Update: Fashion Prozac

Warning: volunteering to photograph yourself every day for a month may lead to the following:

1. The act of taking ones picture is awkward and makes a person feel silly.

2. Looking slightly off-camera just makes a person look even more silly than she feels.

See what I mean? Silly!

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3. The act of choosing an outfit from a closet that has been terribly neglected for the last 5 years proves to be frustrating.

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4. I do not own enough comfortable shoes.

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5. Comfortable shoes are not very fashionable.

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6. Every day it becomes clearer that I never ever ever buy anything for myself.

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7. Unless it's an emergency.

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8. And then I buy stupid looking outfits out of desperation. *see "Engagement Party Outfit"

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9. Someone asked me at that engagement party IF I WAS PREGNANT.

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10. I was not.

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11. But, I concede, after 8 days, this outfit wearing/picture taking IS making me feel better.

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12. So there's that.

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Want to make fun of all my outfits? Go here.

I Can't Discuss It

Oh Internet. Where do I begin?

Yesterday, out of the blue. With absolutely no warning. School was canceled. Closed. Kaput.

No school until Monday.

Why? Because it's just going to be too cold outside.

OHMYGODAREYOUKIDDINGME?

Yep. The temperature in Oklahoma City was predicted to get down to 8 degrees last night. And the folks at Oklahoma City Public Schools were worried about kids who might have to stand at the bus stop in 8 degree weather.

SO THEY CLOSED THE ENTIRE DISTRICT DOWN.

Now, there are arguments flying around about the kids who have to walk to school. And the poor little souls who have to stand at the bus stop. And dang it, I can see the point of that argument, I suppose. I wouldn't want my little darlin' out in that stuff.

But I also feel mighty bad for working moms . Because, what will they do? Those momma's had to get up this morning and try to figure out what to do with their kids FOR TWO DAYS while they work. And when their boss says "why are you late?" or "why are there two children camped out on your office floor?", that momma's gonna have to look at her boss and say "it's too cold for school".

Now, something about that just sounds ridiculous.

**And this concludes the School's Closed Because It's Too Cold Rant**

Moving right along...

So, today I wake up with the big long day stretching out before me. No plans. No school. No nothing. EXCEPT for a doctor's appointment.

A doctor's appointment scheduled carefully and purposefully to occur right during the time that my boy is supposed to be in school.

Dang this cold weather ruining my plans!

So, I have to ask neighbor Susan for a favor. I have to ask her to come over and surf the Internet while my children nap/watch movies. And I make her pinkie swear she'll get them out if the house catches on fire. And she agreed. Bless her heart.

And so I go to my **ahem** doctor, and I explain my, uh, situation. And she investigates and discovers the, uh, source of my, um, problem and she has to do things like cut and cauterize. And while she's busy cutting and cauterizing I'm busy squirming and blinking and gritting teeth. I'm also thinking "I came here for investigation and diagnosis NOT cutting and cauterizing".

It wasn't pleasant is all I'm going to say about that.

And so I stagger home and thank neighbor Susan and try not to cry. And then I spend the remainder of the day trying desperately not to think about the cutting and cauterizing until Dave gets home.

Then I drug myself thoroughly and begin blogging.

What an excellent excellent combination: the drugging and the blogging.

Excellent!

Now, where was I? I lost my train of thought.

Were we talking about something?

Was it baby Paige?

Because would you please look at her in her new coat?

And if you say she's not the cutest thing you've ever seen in your entire life, I'll just call you a liar and make you look again.

We can't go outside momma, OKCPS says it's too cold!

OMG she's taking my picture again. Someone help me.

Maybe if I just ignore her she'll go away.

I'm not speaking to you, momma.

That's it, I'm outta here.

A Good Read

Those of you who know me in real life (as opposed to my pretend life here on the Internet) know that I can get a teeny tiny itty bitty bit obsessed about things.

Like what, Rita? Like dieting and exercise?

Um, no. No that would be a healthy obsession. And healthy obsessions are against my religion. And my personal policy. And my Code of Laziness.

No, I get obsessed with things like, say, this blog for example. I started this blog on June 1st, 2009. That was 185 days ago. This is my 223rd post.

See what I mean? Obsessed.

I also get obsessed with books. I looourve to read. I mean I love love love it. And when I find a good book, I have the dangdest time putting it down. I'll read until my eyes are dry and grainy and heavy. Then I'll just blink a bit and read some more.

In fact, I typically read 40 or 50 books per year. Give or take a book a week. Every week. All year long.

Except, for the last 185 days, because my writing obsession has overshadowed my reading obsession.

Oh, I still read every night before bed. But not at the pace I did before Me&MyShortloffs came along.

And so today, when William toddled off to school for the first time in THREE WEEKS, and baby Paige went down for a nap at the exact moment that her bubby was leaving, I found myself alone. In a quiet house.

Did you hear me? I SAID I WAS ALONE.

My goodness, I almost forgot what it was like to be here all by myself.

And do you know what I did?

Nope, I didn't clean. Or fold laundry. Or balance the checkbook.

I read.

Oh sweet reading of the readings, I read and read and read.

"hello lover"

Oh, don't get all judgemental. I read for 45 undisturbed minutes in the silent house, then I jumped up and cleaned every square inch of this place. Then I did all the laundry. And then I balanced the checkbook.

I might be obsessed, but I'm not irresponsible. Sheesh.

