Dear Smooth Away

Dear Smooth Away:

How do I love you? Let me count the ways:

I love the way you've made this look so easy! One simple pass should get rid of my unwanted leg hair! I must have done something wrong if it took me an hour to get the hair off my lower legs...

I love the versatility of your product! One simple pad should remove all of my unwanted body hair...except for my armpits, but I must have done something wrong there, too...

I love the way you've convinced me that I need your product to simplify my life. Now I can get rid of all of my razors, all of my exfoliators, and all of my free time...

I love the crafty marketing you used to convince me to buy your product, instead of, say, a sander. The sander would probably be quicker, but where's the fun in that? And it's funny, but the "microfine crystals" seemed a lot more like sandpaper than I would have thought...

I loved the thrill of fear I felt during the hair removal process, seeing the fine white powder of my skin getting "gently" buffed off...

I truly adore the way you promise no razor burn! How did you do that? I must have done something wrong in my hour-long use of your product to de-hair my legs, because the lotion you recommended I apply burned, and left me with razor bumps.

But best of all, I love the stubbly, poky way my legs felt the next day.

Thanks, Smooth Away! Thanks to you, I can kiss my free time, my outer dermis, and my smooth legs good-bye! I know you said I can use this on my face, but I'm just not confident enough in my abilities to take a sander to my upper lip...

Beach hilarity

We spent a fabulous weekend at the beach...huddling in blankets. It was cold and windy, almost too cold and windy to enjoy ourselves...almost! But there were some funny moments, things that just make you shake your head.

My good sleeper spent half of each night, after midnight, rolling around in our bed, alternating between trying to sleep and trying to play. My poor sleeper spent each night fast asleep in his own bed!

I've decided I'm going to design the perfect swimsuit for the fashion-conscious C-section mom. A bottom that's cute and stylish, that completely covers the rump yet doesn't roll down the baby belly to sit on the scar tissue. A top that's cute, yet doesn't show off too much of the Girls and their prime real estate. And I'm going to pass out a catalog to every mom I see, C-section or not, who thinks that her large Girls fit just fine into a triangle top or a junior's halter. *shudder*

My tactile girl, who loves to have fabric in her hand while she sucks her thumb, hates the feel of anything new on her palms or feet. But she had so much fun playing in the sand, scooping, raking, and destroying castles as fast as Josh could make them. Those wild squeals of delight kept me laughing from the shelter of my wind-proofed chair.

No matter how many shells you collect on the beach, you have to make a decision: discard most, or ship your clothing home in a box so there's room in the suitcase for the shells.

However, I learned a valuable lesson this trip. Typically, when we go to the beach, we stay at a cheaper hotel up on the mainland, rather than shell out the dough for a nice beach-front hotel, which we stayed in this time. I had no idea what I was missing! The most comfortable hotel beds I've ever slept on, no lie! We were there the tail end of Spring Break, but you'd never know it from our room; seems like some of that money they've been charging for rooms went into good insulation. And getting to walk out of our hotel, straight to the beach and back, rather than a gritty half-hour car ride before we can shower, was absolutely worth the price. But so was Jacob's reaction when he saw the view from the balcony: "Holy crap, Mom, come see this!"

Getting my spirit back

I love my mountains, the solitude of the impossibly blue sky above your head, lightly sprinkled with fluffy clouds, feeling the forest growing around you. Something in the mountains has always kept a part of my spirit, my self, feeding it back to me at each visit. It's immediately cleansing and soothing to my soul to feel the solitude, the silence, the earth doing what it does best, and to know that out here, I am merely me, and my problems and trials are so small.

That's how I feel about the ocean, only more. There's something about the ocean that has always called to me. The waves, with their gentle sighs, give and take the edge of the sand, always changing it. The sound is like the heartbeat of the universe, calling out to me, begging me to let go of my negative emotions, to let the waves carry them out. The wind ruffles my hair, like the gentle breath of a loving parent. The wind, the sea birds' cries, the waves, all take the toxins from my soul, my spirit, cleansing me; I can breathe, I can think, I can daydream. The gentle sun, warm on my skin, is like a caress; not the caress of a lover, but the soothing, calming caress of a friend, a partner, a parent. Warm, safe, and comforting. I may leave the mountains feeling a little forlorn; after all, I've left a piece of myself there to fly with the eagles. I always leave the beach feeling energized, ready to tackle my life.

Yay, long weekend! Or not...

My kids' school is closed for Good Friday and Easter Monday (not currently celebrated in America, but hey, everybody likes a day off, right?). Which means, of course, that Josh and I have to use personal time to be home with the kids.

