Wide My Body, Narrow My Bathroom Stall...

Spanx are the greatest invention EVER.

They are like girdles. On steroids. They can re-shape any shaped body to make it look a little better.

Body shaping garments are a life saver. They save you all that time that you would otherwise have to spend on exercising. I mean really... Why exercise when you can conceal?

But I digress.

The thing about Spanx is that they're pretty tight. So much so, that you need to allow yourself extra time when going to the restroom lest you run the risk of having an accident...

It is ill-advised to wait until the last minute to go to the bathroom when wearing a Spanx.

I really wish someone had told me this.

Let me set the stage for you.

I'm on an airplane. I'm returning from an advertising summit in New York City.

I'm dressed in a suit.

And I'm wearing a Spanx.

One other thing: I'm terrified of going to the bathroom in airplanes. Seriously.

It.Horrifies.Me.

I will do whatever I can to avoid going to the bathroom on an airplane.

The flight is non-stop.

It's 7 hours long.

I put off the inevitable trip to the bathroom for as long as I can.

But at last the moment arrives... I can deny it no longer.

I need.... to use.... the bathroom.

Right now.

I climb over the people sitting in the center and the aisle seats and make my to the bathroom.

The flight is full - every seat is occupied - including those that are up against the outside wall of the lavatory.

I slide the door open and am greeted by the teeniest, tiniest bathroom I have ever seen in my entire life. I had to walk in sideways because my shoulders were too broad to fit through the doorway.

I slide the door shut. Panic sets in (I'm unbelievably claustrophobic). Of course I'm also panicked because I have to go so bad that I think an accident is imminent.

I begin preparing myself to use the facilities - and am suddenly reminded that I have to somehow get the skin tight Spanx off - which will be quite challenging since there is not an inch of spare space around me.

I start to pull them down - but am unable to because my right elbow keeps hitting the wall of the teeny-tiny bathroom. I'm able to get the left side down - there's more room on that side because the sink is there.

But I'm stuck on the right side.

I begin perspiring.

I'm growing increasingly desperate to relieve myself and to get the heck out of the teeny-tiny bathroom.

The fact that I'm sweating is not helping my attempt at getting the Spanx off. It seems to be acting as some sort of adhesive. I manage to turn around so that I'm now facing the toilet. My right elbow now has more room (it's on the sink side now).

I wedge my thumb down between my squishy, sweaty muffin top and the top of the Spanx and pull down as hard as I can.

I hear it first - and then I feel it.

A popping sound.

My thumb.

There's something wrong with my thumb.

Sharp pain shoots up my hand causing me to lose my balance in the teeny-tiny bathroom. I begin to fall toward the toilet. I quickly jerk myself back into a standing position and spin around trying to regain my composure.

I am now facing the door - my back to the toilet. I wobble back and forth for a minute, and gingerly try to remove my thumb from its elastic prison - but am unsuccessful.

It's stuck. And I'm pretty sure it's swelling which makes the prospect of freeing my thumb less and less likely with each passing second.

I realize that I have no choice.

I grit my teeth, inhale deeply, hold my breath and yank my hand out of the waistband of my Spanx as hard as I possibly can. This causes me to slam my elbow against the wall, at which point I lose my balance again and fall face first into the door.

I see white light.

Pretty, pretty white light.

And then I hear a voice.

A far-off voice.

"Everything okay in there?"

Oh dear Lord...

"Yes - I'm just fine - thanks...." I manage to respond.

Fortunately, that last yank was enough to loosen the Spanx from its deathgrip on my sweaty, squishy muffin top.

I'm able to relieve myself.

I wash my hands - careful not to touch my steadily swelling thumb. I try to straighten my hair in a futile attempt at covering the welt that has now taken over half of my forehead.

I slide open the bathroom door - carefully avoiding the open-mouthed, gaping stares of all the people sitting there who had heard me slamming into the walls of the teeny-tiny bathroom.

I hang my head and shuffle back to my seat - and vow never to wear Spanx again.

But I got over it. Hey, anything is better than exercising, right?

Yeah.... I still wear them.

Just not on airplanes...

Kurt & Heidi

1990

2000

2009

Kurt and I started dating in 1990. We were 16 years old.

We got married in 1994.

I love him so very, very much.

Chores, Justice and Mixed Emotions

So today was launch day for Hope's new Chore Chart.

Emotions were mixed.

Kurt and I were walking around with a bit more bounce in our step at the thought of Hope becoming more responsible and doing a bit more around the house. Hope was walking around with what appeared to be the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Her new responsibilities included emptying the cat box, clearing the dishes after a meal and loading the dishwasher.

Kurt showed her how to do each job and we created a new chore chart for her.

I was in her room putting her laundry away and she walked in, mopey and despondent. She saw me standing there and cut me "the look."

Without a word she began hanging her new chore chart on the door. She asked me "Will Jack have to do chores when he gets older?"

"Yes Hope." I replied knowing where this was going.

She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "yeah right - he won't have to do any chores because I'm already doing everything."

I stifled a laugh, remembering having those same thoughts when I was her age. It was clear she wasn't thrilled with the new arrangement.

