My weekend was incredibly boring. I flipped through the television channels and thought the same thing:
Just how many times is E! going to air Ever After?
How many times is MTV going to show America's Next Top Model?
I also thought,
Holy crap these children have a lot of clothes. I think I need to go on a clothing break for awhile.
So I'm going to not buy clothes until Gymbuck Redemption.
And okay, Gymbuck Redemption is next week but still. Can I do it? Even though Gap has some ultra cute clothes? And oh oh, look at that precious dress on the Gymboree website! Natalie would look PRECIOUS in it.
So I removed my entire eBay watch list. Four pages full. Of course I don't WIN all of those. No, most of the time I delete if the price goes too high. Or if someone outbids me at the last minute and then I shoot the winning bidder the finger in front of the monitor and may or may not mutter, "Well f*ck YOU last second bidder!"
I told Tom that I was on a break.
(Which totally reminded me of Friends and I pictured Ross screaming, "WE WERE ON A BREAAAAAAAKKK!!!" Tee hee.)
"From what?" he asked, eyes glued to the television screen.
Of course he was watching another WW2 program. They make a lot of those. In black and white. In color. In black and white AND color. The narrator drones on about P-32s and B-17s and Hitler and an hour program can feel like three hours.
"From buying the kids clothes," I replied.
I thought he'd be impressed. I mean wasn't he the one whose jaw dropped open slightly when he peeked into Natalie's closet and asked how many little girls I thought we HAD since surely Natalie wouldn't get to all those things before outgrowing them...
Instead he just gave a non-commital, "Mmmm" sound.
Remind me to make that same sound when he asks for sex. See how HE likes it.
"I'm serious," I told Tom firmly, moving in front of the television screen. He gave a small sigh and raised his eyes up to the Heavens. "No clothes shopping for Amber. I'm done. Well, until next week."
Tom snorted. "Wow. Go Amber," he said sarcastically.
"Hey," I retorted. "That's probably a RECORD for me, Tom."
"Okay," Tom said with a shrug. He craned his neck around me which signaled that the conversation was through.
But I can do it.
Today I need to drop off an ad for Natalie's exersaucer. I'm selling it even though it will be difficult. I grow attached to things, you see. There's already one toy that I realized that I cannot sell. That Leap Frog Activity Table? It was Tommy's as a baby. Now Natalie plays with it. And I just can't see myself selling it when she outgrows it. I've no idea why.
Tom was all, "Amber, it's just a hunk of plastic that makes annoying sounds!"
No it's not. It's a toy my little boy played with. And now Natalie. Well, she really just likes climbing on it and standing up and saying, "Hi" Then she'll start to whimper as one of the toys on top digs into her feet and will begin to freak out and make it seem like it was YOUR FAULT that she got hurt in the first place even though you've told her A BILLION TIMES not to climb on top.
I also need to stop eating the Puppy Chow that I made last night to distract me from the new line that was popping up on Gymboree.com.
Puppy Chow is a delicious blend of Chex cereal, milk chocolate chips, peanut butter, regular butter and a bunch of powdered sugar.
I made a huge bag and half of it is gone. You don't realize how fast it goes when the bag is sitting on your lap and you're just mindlessly inhaling the delicious treats while watching the latest episode of Army Wives.
Which, oh my gosh, is getting really good.
But this no clothes buying thing is going to make me FAT if I don't cut it out.
But I'm the only one who likes Puppy Chow.
Tom said it looked WEIRD and he won't even try it. He watched me make it and wrinkled his nose and went, "No thanks," when I offered him a try.
Tommy took a small bite and deemed it to "taste weird."
Natalie just breaks it apart in her palm and then throws the crumbs around which means that I have to lug out our Dyson vacuum for the 3rd time of the day so she doesn't get it into the carpet.
Someone needs to hide the Puppy Chow from me.
(She types as she munches on more Puppy Chow.)