Retail to the Rescue!

So this not drinking thing has really sucked lately.  I mean REALLY sucked.  I haven't fallen off the wagon, don't panic, but I thought about it.  In my mind I had planned my perfect wagon leaping drink - champagne.  And of course I would have to do it all by myself because I can't even begin to imagine the look on anyone's face I would dare to cocktail in front of.  See, part of the reason I'm so public about it is accountability - this way I can't sneak one by anyone.  A very clever thought at the time the decision was made, but now it pisses me off.  In a good way.  Does that make sense?

Anyway I'm not going to go into why it's so hard, mostly because I'm still trying to figure that one out.  I will say that it is difficult, even after over a year of success, to be the only girl at the table with a seltzer.  Please keep in mind my friends are great and I'm so lucky to have them, but it's difficult taking this on alone.  Not that I'm alone, but my main sober support lives in RI and I'm struggling locally.  My RI support, we'll call her D.D., is amazing, and I can't thank her enough for helping me through these past few weeks.  OK enough about that.

The reason for writing this is what I did to drag me out of my blue mood today....

I went shopping.

Cliche, I know, but good god it works really well!

I am the most practical shopper ever.  I hate to buy things at full price - I'm a great bargain hunter.  Also, I don't buy anything unless I ABSOLUTELY love it.  That means, when I look in the mirror, it's never a "Mmmmm, maybe...." kind of thing.  If it's not an immediate "LOVE IT" then it goes back.  This is my shopping theory.  Also I have to be able to wear it in at least 3 different ways for it to make the grade.

So I ended up with a new pair of jeans....SKINNY jeans.  Whoever came up with this marketing plan is brilliant.  I could have bought a size 326 and it still would have been labelled "skinny".  Psychological genius.  It worked for me.  And by the way, have I ever mentioned that I am "Joanne Average"?  You know that group of people who most marketing is directed toward, the average sucker in every crowd?  That's me.  Even the impulse buy section at the cash register - I find myself thinking "Oh my god, I totally need that shake weight I saw advertised on TV!  Look, it's right there!  I will do it every day and have amazing Linda Hamilton circa Terminator 2 arms!"  This is when my shopping theory saves my life and Sean's wallet.  Works every time.

Back to my original story - I came home with my new SKINNY jeans, and a cute sparkly top on sale, and some fun size Twix (they were by the register.  No judgement).  Fast forward a few hours when I'm upstairs helping the boys get ready for showers when I decide IT'S FASHION SHOW TIME and I try on my new SKINNY jeans with many outfits.  Right now I'm in outfit #6.  May I just say how cute these SKINNY jeans are with heels?  All sizes?  2 1/2 inch to 6 inch - no problem!  My SKINNY jeans are faboo in every situation!  I think that before I go to bed I will break out at least 6 or 7 more pairs of shoes.

In any case, it is a cliche, but for me, a little shopping saved the day.  A little shopping and a lot of costume changes.  And D.D.

It's possible I watch too much TV

Last night Sean went to play poker with the guys. I said, in front of the boys, "Poker? I don't even know her!" Not my best parenting moment, but it was funny, in my humble opinion.

Anyway about 10 minutes after he left I texted him asking if he remembered his house keys. After a while he texted me back "no - leave the back door open for me, OK?"

Um.....NO. NOT OK AT ALL.

Doesn't this guy watch Criminal Minds? Doesn't he know that this is the way the show begins, with an unsuspecting fabulous woman filled with trust keeping the back door unlocked for her poker playing husband in any town USA while the innocent but doomed children quietly sleep upstairs? Then a masked - or sometimes unmasked - psychopath comes in the back door and the fabulous woman and her kids are done for. EVERYONE knows this! What was he thinking?!?!

Just so you all understand that I'm not a selfish diva, I said to Sean "not ideal but OK" (I may or may not have added a mad face emoticon so there was no confusion about my true feelings). I unlocked the back door, turned on every light on the first floor, and went upstairs.

Now this was a test for our dog, Sam. He stayed downstairs while I did the cleanse-tone-moisturize routine in a desperate attempt to ward off wrinkles. Then I got in bed and watched anything OTHER than police shows. I was really tired but I knew better than to close my eyes. What am I, stupid?

When I heard a car in the driveway hours later, I was anticipating the mighty bark of Sam the wonder dog as he protected his family from evil intruders.

Never happened. Test failed.

We'll keep him anyway - he's pretty cute. That goes for both Sam AND Sean.

This is a "cute shoes all day" kind of day, for sure

Clearly I'm being tested.

So in January I declared, with all the confidence in the world, that this is going to be "The Year of Lauren".

Never, EVER declare that this is going to be your year.  At least not out loud.  It hasn't exactly worked out the way that I planned.

This morning I was diagnosed with a degenerative jaw problem...my right "ball" if you will, of the famous "ball and socket" partnership, is wearing away.  I hold tension in my jaw when I sleep (tension????  what tension???) and this is progressing the ball-wearage.  Yes, I just made up a new word.

There is a device, however, that will help!  Apparently it's made out of gold because it's super expensive and insurance won't cover it.  Time to get creative.  Never fear, we WILL get creative and take care of it.  I may even bedazzle it, like a tooth grill, with the words "SUCK IT" in glittering sparkle for all the world to see.

