The Three Beans Have Emerged From Hibernation. . .

Here is what is happening at our house. . .

The Lady is the proud new owner of a pair of Jessica Simpson, white, patent leather shoes with a bit of a heel. She couldn't be happier and while I debated whether or not it was a good parenting decision to buy them for her (really what is she going to wear those with?), I was soon convinced that they would get used when she decided to pair them with a flannel nightgown, blue ice cream cone pajama pants, and purple ankle socks for an 8 p.m. excursion to Walgreen's for some new toothpaste. She rocked the look and owned the aisles.

I have been trying to pay special attention to the Little Lady. She has a tendency to feel a bit put out when things don't go her way or when she feels like she isn't getting the attention she deserves. And she does deserve attention. She is fun loving and adorable and funny and incredibly sweet until she isn't. I am trying to make sure we toe the line between indulging her every whim and making sure she knows that she is an important and integral part of our family. Plus it is hard to ignore this cute face.

Please note she it was pajama day/costume/crazy hair day at school. Her class made it up the coconut tree. Normally, I don't dress my kids like this, unless we are going to Walgreen's at 8 p.m.

QT is in full on potty-training mode. Well, at least when he is at home all day with the nanny. He is going with no problems and no accidents during the day with her. He is even napping sans diaper. The problem seems to be when he is home with us. The peeing hasn't been too much of an issue, but there have been a few poo incidents. I will not post the photo my husband sent me a few nights ago while I was at a meeting, but needless to say there wasn't any poo in the potty. Last night on my late-night Walgreen's excursion, I bought a few things to bribe that boy. And it worked. Here is to hoping that we are out of diapers for the first time since 2007! And here is a pic of him after his latest haircut.

QT is getting to be such a big boy!

 Sunday, this happened:

T-R-O-U-B-L-E

Oh, Old Navy I know you know how much those girls wanted some jellies. They tried them on and whined and complained, but I won't fall into that trap again, we will just leave with three teal dresses and a couple of straw hats, thank you very much!

Button Bursting Black Pants or How I was Saved by my Own Laziness

The button on my pants broke off mid-morning as I was sitting at my desk. I would like to be clear, that the button itself was actually broken, as in cracked, and that it was not entirely due to the fact that perhaps my body still retains a bit of the baby weight.

Also, the zipper had kind of been busted on these pants for a while, so every time I wore them (like every other day) I was devoting a lot of time and energy to spot checking my fly in order to make sure I was securely zipped up.

So, what do you do when a button breaks off your pants and the zipper that might actually be able to keep your pants up is damaged?

Two words. Binder clip.

These things seem pretty strong, and I have like a hundred in various shapes and sizes on my desk. But alas, even the big guy didn't end up working to keep these pants together.

If I actually just sat at my desk all day this probably wouldn't be a problem. Would it be inconvenient? Yes. Would it be super comfortable? Also yes.

However, I actually have to get up and move around pretty frequently, so the half-assed binder clip solution wasn't going to work.

Luckily, I was saved by my own laziness.

Since, I don't have a ton of time to get to the dry cleaners near my house, I decided to use a dry cleaner closer to the office so that I could drop off and pick up things at lunch. I dropped off some clothes last Monday. They were ready last Wednesday. Now, had I not decided to skip over this errand for over a week, perhaps this button incident would have found me at my old friend Old Navy, picking up a pair of stop-gap black pants, but instead it found me picking up a pair of newly cleaned and newly tailored, perfectly fitting black pants while trying to hid the fact that my fly was so far open that it looked like I was channeling some background dancer in a rap video, with my short short button fly jean shorts turned down over my belly.

Broken buttons . . . one more reason to quit my job and go back to wearing yoga pants. 

Blog A Day 'Til Baby (BADTB) Post 6: Mommy Wants a Muumuu

From The Simpsons: King-Size Homer

Homer: I'm looking for something loose and billowy, something comfortable for my first day of work.

Salesman: Work, huh? Let me guess. Computer programmer, computer magazine columnist, something with computers?

Homer: Well, I use a computer.

Salesman: [quietly, to self] Yeah, what's the connection? Must be the non-stop sitting and snacking.[more audibly] Well, sir, many of our clients find pants confining, so we offer a range of alternatives for the ample gentleman: ponchos, muumuus, capes, jumpsuits, unisheets, muslim body rolls, academic and judicial robes --

Homer: I don't want to look like a weirdo. I'll just go with a muumuu.

**********

I too, don't want to look like a weirdo and am thinking that at this point a muumuu is my only option in terms of comfortable, last days of pregnancy wear.

The weather is warm, and the long sleeve shirts and cardigans I have been sporting for the last nine months aren't cutting it in this weather. Granted, I was pregnant in the summer with both the Ladies, but after wearing those clothes through two pregnancies, I found that most of them were stained and kind of tattered and I figured that I would get a few more things as I got closer to my due date.

However, I am literally down to two pairs of "casual" pants, one at least is full paneled so that I am not too worried that my actual stomach is hanging out, the other pair is low paneled but I like them better so I have to deal with the daily dilemma of of pulling my shirt down low enough to make sure my stomach isn't poking through, but then risking the exposure of some serious boob salad. It is a catch-22 that I think could be easily solved with a multi-colored muumuu or perhaps a king-size bed sheet.

