Visit a mattress store. Lie down. Wonder if you have to take off your shoes. Wonder if lice is on the pillows. Wonder if they could turn down the lights because man are you tired.
Lie on every mattress in the store. Get more and more confused about which ones you like. Decide to only lie on the ones that are on sale.
Listen to the sales associates talk about the differences between pillowtop cushion firm, luxury firm pillowtop, tight top plush and tight top cushion firm.
Wonder how many squats you’d have to do to get an ass that is tight top cushion firm.
Leave store with zero clarity.
Come back and try out one kid on a bed.
Come back and try out three kids on a bed.
Come back and try out five kids on a bed.
Listen to the sales associate scold your children for jumping on beds.
Exit store with zero clarity and sapped of all energy.
A week later, return to store after downing a caffe latte, a green tea banana smoothie and a shot of Red Bull.
Pick a mattress. Insist that it has the perfect combination of firmness, comfort and bounce. Know in your heart that you did meeny, miny, moe.
Mattress arrives! Yahoo! Lie down. It feels good!
Wait, you hate it.
It’s too soft and too hard. It feels like a cushion roller coster. Your body is sagging. The mattress is swallowing you up like quicksand. You are going to die from pillowtop smothering. What is the return policy on these things?! Are they even returnable? Why did you not ask that before purchasing?!
You can exchange (with some fees!!)
But you can have 60 days to obsess over it before you return it.
Obsess over it for 60 days. Maybe it is comfortable and you don’t realize it. Your back hurts. Is it the mattress? Your tailbone hurts. Is it the mattress? Your finger hurts. Is it the mattress? Oh no, that’s a paper cut.
You decide to return it. Explain to sales associate on phone that you may have gotten a paper cut from the mattress. Ask her to waive fees. She does not.
Head back to store to try out all the mattresses.
Make promise that once this is over, you will never buy a mattress again. When your mattress gets old, you will simply ask a dear friend to arrange a covert operation in which your mattress is switched out without your knowledge and an identical one is put in its place.
When we moved to Florida, we had to get new license plates.
In New York, you need a license plate on the front and back of your car. In Florida, only the back. Which left us with two big holes on the front of the minivan.
Rick: “What should we do about the two big holes on the front of the minivan?”
Me: “I know! Let’s put a big Phillies’ plate on our car!!”
What I meant: I so do not want a Phillies’ plate on our car because it’s really my car and it’s humiliating enough to drive around town in a flashy gold minivan without some gigantic dedication to a sports team. I’m sure we both remember that ridiculous Phillies’ magnet that once graced our vehicle and let’s not repeat that kind of madness.
What Rick thought I meant: Go buy a Phillies’ plate! Quickly! Before they run out!!
So I walked out of my house one morning and saw this on my car…
Yup. Let me give you a closer look…
Wow. That sucker is shiny.
Well, I hope Rick enjoys what I put on the front of his car.
(It’s good to have a few One Direction calendars lying around the house.)
mama bird notes:
–The winners of the ARTtwo50 $100 gift certificates are Liza Petrone and Anna Whiston-Donaldson. Congrats ladies! Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org to collect your winnings!
–I just did a big review on baby bibs. Want to know the best and the worst ones out there? Click on Alpha Mom to read my post.
–Finally, I was recently part of a discussion on baby names on Huffington Post Live. Here’s the link.
I don’t really remember my first date. Although I do remember this boy coming up to me in 7th grade, handing me a rose in front of many of our classmates and kissing me with his chapped lips. I almost fainted and I’ve had a weird obsession with hydrating lip balm every since.
In high school, I went to some school dances. My biggest priority was making sure the guy’s cumberbund and bow tie matched my dress. If the shade turned out to also be the same color as our wine coolers, the night was an insane success.
One particular boy asked me to a winter dance and I thought I sort of liked him. Or at least I liked the idea of liking him.
In preparation for our big night out together, I made him a Christmas card. Out of construction paper. Because doesn’t every teenage boy want a home made card? Especially a Jewish boy.
I even gave it to him in the middle of school. I might as well have handed him a rose and kissed him with big chapped lips. He probably used that card to roll clove cigarettes in the quad.
With my greeting card business out the way, I prepared for the evening. I immediately knew our chemistry was off because he decided to match his cumberbund and bow tie to my hair color instead of my dress. He chose a sparkly gold color to apparently match my sparkly gold hair.
Despite this obvious red flag, my hopeful adolescent self thought the evening was still salvageable. He came to pick me up about 7:30 pm. I know because I heard the honking.
At first, I imagined some kind of suburban traffic jam due to the grisly death of a raccoon innocently trying to cross the street but then to my horror I realized the truth: That was my date honking.
I could only imagine 3 possible scenarios.
1. He had somehow gotten entangled in the wires of his walkman, trapping him in his car, and in this pre-cell phone era, he had no choice but to beep madly to get emergency attention.
2. He was so swept away by the romance of my interfaith Christmas card, that he became temporarily insane and thought it was okay to honk for his date to come out of the house.
