Though a post is hardly necessary with such a title, I will tell my story. I promise I haven't forgotten about homeschooling part 2, but this needs to be told first.
The other day I was wearing white capris. I don't know why I do things like that. Past experience tells me it probably won't end well. But it looks so bright and springy that I can't help it sometimes. So I'm wearing my capris and walking into Kohl's. It's raining (of course it is) and I'm carrying Noah (of course I am) when my ankle decides to simply stop working. I got weak ankles from my mother's side. My grandma always says that the Beamer women tend to have big bottoms. Combined with our chicken ankles, it's a wonder any of us can walk.
As it so happens, I fell into a puddle. In white capris.
Apparently such was the force of the fall that I ripped a gash into the left knee of the pants and scraped my knee to the point of bleeding. Thankfully, I held onto Noah until about the last 6 inches. He landed on his diapered bottom with so little force that he didn't make a noise, just nonchalantly looked about. "Seems like I'm on the ground now - this is quite interesting."
My mother came rushing out from the store and scooped up Noah, fretting over his damp overalls while her daughter limped into the store, blood trailing behind.
This leads me to another point: it seems to be universal that children fall considerably in the eyes of parents once grandchildren come along. In introductions, it's always "This is Jack, Kate and Noah. Oh, and their mother." You can't even remember my name anymore, can you?
My kids squeal with glee at the mention of either set of grandparents. Books, toys, ice cream, restaurants. It's like a holiday every time. Whenever the kids find out we're meeting mom at the shopping center, Katie says happily "Ice cream!" I try to tell my kids that Mamaw is not my mom. Mamaw buys Trix yogurt (there are no words) and doles out Pixar movies and kisses and s'mores like every day is the last. Mom once broke a wooden spoon over my bottom. Mamaw keeps delicious chocolate cereal stocked in case of sleepovers. Mom would shove us out of the door in the morning and we'd hear the click of the lock. No sense in faking that stomach ache anymore - off to school we'd trudge, glancing wistfully behind us.
Back to the puddle of humiliation. As we're walking into the store, Mom says "Well, guess we'd better get you some pants." Fantastic. My mom has a platinum Kohl's card - jeans on mom! I found a pair, somewhat normalish (see last post). They do have some subtle dyed streaks and a small little river of rhinestones on the back pockets. I'd take a picture but posting pictures of jeans is a slippery slope. Pretty soon you're posting pictures of your meals and playlists on your ipod. Eventually you just lose all sense of normal.
They are nice, though. And at $32, they're nicer than ones I would've bought myself.
Later that evening, I was telling mom about my friend who gets upset when her mom books and pays for hair appointments. Sometimes I just want to shake my friend by her overgrown roots, "What's the matter with you? Take the free haircut!" My mom replied "Yeah, you dropped your baby just for a pair of jeans!"
Next I'll be kicking my own leg, "Break, darn you, break - maxi dresses are on sale!"
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