Hippies Only

I never put any thought into what I put on in the morning. When I start thinking about what I'm putting on, I get very irritated with myself. And it never works out. It's all pretty much the same, and frankly, I'm not happy that I have to get dressed at all. If I knew how to make my own clothes, I would do it. I've never really loved anything that I've bought and have always thought I could come up with my own clothing line for myself if I knew how to sew. I did take Home Economics in Middle School and made pillows and some article of clothing that I can't remember. I even stole my mom's sewing machine in hopes one day I would try to figure it out. Right after I finish (and start) the girls' scrapbooks for which I have a closet full of stationery.

While I was shopping at Woodmans today, a grandpa looking man stopped me. He grabbed my hand and said to me, "You know, I have some patches you can have for those pants." I looked down and saw that I do have several intentional holes in my jeans...actually more than I even remember. This made sense though since I don't usually look at myself after I've gotten dressed. One hole is quite big because when I put them on, my foot went through the hole, ripping the threads that kept the hole not a total hole. Then, he said, "You're a hippy, aren't you? Or free spirit...would you prefer 'free spirit'?" I laugh uncomfortably and tell him I'm really fine either way. I looked down at my jeans again and see the holes, and past the jeans are my recycled shoes. I started thinking as I walked through the store. Do I look like a hippy? I mean, I showered AND washed my hair. Then, I looked in my basket of groceries and hoped not to run into him again.  (Sorry I don't know how to flip it.)

I don't think I'm a hippy, and I take no offense to the label, but I'm wondering...At what age do you feel okay stopping strangers and calling them names? This man meant no harm. And I took no offense to it. It was somewhat entertaining, albeit uncomfortable. But, I can't WAIT until I can start telling people what I'm really thinking.

Parenting is hard. Before I had children, I wasn't completely convinced that having children would be in anyone's best interest. I was (possibly "am") selfish and a little spoiled so I felt that really, either way I would be fine. I could take it or leave it. When we decided to start having children, it took Scott and I two years to get pregnant with Emma. I had given up, and really had accepted that it wasn't going to happen ,and maybe that was for the best. Then, at work one day, my boss and colleagues made me quit procrastinating and avoiding that fact that I could quite possibly be pregnant. I drove to the store and took a pregnancy test in the stall of my work bathroom. It was positive immediately, and I was beyond believing that this could now be happening. What...the hell was I going to do with a baby.

Fast forward to now.

I don't know how, but (well, technically I do. I mean we all now HOW it happens, but figuratively speaking, I guess) 7 years later, not only do I have a 7 year old, but also a nearly 3 year old. And, so I've been told, they're just like me. Perfect.

Yesterday, I picked up Emma from school, as I normally do. I'm trying to figure out different ways to get her to talk to me and give me some information. Not because I need to know everything that happens at school in 2nd grade, but I'm trying to build a foundation for our future. I feel like everything I do now with her is setting us up for our future, of which I am about as frightened as I can possibly be. So, she tells me that she is student of the week this week. Well, that's great, but it's Wednesday, so are you student of the week for two days?

Emma: I have to make a poster about me and then my teacher will hang it up.

Me:  For two days? Are you sure you're student of the week this week?

Emma: Ugh! You're going to get me stressed out.

Me: Oh really? Well, Miss Daisy, I'm sorry I'm stressing you out. I won't ask you anymore questions.

Emma: Well, you always get me stressed out because you ask too many questions and I don't know the answers.

Me: Okay, fine.

Silence.

So a learning block for me, I guess. I mean, I've been saying that my head hurts and I fear I might have a tumor because it hurts when I tip my head upside down. Maggie says it's because I have ADD, but she's not a doctor. Especially, not a head doctor. And why would ADD make my head hurt. Oh yeah, I think she related the ADD to my extremely poor memory. Still, it's on my list of things I need to do. Well, if I had a list, it would be on my list. It's on my mental list. Anyway, no wonder my head hurts. I am trying to stay two steps ahead of a 7 year old and a 3 year old who are little spawns of me. It's hard. Plus, there's always the possibility of a tumor.

Then, there's Olivia. Today, she brought my phone to me and told me it's not working. Well, that's AWESOME since it's brand new, and not super cheap. I checked, and it was blank. No response. Completely dead. Caput. So I threaten both of them and tell them they are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever playing on my phone again. Emma is perplexed because she can't understand why I'm mad at her since she didn't do anything. Olivia is looking at me like she just killed the dog, apologizing and asking if I'm mad at her.
Yes, I was mad at her, but I just couldn't understand why it wasn't working.
I was THIS close to going to Verizon. I mean coats on and everything, and then I decided I could wait until Scott got home.
Plan B. I'll look on the computer and see if I can find any forums about the iPhone not turning on.
Push this button and this button until the apple icon comes up. Okay....well there's the apple icon. Let's see what happens next.
Oh, it turned the phone on.
Weird.

Thanks be to the Greek gods that I did not go to Verizon.