We have a winner! At 8:09 PM, C announced that he felt hot and had a tummy ache.

I just love the predictability of my children…

This is the first Thanksgiving since M and I were married that I’m not cooking. It is really rather odd. Refreshing, actually. I think I could perhaps get used to going elsewhere for Thanksgiving. It is also the first Thanksgiving since C was born that one of the kids isn’t running a fever. But, I suppose the day is still young, and one of them could pull through for me yet. We’ve already had the requisite fall that may or may not require stitches to the chin.

And just to leave a smile on your face as you head off to do whatever it is that you do on Turkey Day, my entire outfit is being held together with binder clips. Because I couldn’t find safety pins and apparently my boobs don’t quite fill out the wrap top I grabbed from the back of my closet the way that they used to. Hopefully the kids won’t start tugging on my shirt too hard, or else everyone will be in for quite a surprise around the dinner table…

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Despite my post from yesterday, our trip actually went much smoother than I had anticipated, thanks in no small part to the fact that M travels extensively and has super elite status just about every place. So when we arrived at the airport, our bags were wisked away and we got to go through a specail line at security. We could have headed to the special waiting lounge (with free! drinks! free! snacks!) but decided to stay close to the gate, just because. I’m not sure why. We were the first folks on the plane, and our bags were the first off the plane. When we arrived to pick up the rental car, we had been upgraded to an SUV. It made it all much nicer than anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll think twice next time I snark about M’s travel.

But only if super elite status starts providing back up batteries…

Note to self: the portable DVD player only works on an airplane if the battery is charged.

And a very special thanks to the very lovely woman who sat in front of us. May she be blessed with fabulous grandchildren, as she has the patience of a saint.

Nuff said.

C has been acting out for reasons that escape us all. Temper tantrums, floor kicking, screaming, utter rejection of anything M or I say or do. I feel like I have a teenager and a two year old living in the same body. Not. Fun. Is any one else with an almost six year old experiencing this? Is it a developmental thing or and issue????

Anywhoo, A has been taking this all in, and decided that SHE will be the good child. So anytime C refuses to eat something, she gobbles it up and announces “I LOVE it! I am a GREAT eater! Look at me C, I LIKE it!” Or, this morning, when they both woke up at 6 am and C pitched a fit because I refused to go downstairs until at least 6:30, A, who generally is the one insisting on going downstairs, crawled into bed with me and announced “I’m just happy to snuggle with you mommy. I’m being good!” Which, of course, sent C into an even bigger tailspin.

On the upside, at least I have only one child who acts like the world is coming to an end at any given moment. On the downside, I have a feeling that A is not helping matters and I’m unclear how to address the issue with her, or if I should even try to…

I’ve been watching a lot of Tim Gunn and What Not to Wear recently. I have no idea why. Well, actually I do, because I know my wardrobe needs serious help. But they keep harping on how bras only last 6 months, and how many women are wearing the wrong bra size, and finally I thought about when the last time I bought a bra was. I think right after C was weaned. Which was almost five years ago. So I decided to take the plunge, so to speak.

I took a poll at the gym this morning, and the consensus was Victoria’s Secret. So once I dropped the kids off this afternoon, I headed over there and was both horrified and disappointed. I am no where near the size I though I was, and have gone down TWO cup sizes since before I was pregnant. Yes folks, I am now an A cup. So help me, because I swear my boobs are bigger than they were a decade ago. But, apparently, they are just more droopy. And the side that both kids preferred when I was nursing? THAT one is even smaller. Which makes me rather lopsided. Of course.

The sales lady at Victoria’s Secret finally gave up and basically told me she couldn’t help me. Fabulous. I did buy one bra there, the best of the sorry bunch, just in case I couldn’t find one someplace else. Then I headed to Lord and Taylor, home of the little old ladies in our town. I couldn’t find a clerk to help me, but since I now had a general idea of what I was looking for, I was able to collect a fair number of bras to try on. The only one that fit perfectly? The $60 bra. Of course.

I couldn’t bring myself to spend $60 on a bra that was supposed to only last 6 months, so I purchased two different, much cheaper, alternatives figuring that I would wear both of them for a while and then I would go back and purchase more of whichever one I would groan about if it was in the wash. At pick-up, as I was regaling everyone about my afternoon (why yes! You don’t converse with perfect strangers about your bra size, or lack thereof?), someone suggested a specialty store near here. Where apparently you can get someone to help you, and they won’t give up on you just because your boobs are lopsided and rather oddly shaped.

So Rebecca doesn’t know it, but when she arrives here from London, I’m taking her to get me fitted for a bra. Because that’s what friends do when they haven’t seen each other in close to a year…

Rebecca has been rather concerned that everyone thinks her to be a lousy friend because I continually mention and link to her, and she never reciprocates. I try to reassure her that y’all are smart people and have figured out that the whole town reads her blog and, therefore, if she started linking to me, the whole town would read my blog as well. Which is not exactly what I am looking for in a semi-anonymous blog. Even though I try to keep in mind that anyone could (and quite honestly has) stumbled upon my blog (waving hello to the folks I know from past and current lives who read and don’t comment).

So, there you have it. Rebecca is indeed a good friend, as she is under instructions from me not to link to me.

(And, since I am defending my favorite people to folks I don’t even know, M had been concerned that he is coming across as a not very nice person on my blog. So for the record, M is a wonderful husband and father, despite how he might appear during my grumpy moments. But y’all figured that one out too, I am sure.)