Thank You... I Think...

Image by woodleywonderworks via FlickrIn my lifetime I have received compliments. And, of course, I enjoy receiving them.

However, there are some that I could have done without. Thus, I have a list of my top "un-compliment" compliments. And, as luck would have it, I will now share them with you:

1. This one started out fairly nicely:
                 Them:"You've lost weight."
                     Me: "Thank you."
                  Them: "How did you do it?"
                     Me: "Well, I'm pregnant. And I've been very, very sick the first trimester."
                   Them: "Oh. Well..." (And here's where it goes bad.) "That's too bad that you're
                               pregnant... You really look good having lost weight."
      Too stunned, to speak, I merely smiled and walked away...

2.  The ultimate back-handed compliment:
                 Them: "You look great."
                      Me: "Thanks."
                  Them: "I mean, you lost A LOOOOOOTTTTT of weight."
                      Me:  "Um... Thanks?????"

3.  Them: "You have great teeth. They are so white."
             (Sounds okay on the surface, right?
              But what you should know is that he meant that as a romantic gesture.)

4. Weirdest ever:
     Them: "You are an excellent cook. How do you get your chicken so white?"
       Me: "Um... I boil it???"
      Them: "Huh..."

5.  Them: "You aren't THAT fat..."  (Need I say more?)

6.  Them: "You're hair is awesome."
       Me:  "Thank you.
     Them: "Is it really that thin, or do you have it specially cut that way?"
       Me:  "Oh, no, Um..."

As you can see, I've had lots of opportunity to feel good about myself in a bad way. I will keep the list updated as I receive more...

Hopefully it will be a while...

Beauty & the Beast

I tell stories about my children so often, because they are such good subjects for material! But this post is dedicated to one of my greatest goof-ups of all time. (Just so you can feel a little good about yourself today.)

I have dark hair and dark eyes, which I got from my mom. I feel very blessed to have gotten her beauty- both inside and out.

CAUTION: MommyBarbie Waxing!

However, as the saying goes, "No good deed goes unpunished." Dark hair on my head also means dark hair on my legs. (ew) Not the best look for bathing suit season.

For years I have shaved. And shaved. And shaved. Only to have to shave again, lest we have a "five o'clock shadow" on the beach or at the pool.

This year, I decided, would be different: I would somehow resolve my "beastly" problem in a way that involved me being in the shower less and on the beach more! My conclusion? WAX!

I checked out the local prices for waxing. Yikes! To actually achieve a smooth, hair-free body from head-to-toe we were talking major bucks! Suddenly, I was having to choose between a hair-free vacation at home, or a somewhat less hairy vacation. Of course, I'm a sucker for that golden sand, so I determined I would just wear a wet suit and be done with it.

But then- wait! Sally's Beauty Supply sells all of the "stuff" needed to wax like a professional- in my own home! Eureka! And the cost of all the supplies was about 1/3 of what it would cost to go in for that head-to-toe intensive follicle rip. I'm in!!!

Fast forward to Friday night. (Yes, my life has come to waxing on a Friday night. *sigh*)

I prepared the wax in the special warmer, read the instructions, decided to be "dangerous" and NOT watch the enclosed video (how hard could this be?), and went for it!

My legs were not too bad. One big rip like a band-aid and my hair was gone! This rocks!

Then I got to the back of my knees & upper legs. Oh how I wish I had been a fly on the wall to watch the gymnastics and contortions of trying to reach the backs of my knees & upper legs. They are not easy to reach even when I shave without some interesting positions. But add in the extra "wow" factor of hot wax and waxing strips, and we had ourselves a show! (Thank goodness no one was watching!) Finally, I believed I had at least scared most of the hair into deciding not to grow any further, even if I hadn't gotten it off. So it was time to move on to...

The bikini area!  Okay- let me just say: OUCH! This is one area I can totally say would be worth any amount of money not to have to self-inflict. But once I was half-way in, I could not bring myself to stop and go to a "professional," to whom I would have to explain myself. I could only imagine the conversation: "So, I got this waxing kit..." No... I couldn't imagine the conversation. So I had to move (proverbially) onward and upward.

After the stars in my eyes began to clear and I stopped weeping openly (My gracious, the things we do in the name of beauty!) I figured it may not look great, but it was decidedly better than before. So on to the arm pits...

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

First of all, the wax is HOT! And somehow every nerve ending in my body was concentrated in my left arm pit. Talk about "no pain, no gain." Geesh!

Then, just as I was reaching for the strip to put over the wax, so that I could then rip away the hair...

...my middle daughter came in the bathroom totally distraught, having gotten ill with the stomach virus.

