Wednesday, March 31, 2010
One of the great aspects of marriage is learning something new about your spouse each day. Most recently I learned that my husband is a Diva!
It all started with a busy Friday. My husband flew in to LAX from a business trip. As we had discussed, as soon as he got back into town, we would go shopping for outfits for our girls for a Quinceñera that we would be attending on the following day. . . .
Of course, we knew about the Quinceñera for more than 3 months however, being traditional Latinos, we waited until 30 minutes before the outlet center closed on the day before the Quinceñera to do our shopping.
Our strategy: divide and conquer. I would shop for my older daughter, while my husband shopped for baby girl. Once I finished shopping, I went see if my husband had any success finding baby girl a dress. As my daughter and I entered The Children's Place, we quickly realized we had just stumbled into a major Diva throw down.
My husband had found the perfect dress for baby girl, with medias, and the perfect white shoes to match. Unfortunately, another parent became very confrontational insisting that the shoes my husband had in his hands were actually the shoes she had intended to purchase for her daughter's recital (of course, it was the last pair in that size).
After several verbal exchanges, let's just say that my husband walked away with the shoes and thus, the Diva crown!
Friday, March 26, 2010
In case you're reading this, thank you Mr. "I have no idea who you are but thank you for letting me cross in front of you to make it to my exit". . . . You made my day!
Very truly yours,
daydreaming driver who almost missed her exit
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Whenever my family goes out for dinner, we usually end up with a large bill and a ton of leftover food. In an effort to not waste money or food, we usually ask for "to-go" boxes. Unfortunately these "to-go" boxes usually either:
a. get spilled in the car,
b. get left behind in the car,
c. are found in the microwave a week later,
d. are found in the fridge 2 weeks later,
e. never make it off the kitchen counter, etc., etc.
Recently, my family had dinner out at Johnny Rockets. Without my prompting, everyone in the family paired up to share meals. . . .I was so impressed. No "to-go" boxes needed and a reasonable bill for dinner.
I think my family finally got the memo that we are in an economic downturn. . . . My son celebrated by springing for dessert. ♥♥♥
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
So today my husband volunteered to drop off the kids at school, since I had an early morning meeting. As per our usual routine, we call each other to confirm everyone got off to school ok.
Hubby: I left a check for the lunch lady today, cuz baby girl only had $1 left on the books.
Me: WTH? I just gave her ten dollars yesterday. Is lunch $9 per day?
Hubby: I don't know, I didn't ask any questions, I just wrote a check.
Me: I swear the lunch lady is embezzling money. . . .According to baby girl, the lunch lady "doesn't give change".
I want an itemized list of what baby girl is eating. Maybe it's time we audit the lunch lady.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
My side of the bed is on the left. It's closest to the TV. My husband's is on the right. However, if I am on my laptop, we have to switch sides, cuz then he can't see TV. Once I close my laptop, we have to switch back. It's mandatory.
If baby girl wants to cuddle, then she sneaks into our bed. Then baby girl gets the left side of the bed, and I get the middle. (much too hot, with body heat from my husband and my daughter. . . very uncomfortable.)
Since my husband commutes the farthest for work, he showers first. Then I get both sides of the bed. . .for twenty minutes . . .I sleep diagonally. This is the best 20-minute power nap of my day!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
So its Thursday morning and I am showering, getting ready for work. All of a sudden, I hear banging, pounding . . .somewhere afar off. I quickly take inventory in my mind of what this might be. . . my water pipes are about explode? . . .my washing machine is off balance? . . . a home invasion? I hastily finish up my shower to go play mama bear and make sure the family is ok. When I arrive on the scene downstairs, I quickly realize it is a case of sibling rivalry. My teenage son, apparently needed to use the restroom. Given that that the upstairs bathroom is occupied, he makes his way to the downstairs bathroom. Except, this is my daughter's bathroom. The place where she hibernates all morning long until she transforms herself from caterpillar to butterfly each morning. It would appear that she is convinced that every school day is a "walk on the red carpet" and the paparazzi are on standby, waiting to see how she will look when she arrives at school each day. Now when my teenage son enters her zone, all hell breaks loose. This sends my daughter into a 51/50 head spin. She pounds down the door, making it perfectly clear, she can waste no time waiting on something so trivial as someone needing to use the restroom. . . apparently, Madame Butterfly gets her assertiveness from her mother!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
When I was growing up, my family always had older model cars that were most often in "less than perfect" condition. For some odd reason, my family had a tradition of naming our cars. We had the Golden Goose, Betsy, etc., etc. These names represented our sentiment toward our car; a term of endearment.
In addition to naming our car, we would also talk to our car. There were many mornings when, due to a bad starter, our car would sputter and not start. Whenever this happened, my mother would pat it on the top of the dashboard and say, "come on Betsy" and just like clockwork, the car would start up. If we were running low on fuel, Mom would make a special plea, "just get us home, Betsy" and sure enough, we would make it safely to our destination with plenty of fuel to spare. It was magical. . . .as if our car had some sense of loyalty to the family, . . . as if our car knew that it had a special mission of transporting our rather large family to a fro safely. Of course these conversations with our car were always followed by my mother making the sign of the cross as a way of asking God to travel with us.
These were the traditions that as kids, we never thought to question. Looking back at these memories really makes me laugh. I think if I named my car or held conversations with it, my kids would probably really worry about me. I guess as kids, we never though to question it. We really thought that our Mom had superpowers and when she talked, our car listened! Although I have never named any of my cars, I still hold the tradition of asking God to travel with us on any road trip. . . that's mandatory! ♥
Saturday, March 6, 2010
According to Style Bible, every self-respecting fashionista should have at least ONE favorite pair of couture denim (AKA skinny jeans) in her wardrobe. Unfortunately the trend of skinny jeans is here and does not appear to be going away any time soon. I quite don't understand this fashion trend that accentuates your silhouette with chicken legs and makes your feet appear 10 times larger than they really are. Nevertheless, I can't leave the mall these days without buying my daughter skinny jeans. She now has a pair in every shade imaginable.
Now it wouldn't be quite so bad, except that my daughter wears size double zero (apparently she really did get the "skinny gene") Finding her size is quite a challenge, not to mention that trying on skinny jeans in the dressing room is a nightmare and nearly impossible since the legs on these jeans are tapered so tight that it literally takes two people to yank them off the ankle and over the heel.
Despite my lofty investment in this most recent fashion trend, I am looking forward to the day that this trend goes out of style. Now if my memory serves me correctly, I believe these form-fitting jeans were actually a trend in the 80's. That being said, . . . shouldn't it be "Hammertime" soon? ♥
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
Today's conversation in the car:
Too honest daughter: Mom, not to be mean, but you're getting old and sometimes I worry about what things will be like if you were gone.
Me: Don't think about that sweetie, I'm sure when the time comes, you'll be strong.
Too honest daughter: Yeah, I know. . . but I feel bad for my little sister. She's young, and . . . not to be mean but you're getting old. I would feel really bad if something happened to you. . . Where do you want to be buried?
Me: hmm. . . Probably in Gilroy, since most of my family that has passed is buried there.
Too honest daughter: Well, do you think you will be buried there?
Me: Not sure sweetie,. . . I'll be dead so I won't be in charge of my own burial. Now, jump out and check the mail before I die of old age right here in the car!♥