Tuesday, July 21, 2009

In Which I Abuse My Children

Blame the moon.

It's freaking DAY 18! DAY 18, people. WTF?! Isn't this phenomenon supposed to be happening less frequently? Did my uterus miss that memo?

It certainly explains why on Sunday the nice sales lady at Nordstom insisted that, at least at that particular moment, my new bra size included the letter D. She and I both shook our heads at that and declared me a Boob Anomaly. You know, one of those people who measures herself the way the good people at Victoria's Secret say to, and in spite of the fact that I have obvious breasts, sometimes I wind up measuring a negative cup size. Like if there could really ever be a -AA.

So I happily took my new (half-price) D bras home. Happy because, at least right now I have only two breasts, instead of the four I sometimes sport because I am apparently wearing ill-fitting foundation garments.

Or the phases of the moon have made things, well, changeable.

So to summarize, while we were at Easton Town Center, I got two bras, and the girls each got a new long-sleeved t-shirt. Yes, the Anniversary Sale is happening at Nordstrom, but in this Current Economic Climate, it seems imprudent to be my normal Nordstrom Free Wheelin' Self.

I didn't even buy anything in the cosmetics department.

The cosmetics department!

My "Home Planet," according to The Spouse.

Really, he says that. I had a make over once in 1998 and had just bought a new camera and the nice woman who applied my paint took a picture of me and I gave it to The Spouse because it really is a good picture of me. (I used to go get makeovers before I got my driver's license renewed too, because, after all, the photo is for what? Four years or something?) For a time it sat on his desk at work, and one day a colleague, clearly a single man, asked him, "Where is your wife in this photo?" and he said, "Her home planet. Otherwise known as the cosmetics department of any major department store."

I looked, Loyal Beatnik. But I did not see anything that moved me to open my purse.

It was in this frame of mind that I dragged the girls and my mother over to Roll: to look at bikes for Baboo. I had promised her a bike for her birthday. In fact, I had promised her this bike.

However, since making that original promise, belts have tightened Chez Beet. I was feeling guilty about spending that much money on a bike the child would only ride until the end of August and then certainly outgrow if not this year, then certainly next year. (If you must know, I ended up buying her this bike the next day. Which she preferred because it came in pink. And I preferred because it was a much better price.)

Meanwhile, Skittles, who was already feeling slighted because we had not lunched at The Cheesecake Factory, was jonesing for a stop at Build-A-Bear Workshop.

Let me preface this by saying two things:

1. Recently, Skittles had a nightmare that she lived in an orphanage. In her dream, I worked in the orphanage. And although I was still her mother, in the dream, I refused to take her home with me. Oh, and I seemed to be somehow responsible for the untimely passing of The Spouse in this dream as well. Having sent him out to drive somewhere in bad weather.

2. I have taken them both to Build-A-Bear Workshop. In Moscow. And bought them each a bear. Or cat. Or something. Whatever it was they wanted. IN MOSCOW, PEOPLE!

So we pass a mother and child. The boy is carrying his Patented Build-A-Bear box. The cardboard bear house that tells all other children, "Look! My parents love me! They dropped unreasonable amounts of money on a freakin' stuffed animal. Because they looooove me! Your parents do not love you."

Oh, and the icing on the cake: his mom was carrying a bag of leftovers from The Cheesecake Factory.

Where we did not eat lunch.

Because we ate lunch at Nordstrom.

Which is a pretty fine place to have lunch, people.

I saw Skittles sizing up the Lucky Kid Who Had a New Build-A-Bear and a Cheesecake Factory Cheesecake Sugar Buzz.

I did. I could see it.

And I decided to mess with her.

I said, "You see that boy with the Build-A-Bear box and the leftovers from The Cheesecake Factory?"

She pretended she hadn't noticed.

"He's an orphan," I said. "And that lady he's with works at the orphanage and brought him to the mall today on an outing. He got a Build-A-Bear and lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, but now he has to go back to the orphanage!"

She was unconvinced.

We passed two other kids, siblings, holding their Build-A-Bear boxes while they waited in line at Auntie Anne's Soft Pretzels.

I'm not making that up. That really is the name of the pretzel pusher.

From Garlic to Glazin Raisin and plump twists to stix, nobody does piping hot soft pretzels like Auntie Anne’s!

That's a quote from their website.

I point out the siblings, and I say, "See? They're from the orphanage, too! It's Orphanage Outing Day!"

She remained skeptical.

In fact, she probably went right home and put pins in that little voodoo doll of me she keeps under her bed.

Because I got my period on Day 18.

That's what I got for telling her that.

