Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Oil of Old Lady

Years ago when my grandmother was alive I found a jar of Oil of Olay in her bathroom and I always laughed and laughed about it and called it "oil of old lady" My grandmother had a beautiful face; it was deeply lined and you could tell that she had been through an extraordinary life. From being adopted as a baby, to joining the Marines, raising three sons, losing a husband, remarrying and having grandchildren (one great grand too!) she had earned every single line on her face.  I don't remember seeing her put the oil of old lady on her face, but I am sure she did because it was replaced every once in a while (I was an odd child, ok? I paid attention to those things)

Today I was perusing our local shopping center (side note: that sounds WAY classier than "wandering aimlessly through walmart", right?) and I found myself in the oil of old lady aisle...not only that but I found myself picking up the jars and reading them thinking "hmm, maybe it's not such a bad idea to get some of this" and I realized at the point, as I piled anti aging and anti wrinkle cream into my cart that I am truly aging.

I don't feel like I am in my mid thirties rapidly approaching 35; in my mind I am about 20 or so. Maybe 25 on a bad day. I don't think of myself as being old enough to have a child in the 3rd grade. Hell, having a kindergartener doesn't even make me feel old despite the fact that she'll be six in a few weeks. I don't feel older until I look in the mirror at night after the day is done and I see skin starting to sag and fine lines around my eyes and the occasional grey eye brow hair. I see those things and think to myself, "hmm maybe I *am* aging after all and should do something about it" but what? Plastic surgery? No thanks. Botox? Not for me. The only solution, of course, is oil of old lady and to embrace that I am finally maturing. I am past the point of acne and hormonal flare ups; I don't have to wear blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick anymore, I can get away with a bit of mascara and lip gloss. No one expects me to look completely coiffed and made up to go out for groceries or to the bowling alley, in fact people might take my temperature if I started going places in full make up ha ha. As long as I still get carded and called Miss by barely 20 year old servers in places I think I'll be fine with aging...

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to try the oil of old lady and see how it works...

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Ha ha ha ha BUTTS!

Houston, we have a problem. Gabe is a problem. Well, not Gabe per se, more like his HORMONES or the start of his hormones. At what point exactly, did my sweet little "I love sports and books and dirt" boy turn into a "Jenny, Penny, and Mary [pseudonyms used to protect the true identities of these girls mostly for Gabe's need for any angry dads coming to the house] are soooo cute." All of the sudden, Gabe has noticed that girls are cute and he feels nervous around  them and blushes like crazy. Truth be told, it's adorable when he blushes talking about girls. There's one little girl in particular who makes him blush when he merely hears her name, never mind when they are actually together. Today he was filling out Valentine's Day cards and had to redo hers THREE times because he got so nervous he kept spelling things incorrectly. He was blushing furiously when he was finished. What was the message he wrote her? "You're a good friend ♥♥♥" yes, three hearts. *shakes head*

Not only are girls on his mind (sort of haha) toilet humor is in full swing at our house. Farting, burping, and talking about butts are the most hilarious things ever.  Tonight watching the Super Bowl, the camera guy panned over some players' rear end and for some reason got stuck there. Gabe lost it, he completely lost it giggling and then kept saying "oh my gosh, it's his BUTT. HIS BUTT ha ha ha ha butts"

I think I may start drinking now because I am not going to survive him actually going through puberty. Armpit hair, stink, and a crackling voice may kill me. On the plus side, at least it's not Bitsy going through this phase right now because I literally could not handle a dozen giggly girls talking about boys. I think boarding school-all girls boarding school-are in the future for her...and wine for me. Lots and lots of wine.

Friday, February 1, 2013

I'll Be Brief

SarahAnne is the cutest child on earth because of numerous reasons, however this reason *may* top all other reasons...

She walked out of her bedroom two nights ago and said "can you believe it, Boni cat whispered to me!"

When questioned further it turns out that she is positive he is whispering when he opens his mouth and does this weird little meow that you can barely hear; it's his greeting to you if he's been woken up suddenly or feels very kittenish. However, now we all know the truth, it is just Boni whispering. Pardon me while I die from the cuteness that is SarahAnne.


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