Bibbidy Bobbidy Boo

Have you ever looked through your closet and realized that you've outgrown your own fashion.   That sense of style that you were so immensely proud of is actually just ridiculous for a 30-something professional with a baby on her hip??? Seriously, hip slung jeans that show your butt crack are just not cute any more.  Those tank tops with the built in shelf bras don't support anything that gravity has decided needs to touch the floor without the miracle of a water bra insert...in fact, when you greet the UPS dude in the tank w/shelf bra remember he's not ogling your breasts, he is shocked and appalled at the fact that they stretch that far!!! PUT ON A REAL BRA!!! (this is really just a reminder to myself...anybody who feels comfortable letting their boobs hang low, by all means, sing it sister!)

Not only has your skin changed, your hips expanded, your boobs shrunken, your belly taken on a new layer of dough, but your clothes just do not fit right.  They just don't.  I could blame little bean for this but really who can blame the kid for craving M&M's and ice cream every night while taking up residence in that sanctuary inside mommy? Nope, can't blame the kid at all for that.... So, my theory is 9 months on 9 months off and the leftovers are just called reality.  I'm not defeated, I know with some hard work and dedication I could change my body, solidify the dough, >tighten< the not so tight. I just haven't gotten there and really I'm not all that worried about it. It's the clothes that are really starting to tick me off. When did I suddenly become an adult? I went out yesterday in a t-shirt that I've had since my late twenties, cool at the time. I felt like a moron when I realized I look like a 30-something trying to hard.  I was comfortable mind you - until I was extremely uncomfortable sitting in the dentists office with little bean and a shirt with a skull and flowers on the front.  Yeah....maybe shoulda gone for a polo or something. 

Making Margaritas

After an excessively hot week there is nothing better then sitting on the couch listening to a thunderstorm outside. I'm sure you're all thinking..."fool, get off the computer!" Not to worry, it's only a random crack from time to time, in the distance, and raining gently. When things get hairy I'll shut her down. Promise.  In the meantime, I've been doing a bit of reminiscing.

Moving. It isn't something most people jump up and down at the thought of.  If they are anything like me, they drag their feet until the very last minute, scrambling to get boxes from every store in town and shoving things into garbage bags and plastic totes without labels so upon arrival it is a complete cluster F@#&!  Yeah...that's more my style.  The reminiscing has to do with previous moves.  The most recent being when I was pregnant with little bean.  Not extremely pregnant, probably about four months, just about the time where the sickness and horrifying first trimester disaster is supposed to be over. Unless you're me of course and it lasts through your entire pregnancy. Let me just tell you, stress, anxiety and pregnancy are not a pretty mix! So, I employed the help of everybody I could and I have recently learned that in my haste to move, twice, I lost many things that I loved and many things that are important - read: Important Identifying Documents! Yikes!!!! Not good. That being said, I work best under pressure and cleared out a ton of crap I never actually needed.  Couldn't have done this without the help of friends and family, that's for sure.

I am suddenly finding myself at the point of moving once again. It's an exciting move and one little bean and I will be able to approach with joy and good feelings attached.  I get to sort through the crap slowly and make sure I actually know where the important documents are stashed.  I won't have a belly sticking out a mile in front of me or fear from being 10 feet away from a toilet or other hole worthy of tossing my cookies into.  I won't break a sweat at the thought of carrying a bag of socks to the car. I have never moved with a toddler before and doing a little reading has assured me that little bean will adjust and cope well...I always believe everything I read.  I am sure I won't encounter any meltdowns or near disasters over a misplaced "bubby" aka, bunny or specific book or even a crayon for that matter!   Nope, this is the way it should be done...unless of course you can hire movers to do it for you. That just might be the way it should be done. Who knows.

Prior to the pregnant moves I've had my fair share of packing and unpacking and repacking.  I once dated someone that said he wouldn't own anything he couldn't pack within three minutes and leave.  Yep...that relationship didn't last very long! There was also the guy I once lived with that when I moved across the country and left him behind he mailed me a bunch of my stuff including my stereo without any cords and one shoe from each pair I owned. I walked around lopsided for a LONG time! Seriously though, I wasn't cold-hearted or cruel, I just knew where I didn't want to be.  Generally it wasn't with some loser that could even think of sending someone one of each of their shoes because really if that's the way he approaches life he's probably just not a very good seed.  Regardless of that fact, looking back it is a really funny story and somewhat creative.  It has also been something that has built character and the often used catch phrase..."I'll chalk that one up to life experience." Lots of life experience happens when you move.

