I have a new blog! You can now find me at talesofaperfectlyimperfectparent.com! Stop by and say hello!
I’ve decided to put a little more effort into this blog again. Many things have happened since the last time I posted. We sold our house, bought another one, we’re all about one year older, etc. etc. (I still write for Oklahoma City Moms Blog, so you can check out my articles here if you feel so inclined.)
Anyway, today I thought I would share a little story about the time the cops came to my house. It started like any other day. We ate breakfast, watched a few cartoons, and then we got ready for our daily walk. During this time, our house had just been taken off of the market so my husband and I only had 1 key between the two of us still. That particular day he accidently took the house key to work with him, so instead of locking the front door I simply set our security system and didn’t worry about locking the house up.
As we made our usual way around the neighborhood I started noticing an unusual amount of cop cars driving around. I wondered what in the world was going on, but I continued about my merry way. Along the way, we stopped and picked up my daughter’s best friend and her little brother so that they could all play in the sprinklers in our front yard when we got back to our house.
I eventually turned down my street and, much to my surprise, I saw 4 police cars parked in front of my neighbors house. I had a pearl grasping moment and thought to myself, “What did they DO!?” I was horrified to be living amongst such criminals.
Then I shockingly noticed that the activity was NOT going on at my neighbors house, but it was in fact happening at MY house. One of my particularly bossy/nosey neighbors was standing on her lawn watching the commotion. She approached me and judgingly said, “Hmmm. They are not ready to talk to you about what’s going on. Don’t go over there.” I practically told her, “Whatever lady. Get out of my way. I’m going IN.” And then I not so sweetly demanded that she watch all of these kids. ( I was starting to be in panic mode.)
I walked up to my house, and that’s when I really got a good look at the craziness happening on my lawn. Apparently my security system had gone off which had alerted our local police. They got there very fast (we live in a small town). When the cops had entered my house they had accidently let my two standard poodles out, and my poodles,who upon noticing their new found freedom, were wreaking havoc in the neighbors yard. One of the younger cops was unsuccessfully chasing them, while an older cop was calling for MORE back up. I heard him saying, “They have two standard poodles, and we can’t catch the high strung one.” AHEM officer. My poodles are NOT high strung.
Anyhoo, I approached one of the other officers and said, “I’m the owner. And I’m scared.” Smooooooth really smooooth. He then explained to me that my security system had gone off, and that they basically suspected a break in had happened.
Now let me just explain what my house looked like on the inside. It wasn’t dirty at all, but it was oddly messy. There were no dishes in the sink or toys scattered about. However, we were in the middle of a move and I had been sorting and packing up our belongings. Also, right before we walked out my middle child had taken out an ENTIRE dresser drawer from my bedroom, and he dumped it into a pile on the floor. It was entirely possible that it looked like a robber had been scavenging through my stuff. Also, my dogs were chilling in our laundry room. We rarely used their kennel, but they had a poodle oasis in the laundry room, and that is where they stayed when we were gone. (Later a cop explained to me that sometimes during break ins, that’s where thieves will stash the dogs. Who woulda thunk?!)
Anyway, the officer I was talking to told me that the front door was unlocked (by me), my dogs were locked in the laundry room (by me), a dresser drawer was dumped out (by my son), my back door was wide open which triggered the alarm (accidently by me) and he wanted me to go look around and make sure nothing was missing.
I walked in and everything was 100 percent how I had left it. I told all of the police officers that things were fine, and that I appreciated them coming out, and that I was so so sorry for the inconvenience. One of the officers looked at me like I was being naïve and told me to call him if I noticed anything weird.
I gathered up all of the kids and got my dogs back, and I could not believe what had just happened.
So fellow mothers, I’ll end the story with this: if you feel like your house is in constant disarray do not be disheartened. Just remember this story and know that one time the cops came in my house, saw the dumped out clothes mixed with overall weirdness, and literally thought a break in had occurred.
We got her when she was 16 weeks old, and we have had her since September. (That’s my lazy way of telling you her age because I am not doing the math.)
Before you start to think that we are some hoity-toity family with fancy poodles trotting about our diamond ridden house, let me explain. My dogs are not the standard Standard Poodles. They are COUNTRY Standard Poodles.
