Thursday, May 5, 2016

whatever you do today....don't buy a swimsuit from China

I have been on a deadline lock down for the past few months.
This means lots of time in front of my computer.
Open prey for the lure of the many ads online.

And I saw an ad for a cute tankini swimsuit.
I am partial to the tankini since I am long-waisted.
Most one pieces give me a wedgie.

I should have told myself,
"Sue.....surely you know that EVERY swimsuit you have
ever bought has been bought after trying on 713 swimsuits."

And seemed like they offered a fool proof way to get the right size.
They had you measure yourself and choose your size accordingly.

So really this was like a couture swimsuit.
Sewn according to my personal dimensions.

And it was only $17.
The clincher.
I am a sucker for a good deal.

I didn't realize I was buying it from overseas until
after I paid and a message came up,
"Will be shipped in 4-6 weeks."

It took a month to get here.
And yesterday, I opened it and started laughing.

Apparently, they measured the top half of my swimsuit at
about a women's size 18.
And the bottom half?
A 3T.
I could donate it to a preschooler.

I am neither a size 18 or a size 3T....just in case you were wondering.

My son, Will, saw the bottoms and said,
"No, Mom. Just no."

Thought you might like to see the difference between my board shorts
and the new tankini bottoms.

You can understand Will's concern.
I know what you are thinking....
"That is way worse than a wedgie."
Yes. Yes it is.

I am a full coverage kind of girl.
I have had enough scarring lately with revealing more of myself than I intended to.

Lesson learned.
I am passing my world wide web lesson on to you.
The next time you feel tempted to buy a swimsuit on-line just tell yourself,
"Maybe I will just visit the toddler's section at my favorite store and see what they have."

It's not a complete loss.
I think I'll save the tankini bottoms for my niece, Lily.
She is 6 months old. They might fit her next year.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

there is no such thing as a monkey dream

Last night, Scott sat on the couch between our cat, Toby and our new dog, Flash.
Toby seemed a little cagey.
Mostly, because Flash was trying to smell his nether regions.
Flash looked clueless.

We think Flash has selective vision. Sometimes he sees Toby and freaks out.
Other times he walks by him completely unaware of his presence.
And Scott? Scott was in heaven.

He has been training them to eat next to each other.
He longs for them to be best friends.
I am thinking Toby is not down with the idea.
Seeing that he has tried to claw Flash's eyes out on several occasions.

But the other day, Scott looked at me and said,
"The dream is almost complete...all we need is a monkey."

Because two teenagers, a ten year old boy,
 a dog, a cat and a hamster are not enough.

What dream is this, you are asking?
The carny dream?
Has my husband been dreaming of running a side show out of our living room?

Yes, he has.

For some reason, he has harbored the golden dream of owning a dog
who comes with a tiny saddle,
that is ridden by a monkey.

This dream has secretly been fed by the knowledge that the pastor's wife of his youth

Scott likes to call me the dream killer.
I say I am practical.

Let's just start by saying that our dog is tiny.
So a chimpanzee would crush it. Even a spider monkey is too big.
Not that I would allow a spider monkey.
Didn't we all learn from Ross in Friends and Outbreak that spider monkeys are Satan's minions?
We did.

And then there is the fact that Flash is part Jack Russel terrier.
I have seen him mortally wound a Beanie Baby kitten,
a plush Angry Bird and throttle a Perry the Platypus puppet.
He shakes the life out of them.

So if in fact there were a small enough monkey to ride Flash?
He would revert to his hunting instincts and make a snack of it.

And then as far as the monkey goes?
I did diapers for years. Years.
I am not diapering a monkey.

That being said. I don't want to be a dream killer.
But how about we go with something less wild...
something that is not able to pull out our hair or poke our eyes with its tiny thumbs?

How about a dog, a cat, a hamster and....a goldfish?
I would even be open to a lizard or salamander.
As long as it is kept outside.

I'm not unreasonable.
But all I know is that the monkey dream is one that will have to wait until heaven.

Or until Scott decides to quit pastoring and take up with the rodeo.
Where they actually have monkeys that ride dogs.

Then I guess....
the dream really would be complete.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

so I may need a hand....or seven

The other day, Scott asked me
if I was going to be a part of the parenting challenge at our church
and I burst into tears.
Not because I abhor a good parenting challenge.

But my ability to take on ONE MORE THING is gone.
Scott looked at me like, "Oh, dear Lord, not again."

I tried to explain my imminent nervous breakdown.
"It's not that I don't want to be a part.
I just don't think I can track one more thing."

That unleashed the floodgate of the list.
You know the list.

"I haven't paid the bills yet.
I still have to finish the taxes.
The house looks like something died inside it.
I'm behind on my chapters.
We need to take the car in.
Do you think its leaking oil?
I need to get my website up before Mother's Day.
You know I am terrible at marketing.
I haven't gone to the grocery store for a full run in about three weeks.
The kids are down to eating chocolate chips and spaghetti noodles.
I have no idea what we are having for dinner.

The kids have early pick up today."

Early pick up is the work of the devil in case you didn't know.
It throws all kinds of wrenches in my gears.
Not the least of which being, that I have actually forgotten to GO EARLY
to pick the children up.

Scott looked at me.
And then he said, "How about I pick up the kids today? Would that help?"
That made me cry more.
"You would do that for me?"
"I would do that for you."

There is nothing so loving and kind as lifting someone else's burden.
Especially someone who has clearly lost their mind.

It is saying, "I see that you are struggling. It's okay. Let me take that for you."

Just like that, Scott lifted something heavy from my workload.
And gave me room to breathe.
Not because he wasn't busy himself...but because he loves me.
He loves me and he likes it when I don't cry.

And then he told me, "You can do this, Sue."
Because he knows that when I get overwhelmed, I get scared.
And start to shut down and want to drown my sorrows in Dr. Pepper or coffee
or some other caffeinated beverage.

His encouragement bolstered me up.
His belief in me relieved another kind of burden...
my doubt that I can make it in these coming weeks.

I realized one more time...I am not alone in the struggle.

Scott is doing God's good work.
He is a good man.
He has been picking up the pieces of my chaos for the last month or so.
Speaking truth to me, cooking dinner,
parenting the boys (he is on point with the challenge),
and telling me one more time
that it is good to be alive....even when it is stressful.

And even better, reminding me that life is at its best when we do it together.