Without thinking, I turned to her to check on her...

and put my arm down...

with the hot wax...

and no strip.

By the time I realized it, it was too late.

My left arm pit was waxed shut.

So then, I was dealing with my daughter and getting her cleaned up with the equivalent of a broken left wing. But with the extra excitement of having movement cause intense, blinding pain.

Finally having gotten her settled, I returned back to my poor, sad left arm pit. "At least," I reasoned, "the hair will be gone once I get my arm pit un-stuck."

Um, no.

After prying it open enough to put in warm water & the special spa stuff that takes off the extra wax (Thank you, God, for making me buy that on impulse!), I realized that not a single hair was pulled out.

I spent a good twenty minutes trying to get the gooey, sticky wax out of my arm pit.

Then I jumped in the shower and went back to the trusty razor for both Arm Pit One, and Arm Pit Two.

On the whole, I would say my waxing experience was a success. And I will probably stick to some waxing- particularly from my knees down.

However, it will be quite some time (and perhaps a hefty dose of some sedatives) before I venture into the arm pit waxing business again.

But, on the plus side, I am beach-ready... Well, at least I'm (body) hair-free...

Now I just need to lose some weight, find "the" bathing suit and wait for June to get here!

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Top 10 Fashion Tips By Me

Image by Brave New Films via Flickr
As the season begins to change, I'm beginning to see the new fashions come out, along with all the people who are wearing them. I thought this might be a good time to share my all-time Top 10 Fashion Tips By Me (Kristi: aka MommyBarbie). Believe me when I say, I try to take my own advice, and I do not think I am better than anyone else. I prefer to think of these more as "common sense," which, obviously, some people are sorely lacking. (Just saying.)


Here we go...


10. Moms who try to make their children (especially boys) wear jumpers and peter pan collars when the child is over four feet tall, should lose custody of the child.



9.  On the flip side of the coin, parents who allow their children to look "sexy" are not allowed to be surprised when their child takes on not-so-admirable behaviors (like running with a questionable crowd, having sex, and other such things).


8.  If you have a "muffin top" when you try to wear low-rise pants/shorts/jeans- please don't wear them.
 7.  Outfits that look really "sexy" on television and in the movies end up looking "trashy" and "sleazy" when a soccer mom tries to wear it while driving her mini van.



6.  "Sensible shoes" may feel great- but they can totally destroy even the most beautiful, well put-together outfit.


5.  Just because a piece of clothing comes in anything over a size 4 doesn't mean it should be worn by any of us who are slightly/some/much/lots larger.



4.  A "jury of your peers" will never convict a woman for killing a whiny, skinny woman for complaining that she "just can't gain weight" and "nothing looks good" on her.


3.  Just because some of the 80's fashions are back in style, does not mean you can wear the clothes you actually wore in the 80's.



2.  When someone says, "I mean this in the nicest way, but" or "I don't mean to sound mean, but," you are a "fashion don't".



1.  Just because something is "in style" doesn't mean YOU should wear it.



I'm sure I'm missing some. And some may have other tips that they feel should replace the one(s) I have listed. But I think we can all agree, this is at least a very good start.

To any who are offended by my list, I would contend that, like Shakespeare says, "Me thinks thou dost protest too much." (In other words- if it hits too close to home, maybe you're reluctant to admit you are a "fashion don't".)

My suggestion? Find a friend and ask them to be honest. If you still aren't sure, post a picture on Facebook. If you don't feel comfortable posting a picture, then you shouldn't wear it. (Just saying.)


Ciao for now...

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When I Grow Up...

Image by sheilapic76 via Flickr
I have been so busy lately, I've been unable to write much. But I've not had any lack of material. My muses (aka: my children) have kept me jumping around and provided so much humor and poignant moments.


Last Friday I went to pick up the kids from school, like I usually do. The minivan door slid open and my youngest stuck her face in, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" I asked.


"My friends all laughed at me."

"Why, sweetie?"


Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip poked out. "They said I couldn't be Justin Bieber's co-manager. But I told them I could because I can be anything I want to be. I'm a good dancer and I know everything there is to know about Justin Bieber. But my friends said I couldn't because I was too young. But I'm not too young, am I Mommy?"


Okay. Where do you even start with that?


"Well, um, honey-"

"You don't believe me, either!" she wailed.


"I do believe you, honey. And I believe in you." I was walking on very thin ice. "How... How would Justin Bieber know you wanted to be his co-manager?"

She stopped and looked at me. The wheels were turning. "Could I write him a letter?"


"Sure."

She was completely sunny & happy again.