Here are two Standard Poodles:
Here are two country Standard Poodles:
Obviously these poodles do not have standards.
Anyway, my country poodles, Missy and Lady, were fast friends. They play together for hours upon hours. I think Missy has actually come the realization that she is, in fact, a dog, and for the most part Missy is less clingy. She no longer freaks out when I am out of her sight for more than 15 minutes.
Now, Missy is a quirky country poodle, so I am used to quirkiness. I fully expected to raise another strange dog. However, Lady is not only quirky, this dog is full of sass and mischief. Some days she makes me wonder.
She spends her days getting into trouble, tearing up trash, and licking our floors. Most of the time she does all of this with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth looking like the dumb hyena from the Lion King.
The dogs love to play outside together, and when they are done playing she will stand outside my back door and bark… and bark, and bark, and bark, and bark.
When I go to let her in she REFUSES to come in the house. I beg her. I plead with her. I try and bargain and reason with her. Nothing.
I walk away and pretend to do the dishes, and I pretend that her antics aren’t bothering me.
When this doesn’t work, I am finally at my wits end and yell through the back door, “FOR THE LOVE OF MY SANITY, GET IN THE EVER-LOVING HOUSE,” and then I say a little prayer that the neighbors don’t think I’m talking to my children.
Finally, I proceed to chase her around the backyard for five minutes, before feeling defeated because she is so stinking fast.
Eventually she will come in when she is good and ready, despite the fact that she barked at the back door for so long, annoying our entire neighborhood I’m sure.
When I tell my children to go outside and pick up their toys it sounds a little something like this, “Pick up all your toys, except the bike, picnic table, toy kitchen, pink bucket, blue bucket, and trike. Don’t you dare touch those unless you want to spend the rest of the afternoon searching for a lost escape-poodle.”
She is so completely opposite of Missy, who was always timid and non-adventurous, I started to worry about her. Finally I called my mother (aka the poodle whisperer) to see what her thoughts were on Lady’s antics.
We pretty much chalked it up to puppy behavior and lack of proper dog training on my part. Until she grows out of it, I’m keeping my eye on this one-of-a-kind, sassy, fluff ball of a poodle.
We gave our master bedroom a facelift this past week. Before, our bedroom was piled high with laundry, stacks of papers, and a never ending plethora of toys.
Well, I became tired of wading through the dump that was our bedroom, and I felt inspired to take on a new challenge. I added a few new decorations (including a fish statue, naturally), some spiffy new shelving, and a new comforter.
Take a look at our shiny refreshed space:
Did you notice the red masterpiece next to the bed on the wall? No? Well let’s take a closer look.
This beauty was hidden behind a pile of junk and a treadmill.
I looked up and found him completely COVERED in lipstick and makeup. He got extra creative and used an entire tube of lipstick to draw those impressive circles.
Despite the trouble he was in, my beauty school drop out later told me, “I love getting into your makeup, Mama!”
Lesson NOT learned.
One of my all time favorite movies is The Notebook. I love the romantic tale of young and old love. Well, you know how in The Notebook the old man wrote a beautiful story about his romance with his wife so she could remember their story in her old age? Well I like to think this blog is very similar to that old man’s book, I document my memories so I can remember them in my old age. However instead of romantic tales, today I will be talking about ripped pants and accidental booty cheek exposure.
When the weather is nice my kids and I will spend hours upon hours at the zoo. One summer day, we had plans to meet up with some friends on a play date. I woke up at the crack of dawn, got ready, and put on a pair of flesh-colored underwear-Spanx, and slipped on my favorite pair of jean capris. (Let’s put aside the fact that I was wearing Spanx to the zoo and just chalk that up to a little good old-fashioned vanity.)
These pants were perfect, despite the fact that they also happened to be maternity pants, and I had given birth months before. I ignored the fact they would start to sag and slide down because they were awesomely stretchy and were the perfect medium wash denim with exactly the right amount of distressing. I noticed that they were starting to get a little worn, and the distressing was starting to wear thin, however I kept on wearing them. I normally don’t go for distressed denim, but I actually liked the distressing on these jeans because it made them look more casual.
Little did I know just how casual I would end up being that day.
