©Stephenie Freeman
When I went to bed last night, I knew that today was going to be busy. I had lots to do and had everything scheduled back to back, leaving little room for error. There was no time to waste, so of course that’s exactly what I did.
The day didn’t start well. I couldn’t even make it out of my own closet. I wasted a good thirty minutes, thirty minutes that I didn’t have to waste, on staring at my clothes. Not trying on, not sifting through, just…staring.
Yes, you know that it’s going to be a bad day when you decide to spend the day in your granny panties since your underwear looks better than anything else hanging in your closet.
On a typical morning I walk into my closet and throw something on within a matter of minutes, and every day I look like I walked into my closet and threw something on within a matter of minutes.
Oh, but not today. I was bound and determined to find something cute to put on. I hemmed and hawed over what I should wear. I haven’t hemmed and hawed over anything for years, but I felt that perhaps a little hemming and hawing might do both me and my wardrobe some good. Sadly, the longer I looked at my clothes, the more miserable I became.
Nothing’s grumpier than a mama who suddenly realizes that she is the perfect candidate for the reality show “What Not to Wear.”
You see, usually when I wake up in the mornings, I turn off the alarm and turn on my mama auto pilot. I am a robotic mama machine. I move through the morning toasting Eggos, dressing boys, and making lunches never actually having to think about what I am doing. My morning routine is mindless and I find comfort in the fact that it doesn’t require any actual thought.
When I’m in robotic mama mode, I certainly don’t waste any time or brain cells on what to wear. I grab my flip flops, my workout shorts, and my T-shirt that says, “I love cupcakes!” and I am off to conquer the world. The last time I checked, world conquering didn’t require anything fashionable. Besides, who doesn’t love cupcakes?
Then today, for reasons only God understands, I decided to break the routine and re-discover, re-introduce myself to the “real” clothes hiding deep in my closet. Clearly it did not go well. After all of that staring and all of that time wasting, I ended up in a pair of baggie boyfriend jeans and a T-shirt that read, “Housework is Evil” because, of course, it is.
To top it off, my hemming and hawing, my sudden, unwarranted need to feel fashionable made me run incredibly late, throwing off the delicate balance of our entire morning. I barely got the boys to school on time, and as I was dropping them off realized that in my vain attempt to look nice, I hadn’t spent one measly minute on my children’s appearance. Both of them had a horrible case of bed head, the Monkey was wearing his favorite Star Wars T-shirt that he had fished out of the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper, and neither of them was wearing socks.
And what’s really sad is with all of that extra effort, all of that extra time spent being re-introducing to my closet, they looked a whole lot better than I did.
Weekly Column: How will you celebrate?
©Stephenie Freeman
Next year will be my tenth wedding anniversary. I guess I shouldn’t say “my” anniversary since it takes two people to actually have an anniversary, but I often refer it as “my” wedding since I did all of the planning. The Golfer, like most grooms, didn’t do much in the way of planning our big day. All he did was show up and look cute which was enough.
And much like ten years ago, I now find myself once again doing all of the planning. To mark this special occasion, we have decided to reward ourselves with a trip somewhere fun and fabulous. It’s been ten years and we still like each other. That’s something definitely worth celebrating.
I think I have spent as much time planning our anniversary vacation as I did our wedding. Just like our wedding, I want this trip to be perfect, memorable, and special with no expense being spared. Unlike our wedding, this time it’s on our dime, not my father’s.
(He’s reading this and smiling right about now.)
It was a tough call at first—to take the children or not to take the children. There were lots of great travel ideas discussed that involved leaving the children at home with the dogs to fend for themselves. In the end, we decided we better include them. Our anniversary is about the two of us, but celebrating our marriage also meant celebrating the family that we’ve created.
After a little research, we decided to take a cruise, specifically a Disney Cruise. You might think I chose this for the children, but in all honesty, I chose this for me. The kids just lucked out.
We are Disney people; always have been. I was blessed to have grandparents who took me to Disneyland almost every summer growing up. My grandfather, a stoic and serious man, was never happier than when he was sitting in the little boast on the ride “It’s a Small World.”
I was with the Golfer the first time he ever visited Disneyland. We were in our early twenties at the time, but the way his face lit up the first time he saw Mickey, Goofy, and Pluto, you’d swear he was still a 5-year-old little boy.
We see the movies, visit the theme parks, and buy the merchandise— our love affair with the Mouse runs deep. There seems to be an indescribable force that draws me to anything Disney. I guess they don’t call it “Disney Magic” for nothing.
The first time I saw each of my boys in a pair of Mickey ears, I cried. I cried the first time I watched my 1-year-old kiss Goofy on the nose. There is no doubt that I will cry as we sail away on our Disney Cruise. A large box of Kleenex is on the top of my “to-pack” list.
I realize that behind all of the magic lies a huge corporate conglomerate. I know that Mickey is all about making money. Goodness knows I have given him plenty of mine. But for whatever reason, for me the magic seems to overshadow the money. Mickey tugs on my heart strings just as much as my purse strings.
So the planning continues. I want to ensure that we don’t miss one moment of the magic. We’re waiting to surprise the boys with the news of our special trip on Christmas morning. There’s no question that my children will jump up and down and scream and yell with excitement. They’ll be copying off of me.