She continued her muttering as I left her a room. I could hear her saying, "I don't know what Jack's going to do - there isn't anything left to do - this is so unfair, the cat box is soooo gross..." I made my way down the hallway, rounded the corner where Kurt was standing with a big grin on his face, his eyes bright with excitement.

I thought he was going to say something like, "Our little girl is growing up - she's so responsible now - she's growing up so fast;" you know - all the things that go through a parents mind whenever their child demonstrates that he/she is growing up.

As I got closer, he started jumping up and down, the grin got bigger, he held out his hand to give me a high five and whisper-shouted "no more cat box!"

As I said - it was a day of mixed emotions.

Mmm-Hmmm... okay, that's fine.... wait, WHAT?

I have two unbelievably chatty children. They don’t even stop to inhale. They talk and breathe in at the same time. There’s no pause.

The worst is when we’re in the car. There’s this perpetual wall of noise coming from the back seat.

It’s…. well, in a word…irritating.

But the worst part is the questions. The non-stop questions.

Jack (my 3 year old) loves to ask the same question over and over and over again. He will ask you the same question until he gets the answer he wants.

So, like any mom whose sanity hangs in the balance, I have started either absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says or saying Yes to every question he asks.

You know how it is....

There’s nothing but, “Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that?” coming from the back seat.

You feel your patience slipping away, you're about to snap. You're ready to something - ANYTHING - to make him shut UP.

You start mumbling things like, “Mmm-hmmm…. Oh wow…. Okay…. Mmm-hmmm...” just to get him to stop asking the same question over and over again - or at the very least start asking you a new question.

I implemented this method a while ago and it has been very successful for me.

Until today.

Today it all changed.

Why did it change, you ask?

Well, according to Jack, I gave him permission to become a painter.

A painter who specializes in “re-vitalizing” carpeting.

With hot pink paint.

Hot pink, Oil Based paint.

Awesome.

So I’m back to the drawing board. Any suggestions? I think duct tape would work well, but I’ve heard that it’s generally frowned upon as a permanent solution…

Sigh….

Seriously? It's an Honor just to be Nominated.... (oh please, I'd love to win)

Okay so I don't know who did this - but I was nominated for Funniest Blog in some blog contest.

I have no idea who did it - and I don't win anything except bragging rights - but I'm flattered that someone would nominate me!

So, I'm going to just put myself out there on this (since subtlety has never been my strong suit) and ask you to vote for me! Just click on the button, and then click on funniest blog. You have to scroll through the list to find my blog - it's called Life as a Goble.

So thanks! Thanks for voting for me! Oh, and.... uh..... (awkward pause).... you can vote once a day. Okay - there! That's it! I won't say any more about it. (face flushing madly).

Oh - and of course, I want to thank the Academy, the Hollywood Foreign Press, my agent.... oh wait. Wrong fantasy. Sorry.... But seriously - thank you to whoever nominated me!

Anyway - that's it - that's all the campaigning I will do. I would like to make some campaign promises, but I can't come up with any. Anyone have any suggestions?

She put the OH! in Oversharing...

Hope and I were in line at Target. We were grabbing her some art supplies – she was VERY excited.

The line was crazy long – and full of profoundly irritating people.

The lady in front of me was my least favorite. Yeah, she was a real peach. She had at least 3 items from every single aisle in the store, about 137 coupons, she was haggling with the checker about the fact that her Glade Plug in Air Freshener was on sale – and just when I thought I couldn't be any more irritated with her – she pulled out her checkbook.

Fan-freakin’-tastic.

I turned away so she wouldn't see me roll my eyes and there stood the cutest little old lady I’d ever seen in my life.

She dragged one foot a little bit and her head seemed to be permanently cocked to one side.

She looked up at me with eyes that squinted tightly and a tired smile.

“Hi Honey” she said in a tiny, shaky voice.

I instantly felt sorry for her – she looked as though she was about to collapse – she leaned heavily on her cart and let out a big sigh as she took in the overwhelming length of the line.

I noticed that she only had 1 item in her cart. She kept staring at me with that sweet little face.

I looked at her, at the line and then back at her again.

I had to do it….

I let her go ahead of me in line.

Suddenly that sweet old lady who could barely stand up was miraculously transformed into this spry little thing who deftly maneuvered her cart out of line and then back in front of mine with all the speed and prowess of a seasoned, professional HUSTLER.

Yes, that's right.

I had totally been taken.

But wait – there’s more.

Remember the peach in front of me in line? Well at this point she was still arguing with the checker about Glade Plug Ins (and still had a ton of stuff in her cart). Perfect! That meant that Lady Grifter and I would have some time to get to know each other.

She noticed me holding my ATM card and started in on the evils of technology and how big brother is always watching. Then she started talking about how our country is going to hell in a hand basket yadda, yadda, yadda. “And it’s all that Obama’s fault don’t-cha-know…” she said with great conviction.

“Oh, mmm-hmmmm….” I replied trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

To no avail…. She just kept talking.

Back to the technology topic.

