Another successful day of mothering

down the drain.

Hey, I have an idea: let's have a bath! Relaxing, cleansing, fun. Right?

Tell that to the two tearing around the upstairs hall shrieking at the top of their lungs (now with fighting!). I warned Dude that standing up in the tub meant an automatic end to bathtime and he didn't believe me. NOW he wants to wash his hair, which I couldn't bribe him to do with all the tea in China (or jellybeans in the candy factory, which is a far more likely option). Perp didn't want to get out because she wanted to play mermaid, but I really want to get them fed and down early. So I wrestled him out, threatened her out, and now they're banging on my door and trying their level best to break the sound barrier.

TO hell with the kids, it's a wonder any of the parents survive.

I wish you could hear them. It's really quite astonishing.

Because I so totally want to win this

I'm clueing you in, too. Simple Mom has an awsome contest up at her site (closes tonight, so hop to it!). She also had a great post today about tasks. Multi, single, reallynotnecessary, and how they can get in the way of parenting. (guilty).

Thank you for your support

I own two three non-nursing bras. I bought the main two when I was pregnant with Perp, which means I got them in October 2003. I have not replaced them nor even considered doing so until recently. I mean, they're holding together remarkably well, they're still white, and I don't appear to have changed size, even if I have shown remarkable, uh, attention to the laws of gravity.

So why haven't I gotten new ones since then? Is it because I find it painful to buy new clothes for myself? That replacing them when they aren't torn, snagged, or stained seems wasteful? Or maybe I don't want to show my new boobs to a stranger when I get sized (just curious if I'm really the same size or if all that extra just happens to fill the same space, when you smash it into the cup).

I think part of it is that while I have no problem buying clothes for everyone else in the family, I feel guilty when I do it for myself. I almost only buy from Target, and only if it's on deep discount. I only get utilitarian things, which makes sense given the likelihood of my being covered in random food substaces or pig/goat/chicken shit.

Part of it is also that I hardly ever wore a bra before I had the kids. I wore these little sports-bra-meets-camisole dealies that did nothing but add another layer, and that was okay. Back in the day I had these gravity-defying funbags that had to be seen to be believed. Oh, how I wish I'd taken pictures of them. The things you never thought you'd say..

So anyway, I didn't wear them, or when I did they were entirely the wrong size so I got rid of a bunch and never replaced them. And now I have my trusty friends, workhorses that WILL NOT DIE SO I CAN REPLACE THEM.

Maybe it's time to hold an old-fashioned bra burning.

Bitchy

I spent a couple of hours with some friends at a (soon-to-be) weekly stitch & bitch. I scheduled it at the local yarn store because they have nice spots to sit and work, and it's upstairs from a coffee shop. Score.

I'm working on a crossstitch piece for a friend (hey, Z!) and one of these days I'll actually finish it. I think booking time each week to do it is the way to go; otherwise who knows when I'll actually get to it.

We were talking about taking time alone and commenting that we often felt guilty leaving the kids with our husbands. Like we were asking a lot of them to give us a few hours to do something for ourselves. What the hell is that all about? Yes, some of us have husbands who work full time. But, um, raising kids isn't exactly a part-time job. So why do we feel bad asking for some time off? We do this 24/7 and office jobs can be left behind. What is it with the guilt? I shouldn't feel bad about it for a single second, but I do. Husband has no problem going out for happy hour with coworkers once in a while, and this is pretty much the equivalent, though it's in the morning and sans alcohol ... that isn't the equivalent at all, is it? Whatever, I still should be able to just leave the house without a backward glance and go do my thing for a few hours, but it's terribly hard. And I'm not a guilt person by nature. WTF?

You know you have the same problem. Why is that?