We were each going to take a day, make it fair. Then Josh says, "Oh, wait, honey, I forgot...If I take 8 hours of personal time, I'm not going to have enough days for our July beach family reunion, or the "honeymoon" we want to take in December!" Convenient, eh?

>So I'm taking 16 hours of personal time to be home with them Friday and Monday. Friday is covered, we're going to Pump It Up in the morning, taking Josh lunch, picking up the dry cleaning and sending off the sale from my Etsy site. Saturday, god willing, my hair dresser will be able to give me a break from my kids new perm. If not, I'm getting my nails done. And conveniently, we can't go to the commissary until Saturday when Josh can come with, because I just have too much to do on Friday and don't have the next week's menu done. Like my sneakiness there? Maybe it's retribution for him reneging on taking the kids one day...

Sunday, we're having an egg hunt with my friends Kendra and Ariel, and having our own Easter dinner. Monday, the girls and I are taking our boys (5, 4, and 2) to a local coffee shop that has, besides coffee, cute purses and an indoor play area. However, no matter what I have planned, I know that on Tuesday morning, I'm going to hop out of bed and eagerly dress for work!

Here's what I want to know: why is it called a day off when I'm really going to be working harder than I do at work, and a dairy cow to boot?

Oh my god, it's on my foot!

My poor Sadie...she has both of her incisors coming in, and teething always gives her loose diapers. Which means diaper rash. But this time has to be the worst.

She screams and arches away from diaper changes. I actually cried last night changing her diaper, having to inflict pain on her. Even putting diaper cream on her makes her scream. My poor angel!

Her school called this afternoon to tell us that they couldn't take her crying anymore. She was crying and screaming whenever she wet her diaper, not just at diaper changes. So they had her in a large T-shirt, letting her poor little area air dry. We took her home like that, and left her like that while Josh went out to find the ultra-mega diaper cream.

Of course, the inevitable happened. She's a baby not wearing a diaper, you figure it out! After I got dinner started, I found her in the hallway playing in a puddle (gross!). Cleaned that up, and her. Stirred dinner halfway through, and found another puddle on the kitchen floor (gross!). Cleaned that up, and her. After dinner, we let her play in the living room while we took a quick, 5-minute break outside. Guess what we found in the living room? Not a puddle...(gross!gross!gross!)

Josh cleaned that up while I got her and her dress into the tub (gross!). Got Jacob in bed, Sadie in jammies, with the ultra-mega diaper cream that she didn't scream for. Hurray, this expensive shit might actually work!

Stood up from nursing her to go lay her down for the night, and my bare foot, right in the arch, found a tiny piece that got missed in the clean up. (gross!gross!gross!gross!gross!gross!) Can you tell I don't do bodily secretions very well?? shudder I stood there, grossing out, a sleeping baby on my shoulder, horrible grossness glued to my foot in all it's sticky, gooey, cold glory, begging my husband in stage whispers to get his butt in there and get it off my foot before I totally gagged myself, him laughing all the while. Some white knight...

Now that I've confessed to the un-mom-like quality of grossing out at my kids' bodily needs, I totally have to steal a line from Jacqueline's blog: Who the hell put me in charge??

Saying good-bye to Momformation

Today, I prepared myself to say good-bye to Mommy Wore Combat Boots, the column I've written for BabyCenter's Momformation since July 08.

And saying good-bye with grace was harder than I expected it to be. It's funny how finding relief, and ridding yourself of one more thing on your to-do list, can be difficult. I guess it's the emotional investiture that makes it so...

But now I can focus on blog posts when I want to. I can make them any word length. I can cover any topic. I can cuss if I want to. I don't have to worry about turning readers off from a nationally-recognized sight, one that's paying me. I can be me, unedited.

But I find myself adrift, wondering just who am I without it. What's my voice, now that I'm not writing for BabyCenter? What do I want to cover, what do I want to promote, what do I want to accomplish?

The first thing is getting some sleep! I've got a lot to tackle this weekend, besides the obligatory dishes and laundry. We have 2 birthday parties this weekend, which means gifts. The slacks I ordered Josh don't fit right, so they'll have to be taken back and replaced. (How does that man wear through slacks so fast, just sitting at a desk?) And we have to start getting the house ready for my mother-in-law's sort-of surprise visit in 2 weeks.

She had told us she was flying to the beach, staying for a couple days, we were joining her for a couple more, and then I thought everyone was heading home. But she told Josh tonight that she's coming back with us! SO, the playroom will have to be cleaned and rearranged, the playroom TV moved somewhere else, the living room cleaned up (oy! the living room), etc. Oh well, I guess it's incentive to straighten the house, right? At least I finished the wallpaper border in that room!

It's not that I don't have things to look forward to; I do! I just don't know how the writer Emily is without BabyCenter. Guess I'll need you guys to help me figure it out!