Dang, Peeps. I forgot to post yesterday. Sorry.
Husband was working on a big project at the end of last week, one that involved a few hours (from home) on Saturday. He trapped himself in the basement with his work laptop and a muted football game for several hours, popping upstairs to rant and rave periodically. He just needed to dump his brain out. So I hypothesized to his grouchy ass, "If I were a whiteboard, what would you write on me? Dump out what it is in your head..." And so he did. I made some remarkably creative attempts to get him smiling so that he felt his work was lightweight instead of crushing, which worked. Before we knew it, he was writing all over the whiteboard ("I need to divide up assignments between each manager," kiss, kiss, "and then teach him how to do go in and calculate the metrics for the review," kiss, tickle... and then we were naked. Ahem.
So, here's the thing about skinny leggings: If you're going to invest in some that are NOT glorified pajamas, but are instead pants with structure that are also work-friendly, you're going to have to just.. not look at the size that fits. You have to be flexible and patient, and keep trying on dozens of pairs until you find the one that is just right. I say this because I went first to Target to find some of the $22 skinnies recommended by my Natalie and those are well, made for junior people. Yes, I was a grown, adult woman trying on junior jeans. Sue me. I took Natalie's recommendation and went up 2 sizes. Everything fit except the waist. Lord, I thought I was standing in Hollister instead of Target. I could fit two fists down the back of the jeans. Those were a no-go in any size! Then I took a deep breath and went into the Gap the next day. I went there next because I forgot to tell you good people that I tried on some legging jeans there after Christmas, but didn't buy them then. And when Natalie recommended the $22 junior jeans at Target, the cheap deal was worth a go-see, no? Right. Where was I? Oh yes, the Gap. I went to the Gap while my husband kept the 3 bigs busy in and around the mannequins. The baby came in with mama so that she could comment on my ladybug pant1es. I assume that's why she came in because that is what she did. Anyway, I had a hunch and took 3 sizes into the dressing room with me. And then I still had to go up one more to feel like I could wash them and not have a camel toe. Typically, I wear an 8. In these leggings, a 12 fit me perfectly. In years past I can promise you that I would have left the Gap right then, possibly in tears, feeling insecure about myself. For whatever reason I do not feel the same way about size anymore. The leggings fit. They feel amazing. And they came home with me.
One morning this week, Bryon and I woke up late and decided to ride to work together. I love when we ride to work together and get to smell his smell before I start my day. While I finished applying my mascara, he daddied up the children. Signed Andy's planner for homeroom. Talked to Trevor about his Social Studies Power Point. Dressed the baby. Mabel is pretty laid back about what she wears. However, she is different from Hayley in that Hayley has been trained that girls should fix their hair perfectly smooth and match their clothing. While that is certainly okay for some, I am a bit more um... creative. Mabel doesn't really care as long as she likes her outfit and it's fun. I tell you this because Bryon's past tendency (which makes total sense given his marriage to that trainer) was to dress them in the same matchy, fussy kind of way. Well, not on this morning. On this morning, daddy let the baby pick. Or maybe he channeled me and just reached for bright patterns. Whatever it was, it made me smile. She had on a 3 tiered, fluffy blujean skirt, yellow and white striped tights, a rainbow striped hoodie, her hot pink sherpa boots, and a blue headband straight around her head (a la Elsie Flannigan/Olivia Newton John). I LOVE IT. Honey, thank you for that.
Our local grocery got a huge stock of fresh picked green beans in and they are delicious! They were heaped into a bin so I couldn't see where they originated from, but they don't taste as though they've traveled too far. Maybe this is attributed to the crazy warm weather the entire country has seen this winter, but freshly picked green beans in the middle of January? I'll take it!
And Dear B: Thank you for starting last night by asking me about the conviction God has placed in my heart to love you better. Thank you for listening and for trying your best to understand my all-in leap toward being a better wife. I am called to BE BETTER. Thank you for reading the scripture with me and trying to understanding our human limitations. Most of all, thank you for reading WITH me - not only because you're interested but also because this is so very important to me. Laying in bed with you last night, eating cherry jubee hearts, and reading Jesus marriage books side by side? Now THAT was the cat's meow. You are THE BEST.
There are many things that make me unique. One of them is shared in common with my Mindy: when I'm eating something, I like to save the very best bite for last. I scope it out the entire time I'm chowing away and I move it to the side, to save it. I want my last bite to be the best. Now, this is very inconvenient if you are ever the one to walk past and take a bite off of my plate, a chip out of my hand, or a bite of my sandwich because LOOKOUT! You don't want to be the one who has stolen that bite I was saving. [Mindy is nodding her head in agreement right now; I can feel it all the way from Texas.] When I eat a sandwich, I eat the entire crust all the way around, until I am left with the center of the sandwich, full of it's meat and veggies and appropriate sauce. That is the last, most delicious bite.
I am brewing a ginormous Target list. You know, those big, long, can-get-everything-there Target lists? I rattled it off to Bryon this morning and he seemed to agree that it is impossible to even step foot into Target without dropping a wad at the door. 2 pillows, Burt's Bees Blemish Stick, C9 duds for B, storage containers for dry goods (old ones broke this week), a glass measuring cup (melted in the dishwasher), an ice-cream scoop (lost it somehow), butcher block (split in the dishwasher), tissues (see below).
So IT Jesus invited us over to his place to watch a movie this weekend. He built a theater in his basement (which is what you do when you're an IT guy, I reckon) and wants to share that with us. The kids will be playing upstairs on the swing. The one that is hanging from the ceiling in the living room. Seriously coolest house evah. The movie? COURAGEOUS. I am so excited! We haven't seen it yet, but I hear it is amazing. I'm bringing tissues!
1.18.12 Life changed as a result of Shoes yet again. Just pray, Friends.
Women are little girls. That's what my husband said to me last night. We fight with words and get all upset about not only words, but gestures, implications, and things that haven't even happened yet. We act the exact same way as we did on the playground when we were 7. He looked at me with this revelation last night, as if he expected me to agree that this theory was ridiculous. Instead, I smiled and said, "Yeah? Duh."
Husband and I were invited to a marriage event at a local church in two weeks. We are praying that work allows for time to attend. It sounds fascinating.
I am in need of a creative project. I had all of these big ideas for the 11 days over Christmas. Some of those things happened and some of them disappeared for now. I need to sit and percolate and dream for a night. There will be something that surfaces itself.
Hair appointment tomorrow. Just a freshen up. Maybe something a little exciting. Will have to see.