabet meme that's been making the rounds of the blogosphere, and the always delightful Georgie gave me a letter so I could play, too! Thanks, Georgie!! She gave me the letter M, and now I have to come up with ten things I like that start with M... As many other meme-attempters have said, this is harder than it looks, as it turns out! Here goes:

1. Motherhood.


Best thing ever. 'Nuff said.

2. Movies.


Love 'em, and don't get to see enough of 'em these days, either in the theater (especially in the theater!) or even on DVD. I can't wait until Kiddo is old enough that Hubby and I can resume our moviegoing habits without having to worry about being able to make that month's mortgage payment so we can hire a sitter AND see a movie.

3. Music.


Just about any kind, except heavy/death metal, opera and most rap or hip-hop. Otherwise, I'm your girl! From showtunes to classical to 80s pop to country to gospel to rock to folk, oh yeah, it's all good. (My love of music and relative talent in the area does not, however, mean I can dance. I can't. I'm hopeless on a dance floor.)

4. Macaroni and cheese.

Preferably with bacon. Hey, these chins didn't grow themselves, you know. It took help. Help and laziness in the kitchen come dinnertime.

5. Uh-oh, I'm not even halfway through yet and I'm drawing a blank. I'm strongly tempted to say Meorge Mlooney, but I'll save that for if I get really desperate round about number 9 or 10. How about, instead, I'll go with Musicals.


Different than music, I think, as a "musical" is a type of theatrical production. I love musicals. LOVE them. I'm a Broadway Baby. What's that? You want to know my top ten, all time favorite musicals? Well, since you asked and in alphabetical, not favorites order....

• A Chorus Line
• Anything Goes
• Cabaret
• Cats
• Chicago
• Guys and Dolls
• Hello, Dolly!
• La Cage Aux Folles
• Les Miserables
• The Lion King

6. Magicians.
Well, not *all* magicians - that Criss Angel dude freaks me out and David Blaine annoys the heck out of me. (I'm thinking they probably consider themselves "illusionists" or something instead of straight-out magicians, anyhow.) Penn and Teller, though? They rock! I used to make a point out of going to see their show at least once whenever Hubby and I went to Vegas, often on my own as Hubby preferred playing poker to seeing a show he'd seen before. Another great magician who works in Vegas is Mac King. When we saw him, I laughed hard enough to give myself a severe side cramp. Funny and amazing at the close-up magic, who could ask for anything more? Heck, I even am a Siegfried and Roy fan - we saw their show, too. (I even saw their 3-D IMAX movie - in the theater - back in the day.) It's not just Vegas magicians, though - any magician who is halfway decent, better if they're funny as well.

7. Merriment and Mirth (wow, a twofer!). I love to be happy, I love to laugh. (Who doesn't?) My default mode is to always look for the sunny side of life. Unless I've got PMS, in which case all I want to look for is a bag of Cheez Doodles, a bar or six of chocolate, and a comfy spot to curl up upon and moan. But other than those few days, I'm all about sunshine and happiness and humor and smiles and joy, and those things that bring them, like

7.5. Muppets!



8. Mignon, filet.


(Yeah, I'm cheating a bit - still it's better than busting out Meorge Mlooney!) Medium rare, preferably with Bearnaise sauce and/or wrapped in bacon. I have it at most once a year if I'm lucky, but I love it.

9. Milk.
Well, actually, any and all milk products, aka dairy. Again, these chins (and thigh rolls, hip rolls, belly rolls and back rolls) didn't grow themselves, and you can't put that much pressure on a poor, little box of macaroni and cheese. See, cheese. Mmmm, cheese. Sour cream. Ice cream. Whipped cream. Butter. Yogurt. Cottage cheese. If it is made from something that came out of a cow's udder, I am a fan. I even like milk, straight up (or, of course, with chocolate sauce or Ovaltine. Mmmmmm, Ovaltine....)

10. Okay, for my tenth and final Favorite Thing that Starts with the Letter M, I've got a good one, especially given my recent wedding anniversary (and thanks for all the good wishes, y'all! You're all so sweet!): Matrimony. Marriage. There's nothing like it, and hopefully the day isn't too far off when everyone can get married, regardless of with whom it is they fall in love...



All right, there are my 10, and I didn't even have to use Meorge (or Malan Mickman or Meddie Mizzard, either) to get there. Whew. Anyone else want to play? Let me know and I'll happily give you a letter!

Need a little favor...