*If you need a good read, I HIGHLY suggest The Help by Kathryn Stockett. But beware, you might neglect your housework while you're reading it.

Just Like That

Once, when Paige was just a baby - barely sitting up - I sat her on my kitchen counter AND WALKED AWAY.

Did you hear me? I walked across the kitchen to retrieve something and left her teetering there on the counter.

Did I mention that I have stained concrete floors? You know, the kind that would cause a child's head to break into a million pieces on impact? Yeah. Those kind.

And I swear my back was turned for no more than 2 seconds. But, those two long seconds haunted me for months afterward. I would be driving in my car and the memory of that moment would flash before my eyes and I'd gasp out loud.

I also had nightmares. I would sit straight up in bed at night after dreaming about that episode.

My conscience wouldn't let me forget what I'd almost done. I'd almost broken my wee little baby.

I know all mothers have those moments. Moments when good judgement leaves us. Even if for a moment. But that's all it takes, doesn't it? Just a moment. One little moment like that can change your life forever.

I haven't had the Baby Falling Off the Kitchen Counter nightmare in a while. It's been nice. A reprieve.

But today, a new crisis was narrowly avoided.

Dave pulled into our driveway after dark this evening. When William heard the garage door opening, he went to the back door and ran out. This happens all the time. William always waits patiently by the door until Dave pulls the car into the garage.

But tonight, the baby followed him.

And she didn't wait by the back door.

Yay! Daddy's home!

She ran out into the dark driveway. Right in front of his truck.

Even as I type I can feel my pulse quickening.

I realized what had happened just SECONDS after William went outside. But I would've been too late.

Thank God Dave saw her in his headlights. He stopped.

I can already feel the nightmares coming.

Nutshell

A short post. My day in a nutshell. A tiny nutshell.

Like, oh, a pistachio shell.

Yes. Here you are: My day in a pistachio nut shell.

4:30am - settle crying baby.
6:00am - settle crying baby again.
7:30am - aggressively elbow husband and suggest he go get baby.
8:45am - get out of bed. find tired husband surrounded by unruly children
8:50am - send tired husband back to bed.
8:51am - tell children to BE QUIET and STAY IN THE PLAYROOM so that daddy can sleep
10:00a - husband back to playroom because children did NOT keep quiet NOR did they stay in the playroom.
10am until 3pm - sit. read. play games. read. sit. and more sitting.
3pm - start discussion with family about perhaps, just maybe we should get dressed and take off our pajamas.
3:30pm - family finally gets dressed.
4:30pm - leave house complaining frequently about cold weather
5:00pm - arrive at Chuck E. Cheese for dinner with Nana and Poppa
5:05pm - William decides Chuck E. Cheese is overrated and asks to leave.
5:06pm - we leave.
5:07pm - order food at a nearby italian restaurant
5:20pm - watch 18month old baby eat an entire pizza. Plus juice. Plus Froot Loops.
6:45pm - arrive back at home. try not to weep while watching husband dance with wee daughter.
7:30pm - re-pajama children
8:00pm - put children to bed after hard day of Doing Nothing.
9:00pm - recap day on blog
9:01pm - wonder if anyone is still awake after reading this.

5:20pm

6:45pm

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*Somewhere in there, I also managed to eat. And photograph myself for Fashion Prozac project. And complain about my flabby waistline. And eat some more.

Poor Henry

Last night we celebrated Christmas with my step mom, Jane.

Most of my readers know that Jane was once married to my daddy. But, he up and died on her. Which was rude of him. It really was.

Jane recently remarried a lovely man by the name of Henry. And sweet Henry inherited all of us in the marriage. Whether he wanted us or not.

He's a very good sport, honestly.

Last night Henry participated in gift opening. Which, when little children are involved, can be **ahem** a bit chaotic.

Pandemonium!

A talking robot dump truck: what every boy needs.

Jane. So lovely.

OMG! A pink dollhouse for me Paige.

After the gifts were opened, Henry played a game of bowling on the new Wii. See what I mean? Good sport.

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And then. THEN! He let my wee child touch his fancy camera. It was the only way she'd get anywhere near him. Paige doesn't much like men. He had to win her over using expensive electronics as bait.

Is that thing breakable? LEMME AT IT!

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And this is the coup de grace: Henry played along while William planted a whoopie cushion beneath his **ahem** bottom.

Eeeeew!

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I think Jane found her a good one, don't you?

A Mental Health Day

Today is the first day of 2010.

But you probably already knew that. New year. New decade.

That's a big deal. Right?

It's also the first day we're officially living on our savings. Scary.

So scary, in fact, that I have the urge to hide. In the corner. While sucking my thumb.

And maybe humming a tuneless tune.

And it's this urge - this urge to resign myself to depression - that made me agree to something today.

Internet, I've volunteered to photograph myself (what I'm wearing) every day this month*.

For the simple purpose of pulling myself out of a serious funk. Because I think it's harder to be glum when you're wearing mascara and an outfit you might've actually ironed.

Day 1

And so far, this little project is working. I feel better! I really do.

Stay tuned for updates on my Photographic Mental Health Adventure. My Fashion Prozac Project.

Also, check back tomorrow for pictures of our Christmas celebration with my step momma, Jane.

I'd post them tonight, but I've got to figure out what I'm wearing tomorrow.


*Fashion Prozac was inspired by neighbor Susan, who declared yesterday that she plans to photograph HER outfits for an entire YEAR. Can you imagine?