Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Cages & Maturity

So I faltered last night. I put Little Man in his toddler bed last night and he cried for five minutes, and then he was fine. He wasn't sleeping, as I could hear him talking to his frog, but he wasn't crying. But at about 8 p.m., 45 minutes after I put him to bed, he began to wail. And wail. And wail some more. So I went and got him, took him downstairs, gave him some water and let him scrapbook with me for a while, to ensure that his coolness factor would drop by a couple of points.

At about 8:30, I decided that he needed to go to bed. After all, he'd been crabby all day and spent most of his evening with me in time out, since he was being really, really rotten. And not following the Super Nanny rules of saying "I'm sorry" for his infractions. And so to ensure that Super Nanny would never have to visit my house, I kept putting him back in time out, until he resigned himself to the fact that he would indeed have to apologize for being a booger head. I figure that I'm training him for his future wife. She'll owe me big time.

So the idea of my child getting another bad night of sleep, was more than I could bear, since I was drinking the last Miller Light in the house while scrapbooking. Which really, is the only way to scrapbook, because drunks scrapbooking creativity involves Santa Claus stickers on Easter pages.

So I went upstairs while Little Man was busy sticking a bunch of powder blue ABC/123 stickers on his belly, grabbed his mattress, pillow, stuffed sheep, stuffed giraffe, Elmo, Cookie and Ernie dolls and put them all back in his crib.

I then took him upstairs, put him in his crib where he cried a total of three seconds and was passed out cold with a smile of relief on his face before I'd even shut his door.

He's not ready. That's all there is to it. And you know what? I'm not ready either. The kid does not need to move up to a bed yet. We don't need his crib for anything, except maybe to keep a caged tiger. And since I'm pretty sure our neighborhood frowns on jungle animal ownership, I guess we'll just let Little Man sleep in there a little longer.

Now on to story number two of the day. I've got a confession to share with everyone. Something that would drive Nicole Richie to never consumer her only food, water, again, because surely it has to be a high-calorie food, what with all its wetness of flavor of water.

Remember my jeans of last week? The ones that make my butt look like Heidi Klum if I stand behind a wall and you stand five counties away? The ones that I slipped on and went up like butter, leading me to think that three days of Slim Fast for lunch and two work outs had caused me to trim down enough to once again fit perfectly in my bigger size?

Well, those jeans bitch slapped me that night. Because I spilled a beer all over myself while I was wearing them at the house to show Sweetie Pie how they were so worth the 12 dollars I paid for them, and had to take them off to wash them. Before doing so, I remembered that Old Navy and The Gap now have that weird tag that clearly states "remove before washing or wearing", which I always notice after I've worn and washed the item a few times, so I figured I'd actually respect the laws of The Gap and Old Navy for once. In case they keep track and will ban me forever from their great sales and awesome baby and maternity clothes.

As I went to cut off the tag, I noticed the tag inside the clothing that has the size on it. A number was on there that isn't my size. As I examined it more closely, I realized that the jeans? The ones I could fit into without any issues? They're actually three freaking sizes bigger than what I consider to be my bigger size. The freaking Gap person who put the sales tag with the size and price on the outside labeled my freaking jeans wrong. No wonder they were on clearance!

I panicked. What the hell do I do now? I've got these jeans that are in a big size that I've never had to buy before. And they freaking fit. It's heartbreaking, right? And the jeans, they have a little room in the tummy, butt and leg area, so I guess technically, I have a little room to grow into them should I ever get pregnant.

And that's where I showed the most maturity, maybe in my entire life. I cut the tag off. And I wore those jeans. And I worked them on Friday.

Because I've never been good at math anyway. So why start now?

Love,

Catwoman.

9 comments:

Blue Momma said...

I wish we could keep mine in a crib! Its sooo much easier. We only moved to the big bed when he started climbing out of his crib.

The crib is the only cage which won't get DHS called on you so enjoy it while you can!

Kellie said...

Um...seriously. Who cares what size they are!! Your butt looks like Heidi's!! THAT'S what matters!!

Drunk scrapping, huh? I'm SO gonna try that!!

I agree with you to put him back in his crib...he's not ready and it's not worth the battle, the tears or the additional Miller Lite you'd be drinking :)

Rachel said...

You know what? Who cares what size they are!! If YOU feel good in them and they look good, then, girl, wear the shit outta those jeans!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good idea on moving Little Man back to his crib. If he's not ready, he's not ready. No need to make him hate the bed.

jesse said...

My Monkey is definetly not ready to sleep in a toddler bed. There is no way he would in bed.

Julie said...

Sounds like Little Man still wants to be a little man. Abby stayed in her crib until she could crawl out - around 3 years!

A number is just a number. If the jeans make your ass look like heidi klum then that's all that matters! : )

Beccy said...

Love the jeans story. I had to buy trousers in France and was very confused with the sizing but found a pair that fitted. Now I'm home I've found that they are a size bigger than my big clothes. I was mortified for a few minutes but I love them and am still wearing them.

alissa said...

OMG... that is too funny! And while I've never actually cut the tag off, I confess, that in my post-smoking days certinaly could have. But at the time, I went by the fat & happy moniker.

As for the big boy bed... what's the rush? Eventually he'll go in. And so long as it's before he hits university, what's the big deal?

Sam said...

Keep him in the crib as long as you can!! We moved Sasha in to a bed when she was three and probably had a few months of her getting out of bed fifty times a night (probably not that much, but it felt like it, lol). I was thinking about putting Chloe in a bed when our new baby is born, but have changed my mind and will buy another crib instead.
Love the jeans story, how funny :o)

myminivanisfasterthanyours said...

You so need a book deal! I friggin love this blog! Good job wearing the jeans anway :)