Hey gang, while I've been navel-gazing over here on my blog, my dear friend Coco has been having Serious, Bad Things happening in her life, which she just blogged about here. So, if you can do me a little favor, please pop over to her blog, leave her an encouraging word or three and say a prayer for her and her mom if you are of the praying sort? I'd appreciate it - she could use all the support and prayers she can get right now.

Thank you! And please remember to give your loved ones a big hug and tell them that you love them, or pick up the phone and tell them you love them if they're not close enough to hug. Life is too short...

When urban legends are true

As any of you who have read my blog in the past week are aware, Kiddo has RSV. With the RSV has come thick-n-plentiful congestion and a frequent cough. I'd posted about this on my Facebook status the day before yesterday (because if one is going to whinge on about something, one might as well whinge on in any available forum, eh? I Twittered about it too...). Within an hour, I had no less than three of my friends reply to my FB status update to suggest that I rub Vicks on the soles of Kiddo's feet at bedtime.

Now, I'd heard of this practice before and dismissed it pretty much out of hand. I mean, when I was a kid, sure, Mom would slather my throat and chest with Vicks (then wrap a dishtowel around my neck, safety-pinned at the back, under my jammies) whenever I had a bad chest cold/cough. But that makes some amount of sense, what with the vapors having good proximity to the breathing and all. How on earth could having Vicks on the bottom of one's feet be beneficial, if one sleeps like a normal human (or even like Kiddo, with her various contortions and shiftings about in her sleep) and not pretzeled up like some master yoga practitioner?? Plus, the instructions include covering the Vicks-slathered feet with socks (for bed linens-protection purposes) which adds a further layer of vapor-blocking to the enterprise.

But still, THREE people. Three mothers who I find to be not only quite sane, but utterly trustworthy, no less. All three of them were telling me of their first-hand experience doing this and swearing to me that this Vicks-on-feet thing worked. I told Hubby about it, and he scoffed. I told him I thought I might try it, and he rolled his eyes and scoffed further, then remarked that it would "ruin the bedding" before considering the matter closed. I googled it and proceeded to read the Snopes article (oh Snopes, how I adore thee and thy debunking ways) which didn't give a solid confirmation or denial. I clicked back to my google search results and proceeded to read blog after blog after message board after message board post about how mom after mom tried this with much success. (Of course no one hopped onto the interwebz to announce they'd tried this method and found it to be full of hooey....) It sure seemed like a lot of anecdotal evidence... I considered the idea some more.

When I announced my intention to Vicksify her feet at Kiddo's bedtime, Hubby threw his hands up and shook his head, as Hubby is wont to do when I'm on to one of my "crazy schemes", but I persisted. I slathered the bottoms of Kiddo's feet with Vicks (well, actually, with Generic Mentholated Rub Goo) and double-socked them, just to be sure that the linens and vast horde of stuffed animals that share Kiddo's bed wouldn't be too camphortastic come morning. We also ran the cool mist humidifier (set to "tropical rainforest") with the Vicks scented pad thingy in the holder for additional mentholated effect. Hubby was rather skeptical, and to be honest, so was I, but I figured it wasn't going to hurt anything, except maybe a stuffed animal or twelve who might need a bath come morning.

Kiddo fell asleep. Time ticked by. Nary a cough sounded from her room. I was up until almost midnight (thanks to an afternoon nap that threw my schedule totally off) and still, not a cough. Kiddo is an impressive cougher, too - it rings out through the house, reverberating off the walls in such a manner as to make our house seem like one of those sanitarium tuberculosis wards of old. All I heard was silence. I checked on her before turning in at twelve. Sleeping soundly and breathing pretty well (she was snoring, as she does whenever she's congested). Hmmmm.

This morning, Kiddo woke us up shortly after seven. Not by coughing up a lung, mind you, but by scampering into our room, relatively bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well, bushy haired at any rate - the kid does an awesome "bed head" look, even with her hair secured in a pony tail or braids before sleep. No coughing. None. Her nasal congestion also was markedly improved - I did the "squirt squirt" routine (nasal saline spray and much nose blowing) with her this morning and there was hardly anything produced compared to the floods of ick that scoffed at the Puffs Plus and exploded over my hand of yesterday.

