When I lived in Kentucky occasionally I would run into people I had gone to school with (k-12) or they had worked or taught there. But as time goes on you forget names, so most people knew I was one of the T-girls, but couldn't remember if I was the big or little one. When we were kids it was easier to tell us apart because I was "taller and older." And for the record, I still am.
Fast forward to today. As grown adults my sister and I have very similar body shapes overall. (and similar styles too it seems since we both wore the exact same sweater from stitch fix at thanksgiving) Since I'm the first kid and the first granddaughter on both sides, I didn't get a lot of hand-me downs. And though my little girl is our first born she has 2 older female cousins who gave her their outgrown wardrobes, so most of her clothes are hand-me downs. When I visited my sister a month ago she gave me a bunch of her maternity clothes which is great because because she had summer clothes and baby 2 is due in July, aka peak-stupid-hot-summer. So in a little bit of role reversal, I was getting hand-me downs from my little sister. We're going through them and I held up a pair of pants and asked if they were capris from the proportions.
Her response: no, they're regular length, my ass just got that big. Holy sh*t my ass got that big?! (she also was the one to tell me to put coco butter there to minimize stretch marks)
A week later I was wearing a different pair of pants from her and they were tight. So I texted her: I'm wearing the maternity khakis from you and they are snug. So even if your ass got larger when pregnant, know mine is wider. 😂
Looks like I'm always going to be the bigger sister!
Showing posts with label clothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clothing. Show all posts
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Color Blind
Turns out my husband is colorblind on occasion.
He comes home from class and remembers he wants to look up the term "purple states," states that have roughly equal amounts of red and blue support politically. The color analogy made perfect sense to me, but dr soc had either forgotten or didn't know red and blue made purple.
Whatever, I rattled off a quick lesson in primary and secondary colors he didn't pay a lick of attention to and I didn't care. Then the baby spit up over my shoulder and onto the couch and that became the more pressing issue. I can see at least four burp clothes in my line of sight, though none of them are within grabbing distance.
So my husband grabs my hair and starts to wiping up the spit up with that.
me: What are you doing? My hair is not a towel!
dr soc: Oh! Oops! Here, use this. ~tosses a yellow blanket to me~
me: What? That's one of her blankets! There's like 4 burp cloths right in front of me. Grab one of those!
He finds a yellow burp cloth and cleans up the 3 remaining drops of spit up that remain on the couch from my hair clean up.
me: honey, why on earth did you grab my hair?
dr soc: I thought it was the brown blanket (that the dog burrows under) we had on the couch...
Colorblind.
He comes home from class and remembers he wants to look up the term "purple states," states that have roughly equal amounts of red and blue support politically. The color analogy made perfect sense to me, but dr soc had either forgotten or didn't know red and blue made purple.
Whatever, I rattled off a quick lesson in primary and secondary colors he didn't pay a lick of attention to and I didn't care. Then the baby spit up over my shoulder and onto the couch and that became the more pressing issue. I can see at least four burp clothes in my line of sight, though none of them are within grabbing distance.
So my husband grabs my hair and starts to wiping up the spit up with that.
me: What are you doing? My hair is not a towel!
dr soc: Oh! Oops! Here, use this. ~tosses a yellow blanket to me~
me: What? That's one of her blankets! There's like 4 burp cloths right in front of me. Grab one of those!
He finds a yellow burp cloth and cleans up the 3 remaining drops of spit up that remain on the couch from my hair clean up.
me: honey, why on earth did you grab my hair?
dr soc: I thought it was the brown blanket (that the dog burrows under) we had on the couch...
Colorblind.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Blow Out
So I had a baby 4 months ago and dropped off the blog world. Meh, whatever. Maybe I'll go back and tell stories from that time, maybe not (probably not-this parenting thing is busy stuff!)
Anyway, we started my tiny baby on solids last weekend with hopes to make her not-so tiny. Or at the very least tiny but still growing like she should. (Seriously, she's in the 4th and 5th percentile for height and weight. TINY) And by "solids" I mean baby oatmeal (who knew that was a thing?) mixed with breast milk. It's a runny mess and maybe 50% ends up in her tummy, but she gets excited* for it nonetheless.
Since she's having only had breast milk up to this point, introducing solids to her diet (even as liquidy as they are) was bound to mess with her little system some and there would be some adjustment. So the day after her first oatmeal we waited for that dirty diaper. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually it happened, she got more oatmeal and we all moved on.
You know what else adjusting to solids means? Blowing out her diaper. And at the most convenient time of when I'm dropping her of at daycare. Yup. The past 3 times she's gone to daycare since starting solids, she needs an outfit change as I'm about to leave. Her last blowout took some skill because it went halfway up the back of her onesie, yet didn't soak through to her pants so she could still wear them. Her caretakers think outfit changes are her way of keeping mommy around a little longer. Which, given the skills her last blowout took, plotting may be in her wheelhouse too...
*You know who else is excited about baby on solids? The dog. First time baby sat in her highchair the dog was right there under the table at her feet. We're probably never going to have crumbs again.
Anyway, we started my tiny baby on solids last weekend with hopes to make her not-so tiny. Or at the very least tiny but still growing like she should. (Seriously, she's in the 4th and 5th percentile for height and weight. TINY) And by "solids" I mean baby oatmeal (who knew that was a thing?) mixed with breast milk. It's a runny mess and maybe 50% ends up in her tummy, but she gets excited* for it nonetheless.
