Category Archives: shopaholism

Squinkies On A Plane!

Our trip to San Francisco is officially less than seven days away, and not surprisingly, I’ve become frantic, frazzled, restless, and obsessive.  I’ve been waiting for Crazy Packing Mama to emerge, and folks, she, along with anxiety-induced Shopaholic Mama, have arrived.

I mastered the art of car packing a long time ago, but air travel with two kids for six hours across three time zones in coach with picky eaters, no Kefir, and the inevitability of having to take both boys (together and/or separate) to the (scary, germy, yucky, smelly, small, and loud) airplane bathroom is new territory for this Mama.

Last summer, my anxiety-induced shopaholism honed in on flip flops (yellow) and sun dresses (maxi).  That was all in preparation for a beach vacation.  This summer, as we prep for our big city San Francisco adventure, it’s The Bag.  I capitalized the “T” and the “B” so you’ll have a better understanding the intensity (and idiocy) of this bout of shopaholic hysteria.

Here’s what I’ve been searching for:

An airplane-riding, city-roaming, café-dining, beach-walking, island-hiking, lap-top, wipes, and Transformer-holding, wine-tasting, kid stuff-schlepping bag with two outside pockets for water bottles/kid cups.  It cannot be leather or a technical diaper bag, it must have generous shoulder handles and a cross-body strap option, it will preferably be made by Marc Jacobs, and must be on sale for, oh, $19.99.

I haven’t found The Bag yet (surprise, surprise), but I get an “A” for effort (or an “A” for a serious nut case).   Perhaps if I just looked in my closet I’d realize I already own The Bag, but that would be no fun.   I’ve been to three malls in the last two weeks, including an outlet mall (and I don’t like outlet shopping or outlet mall parking lots), but The Bag (I’ve added italics for the sake of drama) is still out of my reach…unless I decide to buy the $198 Marc Jacobs “Pretty Nylon Medium Tate” bag at Nordstrom.  Fear not, I haven’t sunk that low…yet.  But I’ve sunk low enough to buy some other stuff essential travel accessories.

Kid headphones:

A travel DVD holder that holds up to 24 movies (Dylan is very happy about this):

A housewarming gift for my sister.  I realize I’ve ruined the surprise for her because she’ll read this, but I cannot withhold my excitement about this strange and amazing pointy plastic holder thingy from The Container Store that does its ingenious “holding miscellaneous crap” job in the kitchen, bathroom, office, or the moon.  Seriously, this is my Favorite. Find. Ever.  (More capital letters.):

An owl wallet.  $4.99 at Target…how could I resist?  Do you think it’s a mean owl?  Just wondering:

And last but not least, backpacks on wheels for the boys:

Thank you, Grandma Irene!  Since I will inevitably end up in charge of schlepping the boys’ bags through the airport when they’re “too tired” to do it on their own, I thought it would be nice to be able to roll them.  They’re so excited about the trip that they’ve already started to fill the backpacks with toys.  For some reason, they don’t hear me when I tell them we’re bringing a few toys to California.  (They don’t seem to hear me when I ask them to brush their teeth either.)   I just hope I can convince Dylan to check his massive collection of Squinkies rather than bringing them on the plane.  I can’t think of anything more terrifying than Squinkies on a plane.

p.s. At the time of publication, the Runaway Crazy Packing Shopaholic Mama shifted her focus to the sweater jacket/wrap/cardigan.  In black.  Preferably with pockets.  Perfect for cool San Francisco fog.

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Filed under Crazy Mama, packing, Shopaholic Mama, shopaholism, shopping, travel, vacation

Completely, Beautifully, Thankfully

At 4:45 a.m. this morning, when I discovered three men in my bed, I realized just how different things are when Mike goes out of town.

Let me explain the men.  One of them was Harry.  No surprise there.  The second man, Riley, wasn’t much of a shocker either.  He always starts the night in his bed, but habitually finishes it in mine.  The third guy, Dylan, was the bombshell.  He has a penchant for nightmares when Mike is away.  This morning, Harry and Riley climbed under my covers and went right to sleep like they’re trained to do, but Dylan had a different agenda, which is why I stared writing this post at 5:03 a.m. in my kitchen…with lots of coffee…and “Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel” playing in the next room.

What else is different when Mike’s away?

Harry likes to play in the backyard…in the middle of the night. I’ve written before about Harry’s occasional middle-of-the-night romps outside, but when Mike is away, he does it every night.   I think it’s his way of expressing to me his stern disapproval of Mike’s business trips.  Message received, Harry, loud and clear.

I take out the trash.  Mike and I have a pretty traditional household when it comes to chores. In general, I take care of the inside of the house and he takes care of the outside.  When he’s away,though, I handle the trash, literally. On Sunday afternoon, I discovered that an animal had gotten into the trash can overnight.  I would rather have changed Riley’s stinkiest poopiest diaper than clean that mess.  Oh wait, I did that, too.

I do less laundry.  It’s not that Mike produces an enormous amount of laundry.  In fact, most of his socks end up scattered on the family room floor (next to Dylan and Riley’s…it must be a guy thing), and his other clothes usually end up in a heapon the back of his desk chair in the bedroom.  I guess it’s just simple math: laundry for three is less than laundry for four.

I get more sleep (except for today).  When Mike is home, the quality time we spend together each day is generally after the kids go to sleep when we eat a late dinner and watch something on the DVR. I almost always fall asleep on the couch around 10 p.m. (and miss the last five minutes of whatever show we’re watching), and then Mike wakes me and sends me to bed.  When he’s away, I crawl into bed as soon as the kids are down, so even if I’m woken up at, say, 4:45 a.m., at least I went to sleep early.

I do less cooking.  When Mike is out of town, I eat early and light.  On Monday, I made vegetarian lentil soup in my crock-pot, and it’s been my dinner every night this week.  You know the old adage, marriage makes you fat and happy?  I don’t know if it’s true, but I know if I didn’t have a husband, I’d be fine eating a bowl of soup (or cereal) for dinner every night.  Then again, if I didn’t have a husband (or children), I’d probably be at a bar enjoying two-for-one drinks with friends.

I go shopping.  This doesn’t really have anything to do with Mike being away as I often have a desire – a need, actually – for retail therapy.   On Tuesday, though, when I had one cranky kid home from school with a cold and a long day and evening ahead with no relief in sight, a trip to The Container Store seemed like a really good idea.  I bought some really important organizational products for the house, including two acrylic Lazy Susans for my bathroom, ajewelry stand, this really cool spiky plastic thing that holds whatever theheck I want, a pack of gift tags, a storage unit for Dylan’s Legos, and – because Dylan was with me – a yellow toy box shaped like a giant Lego.  I heart The Container Store (and Dylan does, too).

Mike’s business trips always remind me of how heroic single parenthood is, but they also give me perspective on and gratitude for my marriage.   When we’re apart and everything is different, I’m keenly aware of how completely, beautifully and thankfully our lives are intertwined when we’re together.

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Filed under bad dreams, business travel, chores, cooking, gratitude, Harry, marriage, shopaholism, shopping, sleep