In the last post I discussed finding the appropriate dress for my daughter for the family wedding we attended yesterday. As you'll see when you read that, it was a glorious occasion which shall not be repeated at least for a few years.
I hope.
And after suviving that adventure, I was left still with getting my hubby dressed. That, in itself, is a road trip you don't want to take very often, but occasionally it must be done.
If you met my husband, Big Guy, your first thought might be that he hasn't missed many meals. And you're right. That's not to say that he's fat, because he's not. He likes to use the words chubby and pleasantly plump, but since they've been erased from our vernacular by the Politically Correct Police, we are want to find a word to describe his portly self. The only thing we could come up with was Big Guy (BG).
So, Big Guy is a very casual person and he prefers to wear chinos and polo shirts, even to work. He has managed to work his way from suits to business casual over a period of about 10 years and I am so proud of him for all his hard work. It wasn't easy retraining the small minds of business, but he did it.
Now, Big Guy used to be Pretty Hot Muscular Buff Guy. I know that that was a long time ago, so many that we barely remember it, but unfortunately, most of his dress clothes were bought during the PHMBG stage. He went to the Men's Wearhouse many years ago and bought several suits, my favorite being the double breasted navy blue blazer. When PHMBG put on that jacket with a white shirt and a nice pair of pants, well, I'm telling you, it was hard to keep my hands off him. And then he morphed to BG, and let's say that it's just not the same.
When it came time to discuss clothes, I pulled four jackets from Big Guy's distant past from my daughter's closet where they've been gathering dust for about ten years. Well, thirteen or fourteen. The moths hadn't eaten them. They were still stylist (lapels haven't changed that much in that time, at least not for middle aged big guys.)
It was the time for the ceremonial trying-on. He stood. I stuffed him in the jackets. Checked to see if they'd button. None of them really did. And, with that out of the way, it was a toss up as to which he should wear. Considering that none of them really fit him, it didn't matter. Right?
Right.
I think the thing about getting older and looking back on who we used to be is very hard. I don't really enjoy it. I'd rather forget parts of my youth, like when my gut didn't sag and my hips didn't hurt. I'd also rather not remember when PHMBG looked really hot in that navy blazer. Or when he became BG. That was another time, an era we will probably someday totally forget as we progress from middle-aged to really old farts. One day we'll be in diapers again and our kids will be signing us up for some nursing home that smells like bleach where we'll be locked in our rooms at night so we don't escape. I, for one, know that I would not want to be in a place like that.
But one day, the memory of the blue blazer and that wonderful day 14 years after it's purchase when BG again adored himself with that flannel wonder, well, one day that will be gone. My kids will probably clean out our closets and throw it out, along with the other many memories of our lives, like the back massager which I can't get him to use or the orthotics in our shoes. We have shared so many memories.
Like the time he drove through the garage door. Or the time he "fixed" the oven, only to blow out the thermostat. There was the time I left him in the care of my two year old and came home to find her running across the roof. Yes, these are the memories that make for a great marriage and a fun family. These are the stories my kids will be telling at our gravesites.
"Do you remember the time that Mom didn't talk to Dad for two years?" she'll say.
"Yeah, I do."
"What was that about?" the younger will ask.
"I have no idea. She was so weird. Thank God they keep her locked up now," the older will say.
"And do you remember when Dad took us on that trip to California and made Mom ride up every mountain top on the way? Remember the look on her face at Mt. Shasta?", the younger will say.
"Yeah, she hated heights. She turned kind of green. But, hey, the good news is that she won't be going up any more mountains. She looks pretty stuck in that bed."
"Yeah, they were pretty cool. Crazy, but cool," the older one will say.
"My friends all thought they were the coolest," the younger one will say as she locks our nursing room door and takes her sister by the hand. "So, let's go get a latte and talk about what we're going to do with all their money."
"They had money? I thought we spent it all."
"Yeah, you tried. But there's some left."
"Cool!" the older one will say. "Let's go make plans."
Monday, October 02, 2006
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Finding The Right Dress
If you have a 16-year-old girl, then you know how difficult it is to find the right outfit for a special occasion. Whether it be the prom or homecoming, a wedding, a funeral, no matter--it's just not that easy to outfit a descriminating child with the perfect frock.
But it can be done.
And before you set out on said adventure, I suggest that you have two glasses of wine or at least a few shots of tequila and visit the lady's room twice before you leave. Once you have taken the proper amount of sedatives, you are ready for the mall and it is probably ready for you.
Remember, do NOT shop for said frock in advance. You must leave this to the last moment, say, about 3 hours before you need it. That way, your teenager will be forced to settle for something she really doesn't want, but desperation is the mother of invention and you will save yourself hours of shopping if you cram this into a totally unreasonable time frame. Or leave that to your daughter because she loves to perform under pressure.
Remember to ask the child to tell you what she really wants. That way, she can lead you to every fricking store in the mall and try on at least 50 things she really doesn't want, but that might work. Do not discourage this child from trying on everything in sight because you want to wear her out early so she will settle on something reasonable. And you will leave that store to the last.
Make sure that you open the dressing room door in every store and peek in. This is sure to really piss her off and the more pissed off she is, the faster she'll want to get out of the mall which means you will get to the designated store (where she will buy what you want her to buy) before the mall closes.