3. He danced and sang to The Bangles on the way over so enthusiastically that it sapped him of all energy and he simply could not summon the strength to get out of the vehicle.
Clearly number 3 was the most plausible but it turned out that none of these were true. He was just immature and not that polite.
I went with him to the dance and to this motel after party. But I realized that I didn’t really like this guy all that much and didn’t know his friends all that well and really wanted to go home.
So I walked out of the motel, crossed the street and went to a diner. I called my mom from a pay phone and asked if she’d pick me up. “Is everything okay?” she asked in her worried voice. “Yes, I just want to go home.”
I had other bad dates through the years. The really really boring guy who said almost nothing, so I of course filled every silence with non-stop chatter about how I acquired each of my scrunchies and my favorite dramatic scenes from the movie “Cocktail.”
Or the boyfriend who arrived two hours late to my birthday dinner. (And yes, relationships can end because of excessive tardiness).
But then I had one particularly good date in 1996. Which turned into a really good second date in 2000. In fact so good, he turned out to be the one.
And the girl with the sparkly gold hair kissed her bad dates goodbye and said, “I do.”
This post is part of a Valentine’s Day blog hop! So check out these other awesome blogs below and find out about their worst date ever. It can only make you feel better about your Valentine’s Day!
I don’t want to blame Florida or anything but since I arrived in this state, I’ve had the flu, pink eye (I feel you Bob Costas), an infected cuticle and now 10 cavities.
Yes, 10 cavities.
I don’t know what the heck happened.
I brush my teeth, floss daily and go to the dentist every 6 months.
I’ve had one cavity my entire adult life and it was right after I gave birth to the twins. As the dentist explained, “Pregnancy sucks everything good out of you.” Or maybe he said, “Pregnancy does seem to make some women more vulnerable to cavities.”
I chalked it up to one more pregnancy side effect, got it filled and didn’t think about it again.
And apparently I wasn’t thinking about it while I endlessly sucked on Nips Chocolate Parfait candies after the birth of Cash. It was sort of my baby weight loss secret. Every time I got hungry, I just popped one of those scrumptious 30 calorie 1 gram of fat candies into my mouth. And it worked! No more baby weight.
Do you think they could market their product as a weight loss treatment? “Lose the pregnancy weight by obsessively eating our candies. Lose even more weight because you will be too numb after each filling to eat!”
I don’t known why I never went into advertising.
So far I’ve gotten 4 cavities filled. Only 6 to go! I listened to Terry Gross’ Fresh Air NPR podcast during the dental work. I chose the Tim Gunn interview which I could sort of hear over the drilling and screeching.
Tim Gunn is one of my favorite celebrities after I mildly accosted him on a plane and he was beyond gracious.
His honesty in the interview is almost stunning. This is a guy who tried to commit suicide when he was younger and spent 2 1/2 years in a psychiatric hospital.
He is really such a funny, compassionate and well dressed man. Despite the fact that he was Chair of Fashion Design at Parsons and the fashion mentor on “Project Runway”, his mother told him to dress more like Mitt Romney. Hey, maybe Heidi Klum can dress more like Ann Romney!
So day one of dental mania is over and I only have to go back 3 more times. I wonder if they’ll give me a punch card so I can get the 10th filling free.
3 1/2 year old Chase recently asked to visit the Garage Store. The Garage Store is sort of like Baby Gap or The Children’s Place except it looks like this…
And it’s in my garage.
It’s basically where I keep all my kid clothes either handed down by my older girls, my awesome sister-in-law Kimberly, or my very generous friend Joanna. My twins wanted to shop at “real” stores like Dylan and Summer so hence the Garage Store was born.
After a recent shopping expedition, my son Chase came out with this peace sign shirt.
He loved it and wore it to the pool that day for his weekly swim class.
(I’m sorry to mention the word pool. Yes, the pool is outside. And I know it’s minus 14 degrees with wind chill wherever you are and I promise you I feel bad about the cold and the snow and the slush but I’m just not sure what I can do about it so just know I feel bad.)
But when Chase came home from the pool, he notified me that the peace sign shirt was missing. That’s right. GONE.
“What? That’s brand new from the Garage Store! You got it today!”
Instead Chase was wearing this…
I asked Rick what had happened and he didn’t really know. “I took his shirt off at the pool and then put it back on after the lesson. But he’s upset that his peace sign shirt is gone. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
(I’m sorry to mention the pool again.)
Because I read a lot of Cam Jansen and Nancy Drew mysteries to the girls, I know a lot about being a detective. Did Rick accidentally pick up a different shirt and leave the peace sign one there? Not outside the realm of possibility – he was there with the twins and our 9 month old baby which is certainly a bit chaotic.
I knew I had never seen this new shirt before.
Or maybe I had.
And that’s when we realized the shirt was just on inside out.
mama bird notes:
Check out my piece on Alpha Mom on alternatives to traditional birthday gifts because who needs more crap?! Not me.
Are you in desperate need for art? Check out my recent post on a very cool new app that lets you see what art will look like hanging in your home before you buy it! And you can still enter the awesome giveaway.