Pinkwins

Now Two Fish is puking. I'm starting to think we're one of those families that seems particularly prone to such things.

However disgusting that little face covered in puke may seem to be, it's not. He knows how to work it. In his camoflage shorts, pirate skull t-shirt and pretend dog tags, he looked up with his icky face and said in his most pitiful, quavering voice,

"Mommy, will you get me my 'pinkwin' jammies?"

That would be PENGUIN jammies for those of you who don't speak five-year-old. The bright blue fuzzy ones with snow skiing penguins on them. Not the favorite camo ones. Not the almost-favorite glow in the dark boxers with a t-shirt. Just his "pinkwin" jammies, please. The ones Santa's elves brought him Christmas Eve. The ones that he may or may not secretly think are too babyish for him but are so warm and fuzzy he just can't resist sometimes.

I guess nothing makes you feel better when you're sick than your momma and some pinkwin jammies.

Scratch That...

Well, forget everything I said in the last post about things not looking so good in the Fishtank. Because, as of about five minutes ago, things are looking up. Seriously, how can things not be when a big ol' box of cute is on it's way to my house?! Preppy Paper Girl had a Lilly giveaway this past week (I know, I know, I should have told you, but you Clemsongirl readers did have ample notification). You guessed it and I won it.

Go check out the cuteness and plan your next birthday list or your next "I survived a weekend alone with the children" treat. All new stuff. 100% adorable. 100% preppy. 100% mine. If you think her stuff is adorable, you'll fall on the floor when you see the packaging. Trust me.

WTH?!?!

Let me preface this by saying that I do not choose sides politically. You'll never get me to tell who I voted for in the last election and I swing back and forth like a pendulum depending on the issue. I actually think Obama is smart, savvy, and seems to be a pretty good guy. Ditto about McCain, not that it matters a wit anymore. With that said...

Things not looking so good in the Fish Tank today. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that The Scientist has a job and works hard. We decided years ago that a reliable job was worth the pay cut if the alternative was less stability and higher pay. We have decided several times NOT to sell our house and upgrade to a larger one. Because of this, we can afford our mortgage and are current on it. Cramped, but current. We both took out student loans to get graduate degrees with and will be paying off said student loans until after our own children's college is paid for, most likely. But, we decided that education and being marketable in our fields was worth it (not that this fishy is using said graduate degree, but that's a minor detail, right?). We have tried to take advantage of wise retirement options when they have been offered (you can guess how that worked out for us in 2008).

You can see why things are not so sunny. Turns out that a wiser move may have been to go corporate instead of the public servant-type route, buy a bajillion dollar house, get underwater with and behind on the mortgage, lose the job when the market tanked, and then go on vacation with the severance package while we wait for our bailout money to come in to fix our mortgage issue. Do we have money issues? You betcha. Do we wish every night that the money fairy would move in while we sleep? Uhhh- yeah! But, for the most part, our issues have nothing to do with excessive greed or blatently irresponsible spending. And they're no more serious than the concerns of most other middle class families I know.

I guess I should just thank goodness the spending bill covers changing paper medical records over to electronic ones. Because that's really been weighing heavily on my mind. I can go to bed relieved tonight...

Discount Diva to Bargain Basement Betty

The Scientist's cousin's wife (complicated, I know), just sent me the link to an awesome deal. Too good to pass up, actually. The e-mail explains that a particular cosmetic company has been bought out by Nordstrom's and is trying to reduce all it's inventory because their products are going to be repackaged with the Nordstrom's label on them. Awesome, right? I go to the company's website and browse. Yowza! Everything is a dollar!!! One Dollar! Cute website, looks professional enough and even has the PETA label in the corner. Looks like some great make-up and who doesn't need another tube of dept. store lipgloss? One cannot have too many colors, right? To sweeten the deal, every order up to $15 can be reduced by half if one only puts in a certain coupon code.

I have a grand time and order a basket full of stuff- lip gloss, nail polish, brushes, eye makeup and mascara (always on a quest for the perfect one). I get my half-off and gladly pay the 6.95 in shipping because, as I am exclaiming to The Scientist, I have probably just gotten about $150 in make up for $12. I push "complete order" soooo very, very happily.

Then I get to wondering... is this brand CURRENTLY being sold at Nordstroms and did they buy out a brand they are already selling or have they pulled it from stores completely? I go back to the website and click on the "store finder" icon on the top. I type in my MIL's zip code since they have plenty of Nordstroms near them and I just knew one of them would be referenced. And, as it turns out, there are plenty of stores near my MIL that sell this brand of makeup. She'll be pleased to know that if she needs to buy any of this stuff, all she has to do is go to one of the two places that currently sells it...




