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Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Bizarre Brassiere

      

          Remember the big bra buying adventure I had with my daughter (things I never thought I'd hear or say?)? I spent a couple of hours with my 3 year old buying a "nice" bra. Expensive bras. Fancy, have to be measured and your only allowed to hand wash bras. Yea, that time.
        Well, this morning (like all mornings) I am trying to light fires under my kids booties to get moving. Let's get the day started. I'm calling my 5 year old son to come get in the tub.
       "Buddy, come on get in the tub. What are you doing?"
Of course I knew he was on my bed watching 101 Dalmatians cartoon (so excited that we have found some better cartoons on Disney Jr. instead of the weird stuff regular Disney has on).
So I walk in to get him when I screech! "NO!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!?? NO!"
         He was (picture this) laying on his back on my bed. Each foot in each cup of my beautiful, fancy, expensive black bra. His hands on each strap, doing leg crouches.
        Really.
        I'm serious.
Can you believe that?
No the humor did not escape me. In fact, the truth is that if I hadn't been so upset that he was ruining my bra (that I had to go through way more then I ever want to again to get), I would have wondered where the camera was.

      O.K. here is the biggest bummer.
We all know that couldn't have been the first time. Right?
Well, last night I went out to a Mom's Night Out to a friends house with our homeschool moms. Well, my bra was driving me crazy and sliding off of my shoulders, and creeping up on me. I'm thinking, "Wow. I must be losing weight!" Yes, I thought that. So the horror of seeing him stretch my bra into bizarre shapes was two fold. Not only is he ruining my bra but, I wasn't loosing any weight.

Bummer.....
      


Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Stalker!!

Me: "Please carry the basket of clean clothes upstairs."
14 year old son: "Who will carry it when you get old?"
Me:"You."
Son:"What if I move away? To .....Alabama?"
Me: "I will move with you. Follow you"
Son: "That's called a Stalker."
Me: "That's called a Mom."