Mama's Feeling Sassy

Tracts of Land

WARNING:  THIS POST IS ABOUT GIRLY PARTS.  SPECIFICALLY THE ONES ON TOP.


MOM AND KATHY, PLEASE GO LOOK AT QUILTS.  GRANDMA, JUST SHUT THE COMPUTER DOWN.

So.

Did you know that about 80% of brassiere wearing women are wearing the wrong size?  Are you in the 20%?  A well-fitted bra can completely change the way your clothes look and how your back feels.

But you didn't come here to listen to me talk about sensible things.  You want to hear about the tiny menopausal Latina woman who unabashedly wrestles with my Mommies every time I go to the lingerie shop.

There is a wonderful intimate apparel shop in Dallas that has been here since 1934.  They sell robes, pajamas and swimwear but mainly deal in custom fitted over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders.  My mother brought me here a few years ago after I had Sophie and everything shifted.  She recognized that I needed something a little more supportive and that I needed some expert opinions.

Now I've always been a big girl.  I don't think I ever wore a training bra.  I've always sighed wistfully at strapless dresses and matching bra and panty sets.  I once tried on a Wonderbra and nearly collapsed when all of the oxygen was cut off from my brain because my nostrils and mouth were completely covered.

I left my mother on the couch in the waiting area and went into the dressing room.  I expected the tiny woman to measure over my existing bra and then pass in some options that I would then try on and say Yea or Nay.

What happened was that tiny little woman marched over to me as I removed my shirt and just flat out grabbed me.  She began lifting and searching and pushing and squooshing and holy monkeys I really want my Mama.

"SO YOU JUS' HAD A BABY? WHADDA WE LOOKIN' AT HERE?"

Lady, I will tell you anything you want if you will just let go of my chachies and for the love of GOD close the door to the dressing room.

That woman measured me and ran off LEAVING THE DOOR WIDE OPEN STILL and I called my mommy back into the dressing room because now I was terrified.  The lady came back with a few options.  She showed me how I had been putting bras on wrong for my entire life while my mother smothered a smile and quietly closed the door.  I think she got a kick out of my dinner-plate sized eyes and how her most talkative child was finally rendered speechless.  Once she helped me into the first one ("MAKE SURE ALL OF THE GIRLS ARE IN THE CUPS!") I stood up and felt...relief.

You mean bras are supposed to be comfortable?!  What witchcraft is this?!?!

They tweaked a few more places and I left with a bag full of the first proper fitting undergarments that I have ever worn.  Granted, they cost a little more but that's because I wear sizes normally reserved for Viking women.  I go back and get wrestled and prodded but now I do it knowing I'm coming out of there more comfortable than when I went in.  It doesn't bother me as much as the first time.

I also remember to close the door.

Now will someone please go pick my mother up off of the floor so she can answer the phone when my grandmother calls and asks her why I'm talking about this on my blog?

Imitation Is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

I'm settling the kids down for their naps.  Sophie usually has a "quiet time" in my bed since she shares a room with Gideon and keeps him up the whole time.

Sophie snuggles down into my bed with her dozen dolls and grabs the sleep mask I use when I sleep.  Nesting herself into all of the pillows on the bed, she puts the mask over her eyes.

Me:  "Are you going to sleep with Mama's mask?"

Sophie:  "Niy-niy!"

What a little cutie.  She's imitating her Mama!

I kiss her sweet little forehead.

Me:  "OK.  I love you, sweetie."

Sophie:  "I SAY NIY-NIY!"

*blink*

Me:  (under my breath)  "Have a pleasant nap, Missie Sahib."

Get Out Of Jail Free

I'm sitting on the couch with Gideon snuggled under my arm.  We soon realize that he's asleep and it's time to move him back to his crib for a nap.  Ben comes over to pick him up and Gideon rolls over and snuggles onto my chest.  My heart bursts into a million pieces and I hold my little man closer.


Me:  "Awww...you look so cute and you're so sweet!  Just for that you won't get in trouble the first time you wreck the car!"

Ben:  "THAT'S IT!  Give him to me!"

Ben hikes him up and mutters "Don't listen to your mother!" as he carries my baby away.

Mama has Fun With Color

Things That Made Me Smile

Watching Sophie knock on the door of the Little People Ark and announce loudly "Come in!"

Watching Milly take two wobbly steps and then drop to the floor to crawl psychotically fast to what she wants.

Looking around frantically for Gideon only to find him lying behind the couch cushion where I usually sit almost totally camouflaged.

Target Tantrum

*sigh*

Yesterday, I was That Mom.

Sophie and I had gone to Target to get just a few things.  Meaning we went into Target with a list of 5 things and left with a cartful of stuff.  That's just what you do at Target.  We had just come into the store and Sophie was acting very good.  She held my hand through the parking lot, counted the handicapped signs and tried to pick up the giant red ball at the front like she always does.  We picked out a cart - Sophie requested the red one and I complied - and headed into the store.  Sophie trotted beside me with a grin on her face.  All is going well.

Then came that dadgum Dollar Spot.

Now I love that Dollar Spot.  We find all sorts of cheap crap there.  Sophie loves funky socks and I regularly pick out 4 to 6 pairs every few months for her because I don't care if they get lost or fall apart.  We found 2 pairs of Minnie Mouse socks for Sophie and 2 pairs of Mickey socks for Gideon.  Great.  Now Mama's ready to leave and do the rest of the shopping.

Sophie has different ideas.

I take her hand and begin walking away and she somehow makes herself triple in weight.  Seriously, she just willed her kidneys to turn to lead or something.  So I tried the method of OK, I'm going to just leave you here!

Lalalala!  Mama's walking away!

...

I glance back after 20 feet and Sophie is standing there.  Defiant o'Pigtails with her arms firmly crossed over her chest and her little pigeon toed feet planted.

About that time, my Mama calls.  I answer the phone and tell her what her precious gem of a granddaughter is doing.  She tells me to go over and put her in the cart.  I sigh and turn the cart around.  The Little Nutjob just glares me down as I approach.  As soon as I touch her arm, she goes completely boneless.

"Mama, I have to go.  Your granddaughter is a jellyfish."

So, without ceremony, I haul my defiant little nutjob jellyfish up and dump her into the red cart.  As I begin to push the cart down the aisle with a now scream-fake sobbing mental patient nearing 11, I lean down and whisper what every mother has said...

"I hope you have a daughter someday JUST LIKE YOU."