Bra Shopping...

So my bras were as old as, well, almost as old as me, and I only had two comfortable ones. Time to go shopping. I put this kind of shopping off as long as possible for three basic reasons: 1. they are expensive 2. No one (well almost) sees them. 3. It involves a lot of patience and time--and I am short on both these days. I wait until my bras are basically falling apart and no longer fulfilling their desired purpose before giving them the heave-ho. Shoes are much cuter and much more enjoyable to purchase.

I drop off the two older boys at summer classes and head to Kohl's. They are having a sale tomorrow, but I would rather avoid the crowds, and have the dressing room to myself. Andrew is in the shopping cart, playing with the remnants of my iced decaf coffee which is basically sticky ice and a straw. It keeps him occupied, so I encourage it. I don't even mind as he spills it down his shirt, hoping that it will provide me a few more minutes of trying on clothing. However, as I am standing there half dressed, I start to wonder how clothed I would need to be to chase Andrew through Kohl's, if the necessity arose. How many male employees were there really? Is holding a shirt up to my chest enough? How far could he run in the time it would take me to put my shirt back on? I love those dressing rooms with walls and doors all the way to the ground--alas, this was not the case today.

Rows and rows of lace, bows, and padding...which ones will do the trick? It is no wonder women are wearing the wrong sized bras (according to Oprah). Is there really any standard? I tried on bras that are supposed to be my size and they were too small. I tried on the next size up, they were too big. The "lacy" bras look sexy and cute, but you can see the lace through my tank top--not so cute. The "minimizing" bras minimize by spreading your chest down your tummy or over towards your armpits. They might as well be called the smushing, flattening, man-like bras. Then there are the "stand-alone" bras which require none of your own filling. They pretty much stand up on their own, but might become concave if someone gives you a big hug. Then there are the "cone-shaped" bras..who wears these things? They pretty much distort your boob into a three dimensional triangle. Then there are the "soft, comfy" bras, the ones you want to buy until you put your shirt on and realize that the reason they are so comfy is that they are providing zero support... Ugh!

While picking up spilled ice, quieting screams of "too tight, too tight" (prior to his Houdini-like escape from the stroller) and "WET" as he points to his coffee stained T-shirt, I manically hurry through about 50 bras. About every third bra I retrieved the freed toddler from the empty stalls next to me. In the end, I walked away with six. One "stand-alone" bra, three slightly "lacy" bras, and two "soft, comfy" ones. (Andrew walked away with a stuffed dog, another attempt at distracting and pre-occupying. ) Here's hoping they last a long time!

It's summertime! We live in the pool now :)

Be careful what you wish for...

Yesterday my facebook status update described what I "wish"ed were easier about watching the boys at gymnastics (ie not having to chase Andrew around the viewing room). I immediately received a loud and blaring warning from my self-conscious: "Be careful what you wish for."

Andrew is at that hard age between one and two--I think it is the hardest age, at least until he becomes a teenager. He is into everything. He ambles up the cabinet drawers and sits on my stove top searching for snacks (which I need to move). He runs off and finds (makes) disasters wherever he goes. He is too young to formally discipline, yet he needs constant correcting. He is constantly moving. He is exhausting.

BUT he is SO sweet. He spontaneously uses his newly learned word, "hugs," and gives me full-body, full-strength squeezes around my neck. With concerned looks, he pats my back (like I do his) when he perceives that I am upset. He smiles at me, and then gives me wet little babykisses right on the lips. He demands, "up" and will cuddle right into my lap. His little body is so precious, words can't express my joy. I am his absolute favorite person. Be careful what I wish for.

As with everything, there is always the greener pasture, the other side of the fence. It is always so easy for me to look forward to a time when things will be easier. I suppose the challenge is always to take the good with the bad and enjoy it in the present moment. Pudding in the dogs fur, and high heels in the bathtub water are a small price to pay for the joy of his current, curious, exploratory, affectionate, mommy-worshipping age.

Proceed with Caution

So I guess this is kind of a "duh" statment, but when you write, you have to be honest and share yourself, or it's just a bunch of dull nothing. But when you share yourself, especially on the web, (even if I only have one follower :) ), you are putting personal stuff out there. I have been having "whoa nellie" moments, wondering if I shouldn't just put this stuff in my diary and call it a day. Perhaps I will. But, then again, some people express themselves loudly and clearly every day by opening their mouth and talking. I tend to keep my lips together quite often. I express myself best when I sit down at the computer, or with a pen and paper. So, perhaps, while it makes me feel vulnerable and exposed, it is a needed exposure. I don't know. Maybe it's not. Maybe I will just scrap this whole blog thing. Maybe not...

In the Pool

Three, rather, four in the water.
I forgot myself
Amid the screaming,
The squirting shark guns,
The constant complaining about beastly brothers,
The desperate clamoring to what seems to be the top of my head,
The bathing-suit pulling,
The mascara dripping,
The ever-exuberant splashing, and
The crying.

My bleary, blackened, hawk-like eyes constantly scanning
For three young bodies.
Counting heads:
One, two, yes, three.
Following the youngest
On his land-loving quest around the pitted deck,
Reaching for the tiny pink gun
Floating two inches too far beyond.
Catching the wide-eyed middle as he leaps,
Thud! on top of me
And struggles back and forth,
To and from the pebbletec steps.
Bracing for the eldest, as he
Canonballs off the boulder,
Splashing and drenching with his
Well-aimed birthday present super soaker water blaster.