Now I'm going to watch Intervention, or something equally shocking, so I can remember just how wonderful my life really is.

And it really is.

PS - I am wearing fabulous shoes, all day.  I may even have a costume change.  Take that, stupid degenerative jaw!

Shhhh....don't wake the hormones!

So apparently I'm pre-menopausal.

If you think this is an overshare, may I suggest you stop reading right now?  This is not the post for you.

You have been warned.

The beauty of this situation is that while I'm an unpredictable raging crazy lady with random emotional outbursts, both my boys are beginning this lovely journey called puberty.  Peter is almost 11 and TJ is 12.

I described it to Peter as his "hormones are just waking up."  Along the same lines, mine are going to sleep, kicking and screaming.

I tried to describe this to Peter.

Me:  "You know how when it's bedtime, you hate to go to bed?"

Pete:  "Yes..."

Me:  "And you know how at bedtime, you keep calling out, and coming downstairs, and doing whatever you can to just not go to sleep, and you sometimes get angry and upset?"

Pete:  "Yes....."

Me:  "Well if your hormones are just waking up, mine are fighting going to bed, just like you do."

pause.....

Me:  "Does that make sense?"

Pete:  "Yes."

Me: "What do you think?"

Pete:  "I think we're in trouble."

Me too, Pete.  Well, technically, WE aren't in trouble.  Poor Sean, however, that's another story.

AND, I ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's for lunch today.  Don't judge me.

My keen crime-fighting eye has paid off....almost

So I'm in the lobby of the hospital, you know, just sipping my barium, minding my own business, when I hand the barium to Sean so I can use the ladies room. I admit it, times were desperate enough that I used the fully accessible stall because the other was taken. Lo and behold, sitting on top of the tp dispenser (worst tp ever, by the way), was a Baggie containing a tissue and at least 200 small lavender pills. Just sitting there.

My first thought was "do NOT touch the bag and get your fingerprints on it!" See how useful my late night crime show viewing has been? This could have been a very different story if I wasn't obsessed with these shows right now.

As I exited the stall, the woman who checked me in was washing her hands. "There's a full bag of pills in there, FYI" I told her. Then quickly added, "Not mine." just so we were clear. After we expressed our relief that a child didn't get to them first, she took them out and gave them to security.

About 5 minutes later, as I'm sitting there sipping my barium, a woman in too-short shorts spilling out of her tank top ran like a crazy woman into the bathroom. She came out and I (stupidly) said "are you looking for a bag of pills?" Yes, I really said that. I told her that the check in lady gave it to security. Way to deflect responsibility, right? So she ran outside to talk to the security guard. I see her frantically talking, waving her arms around, looking really upset, until a cop car pulls up. Then she leaves in the other direction. They retrace steps to the scene of the crime and I was waiting patiently to be questioned.

Can't lie, I was excited.

But it never happened!!! HUGE BUZZ-KILL!!! The check in lady told the cop that I was the one who found the pills and all I got was a nod of the head.

I was so disappointed.

Maybe next time I'll get called to court - I know JUST how to be a perfect witness.

All tests are fine, btw.  I'm as healthy as a cute horse in fabulous shoes.

In this one I admit that my brain was once slightly immature

Yes I'm still sick with diverticulitis. I don't wanna talk about it.

My little brother started college last week in the next town over. Yes, that's right - I'm 42 and I have not just 1 much younger little brother, but 2.

They are awesome.

My parents divorced when I was in high school and my Dad remarried when I was in college. My sister and I loved her immediately.

Back then, my relationship with my Dad was a bit complicated in my slightly immature brain. So when my sister and I first met K (I don't know if she'd like me using her name or not so I won't) she sat quietly in a chair and didn't talk that much.

At first Susan and I were like "Huh? Is she scared of us? We're fabulous, what's the problem?!?!" We were totally serious. We couldn't imagine why it would be awkward to meet your boyfriend's college-aged kids from his first marriage.

See? Slightly immature brains. They were fabulous brains, but still.

Eventually we all became very comfortable and close with each other, which is good because Dad and K had 2 kids - one when I was 21, and the other when I was almost 24.

I love them like crazy.

Let's call the older one "C" and the younger one "S".

When C was 5 I was visiting during a birthday party. I was standing next to him, his little buddy was standing on his other side, and his buddy's 2 year old sister was next to him.

"Who's that?" buddy said to C.

"That's my sister." said C.

Buddy looked at me, totally stunned. Then he looked at his own sister, then back to me.

Then buddy said, "Your sister is gigantic."

Nice right? I've been called a lot of things - that was my first "gigantic".

Anyway, S is now here which I love, and my boys love, and it's hard for me not to call him everyday and have him over to hang out with us cause we all love him so much but it's his time away at school and I'm not supposed to interfere with it because that would totally suck for him and who wants your 42 year old sister around no matter how fabulous she may be?

My mood has been pretty grim lately with this continued crappy illness but writing this cheered me up.

Score one for me. Not that we're keeping score.

Clearly it's time for me to lie down. And I just said "Ooh Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader Makeovers is on - I love this stuff" out loud. Help me.