Remember that there is a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. It's called the bar. As you are walking from store to store and your feet are starting to burn, think Merlot. Chardonnay. And if this is becoming an especially long venture, think calamari and salad. Crab legs. After all, you will deserve these when you are done.
It is said that saints are born in malls and after 3 hours in yours, you will have passed the Mother Theresa test of patience and there will be someone waiting at the door to hand you a halo. Wear it proudly. You have survived 16 pairs of pants, 23 blouses, 5 jackets, 13 pairs of shoes, 4 pairs of gaucho pants, 6 dresses, and 4 sweaters that don't work. Only someone with the patience of a saint can sit through that many changes while she watches her loved one tie up her Converse sneakers one more time.
And, relax. It's really not that hard to keep your mouth shut. Imagine duct tape, the invisible kind, plastered across your lips. When your child says, "What do you think of this, Mom?", you can answer, "Murfffff," and nod your head yes. After all, she really doesn't want your opinion. She only wants you to bolster her ego and you can do that without saying a word. A lilt of the eyes, a head going up and down. A smile. They all work. Just don't open your mouth and express an opinion because, as you know, that will bring venom of the worst kind from her pretty little lips.
The most important thing to remember before embarking on this trip is that you love your child. Your mantra will be "I can do this. I love her. There is booze at the end of this road. Anything is possible if you believe it will end." I know, it's a long mantra, but you will need it to cover every aspect of your trip.
And enjoy because one day she will grow up and leave you. She'll probably take a credit card when she goes or half your linens. She'll probably clean out everything in her room but this is good. This is what you have been waiting for. You need that room and this trip to the mall is but one way to push your agenda forward.
They all eventually leave. If you change the locks, they can't come back. And you will miss them. So, do your motherly duty. Keep your mouth shut. Take her shopping. And remember the merlot at the end of the trail. It will make it oh, so worthwhile.
But it can be done.
And before you set out on said adventure, I suggest that you have two glasses of wine or at least a few shots of tequila and visit the lady's room twice before you leave. Once you have taken the proper amount of sedatives, you are ready for the mall and it is probably ready for you.
Remember, do NOT shop for said frock in advance. You must leave this to the last moment, say, about 3 hours before you need it. That way, your teenager will be forced to settle for something she really doesn't want, but desperation is the mother of invention and you will save yourself hours of shopping if you cram this into a totally unreasonable time frame. Or leave that to your daughter because she loves to perform under pressure.
Remember to ask the child to tell you what she really wants. That way, she can lead you to every fricking store in the mall and try on at least 50 things she really doesn't want, but that might work. Do not discourage this child from trying on everything in sight because you want to wear her out early so she will settle on something reasonable. And you will leave that store to the last.
Make sure that you open the dressing room door in every store and peek in. This is sure to really piss her off and the more pissed off she is, the faster she'll want to get out of the mall which means you will get to the designated store (where she will buy what you want her to buy) before the mall closes.
Remember that there is a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. It's called the bar. As you are walking from store to store and your feet are starting to burn, think Merlot. Chardonnay. And if this is becoming an especially long venture, think calamari and salad. Crab legs. After all, you will deserve these when you are done.
It is said that saints are born in malls and after 3 hours in yours, you will have passed the Mother Theresa test of patience and there will be someone waiting at the door to hand you a halo. Wear it proudly. You have survived 16 pairs of pants, 23 blouses, 5 jackets, 13 pairs of shoes, 4 pairs of gaucho pants, 6 dresses, and 4 sweaters that don't work. Only someone with the patience of a saint can sit through that many changes while she watches her loved one tie up her Converse sneakers one more time.
And, relax. It's really not that hard to keep your mouth shut. Imagine duct tape, the invisible kind, plastered across your lips. When your child says, "What do you think of this, Mom?", you can answer, "Murfffff," and nod your head yes. After all, she really doesn't want your opinion. She only wants you to bolster her ego and you can do that without saying a word. A lilt of the eyes, a head going up and down. A smile. They all work. Just don't open your mouth and express an opinion because, as you know, that will bring venom of the worst kind from her pretty little lips.
The most important thing to remember before embarking on this trip is that you love your child. Your mantra will be "I can do this. I love her. There is booze at the end of this road. Anything is possible if you believe it will end." I know, it's a long mantra, but you will need it to cover every aspect of your trip.
And enjoy because one day she will grow up and leave you. She'll probably take a credit card when she goes or half your linens. She'll probably clean out everything in her room but this is good. This is what you have been waiting for. You need that room and this trip to the mall is but one way to push your agenda forward.
They all eventually leave. If you change the locks, they can't come back. And you will miss them. So, do your motherly duty. Keep your mouth shut. Take her shopping. And remember the merlot at the end of the trail. It will make it oh, so worthwhile.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Long Time No Blog
Yeah, I've been gone. I was off to a conference and met lots of really nice people and hung out with a friend for a few days. It was lovely there, nice and warm, but cool at night and I had a blast. I think I could get used to traveling a couple of times a month. Maybe I should be careful when I say that.
I'm working on copy edits now and it's moving along ever so slowly. I hate details, it's not in my nature to even care about details, so this is a labor of love. As such, it is taking time and I am learning not to hate it too much. I might actually love it when I'm finished.
And that's it.
I'm working on copy edits now and it's moving along ever so slowly. I hate details, it's not in my nature to even care about details, so this is a labor of love. As such, it is taking time and I am learning not to hate it too much. I might actually love it when I'm finished.
And that's it.
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