Time as viewed from my underwear drawer and other underware rants

Underwear has its own way of telling time. That time you were sick, how you were smaller or bigger. That stretched elastic and hole that starts in odd places. Why do we get holes in our underwear halfway between our hip and belly button. Was it when the dog chewed them?

I was helping my son clean up his room yesterday, Underwear everywhere. I have found my sons underwear in all manor of strange places. Why? I really want to know. No really Why? and they are not clean..... Again I will blame the dog. At the end of the Christmas season we were taking down the tree and I was called away for a little while. Upon my return there were 7 little pairs of tighty white E's hanging from the branches of the tree. "One for each day of the week Mommy" Yuck. I had two conflicting thoughts.....Wow good job remembering how many days of the week and Uck kid those are not clean. Men have it so much easier boxers or briefs. (Well there was the recent invent of boxer briefs but everyone has fads now and then)..... Jokes are constantly made about women and decisions but we are bombarded with choices for even the simple garments we wear under our clothes. Strings, cotton, silk, lace, itchy, bunching, no tags, boy cut, control top, color, price, sex appeal. Does it mean that I don't care what society thinks of me when I no longer want "foundation garments" or just that I never wear anything that requires me to think that each garment I put on is building the look to a whole new me if even for a night. Why do I keep them? I really want to know. I think I will go with something safe. I am going to look for the five star crash rating the next time I buy a six pack of anything, even socks. If cars have five star ratings then, I want them for my knickers as well. The package should read something like this ......the Consumer Safety and Happiness Committee tested these unmentionables and the overall consumer rating was 4 1/2 out of 5 stars. The frontal and side seams were tested for stretch and durability with zero accidents causing rips or stains. The rear impact test was also found to have the appropriate amount of stretch and flexibility even when the test subject was faced with landing on her butt....... Now that is a pair of undies I would buy.

My shameful love for Kermit the Frog

I am coming out of the closet, throwing open the windows and shouting it for all to hear. Kermit the frog has been the object of my affection for most of my life. When at six and Brownies fell on the same night as the Muppet show I knew which had to go. I didn't really miss Brownies. The Brownie leaders basement smelled funny anyway. I knew that we had a date every Thursday night. Time and hormones have a way of helping you forget those first crushes. Kermit was no different. I knew it would never work out between us and I had no desire to be just another Miss Piggy. I had all but forgotten my green fetish until there was a drink milk campaign and Kermit was show wearing a tweed coat and a milk mustache. I admit it My heart went pitter pat. I kept the add. Now I know that there are more of us out there or else I would not have been able to find the image online. http://www.froggyville.com/images/collect/gotmilkposter.jpg

I was flipping through a Rolling Stone Magazine (Back when I was hip and young) and I saw Kermit and I joked with my husband of eight years that he never had to worry about me straying because the my only other love was Kermit the frog. The very next holiday (Christmas or my birthday I forget now) I was blindfolded and given a the nicest piece of furniture I had ever owned. A mission style rocking chair and sitting cross legged on its slats was a Kermit the frog. If you squeezed his belly he would say things like "I am feeling a little green today" and when you held his mouth shut he would hum. Pressing his hand a buzzing noise would start open his mouth and he ate it smacking his lips. Everything was perfect. Yet one sunny afternoon I found myself rocking Kermit. I came to rocking that silly frog. Kermit looked at me a plastic eyed sage. His tag read something about ages of use but, the word that stuck was children. Kermit was there when I realised that I could no longer be the child but would raise them. Broaching the subject with my sweetheart was easy. He had known already what I had been to blinded by youth to see. He laughed and shook his head. Rick has always been good at reading the road signs and having a plan. It was time and what was more we were in the same place, scared but ready. Kermit was at the hospital and in each nursery. He has been chewed (by both dog and child) washed, dragged, thrown, spit up on, peed on, washed some more and used as a dust rag. (Sorry Kermi)
Other frogs have invaded our house. There is even a frog bathroom. Just a few days ago as an I love you or a now you have one of your own, I am not sure which, I got my first Webkin. I have named him Morris. Morris is nice but there is only one Kermit. Thank you Kermit.

To blog or not to blog that is the question

Also known as what have you done lately..... good question my friends I have started to create this blog. (What a cop out all my artsy friends might be thinking and quiet frankly I agree) I have had means and opportunity to paint, draw and even take meaningful photos of brooding people that inspire us to sit and wonder just what those photos mean. Instead what I have taken photos of are my children's baseball teams and the odd flower. Yes those boys are burying that base. What a lot of fun t-ball is. You get to yell things like "Run to first base" "No" "First base" "First base" oh whatever......Questions I have heard "does he need a cup?" I was thinking like for water but, no not that kind of cup my dear welcome to the world of baseball.

But not just baseball it is welcome to the world of children competing for their parents pleasure. I have a good friend who's daughter plays for a team in a neighboring town and our first t-ball game was against them. She called to talk trash......yes my friends t-ball trash. My kid is going to knock your kid on their *Bleep* sort of stuff. (I found myself enjoying it and escalating it before you knew it there was my kid listening in the background wondering why mommy was talking to miss Alley like that. He was really upset. He thought there was actually something wrong I guess I am a better actress than I thought.

So I tell myself that summer is coming and baseball season will be over soon. I can feel the paintings bubble up inside of me. I have started planning them, started thinking about canvas choice and color. Style and how I want things placed. Whom will grace the canvas and will I try something new or work on tried and true, but all of that can wait until after my children's baseball season. Its short and way more fun than I expected.

Added: Just received an email from my friend Jenn who read this. She told me that it won't be long before the cup issue is a reality. Her son is not much older than mine and he must wear a cup. (gotta protect the future) They check the cups by knocking....or tapping lightly on it. That is one job I wont put my hand up for. I can see it now. "OK, Who wants to be on cup duty?" Thank god there was a warning before that storm hit. They aren't talking about Dixie or whistling it for that matter. ( Another friend just wrote to say, that it is the parents responsibility to ensure that the cup is in place in our league. phew!) I know that my son given the choice would wrap on that thing as long as I let him. (Is that where the song I don't wanna work I want to bang on the drum all day comes from?) Jenn also said that the boys pound on the cups like bongo drums. Now you have to tell your kid not to bang on other peoples cups. "Honey...ELi....No don't hit little Bobbie there honey you could hurt him." What I can't say is don't hit little Bobbie like that, I don't like the way he is smiling. That is just not done there are explanations for actions I don't want to even go towards. I never realised that when I had kids the questions would be such a minefield and now I realise why my parents gave me books to read rather than talking about "stuff" to me and why I heard "because I said so." What a safe harbor "Because I said so" is Mom.....Dad, I forgive you and I love you.