“Yeeeeees, technology is just an evil force in this world – well, except for that brilliant little pace maker my doctor gave me about 2 years ago.”

Oh crap – we are now in an area that I don’t like to broach with old (over 80) folks: their medical procedures.

“Laaaaaaand sakes, my doctor told me that I would live to be a 100 with this pacemaker! Of course I told him I don’t want to live to be a 100 what with that horrible Obama running things…”

Sweet! She jumped back to politics – I thought maybe I was safe.

“But he told me that it wouldn’t hurt a bit and he was RIGHT!”

Wait – Obama told her it wouldn't hurt? Well, he is on that whole socialized medicine thing - I could only pray that that's what she was referring... Sadly Obama's plan was NOT what she was referring to.... Dang it! We were back to the Medical Procedures.

“Oh my stars – it was the easiest thing ever! And such a tiny little incision!”

Okay – at this point, I should have just fled. I should have left my cart in the aisle and run away without ever looking back. But I had Hope’s art supplies in the cart and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that buying her art supplies wasn't worth enduring Lady Grifter's stories about her old, wrinkly body.

I stood my ground.

“Yeeeeees, the incision was just the tiniest little thing you’ve ever seen – just look at it!”

And without missing a beat, she whipped out her left breast and shoved it toward me.

I stood there, frozen, helpless, horrified, without words.

She stood there, proud as could be, saggy breast tissue hanging over both sides of her hand.

Hope stood there, mouth wide open, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

It even got the attention of the peach in front of us who was just now signing her check.

“Just looooooook at it!” crowed the old dingbat.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yes – I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it.” I responded weakly.

Hope finally found her voice and said “Mommy is that a nipple?!”

"Once upon time, it was honey… Once upon a time it was."

Peach finally finished her transaction, Lady Grifter shoved lefty back into her blouse, I pulled out my spare smelling salts from my purse - and we all advanced one space in the line.

I learned something that day... well, let's face it - I learned a LOT that day.

But the biggest lesson I learned was that little old ladies are not to be trusted.

Money.

Like everyone, occasionally we have money trouble.

This pay period is tight. I mean - really tight.

I fell asleep worried and frustrated about it last night.

I woke up this morning to Hope curled up on the bed next to me, her head on my shoulder - she was sound asleep.

Jack was on the other side of me, curled up in a ball, pressed up against my back - he was rubbing my arm and whispering, "My snuggle with you Momma..."

Money trouble?

When it comes to what matters, I've won the lottery.

Shut up, Jack.

I'm in my room, changing from work clothes to comfortable clothes. Jack is with me (for those of you who don't know, Jack is my 3 year old son).

I'm standing there, facing my closet, reaching for my sweats (at this point I have just thrown my work slacks in the hamper).

I feel something repeatedly poking me in the back of my upper left thigh.

It's Jack. He looks very concerned.

He continues his prodding and says, "Your bum-bum is all bumpy Momma. Whatcha got in there?"

Shut up Jack.

Small Enough

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

There were times when I was crying From the dark of Daniel's den

And I have asked you once or twice

If You would part the sea again

But tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky

Just wanna know You're gonna hold me if I start to cry

Oh, great God, be small enough to hear me now

Oh, great God, be close enough to feel You now

There have been moments when I could not Face Goliath on my own

And how could I forget we've marched around

Our share of Jerichos

But I will not be setting out a fleece for You tonight

Just wanna know that everything will be alright

Oh great God, be close enough to feel You now

All praise and all honor be

To the God of ancient mysteries

Whose every sign and wonder turn the pages of our history

But tonight my heart is heavy

And I cannot keep from whispering this prayer

"Are You there?"

And I know You could leave writing on the wall

That’s just for me

Or send wisdom while I'm sleeping,

Like in Soloman's sweet dreams

But I don't need the strength of Samson

Or a chariot in the end

Just want to know that You still know how many hairs

Are on my head

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

~Nichole Nordeman’s “Small Enough”

UP

Hope and I went to see this movie today.

We both loved it.

I highly recommend it.

Prepare to shed a tear or two.

Prepare to laugh out loud.

Prepare to be moved.

It was a great movie.

Fight the Future? Nah......

Heidi in 30 Years...

Random Motherhood Confession #2

So what is my confession? My confession is that I have no idea what I'm doing.

And I'm afraid that I'm failing miserably.

Jack is sick again. This is the 4th time in 5 weeks.

I work full time.

I feel like like a complete failure when my child gets sick and I find out about it from his daycare provider. I should have known he was sick because he should have been with me.

I hate that I heard about it from someone else.

The reality is that I have to work.

And I'm thankful for the ability to work and for the fact that I have a job.

But right now I feel like a failure in all aspects - as a Mother and as a professional.

I'm not at work because I'm home with Jack - so I'm failing to meet expectations at work.

I wasn't there when Jack got sick (it happened at daycare while I was on my way to work) - so I'm failing to take care of him when he needs it most.

I'm at a loss.

I have no idea how to balance being a mom and working. You'd think I would because I've been doing it for almost 8 years.

And I still have no idea what I'm doing.

And I'm afraid I'm failing miserably.