Next year will be my tenth wedding anniversary. I guess I shouldn’t say “my” anniversary since it takes two people to actually have an anniversary, but I often refer it as “my” wedding since I did all of the planning. The Golfer, like most grooms, didn’t do much in the way of planning our big day. All he did was show up and look cute which was enough.
And much like ten years ago, I now find myself once again doing all of the planning. To mark this special occasion, we have decided to reward ourselves with a trip somewhere fun and fabulous. It’s been ten years and we still like each other. That’s something definitely worth celebrating.
I think I have spent as much time planning our anniversary vacation as I did our wedding. Just like our wedding, I want this trip to be perfect, memorable, and special with no expense being spared. Unlike our wedding, this time it’s on our dime, not my father’s.
(He’s reading this and smiling right about now.)
It was a tough call at first—to take the children or not to take the children. There were lots of great travel ideas discussed that involved leaving the children at home with the dogs to fend for themselves. In the end, we decided we better include them. Our anniversary is about the two of us, but celebrating our marriage also meant celebrating the family that we’ve created.
After a little research, we decided to take a cruise, specifically a Disney Cruise. You might think I chose this for the children, but in all honesty, I chose this for me. The kids just lucked out.
We are Disney people; always have been. I was blessed to have grandparents who took me to Disneyland almost every summer growing up. My grandfather, a stoic and serious man, was never happier than when he was sitting in the little boast on the ride “It’s a Small World.”
I was with the Golfer the first time he ever visited Disneyland. We were in our early twenties at the time, but the way his face lit up the first time he saw Mickey, Goofy, and Pluto, you’d swear he was still a 5-year-old little boy.
We see the movies, visit the theme parks, and buy the merchandise— our love affair with the Mouse runs deep. There seems to be an indescribable force that draws me to anything Disney. I guess they don’t call it “Disney Magic” for nothing.
The first time I saw each of my boys in a pair of Mickey ears, I cried. I cried the first time I watched my 1-year-old kiss Goofy on the nose. There is no doubt that I will cry as we sail away on our Disney Cruise. A large box of Kleenex is on the top of my “to-pack” list.
I realize that behind all of the magic lies a huge corporate conglomerate. I know that Mickey is all about making money. Goodness knows I have given him plenty of mine. But for whatever reason, for me the magic seems to overshadow the money. Mickey tugs on my heart strings just as much as my purse strings.
So the planning continues. I want to ensure that we don’t miss one moment of the magic. We’re waiting to surprise the boys with the news of our special trip on Christmas morning. There’s no question that my children will jump up and down and scream and yell with excitement. They’ll be copying off of me.
My weekend.
The Golfer calls from out-of-town.
"What did I do this weekend? Oh, a whole lot of nothing really."
- made homemade waffles and turkey bacon
- fed the dogs
- started the laundry
- watched Game Day on ESPN
- watched football
- did a little magazine reading catch-up
- watched more football
- helped build a few Legos
- folded laundry
- scooped poop
- cheered for the Sooners
- worked on family photo albums
- folded more laundry
- cheered that USC got beat
- watered the plants
- did a little secret Disney research
- watched more football
- cheered for the Bruins
- slept
- read the Sunday paper
- more Disney research on eBay
- balanced the checkbook
- enjoyed a few Halloween Oreos
- posted a blog
- watched "Drop Dead Diva"
- watched "Flipping Out"
- watched "Real Housewives of Atlanta"
- let the kids make their own dinner--Cheerios and yogurt
- had an in depth discussion with the Cheese about numbering his bodily functions
- watched the Emmy's
- bathed
- slept
"Didn't do much really. How was your weekend?"
(You know when women say they are sooooo busy, they just can't tell you with what? This is what they mean.)
This is how behind I am.
Yes, I know. I haven't been blogging much. Other than quickly downloading my Weekly Column, I really haven't had time to blog much else. I've been busy with flag football and life and school and PTA room parents and planning a secret vacation on a Disney Cruise and Disney World. (To blog list: must, must, must blog about super-secret Disney vacation planning soon.)
And when you get busy with all of those sorts of things--the required things--you get behind on doing the things you actually like to do, like blogging and reading and just laying around with nothing to do.
This is how behind I am. These pics are from two weeks ago. They're from the 1st UCLA football game. These were all the pics I was able to take before the ticket taker man told me that my lens was too big. Who knew?
And when you get busy with all of those sorts of things--the required things--you get behind on doing the things you actually like to do, like blogging and reading and just laying around with nothing to do.
This is how behind I am. These pics are from two weeks ago. They're from the 1st UCLA football game. These were all the pics I was able to take before the ticket taker man told me that my lens was too big. Who knew?
And then I wasn't able to take anymore pics until the game was over and we headed home to watch the OU vs. BYU game on our DVR. I joked on the way home that we were headed home to watch some "real" football. Oh...how...wrong...I...was.
I'm not sure where the "pose like a rock star" thing came from, but I'm hoping they grow out of it soon.
You gotta love the water bottle being used as a guitar. By the time we got into the car, it was being used as a drum stick. Unfortunately, his brother's head was the drum.
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