12 comments:

katbat said...

ahhhh build-a-bear, nordstrom, aunt annies, cheesecake factory - the mall scene! We love nordstrom cafe - good food, reasonable price, yummy desserts - better than cheesecake factory! I took the kids to Disneyland and we saw a bunch of kids walking around outside the park with the build a bear box - my kids ask "what is that?" I say - "I dont know" (playing dumb is but one of my many defense mechanisms) - but seriously who goes to build a bear on your way out of disneyland?! Will Baboo be joining you on your bike rides? (happy birthday to her by the way!)

ccn said...

-AA is a bra size. A concave shape. (I happen to know.) You D-ladies, always showing off!

Tina in CT said...

Give it a few years and 18 shall pass.

Both bikes are quite girly but I like the $89 version. Good old Walmart. Can't beat their prices.

I've never eaten in Nordstrom's and I don't know if the one at the local mall has a cafe. I just HATE going to the mall and avoid it if I can. We have a cutsie fairly new shopping area nearby that I love and it has my favorite store.

I sure hope your husband's co-workers haven't discovered your blog.

Tina in CT said...

My granddaughters have been to Build-A-Bear both here in the States and in Moscow and love stuffed animals. Every now and then my daughter goes on a purging streak and stuffed animals no longer being played with go into the bags for the orphanages.

The Expatresse said...

Tina: The Spouse doesn't even read the blog.

I purge stuffed animals, too.

Both girls accompanied me on a bike ride yesterday. We went 8.9 miles. They were troopers (we were S L O W). Skittles has no gears, so sometimes she can't do what she calls "hills" but which aren't. I've got another bike in the garage for her, but it needs air in the tires. Gotta ask Troy-the-Neighbor to get out his power tire pump.

Susan said...

That was one of my lines when my kids were small. Only I threatened to call the "adoption agency" if they didnt shape up. I had a friend I would call and say "is this the adoption agency?" It worked for about a month!
Child rearing is such a blast..you need a sense of humor to do it!
As far a "Build a bear" that is such a racket!!!
Have fun your remaining time in the US.

valentina said...

So what did they build at the Bear place? Bears, cats, rabbits, zoo animals...whoever invented that cash cow is amazing!

Glad Baboo got her new bike and it is lovely and LAVENDER, so COOL! and much more reasonable for one more month and which will inevitably be passed down to Skittles next summer! But what a great bike to get even as a hand me down!

As for the menses, from up ahead here 10 years I can tell you that it gets easier, really. You just have to roll with this weirdness that old Mom Nature in her inchoate wisdom has imbued us with...

So hang in there...

And as for the cosmetic dept. being your home planet, if it keeps you off the streets and out of the bars and off drugs and out of the beds of other men I'd say it is pretty damned harmless and he should be glad it is where you prefer to hang out!

But poor Skittles' bad dream I think does indicate she might need to be petted more... People with pets tend to pet them more than their children while it is the children who really need the petting! I realize that you are in the pet free zone here in the dacha, but nevertheless maybe more physical affection is in order for Skittles? I know she is a physical child... In Spain in the summer she used to climb into bed and cuddle up next to me in the wee hours of the night when I'd be reading. I do miss that, alas...

I am really looking forward to seeing you all here soon!

Stay well and happy and enjoy this wonderful summer together. It is so hard to believe the girls are actually old enough to ride bikes with GEARS! xov

Drew said...

Kids need a good beating every now and then. Blame it on your drug addiction and then forget about it.

Ian said...

That post was really, really funny to read (except the boob and period parts, but that is the price a guy pays for reading blogs).

I can't tell adoption jokes in my house since my daughter was actually adopted. I often explain to my children though that according to the LAW they are property until they turn 18 and as long as I do not break them I can do whatever I want. This gets the point across.

Anonymous said...

Orphan and adoption jokes are not so funny in our house either. Hmmm? In most homes, they aren't really funny.
I tend to NOT mess with my kids this way. We are different I suppose.

Tarsie said...

Oh, Lordy, Amanda - you had me rolling with laughter. Build-a-bear was a regular stop for Briana when she was younger. Her room is covered in the stuffed wonders and she still can't go to sleep without her original one... and she starts high school in 1 week.

Now, don't knock Auntie Annes - they have fabulous pretzels!

But I have to admit, messing with the kid's head is priceless. I LOVE parent TV. Thom and I always high 5 each other when we manage to mess with her head. It is our mission in life as parents, right?

I've got you beat on the menstrual scene - lately I'll go 8 weeks without one, then BOOM, I'll have two in a row 4 DAYS apart. Not nice, mother nature.

Love the blogs. Keep it up!

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