Now, it is entirely possible that this is all coincidental, that Kiddo would've been this much improved without any wacky old wives'-urban legend remedy. Hubby thinks it was just the added presence of vapors in the room and posited that had I done as my mother did and rubbed it onto Kiddo's chest/throat instead, it would've worked as well if not better than the feet. Hmmmm. All I know is that 24 hours ago I was thinking there was no way Kiddo was going to be healthy enough to go back to school tomorrow, and now today? I totally think she could. She has no fever, hardly any congestion, and has only coughed once since she woke up. We're staying home again today and having one more day of "taking it easy" just to be safe, but all signs point to YES on the return to school, and you'd better believe I'm rejoicing over that.

Either way, you can be darn sure I'm going to Vicks her feet again tonight!

Oh no, she didn't!

Oh yes, I did. I just walked Kiddo the bus stop, four houses up at the corner of our street, in my jammies. Granted, I'm not decked out in Victoria's Secret lingerie, just a t-shirt and pajama pants, and I had my barn coat on over them, plus I'd brushed my teeth and hair and washed my face. (I also put clogs on as the sidewalk is a wee bit too landmined with goose poop to traipse about barefoot safely.) So, it wasn't exactly "just rolled out of bed" (besides which, I've been up since just about 6), but it wasn't "ready to hop into the car and head out into the world" either.

Last year, when I was driving Kiddo to preschool every day, I always showered and dressed in actual clothes before heading out. Granted, sometimes they were just my gym clothes, but it wasn't like I was schlepping to preschool sans bra or toothpaste. There were other moms who frequently dropped their kids off while still in a jammified state, and I'll confess that I felt a wee bit superior upon occasion. But now, I'd venture that the school bus stop is different, especially if one is returning to one's home immediately thereafter and it is before 8:30 in the morning besides. Also, in not too many more weeks, we'll have to bundle up and no one will be able to tell if I have clothes or jammies on anyhow! (I did get called on my jammies by the other mom at the bus stop today. She said that she was jealous, actually...)

The main reason I wasn't so up-and-at-'em this morning was because I'm fighting a losing battle with a nasty head cold. All I wanted to do today was stay in bed, perhaps with an eye open to watch Matt and Meredith, but certainly not doing anything more productive. Obviously, I couldn't have my wish, what with the kiddo having to be roused, fed, glasses washed and hair done, supervised while dressing and toothbrushing, and making sure that she had everything she needed for school. She came home on Friday without her lunchbag, so by day 2 we already had made one emergency trip back over to school to collect a left-behind item. Couldn't have that happen on my watch, now could I? So, I was up but not necessarily so very at 'em, and yes, I did wear my jammies to the bus stop. A precedent was set, the slippery slope and all that, and I have a feeling that until I'm once more gainfully employed and needing to be on my way after the bus arrives, there will be many more mornings when my jammies strut the catwalk - erm, I mean sidewalk - to the corner.

I figure as long as I'm not still in my pajamas at 3 when the bus drops her off, I'm doing all right...

(PS - Still loving the bulbous bouffant from my previous post. It cracks me up every time. Hee! Oh and yes, they are Canadian, for those of you who wondered, eh...)

It's in the bag

As long as I can remember, I've been a Big, Honkin' Bag girl. Even back in junior high and high school, my purse was large enough to hold a few paperback books, an umbrella, a bottle of soda and my Walkman along with several tapes (and those of you who are of a certain age, like me, will recall that back in the day, Walkmen were ginormous - a far cry from the itty-bitty iPods of today) as well as the "typical" purse items, like a wallet, make-up, etc. For a brief stretch in college, I way, way downsized to a wallet/keychain combo, but that didn't last more than a semester before I gave up and went back to the big bag. As a mom, I've found the big bag comes in very handy, and as the mom of a kiddo with SPD, especially so. While many other moms out there may carry such items as wet wipes and band-aids, I've also got mini-containers of Play-doh and other good, sensory items like that for a fidgety, sensory-seeking kid. Oh, and the band-aids, well, I don't have just one or two. Over the past five years, I've learned to carry a wide variety of sizes, shapes and styles. Need a Princess "tattoo" band-aid? Who do you want, Ariel or Jasmine? Ripped the skin clear off your knee? I've got the giant, rectangular ones - with or without the built-in antibiotic goo. (These especially have come in handy several times with my kiddo, whose bare knees have never met a sidewalk or chunk of asphalt they didn't like.) How about a Diego or Curious George for that cut on your finger? Check! When the kiddo was younger, I also carried a baggie with a spare diaper/pull-up, scented disposal bag and a mini-pack of wipes, just in case I was without the spares in the diaper bag or the mini-van. (I was a firm believer in always having a spare for my spare, back in the Pre-Potty Trained days.)

