That's A Nice...Smile

So a couple of weekends ago hubby headed out for a weekend fishing trip.  Unfortunately, it was not a successful one - I had not one thing to fry upon his return!

Maybe unsuccessful is a tad bit harsh.

That's simply my perspective because my goal when fishing is to catch fish. You know, fishing - that's when you put a little worm on a hook, cast it into the water, stand around for a few minutes, get impatient, reel it back up, check the worm, cast it out again, stand around for a few minutes, reel it in, check the worm, cuss under your breath because your bait fell off, yell across the lake "I got a bite, dang fish got my bait!"

I'm pretty sure my husband's goals for this fishing trip mainly just involved beer and guy time. And in that case, it was successful.

So the fishing trip required him to get up at the crack of dawn Friday and be out the door before any of us woke up.

And I don't know about you, but our mornings can only be defined as batshit crazy.

I mean really, there's no other term to describe it. It's a marathon of me pulling small children from their beds, shuffling them into the bathroom, running around the house looking for (insert any item here), refereeing petty arguments about (insert any topic here) and barking out the same three commands Get dressed! Brush your teeth! Make your lunch! which grow more threatening as they are repeated.

And that's with my husband helping.

So you can imagine the state I was in Friday morning trying to get my squad out the door. Dear Jesus, is it too early for a drink?

In the midst of this chaos, I look up to find M2 dressed in a fancy lace shirt, sweatpants and her hot pink tipped cowboy boots. None of the pieces went together and she looked crazy.

For a nanosecond I thought of telling her to change but I didn't because my general rule is they can wear what they want as long as it is weather appropriate - with the exception of church and special occasions.

I want them to be able to express themselves in their own style and be confident in who they are. As young girls, I want them to understand you dress for you, nobody else.

M was telling me about a little bit of girl drama the other day and she mentioned some of the "fancy girls" acted snotty towards her because she wears t-shirts and jeans. Then she said "But I like wearing t-shirts and jeans. That's what I wear because that's what I like."  Yessss! Keep your sense of self, no matter what! And I will pray that you continue to make decisions based on your preferences and not the pressure to be accepted by others. 

And the whole t-shirt and jeans is all her.  I'm not a t-shirt and jeans girl - but that's what she likes and that's her. M2 on the other hand, is a blinged out, creative flair fashionista. Some of the outfits she comes up with get a little...wild.

So we scrambled around and I made it out the door with my crazy looking child.

Then yesterday what do I get in M2's folder?

A proof of her spring school picture. Her full-body spring school picture. Featuring M2 in a lace shirt, sweatpants and hot pink tipped cowboy boots...

In the chaos of that morning, Mommy of The Year forgot it was picture day.

I'm going to go ahead and order them...but I'm not so sure grandma will be getting one.

Big Mistakes

And bad mistakes, I've made a few...

And one of my mistakes was not worrying about the waxing pain.

Oh my Lord, that hurt like a son of a gun!

That's what I get for underestimating. I mean, ya, I knew it would hurt but I wasn't worried. Nope, big bad Amber wasn't worried at all. I was so unworried that when she told me it would be quick I replied "I'm okay with the pain, I just have to get over the awkwardness of laying here naked."

Until she ripped that first piece of wax off and I nearly jumped off the table it hurt so bad.

Remember this scene in 40 Year Old Virgin? 

It was exactly like that. 

Except I didn't scream. Instead I had this guttural grunt/moan that I tried to muffle.

And it just got worse. Because then I knew what kind of pain was coming. 

At one point she had to kinda pry my legs apart. Not that I was even conscience of closing them. It was pure instinct. The bodies instinct to protect itself is powerful.

She would put the wax on. I would breathe. She would pull. I would jump/moan/grunt/gasp. Then we would both laugh.

I mean, it was really hard not too. It was a ridiculous scene.

Okay with the pain, my butt... It took everything I had not to cry.

So yeah, waxing hurts like hell.

But don't get me wrong - I'm totally going back.

I have to - I bought a three pack.

Smooth Operator

Soooooo I'm getting waxed today.

A Brazilian wax.

It's my first and I'm equal parts excited and nervous.

No, that's a lie - I'm more excited.

I think.

I'm pretty sure I should be freaked out about the pain.  But I'm not even worried about that. I can do pain. You grit your teeth, hold your breath and then boom - it's over.  So pain is not my worry.

What I am worried about is the fact that someone will be working down there. It just seems so awkward to me.

And oh my god, I hope she doesn't try to talk to me while she's doing it. I'm sorry but I will not be able to carry on a conversation with you while you're down between my legs. I just can't.

Please, please just let me lay here in silence and melt in my humiliation.

I know I've had people down there before. Okay, so "people" doesn't sound right. Just to clarify, not like "people" as in multiple at the same time. Is that even possible? I mean, how would that even work? 

What I'm trying to say is that all my other "between the legs" experiences have been different. The gynecologist is quick and clinical and I don't ever really feel like she's really looking at me. Same with adult time - I think we're so busy getting down to business there isn't really time to look, look.

But this person's entire job is to thoroughly examine my whohaa. With like a microscope. Aggggghhhh!

I don't think my vagina has ever undergone such scrutiny.

I am, however, excited enough about the end results to suffer the embarrassment.

It may also help my case for laser hair removal, which I've been bugging my husband about for at least two years. So this has the real potential to be a win/win.

And since every major event must have a theme song, I'll be silently singing "smooth operator, smooth operator" in my head for the next few hours before my appointment.

Wish me luck!

Super Tuesday Super Flop

So today was Super Tuesday and we all got to go to the polls and cast our vote.  Not much of a vote to me because honestly, none of the candidates really excite me.

It is interesting though because this is the first election year that my husband and I haven't agreed on a political candidate.  It's really weird. And kinda sucks. I don't know, I guess I'm just used to being on the same team. I miss having spirited conversations about the "other" guy. I miss looking at each other and thinking the same thing during a campaign speech. I miss hearing my husband share his opinion and thinking "Man, that's a really good point" with admiration.

So this is definitely not a campaign year that I'm excited about.

But I did have something that I was excited about.  Something playful and fun planned for our "adult time".  I can hear the collective ewwwww right now. Sorry people, we're married and sex is part of the package.

Now I should have known, from past experiences, that my plan wouldn't go over as well as I expected. I always just think he's going to get super excited and be into it. And then he isn't.

I don't know why but I'm always surprised when that happens. And I shouldn't be because it happens a lot. He either laughs (yes, LAUGHS) or focuses on the completely wrong thing. Who could forget the dry clean only shirt incident during my striptease (Stay with me and focus on the important things, babe - the shirt is irrelevant.).

You would think that would be bad for a girl's self-esteem. Because laughing isn't really the planned reaction when you're doing all you can to be sexy.  It's kinda the last reaction you want, really.

But I get him, so I understand it. It's not that he doesn't find me sexy, because he does.  He just really doesn't do well with anything unexpected.  He absolutely hates when I say this but...it's because he's kinda a control freak. And I totally don't mean that in a bad way - but it's true, he likes things planned, mapped out and likes to be in control. So anything unexpected throws him off and he doesn't know how to react.  Even if it's in the bedroom. That's just him.

But I like to spice it up. Keep it interesting. Have fun. That's just me.

And despite initial reactions, we both end up appreciating it in the end. Things truly are much better when you're on the same team.