Not Funny. Not Funny At All.

Updates to this.

I've since had a drip of pink nail polish end up on the cuff of the dry-clean-only beige linen pants I have on, then the hem up and fell out of said pants. This is probably not the time to think about how much money I paid for them.

I did not bring an extra outfit. There is no way I have enough time to go home and change. Pictures are at 6. It is 4:30. I still have to get Woodstock and fight the interchange's Friday night traffic.

Himself called. Does he really have to wear those shoes? Can Woodstock wear something else he thinks is cuter? What have I planned for dinner? No, he hasn't packed or checked himself or Grover in for their flights - they'll do it later (as in seconds before we have to race to the airport at dire risk of them missing their flights). Yes, he picked up the new dining room table - did I realize how SMALL it is? No, he hasn't put it together - can't I do it this weekend when I'm off, I'm better with tools anyway.

And oh yes, I just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm definitely ensuring that I'm on my knees (to hide the hem and the pink spot) with Woodstock covering my middle.

Maybe I should just have the kids' photos taken.

Or go with the whole "we don't wear clothes" theory I pondered before.

Wish us well.

Greasy-Haired Nudists

Now I know why, in my memory, we only had two family pictures taken between the time all four siblings were born and I left for college.

It is a royal pain in the bottom side.

We've scheduled and rescheduled family pictures three times - the last one being tonight, a mere 5 hours befor Grover and Himself's plane is set to depart. If they weren't leaving tonight, I would cancel again. Woodstock scratched her nose two nights ago and I woke up with a giant red spont on my face.

I also woke up late - to discover that Grover had dutifully taken a shower. A long shower. A shower so long that I was left with tepid water. I cannot shave my legs in tepid water. Nor can I wash my hair in tepid water.

Woodstock woke up screaming at the top of her lungs. Or, rather, she probably woke up just fine and only started screaming when she realized she cannot stand up in her crib while wearing her sleep sack ... and needed to let mom have it.

Himself, who is off today, woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Then there was the matter of what we're all wearing for family pictures. We had to coordinate around Grover, who only has a limited number of clothes ... all in various shades of faded dark colors. I bought a white t-shirt at Target a few days ago - but we had no idea if it actually fit. Himself has a white t-shirt too, but it was dirty. Which meant we had to start a load of laundry.

I forgot to wash Woodstock's jean capris from camping - which is what she was supposed to wear. They clearly could not be washed with the whites ... upon close examination, I realized no one would know they'd even been worn before and stuck them on her.

Since I couldn't wash my hair in now cold water, I curled it. Never mind that I have to work a full day before pictures are actually taken - so my hair will end up a greasy disheveled mess by tonight. We didn't dry Woodstock's hair very well after her bath yesterday, which meant all of her fine, ultra-blonde hair is sticking straight up like a mohawk...and will continue to do so unless washed again. No chance of finding her cute pink headband either - so her hair will likely be a disheveled poofy mess.

Himself wanted to know why I cared what shoes he wore. I wondered why on earth I had to choose a color scheme that had me wearing shoes too ridiculous for a photo. Grover wanted to know why I had bought a shirt just for one photo session - and if he really had to take it home with him. Woodstock wanted to know why all she had been given for breakfast was "Krispies".

It will be a minor miracle if we are all dressed at the photo tonight, let alone looking presentable. I might just have to explain that we just escaped from a nudist colony where there wasn't any running water with which to wash our hair.

That ought to go over well enough.

Baby Girl Goes Trendy

My child - trendy. Ha! The thought of it makes even me giggle.

Trendy is NOT a word I would use to describe myself, ever. It will likely not be a word used to describe Baby Girl at least until she's old enough to protest my bargain-shopping ways.

But ... while searching for a discount code to my favorite Baby Store that I can only afford off-season when things are on clearance, I came across this. I stared closely at the picture of Jennifer Garner's daughter, Violet. Indeed! She is wearing the same jumper I bought for Baby Girl back in May. Only I bought the matching sweater instead of the onesie.

Okay, I bought mine on clearance - I paid $15 for it, not the $40 or so it was originally. And Baby Girl won't actually be wearing it until closer to Spring of '08, which means that she will be a year behind in fashion - so not technically trendy.

Still - I apparently have good taste in clothing for Baby Girl. I don't think I've ever seen a celebrity wearing anything remotely close to what I have in my closet.

I might have to remind her of this when she's in jr. high and complaining that I am "so fashion challenged," complete with eye rolling. (I can see it now - "Once upon a time, I had a clue - accidentally, but still. It wasn't my fault you weren't born yet and couldn't wear it for a year.")