The reason I raise this topic right now is because I bought a new bag yesterday and I've just finished transferring stuff from my old purse into the new one. Now, I know there are women out there who have Many Cute Handbags - women who switch from one bag to another to suit their whim or match their outfit or mood. I am not one of these women. I'm definitely a more Utilitarian Handbag kind of gal. I do have a "dressy" black clutch that I will use on those very infrequent occasions when I am going out to a fancy shindig, but that happens maybe once or twice a year at best. While my grandmother was a strict "matching bag, belt and shoes" woman who tried her hardest to instill the same fashion ethic in me, I have strayed far from that particular rule. (Well, first off, I rarely wear belts these days, and secondly, my choice of footwear is generally either my Birks or a pair of clogs or boots, all somewhere in the brown family. The only exception to this is church on Sundays, and now that I think of it, I generally wear my Birks or clogs or boots to church, too...) I do occasionally have a small twinge of "Grandma is rolling over in her grave" when I'm slinging my brown bag over my shoulder in a black-based outfit - especially for church, but I shrug it off and head on my way.

Yes, my brown bag. My beloved, gigantic, prepared for war, I-can-fit-a-small-child-in-there brown bag. My most recent purse was a brown leather (pleather? it sure wasn't too expensive anyhow) messenger bag from Target. It was large, it was roomy, it had convenient storage compartments for all my stuff. I could even toss my camera in there with room to spare. Sure, it's heavy when fully loaded, but I'm used to it, having carried a Big, Honkin' Bag for decades now.

I have rules for my bags. Obviously, they must be large. They must have a shoulder strap that is long enough to allow the bag to rest about hip-high. My mother gave me a lovely handbag for my birthday two years ago, it was large, brown, and a gorgeous, real leather - it even was a Cool Brand (not that I recall what brand name it was) - this was a bag that Carrie Bradshaw et al might be seen carrying with pride. Unfortunately, it had short handles, so when I did put the straps up onto my shoulder, the bag was wedged underneath my armpit. Ew. I believe it is meant to be carried on one's forearm (and indeed, I've seen several of the same style carried just like that in the Star Tracks section of People's website), but that just doesn't work for me. It feels awkward and impeding of movement and with all the stuff I lug around, uncomfortably heavy, too. Hence, the shoulder strap-hip length rule.

I have found one style of bag once that isn't a shoulder strap-hip length bag that works for me. Two years ago, my handbag purchase (again from Target) was actually a leather backpack. I mourned its passing (one of the shoulder straps blew) because I'd gotten very used to having both hands/arms free without a bag dangling at my hip. It was quite helpful when toddler-wrangling, yet I still had all my Stuff with me, too. I envy those women who can go purse-less or who can carry a teensy-tiny, cute, little bag. I've got friends who don't carry any bag at all, but along with my envy, I just don't get how they can get by without all the necessary stuff. It befuddles me as much as I long to have the freedom of no purse to contend with. The backpack is the closest I've been able to come to No Bag at All, yet still have all my stuff.

This brings me to my current handbag. (Hmm, do you think I've now said "handbag" enough times to drive away any possible men that might be reading this? I guess I just assume that only women read my blog, anyhow...) Yesterday, Hubby, the kiddo and I ventured to the outlet mall in search of a sunhat for the kiddo for our upcoming vacation (we're going to Disney World, woo!), along with some other odds and ends. I've sort of been on a quest for a new bag for a few months now. The downside to buying inexpensive purses at Target, especially when they're subjected to heavy, daily use, is that eventually, they wear out. My messenger bag purse has been held together with a fair amount of superglue for a few months now. With our upcoming vacation, I'd been keeping an eye out for another backpack-style bag, but had yet to find one that is big enough to carry what I need to carry and also not utterly heinous looking. Not an easy quest, let me tell you. This bag is my dream bag, but the price tag on it means that I will not be placing my order at LL Bean until after I collect my lottery winnings. I have yet to find a more reasonably priced knock-off of my dream LL Bean bag, so I've been looking for a backpack like the last one I got at Target (which alas, is no longer available, because believe me, I've checked) instead.