Anyway, I finished getting all three kiddos fed, dressed, and ready to go. I had lunches all packed, and we loaded up and headed off to the zoo.
When we go to the zoo a lot of time is spent walking around, bending over, and chasing kids around, but I also spend an equal amount of time sitting on my rumpus watching my kids play on the playground. All of these activities can be especially hard on the nether regions of one’s pants.
So, I was doing the usual minding my own business wearing my favorite pants, chatting with my girlfriends, and watching my kids play.
I don’t know when exactly disaster struck, but I did notice that when I bent over things got a little extra drafty in the tush area. However, I didn’t think anything of it and continued about my business.
At the end of they day, I came home and changed into some more comfortable clothing. I looked down and caught a glimpse of my jeans.
I gasped in horror.
There was a large rip down the back of my pants. The rip started at the corner of my back pocket due to the distressing being stretched to maximum capacity, I’m sure. Then I remembered that I had been wearing flesh-colored Spanx, which gave the illusion that my butt cheek was showing in plain sight.
I double gasped in horror.
My mom always taught me that a lady never wears a thong under a skirt just in case the wind gets a little extra gusty. However, she failed to fill me in on an equally as important piece of advice: Never wear flesh-colored Spanx under distressed denim in case your pants rip in the butt and it looks like your booty is hanging out.
I don’t know when it happened or who all saw, but I spent the day at the zoo with a portion of, what looked like, my butt cheek exposed. I can’t remember which friends I was with on that particular play date, but no one told me. Maybe they didn’t notice, or maybe they didn’t have the heart to tell me.
Hello friends, if we’re ever on a play date together and you see my butt cheek hanging out of my pants PLEASE tell me so I can at least take my cardigan off and tie it around my waist. I do have a little pride left you know, remember the whole Spanx at the zoo thing?
Anyhow, those pants promptly went in the trash, and I am still on the lookout for the perfect pair of casual jeans. This time I think I will stay far away from any pocket distressing or anything that might make the pocket portion more likely to tear, rip, or puncture.
There’s a popular saying I hear moms say on the internet. Normally it’s said somewhat condescendingly in regards to differing views on vaccines, extended breastfeeding, or any other parenting hot button. They say, “When you know better you do better.”
I, however, am now saying that in regards to wearing nude underwear-Spanx under distressed denim that is on its last leg. I know better and now I will do better.
I’ll leave you today with a quote from someone very wise and dear to my heart. “Now I learned a lesson I won’t soon forget, so listen and you won’t regret. Be true to yourself; don’t miss your chance and you won’t end up like the fool…who…ripped…his…pants!”
With the Just Between Friends sale in Norman starting next week I thought I would take a moment to reflect on the last time I went to this event at the OKC Fairgrounds approximately 6 months ago. For those of you who don’t know, the Just Between Friends (JBF) sale is a big children’s consignment sale. It’s not so much a sale as it as an event. If you go on the first day you will be greeted with a fairly decent line to wait in in order to get inside, and you will most likely run into about 10 people you know.
There is nothing I enjoy more than buying kids clothes, except for buying them dirt cheap. Therefore, the JBF saIe is thrilling to me.
Normally my mother-in-law and I go to this event together, but this time she had to work. I obviously was not going to miss the opportunity for a good bargain. Baby EJ was still fairly little, and I was still trying to adjust to the whole “three kids but only two hands thing”.
If you’ve ever been to one of these sales you know bringing a double stroller is a no-go. So I loaded up our umbrella stroller into the car and brought along my Baby K’tan.
I pulled up to the fair and, as usual, I followed approximately 25 minivans into the parking lot. I then unloaded all three kids. I strapped the baby to my chest in his Baby K’tan and I loaded my three-year-old into the umbrella stroller. I told my daughter that she was to hold on to the stroller at all times.
I gave my kids the normal spiel of don’t touch, don’t yell, and don’t start fighting or we will leave. All of these threats were at this point empty because there was no way I was leaving without a sack full of fresh winter clothing all at a discounted price.
I walked into the jam-packed room and entered into a world of pure shopping madness.
I knew at this point that the possibility of things going really badly was very high, and I was starting to second guess my decision.
I made a mental game plan. I would first hit up the girls clothing, then I would go through all of the boys 3t’s, and last but not least I would hit up the baby clothing.
