About That Minivan

Never ever in my life did I imagine myself behind the wheel of a minivan. I vowed not to sacrifice my own identity for the sake of my kids by driving a "loser cruiser".  To me, driving a minivan was like giving up, completely letting myself go- I might as well wear mom jeans with sensible sneakers and cease all efforts at attractiveness.

I was chock full of these self-involved opinions until baby #3. Still refusing the van, we went for the large SUV to accommodate our growing posse. Not only did I have a great deal of difficulty maneuvering this land yacht, it did not even work well with three kids in car seats. I was also tired of it's gas-guzzling habits and the dirty looks I received from the self-righteous drivers of smaller gas-sipping vehicles. After a year, I relented. We bought a base-model (I refused to celebrate this purchase by getting something fancy), reliable (read: Toyota) minivan. Yes, it has made life easier. No, I do not “love” it like many of my friends have declared. In fact, I still feel like a loser driving it. Alas, my fears re: letting myself go did not come to fruition. I still wouldn’t wear mom jeans if my life depended on it.

I Earned This

After a weekend away with girlfriends that included total indulgence of tasty food, delicious (and multiple) drinks, and overall ridiculous fun, one would expect that I would tackle the loads of laundry and sink-full of dishes present in my house today. After all, my children are at school, I am off of work, and I have had a little break from the drudgery of housework for the past few days. Not so much. Instead, I have completed the following activities in the past 5 hours:
1) drank coffee while watching most of the Today show
2) took a long, hot shower
3) took an Advil and 1/2 of a Percocet (sore muscles from running a half marathon over weekend- the "cover" event that prevents any spouses from having an issue with the girls' getaway)
4) read a good portion of a book
5) made an appt for a 3:00 massage today with Dean at my favorite spa
Why do I not feel guilty? I effing earned this. I once had a newborn, a three year-old, and  five-year old at home with me ALL day long. My spouse works 60-hour weeks, and most of the child and household responsibilities are mine. We have no family in town, and  I have always worked part-time, dealing with the stress of juggling preschool and child-care with my work hours. I am not complaining, as I realize there are many mothers with much greater hardships with which they deal on a daily basis, and said circumstances are results of my own choices. I guess I just needed to give myself permission for this complete "day off". I finally have all three children in school, a day off of work, and a body too sore for a workout. Though this will not become a habit (children with no food or clean clothes because their mom is relaxing all day may raise red flags for CPS), I am loving every minute of it. I know I will be loving it later today when Dean rubs away my aches and pains with his strong oil-coated hands.

Valentine Candy

Last year I dropped the ball. The hubster and I decided that we were not exchanging Valentine's gifts, with the expectation being that we would exchange cards and he would likely present me with flowers. I held up my end of the bargain while hubs outdid himself. Not only did he supply said flowers, he also purchased a lovely bra and panty set (though my friend, Sarah,  informed me that this is really a gift "for him") and planned a date night, complete with hiring a babysitter. I felt a little inadequate, but I felt better after I recalled my mom's words of wisdom about V-day, that it is "really more of a day for the woman to receive gifts".
I saw my chance to surprise and (hopefully) delight my man this year when I spotted a deal for a "boudoir photo session". I have to admit, as a bit of an exhibitionist, I was looking forward more to the actual photo session (posing in sexy lingerie in compromising positions) than to the photos, themselves. I purchased a few "outfits" to bring to the session, paid extra for the stylist to give me street-walker make-up and big hair, and my session was underway. My photographer was experienced in making ladies who are not VS models look their best in their skivvies. Coupling flattering poses with "photo enhancement" (yay!), I have a few good prints. I am not sure where we are going to put these photos (hanging them in the entryway is not an option) and what happens when I eventually pass away ("is that Grandma in the bustier and thong?"), but I can't wait to present them to my Valentine tonight. I think he'll likey.