Hermes scarves

one of the things i do no matter how poor we are, which thank goodness is improving since my husband began pursuing consulting more seriously, is that i was determined to never, ever, deprive my children. i grew up extremely deprived. people laugh because everytime someone says, "oh, hey, i remember that toy! i say, "oh, i always wanted one of those..."

i was deprived because of a few things. my father grew up poor. i mean, depression era, eat-all-the-leftover-rotting-vegetables-in-the-little-store-we-live-above, six brothers in one bed, kind of poor. in sacramento. and so he shared that delightful upbringing with his children. by, of course, replicating it so we knew exactly what it was like to cherish a steak once a month, cut up into small chunks, chinese-style in a what do they call it in american? oh, right, stir fry dish. also, when i was really young, my dad was working on the b-1 bomber. and i don't know if you remember, but they scrapped it. he was one of hundreds suddenly out of work. ironically, like my husband, for two years straight.

so when we got gifts, my dad would wrap them up. in plastic. then he would put them away, carefully mind, in these very ricketily-constructed storage units he built into the garage, saving them for when we're older, don't want them, and they're covered in cobwebs? he certainly never would have imagined selling them.

so i knew this was not something i would do. even during the height of our poverty, when i lost weight so i could feed her and my husband more than myself, i knew it was so important to impart normalcy. not that she has known anything different, but my parents made me feel we were poor, and that i, as the youngest, had to bear that burden most heavily.

all along the way, i've made active choices about what to buy, what bills to pay and how much of them, so that i could make strategic purchases for my daughter.
i'm sensible, so now that we are a teensy bit more comfortable, i still am strategic. it's just that every once in a while, i feel that my level of strategic-ness, if you will, can be upgraded. therefore, we were at the mall last summer. no, it must have been fall. because we had met. and i was wearing this short skirt and these heels that i thought you might appreciate. feeling sexy, to boot. and there was the disney store.

now, i have to say my older daughter is this really amazing combination of innocence, sophistication, and just plain sensible. so when we were at disneyland for her first visit at 6, she saw the alice character and said, "oh, that's just a woman dressed as alice," and moved on to the ride. not that she was disappointed, mind, it was simply an observation that did not detract from the experience nor did it really add to it. that said, she can enjoy the disney store as much as the next child, and for some reason i will never ever understand, she seemed to gravitate towards this one character dress that was white and looked like a "wedding dress." actually, i think it's because she likes the wedding dress i made for myself. so there you are. it was 40% off and like i said, i felt it was a moment of strategic spending, so i told her she could get it. i then espied a crowned wedding veil and bouquet set and i thought, well, i've got to get that as well. i asked her if she wanted it and ever practical, she said, "no, mama, i already have the green tinkerbell one." but i insisted since this matched. and if there's one thing one has to have, it's matching accessories for playtime. the crown part of the veil is festooned with silk flowers and the veil is just some tulle in the back.

well, this evening, i was getting the little ones ready for bed. which means controlled chaos, really, but i rather love it. i often change the lumbering fatty pie when she's standing because i hate putting her on the changing station, not the least of which reason she is over 1/5 my weight and if the blueshield doctor who was repeating five times, "thirty-one pounds. as in 3-1? and you say she's two-and-a-half feet tall? two feet, six inches? you mean like 30 inches?" followed by, "and when she saw the doctor last, was there anything wrong with her?" is any indication, i think my one year old is unusually large.

of course, when i take off her diaper to examine her cute dimpled butt, she just has to immediately sit down on it, making it impossible to change her. so of course, i just flip her on her tummy across my legs, smack her cute butt a couple of times and then put the diaper on her before she can squirm away. it's frankly a joy. i love seeing her so cute and helpless in my lap.

after smacking her butt one more time for good measure, i stand her up again so i can put her stubby little fat roll arm into the sleeve of her sleeping bag. the thing is far too small but, did i mention the strategic buying bit? well, i'm the first one to admit it reflects one's priorities and sleepwear that no one can see? not a priority.

i don't encase her legs yet, i leave it unzipped so her legs are free. and she discovers the veil. she drags it on the landing and then proceeds to put it over her head. she's been obsessed with attempting to dress herself all day and since my older daughter donned the dress and veil earlier, miss chunky cheeks knows this thing goes on the head. of course, because even the chubby cheeker isn't that big, it goes over her head. and around her neck. so, she wears it kind of like an apron because the veil is in the front.

in the background is my older one. in our bedroom. admiring herself as she takes my two hermes scarves and ties them around herself. one on the top, the other underneath, in an elaborate version of a two part toga. "Look, mama! how do you like this?" well, frankly, i hate those scarves. i inherited them. but i'm thinking, hey, maybe jl's onto something...

and in the foreground is my little neckless wonder is cooing about, apparently, how great she thinks she looks to because her gestures are equally enthusiastic. she looks at me for approval. they both do.

really. it doesn't get any better with those two.