We moseyed over to the girls section and I loaded up my sack with long-sleeved shirts, pants, and dresses. I took my own sweet time because the kids were minding their own business and the baby was relaxed in his carrier. “Peace of cake,” I thought to myself.
After I had gone through all of the clothing in my daughters size, I made my way over to the boys section.
That’s when everything went downhill.
Carrying the baby and not bringing the double stroller sounded like a genius idea, however he was just at the stage where he was grabbing everything within reach. When I started looking through the boys clothing, he became very interested in what I was doing.
For every article of clothing I grabbed, he grabbed two more and carelessly tossed them on the floor. I spent half of my time rehanging and picking up articles of clothing off of the ground.
Meanwhile, E was crying saying he was tired and ready to go, and M was begging to go to the toys. I tried to pacify them with Cheerios and bribes, but that only lasted so long.
My daughter then decided that she would entertain her brothers by hiding underneath the bottom rack of clothing. She did this all while acting like a wild maniac and making screeching sounds like cat in heat.
E started to make a break for it and ditch the stroller, and M started picking fights with E. During E’s fast escape, the stroller was bumped which then bumped the cheerios, scattering them onto the cement floor.
At one point a fellow shopper stopped and asked if she could give me a hand because I was trying to juggle a baby strapped to my chest, a three-year-old wreaking havoc, and a five year old making screeching noises and hiding in the racks.
To make matters worse I was also wearing the pants mentioned in this post, and I later discovered that these had a huge rip in the butt. But that is a story for another day.
I knew my time was limited. I was one cheerio spill away from loosing my sanity. I rushed us over to the baby’s clothing section grabbed a winter jacket and approximately two shirts.
I looked down at my blue sack which was stuffed full of clothing, shoes, and who knows what else and decided that there was no way I was sorting through it. My kids were at their wits end and I did not have enough arms or patience to stay in that building any second longer than I had to.
I waited in the winding line behind approximately 6509909 other mothers and checked out. I loaded the kids up in their carseats, pulled up to the back of the building, loaded up some large items that I had purchased, and drove home.
I pulled up to the house… around seven or eight and I yelled to our car, “yo homes smell ya later”. (A little Fresh Prince of Bel-Air humor for you) After everyone was safely escorted inside, I sorted through my purchases. As crazy as it was, I did manage to score some pretty sweet deals.
Surprisingly, I had a decent array of clothing for M and even a decent amount for E. I was pretty impressed with my abilities to multitask, shop, and play referee all at the same time.
Is there a medal that one can win for shopping under duress? I didn’t think so.
And guess what I’ll be doing Sunday? Going back to the JBF sale. This time sans kids.
Evan turned one, and boy is he busy.
He is by far the busiest and most active child out of our bunch. This has come as quit the surprise to us because we thought we were at maximum capacity for all busyness and activity.
Learning to walk has opened up a whole new world for him. And it’s a world that he wastes no time exploring every inch of as soon as his little feet hit the ground. Under the couch, the bathroom cabinets, and closets that are stuffed full of junk are just a couple of his favorite places to inspect and find hidden gems.
His Bible class teachers tell me that he is going to be a gymnast because he is everywhere and onto everything.
When we are at home he likes to keep me on my toes by attempting to fearlessly scale tall objects. He climbs on top of the couches and the beds, and as soon as he sees me turn my back he is at it again!
My living room now looks like this because I have to barricade the kid in for the sake of his own safety:
If he does manage to maneuver his way out of the living room, his new favorite thing to do is clamber up the dining room chairs and sit proudly on top of the kitchen table.
This new trick is equally as impressive as it is terrifying.
I am pretty confident that I am raising the next Houdini as he manages to escape from all typically safe baby items. Walkers, high chairs, and strollers are no match for his mad escaping skills.
I discovered his little stroller escaping trick one day while we were spending the afternoon at the Science Museum. I looked down to witness my precious baby doing, what can only be described as, half a handstand out of his umbrella stroller onto the floor. All while I was being nominated for “Mom of the Year”, no doubt.
I have a feeling that my life is going to be filled with adventure with this busy little boy.
And by adventure I mean bumps and bruises and trips to the ER.