Big K or Big Lots.
Awesome. Just awesome. I'm expecting my large box of crap in the mail in a week or so.

Man Cave Art

This is what The Scientist painted on the wall of his man cave (the garage) yesterday. He freehanded it because under his retrosexual facade he is actually a renaissance man. Yes, I said FREEHANDED it. You will either be insanely jealous or horrified.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The good:
I pried my big arse out of the house and ran two freakin' miles. It still sucks, but I think The Scientist is becoming convinced that I do indeed have superpowers. He is impressed (and I love his cute self for it). He might be starting to be afraid of me and I'm not entirely sure that is a bad thing.

The bad:
Even with Justin bringing Sexy Back and all, I was forced to stop twice. Both times I walked a few houses worth and then picked the pace back up. So, I have reached a limit for my body and it's name is Two Miles. I hate Two Miles.

The ugly:
One Fish was puking when I got home. Too much king cake and V-day candy and sleepover food OR a virus that is lying in wait just for me? Only time will tell...

Internal Monologue While Running This Morning

Start: This sucks. I could just go back to bed and take the day off. My knees hurt.

Mile 0.2: This song is awful. It's the anti-running song. I bet that's why this hurts so much. I'm changing it.

Mile 0.5: I'm going to die. This has never been so hard. I'm a wuss.

Mile 0.6: I bet this is so miserable because my hair is in a ponytail. I should have put it in a clip and I bet it would have made this bearable.

Mile 0.7: Finally, a song that is worth a damn...

Mile 0.8: I'm quitting this tomorrow. It sucks. Hmmm...I think the things that used to hurt are now just numb. I bet I hate this because of my shoes. Maybe I need new shoes...

Mile 1.0: HOW THE HELL DID HILLARY DUFF GET ON MY iPOD?!

Mile 1.2: I'm so pissed I'm just going to keep going so I can get this horror movie over with. If they would please put more street lights on this God foresaken street, I know I would be less miserable...

Mile 1.3: Endorphins my butt. Why do my arms hurt? OMG- seriously? Am I seriously jogging in rhythm to "Bop to the Top" as sung by "Sharpey" and "Ryan"?

Mile 1.4: Another anti-jogging song. If I was a rock star I sure as hell wouldn't be running down this street like an idiot. I'd be running in my personal gym with a personal trainer after the nanny gets here.

I stopped at Mile 1.6 because I was home again. You girls have to be The Best Ever. I seriously thought I was going to come out of the closet as a "hater" and get all sorts of comments that would cause me to screen comments before they are posted. Instead, you agree with me! You're a bunch of haters too! And Jennifer, I forgive you for the 3 miles because you convinced me that you might hate it as much as I do.

So, all you haters...what songs do I need to replace the anti-running songs with on the ipod? Hillary has got to go (still not sure how she got on there but I know One Fish is involved somehow). Jimmy inspires me to have a drink, but nosomuch to jog, so he's not going to be making the playlist. Sexy Back has made the list, as has Crazy in Love, and about 20 others. Help!

Running with the Devil

Awhile back, I began to notice a disturbing trend among my friends. Friends I'd known for years- decades, in fact- began...running. It wasn't so much that I was shocked that they were exercising. Although shocked I was at some of them. Granted, I'd seen a few of them actually sprint in college when they were afraid the convenience store was going to close before they could get more beer. But in general most of my friends have the same view of running I do. This is one of the reasons I like these girls. If we are running, you better fall in line behind us because you can be assured that there is something we are running FROM.

So, seriously? Running? There are girls I know didn't even know where the athletic center WAS at Clemson who are now posting snarky little jogging updates on their Facebook page. If you're one of them, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And you can vouch for me when I say that we weren't fat girls. We kept our weight down the old fashioned way- with lots of Diet Cokes and fat free cheese.

Even in my adult life there are people I am questioning my relationship with. A latte and a bagel after preschool drop off is a totally different thing when you suspect that the chick sitting across from you has already jogged off all that plus some during her virtuous little morning 5K. Who can I trust?!

I'd started writing people off. I was ticked, quite frankly. Running is my least favorite thing in the entire world. The dentist is actually worse, but running is right directly behind a root canal on my list. So, the exodus of friends who were leaving me to take up my least favorite activity ever was maddening.

Here are my issues with running (I'll try to just hit the highlights):
1) People who do it lie and say it's fun. I can only assume that running turns people into liars.
I can count twice in my life when I ran on a regular basis. It. Is. Not. Fun. That's why I stopped the first time. I got suckered into trying it again and it was still terrible. I know an honest few who say that they do it, but only because they need to get 3 lbs. off and they can't wait to stop.

