not so itsy bitsy

i thought i would get me a new suit for our numerous waterpark and sprinkler-run adventures this summer. now that summer has indeed arrived with its two bff's: mug and storm.

in march, i had high hopes of resurrecting my favorite black number. the last time i wore it vern had to help get it off. by that i mean he had to hold my suit bunched around my waist with both hands while i gripped the bed with mine and we both tugged. he remembers it fondly. i cringe.

i'm not back to black yet. i could almost pull out the maternity suits were it not that they are designed to give you a little breathing room just where i'd prefer they suck me back together. i bought a cheap blue suit after our tug of war. i could wear it up until my 7th month of pregnancy. it looks like it. i'll swim in jeans and a t-shirt-covered-nursing bra before i wear that sorry thing again.

so.

i was willing to pay a little for this wonder of wonders i found on-line. a miracle of sewn lycra that would boost, suck, shape, trim, tighten and take a good 10 pounds off. i squealed with joy. it was cute. i was skipping around the room. and then i read the fine print:

Suntan lotion absorbed by the suit and not washed out can damage the fabric. Please always be careful to keep your Miraclesuit® free from lotions.

i wear 50 sunblock and reapply every hour. and i still burn.

Whirlpools and spas have a high concentration of chemicals to sanitize the water. Public pools often exceed normal chlorine levels for health reasons. Regular use of these facilities may cause the fabric of your suit to breakdown more quickly than what is considered to be normal use. We suggest wearing an older Miraclesuit® in the hot tub, and saving your new Miraclesuit® for the beach or pool.

in my befuddlement of how miracles are not suited for freckled iowa girls like me, this post from antique mommy came to mind.

newsworthy

this morning it is not the fda going after cheerios. now caleb thinks they are bad for us and positions we may as well allow him to eat cinnamon toast crunch every morning. with a side of apple jacks.

i suppose it could be worse, and he could be discussing with me whether miss california should lose her title.

i've had my head in the sand all week. intentionally. with spite. such are the petty day-to-day goings-ons. otherwise known as marriage which God gifts us to further refine ourselves. my flaws boil to the surface and then - well. they get a proper sanding down after i've cooled as i pull my head out again.

the family of a dear friend was involved in a boat explosion in tampa. our neighbor's scary dog finally did break his chain. he mauled the neighbor a yard over while we five were playing in our backyard, separated from where the dog was kept by a few mere feet.

for weeks i prayed every night God simply grant me an extension. just a little more time to do a little bit better. we got pregnant. i always thought that was kind of funny. not really the extension i meant.

i feel like i'm wasting this relatively easy span of time with sand in my eyes. but. i'm also very thankful we have this (relatively easy span of time) to work on the deeper crap no one has energy for once newsworthy happens.

not fair

caleb got sick before he even had a chance to dare our warnings about eating too much easter candy. this morning he was found crumpled in a ball on the floor of the bathroom. resting his head on a pile of dirty clothes left from the night before. he cannot understand why he's now being urged to lay on his bed rather than the couch. there being no tv by his bed - the only thing he can even sort of 'do'. they may as well have left him on the bathroom floor passed out in discarded jeans and undies. he's sick and cannot play and now they want to banish him away. no one cares about the sick kid.

owen is likely next to fall. he's smiley yet, so long as he's being held, and his mom's soaked. as is anything in a 2 foot radius. this spitting up seems excessive even for him.

and maddy. not only is there no room for her on the couch, but she keeps getting hollered at for pitching easter eggs in the 'basket' next to caleb. and for drinking twice now from his sippy of gatorade. wailing, looking for comfort after being reprimanded, she stepped right into owen's mess her mom was trying to get cleaned up. we won't even mention how often she's had her hands on some easter candy, only to have it taken away...

worst of all. 'barney' is on and i cannot find the remote to change the channel.

super not

i try to start every morning imagining what a perfect day with my mother would have been growing up.

1 yogurt facial, 2 time-outs, 6 big brother teases, 4 ear-piercing screams, 1 on-going nursing attempt interrupted twice by a toddler set on going potty all by herself and caleb has given up looking for play-doh required for our play-doh date, owen is spitting up like nobody's business, maddy needs an early nap not yet rocovered from my putting the diaper back on her all by myself, and i've already become that evil mom even i do not want to spend time with. it's 10 am.

farewell non-intrusive analog fuzz

i've decided there is no torture quite like being housebound with 2 overly-tired children intent on waiting up for their dad to get home from a late-evening meeting through any means necessary and 1 equally tired and cranky baby who only becomes more incensed at his lack of care and attention due to his siblings' antics OTHER than to leave the famed-father alone on the couch to muddle over why his wife is such a crab he never sent a text update 3 hours into his meeting as to his status and experience the joys of the digital switch over that has left his family's only sight and sound of the real-time outside world blocky, skippy and sometimes all together stuck. it's like the dvd you curse and clean and curse some more before ultimately returning to netflix flagged as unviewable.