When you're ready to leave your parents home and start exploring the world as a teenager it's like it should have happened yesterday and you can't leave fast enough.  When you are ready to embark on adventures later in life it is with caution and curiosity and sure footing.  Your ducks tend to be in a straighter row so to speak so that when you are handed some lemons in life you can find some limes and tequila and make a delicious margarita instead of panicking.  (I don't know...do you put lemon in a margarita? Whatever...you can make it however you want, if you have the time to make one life can't be that bad.)  Boxes upon boxes of chaos could cause anxiety in anybody and surely will have me panicking a little but this time I know where I'm going and I know where I've been so the right now just feels right.  I will continue to write from an Itty-Bitty living space and I can imagine the stories of packing disasters and misplaced Elmo will entertain for weeks to come but I can assure you that each pair of my shoes will remain joined at the feet.

The Not so Pleasant Bits

Makeup. You know, I've never gotten good at using the stuff... Once in a while I'll get a tip from a friend, like use blotting papers when you're out and need to look like you just walked off the runway not the playground.  (Disclaimer: I really have no clue what these are actually called. I just made that up; but to clarify they look like tracing paper with some powder on one side and they absorb that shiny sheen you get when you've been busy all day and haven't had a chance to shower before you have to go to an important event...ya know?) Or you forget your lip gloss and ask a friend to borrow some and then frantically try to ingrain the name of the stuff into your already overstuffed brain so you can rush to your nearest drug store and purchase it in the hopes that you may possibly one day look half as stunning as the original owner.  This is making me sound like I have some major self-image issues.  I wouldn't say that...I would however say that I have earned each and every gray hair I possess, that I have stayed up countless nights to acquire the bags and purple smudges under my eyes and quite frankly I don't look like the 21 year old version of myself any longer.  I'm proud of my hips, my age and everything I've been through to earn every iota of motherhood I possess. So let me rephrase, the lip gloss you borrowed from your much younger, single, child-less friend who looks like she probably slept 12 hours last night alone...not 12 hours total in the last four nights. 

I wish I had some infinite wisdom to share with you here about what makeup you can whip onto your face to make you look ten years younger... No. Scratch THAT. To make you look like you just got a full night of sleep.  Can you imagine if you could bottle that stuff up?!?! Genius idea. Lets think on that one, but for now my wisdom is this.  It can be a challenge to embrace who you are and to enjoy the coming of age.  I personally have always been excited to get older. Maybe it's because I know I won't be making those same dumb-a@$ mistakes I made in my late teens, early twenties, late twenties...oh well, if we're being honest, the mistakes I'm still making.  It is fun, fun, fun to get dressed up and made up and feel like a million bucks for a while and it's fun to get your makeup just right and find something that makes you feel like you just discovered a genie in a bottle for a little while.  It's fun to be a girl and to flaunt the good stuff if you feel like flaunting! However, makeup is not who it says it really is.  Throughout my makeup wearing days I have learned that it is not the makeup, but the person inside that smiles brighter then anybody else, that stands tall, that respects the changes her body has made and is proud to just be that makes you feel like a million bucks.  That is my infinite wisdom on makeup. It lies. 

I own drawers and drawers full of the stuff. It's unreal! I could probably have a healthy savings right now if I stopped walking into the drug store!!! That place is like my kryptonite. I only enter on an emergency basis anymore and even still I end up with stuff I never, ever in a million years needed. Yet, the marketing was awesome, the packaging was too cool to walk away from and I really just "needed" it.  There must be a name for this drug-store obsession I have and to make matters worse, you can simply shop for it all online now! Even greater selections at your beck and call. Ouch. The "lies" work when it comes to sucking me in and making me want to believe.  I honestly do feel refreshed and awake when I apply mascara and some superhero bag reducing, purple smudge erasing, magical potion to my under-eye area.  There is nothing wrong with that as far as I'm concerned, it is a matter of opinion and what makes us feel confident. Maybe the marketing helped guide us there but in reality we decide if we like it and will use it again or if it ends up in the depths of the drawer we rarely open to get a little makeup assistance. 

Funny story: The other day I was out sunbathing on my lawn.  I live in a "relatively" private area and didn't fear that anyone would see anything they shouldn't because I had a bathing suit on...no big deal right? Then a delivery truck started to pull up my driveway and I booked it to the back of the house in hopes that I could outrun his speed up my hill and throw on a t-shirt before getting so busted.  I was clearly unsuccessful as he cracked a joke saying something about it being "pretty private up here huh?" HA!! BUSTED. Mortified.  Re-telling this story to my own mother she asks, "why is it that people can go to a beach full of strangers in a swimsuit but in their own back yard they freak out and run away like fools?" (this may not be her exact wording, but it's how I interpreted it anyway.) So true. Why not own up to the fact that I was taking advantage of little beans nap and catching a few rays (with sunscreen....retract the claws!) and this guy was actually on my territory and time? Same reason I feel awake and confident when I have on a little makeup.  It's hiding the not so pleasant bits and enhancing the ones I like to make it through a day.  If that's what it takes, I say go for it within reason and feel like a million bucks. You really do only live once.

If only I could remember the name of that lip gloss....must be in there with my forgotten passwords somewhere!