2) It's a busy woman's nightmare. Running down the street (or worse, a treadmill, going nowhere) heading to no place in particular and nothing to do except think about all the crap your not at home getting done because you're running down the street instead. Night. Mare.

3) It is really messy business and requires a time commitment in addition to the time actually spent doing the activity. Sweat. Lots of it. Usually leaving one smelling like a goat.

4) I can't run for anything. The most I've ever worked up to in my life was two miles. It took a whole dang summer and at the end of every run I felt like I had done a marathon. I have never in my life run more than 2 miles. I could swim 2 miles right this minute, I swear, but running those two miles would be an impossibility. At the end of that miserable summer, I got pregnant with Two Fish. I suspect that subconsciously it was because my body was willing to do anything to get to stop running.

5) It hurts like hell. My ankles and knees pray are praying for mercy by mile 0.1.


But, here's the real reason I'm bitter. It has lately occurred to me that all these people running (and lying like dogs about liking it) might be planning for the future. I've started thinking that perhaps they are just raising all their little children and running their fool heads off now so that they can all have the energy and strength go on some fabulous cruise when they are 70 and play tennis and stay up too late. Or move into the same retirement home together when they're 80 and play shuffleboard all day until it's time for cocktails at 4. If there's one thing I hate more than running (and the dentist), it's being left out of a party. And I really, really, really don't want to embarrass myself by being the one laid up with some heinous ailment I could have prevented when everyone else is romping off to the swingin' seniors dance with their Prince CDs in their hands. You'll all talk about me and how I scoffed all those years about your dang running and say "now look at her." Bitches.

So, I'm running. Swimming takes too long (and I don't have a pool). Taking a class requires one to drive somewhere which ups the annoyance factor even more and walking really, really takes too long. I hate every single step and I'm bitter, bitter, bitter about it and don't plan to do it much longer. It still sucks and I still can't run for anything. I ran .6 of a mile today and when I was done I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I seriously expected a cheering crowd. It was 6:05 AM, but surely someone came out to take note? My ankles hurt. My legs hurt. My back even hurts. A friend asked if we should run together. I told her we could, but that it would be the end of our friendship. I certainly don't want to ruin a perfectly good friendship by vowing to consistently share the most miserable 20 minutes of my day with her.

If this is how much I complain now, I should be an absolute terror as an 80 year old. And I'm going to request a room right next to yours...

NB

Nota bene:
I am having some grammar and punctuation issues if recent posts are any indication. My apologies to any English teachers out there (Dad). I'm sure your eyes are burning out of your head. Really, I should go back and correct them when I find them, but I just don't care that much. There are also way too many errors to handle. I'll try to be more careful, but I can't make any promises. I've always sucked at proofreading.

A Mathematic Impossibility

I've called in the genius guy from Numb3rs for a consult. He has done the mathematical calculations and has determined that it is indeed mathematically impossible for a family of 5 to generate this much laundry. Which means that someone is sneaking in and dropping their nasty things in our laundry room. Fess up. Who is it?!

Supermarket for the Superbowl

As much as I dislike Saturdays (that's a whole 'nother post), I do love me a good Sunday. Today, we're going to go as a family to the grocery store. That sounds like the opposite of fun, but really, it's not. The Scientist doesn't know how to behave in grocery stores and as a result is a great deal of fun. So much fun, in fact that he once popped a wheely with a cart and shattered the bones in the tips of two fingers on his left hand in what has come to be known as "The Shopping Cart Accident." You can't make this stuff up. Lots of stitches (peeled those suckers like little bananas, is what happened) and morphine. I'd tell you how old he was when he popped the wheely with the shopping cart and almost ruined his promising career as a rock star, but you'd be horrified (he was 34). So, I don't mind going to the grocery store with him- especially now that he has learned how to have a little discretion with heavy equipment.

So, we're off to the grocery, where we will all pick out an appetizer or ingredients for an appetizer. We each get to pick one. I want nachos, I think. The children will choose something horrifying, like beef jerky. The Scientist and I will cheat and pick two or three of our favorites instead of our alloted one.

Then home to get into our comfiest clothes and park ourselves around the TV. We're ditching the two parties we were invited to. Our way sounded like more fun and definitely more child-friendly.

Then, we'll spend the evening cheering, eating, laughing at the commercials and hoping for another wardrobe malfunction so we'll have something to talk about tomorrow. I might even drag all my scrapbook stuff out . All in our jammies! How genius is that? Ooooohhh- how I do love the Superbowl. Now, does anyone know who's playing?