Gotta complain...

Just for a second, then I'll be okay.

I went to the gym yesterday. (that's not the complain part, wait just a minute) Like usual, I took my kids to the nursery there. The employee-lady waiting by the sign-in list was a regular that I see in there frequently, but she turned to the kids and asked "Now what's your guys' names?" like they were new to the gym. I thought maybe she just hadn't heard their names before or something, so I told her their names. She was taken aback for a second, and said "Oh, I know you two, you come here a lot!" Then she turned to me and said this: "You're the girl that looks twelve and has two kids!" (so that's what the caregivers talk about when the parents aren't around -- the parents)

Twelve!! She didn't say seventeen or eighteen, you know, something that could be taken as a compliment while still conveying a sense of youthfulness. Instead it was prepubescent twelve (aka "the awkward phase")!!! Most of the time I'm pretty good about not comparing my scrawnyness and lack of curves to all the beautifully proportioned women out there (even at the gym -- where they are in abundance), but some days I just can't help it. And she turned yesterday into one of those days.

Whenever I have days like that, I inevitably have a moment of weakness where I consider surgery to "fix my problems". When I was younger, I thought I was just a "late bloomer", so I eagerly awaited something that I now know is never going to come at all. Can you say "disappointed"?! So sometimes that surgery sounds so nice. (anyone know of a surgery where they insert something into your thighs so that your knees aren't the widest point on your legs anymore? :) )

After my moments of weakness I sadly remind myself that that has to be out of the question. A few years ago during conference a couple of the general young women presidency and relief society ladies talked about it specifically and said "no!" "How can we build up our daughters' self-esteem and convince them to accept themselves," they said, "if we are so unsatisfied with ourselves that we have surgery to change our looks?" I just can't do it.

I've also thought, that would suck if I got it done and got used to how I looked and then after I died to have to go back to the old "perfect" me. :) I had better just get used to it.

But some days it's just hard.

There, thanks for letting me rant! (that went a little longer than I planned)

Where's the keys?

Yesterday, I could hear Adelyn opening and closing drawers in my room while I was getting Hadley dressed. Then she called to me, "Mom, where's the keys?" (Yes, my little girl frequently uses well-constructed full sentences, although her pronunciation could use some help. -so cute!-) I was at a complete loss so I asked "the keys for what?" She wasn't quite sure how to put it so she came walking in to show me.

She had gotten up on my dresser and grabbed Curtis' "jewelry box" -- you know, the place where at night he stashes his wedding ring, watch, and any other item he keeps on him at all times during the day (like chap stick -- which Adelyn is addicted to and probably why she grabbed the box -- she knows it's there). But because Adelyn loves to play with his stuff (lose his watch, eat his chap stick -- that sort of thing), Curtis has resorted to a box that locks.

Honestly, I didn't know where he kept the key for the box -- it's never mattered to me. So I told her I didn't know. She was pretty mad at me for that, but left anyway. I didn't think much of it.

After dressing Hadley, I went to my room to find that all the opening/closing of drawers that I heard was her searching the dresser drawers for the key. So I cleaned that up and noticed that the box wasn't there. I went looking for Adelyn.

I found her in the play room (short search) with the box still in her possession. She was standing on a stool, with our small key cabinet open (it has hooks in it for our car keys) and she was trying every key in the cabinet out on the box. I explained to her that none of those keys were the right one, but she insisted on trying them all before believing me. (I must lie to her often or something, she doesn't always trust me.) Again, she was pretty mad that she couldn't open the box.

I finally got her to put the box away and forget about it. She's hilarious and very persistent!