Shopping with my Tween, AKA: Modern day Torture

It's that time of year again when it's cold enough to dig out jeans.  I've come to truly dread this.  Not b/c I'm afraid *my* jeans won't fit, but b/c I *know* Aidan and Tanner's jeans won't!  Tanner is the poster child for stretchy elastic waist band athletic shorts and pants, so must be FORCED into trying on jeans at all.  By "forced" I mean I let him pick out some new stretchy athletic shorts first and then casually slip the jeans in there and hope he won't notice.  It doesn't work.  Aidan, however, likes jeans.  So, you'd think it would be easier. Umm, not so much.  Aidan is 12.  The age of eye rolling and pure exasperation with me over any and everything.  He reluctantly let's me choose a few sizes and as we head toward the Target dressing room, he looks around and says, "Is this the ONLY dressing room?"  "Yes, Aidan, it's for everyone.  that's why it's between the men's and women's sections."  Huge sigh and looking around to make sure there are no other tweens to spot him going in to said very uncool dressing room, and we're in.  At least, I thought so.  He takes the jeans in and closes the door in my face.  "OK, well, I still need to see them when you get them on."  He groans.  I wait (patiently), hear zipping and wait some more.  "Do they fit?"  No response.  "Aidan, do they fit?"  Jeans fly over the top of the dressing room door and hit me in the head.  I'll take that as a "no."
I miss the days of strolling through the infant and toddler section and just grabbing a 3T and KNOWING it will fit.  Perhaps I should invent a new sizing system just for tweens.  That way I could just walk through and grab what I needed for Aidan and leave his sarcastic, unappreciative butt at home.  His size would be called "12CBB" (can't be bothered).  What would your tween's size be?

Anytime Now

How do you stay positive when things are anything but?  I have been saying, "it is what it is" and "it will work out" for about 2 months now and that's about to put me in an institution.  I need better (or more) drugs if I am going to keep this up for much longer.  In the past 2 weeks, 2 toilets in our house decided they'd had enough flushing, Tanner's left click on his track pad wouldn't work, his kickstand would go neither up nor down, our garage door opener works when and if it wants to, and today my dishwasher repeats the first 2 minutes of its cycle, but nothing more.  REALLY??  Oh, and even though the roofing materials have been delivered, not a soul has come to actually put them on my friggin' roof.  The positive thoughts are not exactly pouring out of me over here.

On top of all that, I'm trying to get someone to buy or lease my house.  I feel like I'm selling cheese to the lactose intolerant for Pete's sake.  Crickets chirping, can you hear that?  It is an absofuckinglutely impossible time to sell one's home.  I'm thinking of going to the grand opening of Chick Fil-et up on Hwy K and handing out flyers Thursday just to drum up some lookers.  

So, everyone, just be on alert, I can NO LONGER be positive.  I need a break from positivity.  It's Eeore time people!  Little black rain cloud following me wherever the heck I go.  Screw you real estate market!  To hell with you, appliances!  Bite me, wanna-be roofers!  And in the words of the beautiful Jon Bon Jovi, "Have a nice day!"

Life By Numbers

I was feeling quite bogged down by numbers last week.  Met with 3 moving companies to get estimates.  They measured, counted dressers and estimated how many pounds of stuff we had to move, how much it would cost. Numbers.  Eric and I had to figure out what we would have to sell or lease the house for so that we *break even.*  New bills in California: deposit on the house we're leasing there, need a fridge and washer/dryer there.  Numbers.  How much it will cost to fix our roof vs. what our (pain in the ass) insurance company will cover. More numbers.  Then Friday night I was flipping channels and landed on a 9/11 10th anniversary special on NBC.  I couldn't move.  Tanner came in and asked me why I was crying.  I just grabbed him and pulled him onto my lap.  I remembered how right after that awful day I told Eric I wanted to have another baby.  I remembered his due date and birth weight...numbers.  
We watched the whole thing together.  He asked a lot of questions. How many people died, Mom?  How many planes were hi-jacked?  Numbers.  I crawled in his pillow filled bed with him when I tucked him in that night.  He has 9 pillows on  his bed b/c they "make him feel safe."  I hugged him and kissed him on his cheeks, forehead; and he let me.  Then I turned on his 3 nightlights and said goodnight.
What a lesson on perspective I had learned that night.  I am so thankful to have had that 1 moment with him.  So, today, as I expect the roofers to get here by 9:00 and rush Aidan to the bus stop b/c he forgot to set his alarm, I am SO grateful for the numbers in my life.  Especially the 2 that live under my care and the one that is in California much of the time, the 2 around the corner who are always there for me, countless friends.
Numbers.

Missouri, California; Potato, Avacado

I spent 4 days in San Francisco this week looking at rental possibilities for our family.  First of all, whenever I'm in SF I feel like an alien.  My dress is entirely *suburban, midwestern, mom* and everyone else is all hipster, skinny jeans and ginormous sunglasses. There are men there with much cuter hair styles than my own.  You know it's bad when you find yourself comparing yourself to members of the opposite sex and falling short.  Sucker punch to the self-esteem, anyone?
I know how pathetic I must sound, but it is hard to feel *out of place* when you've felt very much *in your element* for the past 16 years of your life. However, change is a-comin' whether I'm ready or not.  So I guess I best get my butt ready!  So, another day E and I rented a car and were able to scope out the Danville/San Ramon area (thanks to my HS friend Lisa for suggesting it).  I felt a little less alienistic there.  We even saw a few rentals that we liked.  A step in the right direction.  Insert very heavy sigh here.
I guess it's time to get a hipper hair style and get ready for the next step in my life.  OK, I'm off to hyperventilate now.  Ta ta for now!