Since she's having only had breast milk up to this point, introducing solids to her diet (even as liquidy as they are) was bound to mess with her little system some and there would be some adjustment. So the day after her first oatmeal we waited for that dirty diaper. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually it happened, she got more oatmeal and we all moved on.
You know what else adjusting to solids means? Blowing out her diaper. And at the most convenient time of when I'm dropping her of at daycare. Yup. The past 3 times she's gone to daycare since starting solids, she needs an outfit change as I'm about to leave. Her last blowout took some skill because it went halfway up the back of her onesie, yet didn't soak through to her pants so she could still wear them. Her caretakers think outfit changes are her way of keeping mommy around a little longer. Which, given the skills her last blowout took, plotting may be in her wheelhouse too...
*You know who else is excited about baby on solids? The dog. First time baby sat in her highchair the dog was right there under the table at her feet. We're probably never going to have crumbs again.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Orphan socks
The other day I was folding several loads of laundry and I had no, I repeat, NO orphan socks. Every single pair had a buddy.
Major life achievement unlocked!
Major life achievement unlocked!
Friday, July 3, 2015
Spoiler Alert
Before I was even pregnant dr soc and I knew we wanted to be surprised on the sex of the baby. You would think that my penchant for spoilers and Mike's loathe of them would lead to an impasse, but we actually completely agree on this. And while not everyone wants to wait to find out (not going to name names, mother-in-law) and we don't give a hoot what other parents-to-be want to do, we're pleased as punch to wait for our baby.
However the rest of the baby stuff world doesn't make our choice the easiest. I was looking for clothes for my little one when they arrive and I came to the conclusion our poor little turkey* is going to be naked. In the winter! My poor cold naked baby!
*sorry honey, the name just stuck
Friday, January 10, 2014
Ridiculousness
I'm at work when my co-worker (male, and maybe old enough to be my grandpa) tells me "dear, I think you have a rip in the back of your pants." I had no idea and of course I can't see it, so I'm comically looking over my shoulder turning in circles trying to look at my ass. I asked Nelson where the rip was, but then he said with some embarrassment "well, it's in a spot I don't really want to point it out..."
Upon hearing this, I know I need to go to the bathroom to look. And sure enough, my jeans have thinned so much along the seam there's a noticeable bare patch from ass to lady-parts. Cue the giggling. Fortunately for me, I'm only working a half day, and even more fortunately I'm wearing full coverage underwear. But this doesn't solve the immediate problem of there being a rip in my pants.
Now, the whole time I'm spinning in circles our other coworker could see us on the security camera in the back all he can do is laugh. I'm the MacGyver of our staff so if anyone is going to fix this problem it's going to be me. Plus we are talking about my pants, and the only one who should be taking care of those types of problems is me (or my husband) anyway. While I don't want to put tape on the outside of my pants, I figure I can put some inside just to keep the rip from getting bigger in the next 2 hours.
But then, I couldn't find any duct tape. We had packing tape, sealing tape, book tape, masking tape, double-sided tape, scotch tape and some tacky glue, but no duct tape. I decided that the sealing tape was the next best option since the width of the tape was bigger than the rip, thus I would have to use less of it. I go back to the ladies room, place the necessary amount of tape to keep the rip in place and head back to the workroom. But suddenly I have a different problem: the tape crinkles as I walk. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse!
At least I can sit for most of my 2 hours left, so it's really not going to be that bad, just funny. I text my husband about how silly this day has been, and his response is: "at least you are taking it in stride." Which made me realize we would be making a lot of walking/my pants puns. But I figured the whole situation was ridiculous enough, so if a rip, some tape and a couple of bad puns was as bad as it was going to get, it would be fine. But I was wrong, because then the tape starts itching.
At that point I just gave into the complete ridiculousness of the situation and giggled the rest of my shift. Sitting down.
Upon hearing this, I know I need to go to the bathroom to look. And sure enough, my jeans have thinned so much along the seam there's a noticeable bare patch from ass to lady-parts. Cue the giggling. Fortunately for me, I'm only working a half day, and even more fortunately I'm wearing full coverage underwear. But this doesn't solve the immediate problem of there being a rip in my pants.
Now, the whole time I'm spinning in circles our other coworker could see us on the security camera in the back all he can do is laugh. I'm the MacGyver of our staff so if anyone is going to fix this problem it's going to be me. Plus we are talking about my pants, and the only one who should be taking care of those types of problems is me (or my husband) anyway. While I don't want to put tape on the outside of my pants, I figure I can put some inside just to keep the rip from getting bigger in the next 2 hours.
But then, I couldn't find any duct tape. We had packing tape, sealing tape, book tape, masking tape, double-sided tape, scotch tape and some tacky glue, but no duct tape. I decided that the sealing tape was the next best option since the width of the tape was bigger than the rip, thus I would have to use less of it. I go back to the ladies room, place the necessary amount of tape to keep the rip in place and head back to the workroom. But suddenly I have a different problem: the tape crinkles as I walk. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse!
At least I can sit for most of my 2 hours left, so it's really not going to be that bad, just funny. I text my husband about how silly this day has been, and his response is: "at least you are taking it in stride." Which made me realize we would be making a lot of walking/my pants puns. But I figured the whole situation was ridiculous enough, so if a rip, some tape and a couple of bad puns was as bad as it was going to get, it would be fine. But I was wrong, because then the tape starts itching.
At that point I just gave into the complete ridiculousness of the situation and giggled the rest of my shift. Sitting down.
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