Of all the things she could've said, could've been upset about- a fight over having an impossible grown-up job- right now- was not anywhere near my list.


That's one of the benefits of being a child: you don't know what you can't do, so you think you can do anything. I guess I used to be that way. But it's been a long, long time.

Maybe she will never actually be the co-manager for Justin Bieber. But I have no doubt that she will be amazing at no matter what she does.


And, she has reminded me that  I need to blog. Not just to have "stuff" on there. But also, because this is a kind of journal of my kids' childhood. And this "stuff" is just way too special to forget...

Boop Boop Be Doo

Image via WikipediaAll of my children are very creative. My eldest can make up an entire civilization and have the people/creatures live and battle. He is also an excellent artist that can draw characters to rival any comic book.

My middle child loves to make more domestic creations. She is more at home with a cookbook and a sewing pattern than many adults I know. And she has a musical ear that lets her hum beautiful melodies made up on the spot.

My youngest is still figuring it all out. She is terribly creative. But she's also impulsive. So most of her creations have to be completed in one sitting or else she loses interest. She also is very open to suggestion from movies, books, friends and television.

Her current obsession is Betty Boop. I was floored when she announced one day she wanted to redecorate her room all in Betty Boop. I had no idea she even knew who Betty Boop was. Then I discovered that an admired counselor from summer camp was a huge fan. Now almost all of my youngest daughter's projects are Betty Boop related (unless they are Justin Bieber related, which is another on-going obsession).

This morning she brought me a sock puppet. It was an old white sock (well, it was more like an earthy white, since it was an old sock) she had stuffed with tissue paper. She had cinched the top with a rubber band and stuck strings of old white yarn underneath to make hair. Then she found an old lip gloss container in the shape (and approximate size) of lips, which she secured with a rubber band.

When she presented this "puppet" to me, she proudly announced, "Momma, this is Betty Boop."

Then she asked if I would help her sew on some buttons for her eyes. I explained that it would have to be after school, since it was almost time to go. Amazingly enough, she was okay with that plan.

She followed me around with her "puppet" in hand, chattering away about the clothes she would make for it and so on. I listened and eyed the pitiful thing, wondering if there was any way to spruce it up a bit.

Then, my precious daughter said, "I would put arms on it, but then it would just look silly."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek very hard and turn away to keep from laughing and hurting her feelings. This poor sock monster looks more like a dog toy that the dog has already chewed and thrown aside. But in her mind, it was, is and will be Betty Boop.

Thank goodness for Imagination. It is, after all, the Mother of Invention.

And, I know one day her sock monsters- er, I mean, sock puppets- will be a thing of the past, and I will miss them.

But for this morning, and for now, Betty Boop's creator is probably busily rolling over in their grave at the likes of this creation. And I got a good laugh to start my day.

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Blue Monday

Image via Wikipedia
Monday is typically not my favorite day of the week anyway. But today was my own personal example of why Monday's stink. By the end of the day, I could have been the topic of a country music song. I will be glad when I crawl into bed and set my alarm for tomorrow!

First, my alarm, though set, did not go off. Thus, I had some extra zzz's, which evidently I needed. However, it did not make my dash to work go any more smoothly.


Then, when I did get ready to leave, I decided I'd snarf down my breakfast in the car to save time. HA. Half way to work a huge blob of peanut butter and jelly landed on my right boob and splatted over into my lap. So I turned around to change.

After I changed, I couldn't get the animals inside. They had gone AWOL from the fenced in back yard. So I whistled and wandered around the neighborhood until a little white dog and big orange cat appeared, looking as though they were surprised to see me.


The animals back inside, I tried to leave again. No keys. Anywhere.

Now how did I lose my keys? I just came home with them...


Finally I found them in the pocket of the pants that had the peanut butter and jelly blob on them. Of course.

I was going to work. An hour late. But I was going to work...


Until...

CRASH.


Yes, I was in a car wreck.

My kids had played with my sunglasses, leaving a big smudge of yuck all over the lenses. So, while at a red light, I was trying to clean them off.


In my peripheral vision I saw the car next to me go. So, I did what I never ever do: I went, too- without looking up first.

Everyone is okay. My car is (relatively) okay. But I'm fried. And totally mad at myself for being so stupid. I haven't been in a car wreck I caused since I was sixteen. It's probably been at least ten years since I was in any kind of car wreck.


I wanted to cry to the police officer and the other drivers, "I am a defensive driver, darn it!"

Fortunately, they were very understanding. But I still felt bad and apologized profusely.

I made it to work. Two hours late. I got my work done. Then I came home.

Like I said, I can't wait for bed tonight. Tuesday has GOT to be better!... Right???

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