Sweatshirt vs. Suit Coat

I pulled into the parking lot at preschool this morning, rocking my stay-at-home-mom uniform. My sweatshirt, purchased 11 years ago in New Jersey, is bright orange. Hunter Safety Orange. Home Depot Orange. Doesn't really go with my new blond hair Orange. The best part about my sweatshirt is that it hides the paint stained, accidentally bleached in spots tee-shirt that is also something of a dinosaur. My super awesome sweatpants aren't a whole lot better, though they are at least from this millennium.

My "natural" makeup look is actually yesterday's mascara in a dusky gray ring around my eyes. I was able to salvage my hairstyle from yesterday by taking off my headband before it crumpled my bangs back enough so that they stick up like stork feathers.

While in the process of hauling my oldest daughter out of the car, I caught the eye of another Mom returning to her car after dropping off a child. This mom, sleekly styled in a business suit and sensible shoes, gave me a sad smile and a slightly envious head-to-the-side look. Wait, was that envy? Or pity? She hopped into a stylish Volvo and bopped away.

Envy? Or pity? I'm reviewing the tape in my head. There are parts of this mom-at-home business that are quite nice, I suppose. We only rush out of the house three days a week, not six. My nine month old sleeps in her crib almost exclusively, not having to be bothered with day care cribs. She doesn't have to fight for attention or share her toys. (My secret anxiety is that she also gets less focused care because I'm also trying to write lists, pay bills, shower, cook meals, etc.)

But there is a flip side. Talking to more than three adults in one day is remarkable. Hubs complains about meetings and emails, but I secretly think it might be fun to have other adults talking around you and have them be interested in your opinion. I miss the camaraderie of community counseling and (gasp) even miss going to class on occasion. Mom-on-the-go styling is not as easy as they make it look on What Not To Wear. You have to be prepared to let your clothes get apple-sauced, dog furred, or ketchuped. Makeup? Not quite as important as it used to be. And yes, I hear you, I know we're supposed to get fancied up and beautiful for our own sake, not for the sake of others, but...the secret is that it feels a bit pathetic to get all glammed up to wrangle the children.

Someone told me, a few days ago, to "Have a great Monday!". Is it Monday? Or Thursday? I told her that as a stay-at-home Mom, every day is Monday. There is no weekend. I said it with a smile, carefully keeping some of the bitterness out of my voice, but my stork hair and yesterday's mascara speak for themselves.

Still, I get to do things that the full-timers can't do. (Like write this out, for example, and ponder the different paths that one's life can take.) I can schedule doctor's appointments for the kids in the middle of the day without worrying about upsetting my boss. I can go to the grocery store during the off hours if I don't mind taking both twerps with me. I can clean the place during naptime if the spirit moves me.

So I don't know, honestly, if I'm to be envied or not. I guess there is good and bad to every situation. Before I get up on my high horse and think I've come up with something super deep and profound, I'd like to remind everyone that the Chinese summed up the whole concept of light and dark, balance and energy with a yin yang. So I'm not exactly treading new ground. But I do feel better about my slouchy outfit and lack of a shower, so that counts for something.

Halloween Costume

One of my girlfriends was logged on to facebook at the same time I popped in to check Barack Obama's status update. She and I chatted for a little bit, kvetching a bit about children, co-workers and what a bummer it is that she lives in Washington DC and still hasn't bumped into Obama at Five Guys. The conversation turned to Halloween costumes.

Her: "Dude, I have a great costume idea. You should dress all in black and wear a shot glass around your neck. You'd be...A Shot in the Dark!"

Me: "I've already picked out my costume. I'm going as an exhausted mother of two, in desperate need of a shower and a cocktail."

Her: "LOL"

Me: "I'm wearing my costume right now. Gotta make sure it fits."

Her: "You poor thing. I'm off to a glamorous martini party with the glitterati and my fabulous entourage."

Ok, so she doesn't actually say that she is living the glamrous life in the fast lane, but I think she is editing out some of the fabulous details so I don't feel so bad about my twice-a-week shower schedule.

Color Wars

Hubs and I were having one of our very deep, intellectual conversations. MaeMae started it by announcing that her favorite color is Red. This has been the consistent front runner for several days (practically eternity in the mind of a 3.5 year old) so I am inclined to believe her. She went on to remind us that Mom's favorite color is purple, while Dad's favorite color is blue. Spike, who has yet to speak a language we can understand, has no official position on the subject.

I informed Hubs that blue is an inferior color to purple.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Purple kicked Blue's ass the other day in a street brawl. Blue went crying home to it's momma and hid under the bed for two days."

"Well, if Purple saw Blue in a dark alley, Purple would pee on itself and run away."

"Well, Purple is the color of royalty. Blue is the color of plebeians."

(I'll admit, a comeback loses a bit of it's sting when your word choices clearly reveal a childhood spent watching PBS specials and reading too many books about the middle ages.)

"Well, in nature, Purple is an exotic color. There are only a few purple things, like flowers or grapes. Blue, on the other hand, is the color of the most important features in the world." Hubs settled back in his seat, clearly pleased with this response and considering the discussion at an end.

"WHAT? What are you talking about? What in the world is blue that is so important?"

He stared at me, eyes wide. "The. Sky."

Oooh, right. I forgot about that.

"And the OCEAN. Both are blue."

I had lost all traction gained by an obscure word choice and was firmly back in the dunce corner.

"You gotta color your hair back to brown, hon. You're turning into an idiot."

At this point, MaeMae was actually concerned that either Blue or Purple was hurt from their fight, and we had to reassure her that both colors were ok.

Overtraining

Hubs and I have been working out, together, in the morning. This morning workout hour used to be my time alone, where I would escape in my fantasy land of swinging hammocks, umbrella drinks served by shirtless (and mute) muscle bound men. But now we work out together, prompting many interesting and pointed conversations.

Case in point:

Today, I announced that I have "Overtraining Syndrome". This is something that happens to people that over do it for a period of time, don't get enough sleep, and have to slow down for a little while.

Hubs said, "How can you tell?"

"Well," I answered, "I'm grouchy. That's one of the signs."

With a carefully composed face, he said "You've been grouchy for 11 years. I don't think overtraining is the problem."

He thought about it a little while longer. "And, I thought that working out would make you happier. Instead, you're more dangerous now, because you can punch and kick."

"And I'm a lot faster now, so you better start running."

"Yep, that too."

I was slightly less grouchy for a period of time after that, because at least I'm not overtraining. I'm just grouchy, which we already knew.