Now, the outlet mall has a Wilson Leather store. I decided I'd pop in and check out the offerings. While Hubby and the kiddo sat on a bench outside the shop, growing more and more grumpy as they baked in the sun, I perused the selection of backpacks as quickly as I could. I found one, marked down from $98 to $19, that seemed like it would fit the bill, though it was significantly smaller than my messenger bag. The lure of the good deal (look! It was NINETY EIGHT DOLLARS and I'm getting it for ONLY NINETEEN!) and the need for a backpack coupled with the sight of my increasingly impatient family sweating on the bench outside finally overwhelmed me and I bought the backpack. Hubby was dubious when I showed him my purchase. "It seems kinda small, dontcha think?" I waved off his misgivings - clearly, his brain was addled from all that sun - and we went on our way.

Which brings me to this morning. I did The Big Transfer, moving stuff from the messenger bag over to the backpack. As it turns out? It's kinda small. Everything that I need fits, with some modifications - one container of Play-doh instead of three, not carrying my contact lens solution unless I happen to be wearing my contacts, that sort of thing. My wallet takes up a lot more room in the inside pouch than I had thought it would, so I think my next step will be to buy a smaller wallet (my wallet's been on the verge of total disintegration for aeons now) to free up some more room inside. (No, I will not admit to Hubby that the backpack I got is too small. Let's just keep that between us, shall we?) That way, I can carry this backpack for at least a few months - until Hubby forgets that I just bought it, and then I can get a new, bigger bag. This is my plan and I'm sticking to it, unless the LL Bean Fairy delivers one of my dream bags to my doorstep or I win the lottery. (Which, incidentally, is hard to do as I don't buy lottery tickets unless the Megamillions jackpot is over $100 million. I mean, really, why bother trying to win the lottery if it is only a few million, right?)

Those of you who are Cute, Little Purse women, or even No Bag at All women, how do you do it? How do you have the things you might need without carrying a BHB, especially if you're a mom? Please share your secrets - maybe it will help me adjust to the too-small backpack! Otherwise, when the time comes that I buy yet another BHB in a few months, at least I'll be happy I only spent $19 on the too-small backpack currently sitting downstairs in the kitchen.

Happy Mother's Day!

As is unfortunately tradition in our house, the kiddo was up at dawn's first light today. Hubby got up with her so I could sleep in, which I did until 7:00 - woo-hoo! This is an improvement over last year when the kiddo set off our security alarm in the wee, small hours of the morning. That was the first and only time she's ever done that (it was accidental - she was looking for her godmother who had been over the night before and was here when the kiddo went to bed. She'd erroneously thought that her godmother had slept over and was trying to check the garage for her. Apparently the kiddo thinks that we'd make guests sleep in the garage......)

Anyhow, when I went moseying on downstairs at 7 this morning, the kiddo couldn't wait to give me my Mother's Day card to open, the one she picked out all by herself on a trip to the card store with Hubby.



The thing that you can't quite make out thanks to the whole "flatbed" part of the flatbed scanner is that Piglet is on a spring. A spring! Who could resist Piglet on a spring? And glitter?! Not my kiddo! She was very excited to point out how springy Piglet is, and how you can see him through the circle on the front of the card, then when you open it, he springs up!

(I should also point out here that the kiddo is yet in the earlier stages of the whole "reading" thing, and that even if she had read the wording on the front - and I'm fairly certain that Hubby pointed it out to her anyhow - the whole Piglet-on-a-spring thing still would have convinced her this was the perfect card, Grandma or not.)

They also gave me a brand-spankin'-new set of gardening tools in a cool carrying case. Apparently the various cheap, hand-me-down/garage sale-acquired tools I've been using for the past several years and lugging about the yard in my old college shower caddy are finally done with once and for all. These tools are not only shiny and new, but are made of rustproof material and are unlikely to bend or even snap in two at their first (or hundredth) contact with our insanely hard, clay soil. Woo-hoo!

Our Mother's Day plans are to get ourselves motivated (yes, I'll grant you that some of the fam has been up a wee bit longer than I have, but we're all still in jammies), head downtown to the Public Market for the first week of their annual Flower City Sundays sale and get the hanging baskets and other annuals I put in the planters on the porch and deck. Then, Hubby is going to rototill the food garden bed for me so I can get all our seedlings planted (they're straining against the lid of the starter tray at this point) and I'll get to play with my new gardening tools. Yippie!!

To all the women out there like me with reason to celebrate today, I wish you a very happy Mother's Day! To those who are grieving the loss of a child, my thoughts and prayers are with you.