Luckily, I have a very best friend who showed up to dinner the other night with some yoga pants from Old Navy to wear post-pregnancy (oh yes, Old Navy you have roped me in again--did I mention that I actual went out and bought another pair of smelly jellies? This time for the Little Lady, who loves them just as much as her sister does) and I have been able to mix those into my casual pants wear, but the t-shirt selection is still pretty small. I did buy a full coverage t-shirt from Target last weekend, but decided it wasn't worth it to buy more than one because I was so close to my due date (seriously kid--come out soon!) so now I am just washing said black t-shirt almost every day in an attempt to make sure I don't have to do the belly vs. boob face off and hoping that the baby shows up soon so that I can start wearing my nursing bra/tank-top/yoga pants/beach dresses summer wardrobe that I am hoping will get me through the next few months.

But until that moment when this baby finally shows its little face it's the muumuu that momma wants, I mean really who wants to look like a weirdo?

Dear Old Navy, RE: Smelly Jellies

Dear Old Navy,

I recently purchased a pair of your pink sparkle jelly sandals for the Lady. To say she was excited by this purchase would be an understatement. Anything pink, anything sparkle, anything shoe related has some immediate effect on her little toddler brain. This shoe purchase was actually a bit of an impulse buy on my part because we were returning a dress that she refused to wear, after picking it out herself on a prior visit. Since she had seen the jellies on our last visit and I told her that at another time we could get them and since we had the store cred--well we went home with the jellies.

Old Navy, I have to applaud you on your security/impressive sales technique of these shoes. You have them clipped together in such a way that it is virtually impossible to try these shoes on let alone walk around in them to see how they fit. In order to actually get a good sense of how they actually feel on the Lady's feet we had to purchase them. Bravo, Old Navy, Bravo.

Now, I will say that I have made plenty of purchases from you in the past. You do have easy, affordable clothing that I know will eventually fall apart in my washing machine, but in terms of comfort, style and my wallet have helped me round out my wardrobe and the wardrobes of my Ladies on many an occasion. In fact, I am looking forward to my post-partum days where I am wearing pretty much nothing but your tank tops and yoga pants as I try to maneuver the world of three kids.

I don't want to get too far off topic here, the real reason I am writing you is to let you know that your jelly shoes stink. They smell so bad that I am considering burying them in the backyard, however I am fearful that whatever chemical component these shoes are made up of may leech into the groundwater and contaminate my drinking water.

I mean are these shoes made out of glitter and toxic waste?

The info listed on the sole of the shoe says that they are made out of "other materials" it doesn't even say plastic on there. I mean is it horse parts and pixie dust? Seriously, I am concerned.

I am concerned for the people responsible for making these shoes are they losing patches of hair? Do the inside of their noses look like they have suffered from years of cocaine abuse? How are the delivery people handling the overwhelming stench coming off of these shoes as they open up the back of their trucks and unload? Are Old Navy employees complaining? Will they start wearing paper masks?

I will say that the smell was present in the store, but since it was a large place and since I wasn't quite sure where the source was, I bought the shoes. It wasn't until we got home that the sad reality set in. The Lady loves these shoes but the stench is driving me crazy. I have left them at the top of the stairs so they don't co-mingle with the Ladies toys or food preparation, but every time I walk in the door I am hit with the rank odor eminating off of these pretty pink shoes.

I know I am pregnant and have a heightened sense of smell, but I am worried that one day I will wake up and the Lady's feet will have absorbed the smell of these shoes and I will have to live out my days with the knowledge that I purchased smelly jellies for my kid and that it has permanently permeated her feet.

Where is the line Old Navy between affordable, cute and cool and purchasing items that may or may not be polluting the air and land outside the factory where these are produced and causing my gag reflex to go into overdrive every time I enter my house? Tell me where?

The other day in sheer desperation I opened the window and put the shoes on the ledge. The Lady wanted to know why her jellies were hanging out on the window sill. I told her that I thought they smelled bad. She took them down, fastened them to her feet and told me she liked the smell. I am pretty sure she thought I would get rid of them, but there is no way that anyone could like the smell of what I can only imagine is a cross between liquid ass molded into a shoe shape, combined with shimmer and the dreams of those factory workers somewhere in the depths of China who hopefully have access to nose plugs and some Glade room deodorizers.

In closing, I wanted to make you aware of the double-edge sword your store offers me and my family. You are so good at drawing us in with your great deals and campy ads, your affordable prices and your use of sparkle. However, at the end of the day, when the tags are removed and the shoes are off, I am left with nothing but a nagging feeling that I am a terrible parent because I have exposed my child to a product made of "other materials" and have brought a shoe into my house that has started to not only erode my sense of smell, but that has left me partially high on the sick, chemical stench, which I am pretty sure isn't great for my unborn kid.

So, Old Navy, until we meet again in a cramped dressing room, with the three to five beach dresses I will be purchasing to drape over my post-pregnancy body, I am yours in stank,

Bean