Mixed Up Orders From Hanes: Just One Sign of my Aging

I have said many times that I don't mind getting older, and it's true. I really don't. Getting older means being more mature, having clearer skin (sort of), and having the authority to be smug towards the young. I love aging!

But it's interesting how it kind of sneaks up on a person. You are going along, considering yourself to be young(ish) and hip(ish) and current, and suddenly you hear yourself saying "these Dockers with the hidden elastic waistband are incredible!"

You find yourself unable to come up with words for things, telling your three-year-old to look at the yummy croissants in that salad instead of the croutons. French is French, though--who's with me?

You get a call from the home-bound lady in her late eighties who lives across the street. "Your pantyhose are here," she shrieks into the phone. Yes, the mailman grouped all orders from Hanes together and put them in the mailbox of the person most likely to order support stockings. And yet one of those packages was yours. (In my defense, I bought white v-neck t-shirts as per Nina Garcia's recommendation, but the whole world thought "pantyhose" when they saw that Hanes package.)

You send emails to your sister titled, simply, "my wing tips," and show her pictures of yourself in black dockers wearing black and white wing tips and ask her if you can pull off a look like that.

After running a relatively simple Relief Society activity, you find yourself completely unable to walk, citing an old "groin injury" as the cause. And by "groin injury" you mean having baby number four.

You think to yourself, Gloria Vanderbilt hidden tummy panels: where have you been all my life?

When shopping for a new swimsuit,  the search words "tummy control," "shirring," "figure-flattering," "coverage," and "swim dress" replace the words "vintage," "retro," and "polka dots."

You have way too many pieces of clothing that are made of no-iron poplin.

 Out of the blue you finally understand why people might want to "winter in St. George." 

You "don't understand" the trends of the day, mainly because you remember vividly what it was like to wear them 25 years ago.

It happens gradually, ever-so-subtly, this realization that you are older. 

It's Time to Give Up

I've been engaged in some soul-searching for the past, like, 24 hours, and I think I have finally realized that it's time for me to get a uniform. I know what you're thinking: "but, Carly! You're so young, thin, hip, and trendy! You don't need to limit yourself by sticking to a daily uniform! You can wear anything!" I thought that, too. But I was wrong. This may come as a great shock to you, but I am actually NOT young, thin, hip, or trendy! I am 33, needing to lose several pounds from having baby #4, a fuddy-duddy who thinks the Urban Outfitters catalog is pornographic, and still figuring out boot-cut jeans (forget about electric blue "jeggings").

I think I've been in a little bit of denial about my appearance. And I keep buying clothes that go against my inclinations, trying to "branch out" when really what I need to be doing is scaling back and wearing things that make me look good. So I have this wicked-yuge wardrobe full of things that I don't wear very much. Then I feel guilty and paralyzed each day when it's time to get dressed. I feel like I have all these cute things but I don't feel comfortable in them and don't know how to put them together. Getting dressed in the morning has become the fight of my life. I'm serious! (Let's hope nothing truly bad ever happens to me.)

So I have been reading about uniforms. Mostly I read this loooong blog post about a man scaling back on his pocket squares and ties. Even though I was somewhat shocked that a dude would put that much thought into his clothes, I was inspired. Why NOT have a signature look? Why NOT take the guess-work out of getting dressed every day? It may seem restrictive at first but it's actually quite freeing.

I tried it today. I was getting dressed and I said to myself, wear your uniform, and I did. And I didn't look back. And I didn't feel guilty or shameful about neglecting the other things in my closet. It ruled. Then I put Ruby in the same uniform. She looked so good.

Now I bet you want to know what my uniform will be. Mike guessed "black stretchy pants" but that was only my depressing pregnancy uniform in Taiwan. My 33-year-old-mother-of-four uniform is actually pants (jeans, khakis, neutral), a shirt (t-shirt, usually, but I am considering some button-ups), and a cardigan. This is what I wear most of the time, anyway. I just needed to own it, embrace it, articulate it, and hone it.

This is a good look for me. I wish I could have wild, curly hair, too. But that's another blog post.

Lately I've been suppressing my desire to wear cardigans in favor of doing something "different," but now I realize it's time to stop fighting. It's time to give up and accept my fat-hiding, practical, fuddy-duddy, nod-to-Mr. Rogers-when-he-comes-home-and-takes-off-his-blazer uniform. Who knows? Maybe if I start teaching again I will get some blazers so I can come home, take them off, hang them up, then put on a cardigan with patches on the sleeves and change out of fancy work shoes into comfy sneakers. It feels oh, so good.

When the weather is warm I will wear skirts and t shirts. Sundays will be opportunities to branch out and experiment (since I have to dress up for church and I enjoy it), but I will try to focus more on what looks good, not just on what is trendy.  This is a really grown-up decision for me. Even though it has come to fruition over the past 24 hours, I realize it has been developing in my mind over the course of a couple of years. I think it started a while ago, when the things in Lands End started looking good to me. It's okay. I'm 33. I'm a mom. I'm pear-shaped. It's time.

The next big grown-up decision? A hair uniform. But that's a ways off.

Ten Things I Will Never Buy

10. The "Clapper." Do I want to resemble a grumpy old person, wearing a bonnet, lying in bed, then clapping my hands really loud to the tune of "clap on, clap off...the clapper--clap clap" rolling over and going to sleep? No. Not yet, anyway. I'm going to aim high, and believe that I can still get out of bed when I need to turn off a light.

9. Custom-made mugs with photos of my children on them. There are better ways to show my devotion to my children than plastering their faces all over common, every day objects that I drink cocoa out of.

8. A jacket for my dog, unless he really needs it. Oh, fine. I admit it! I already have three. But I have to have something to match the booties and bow ties.

7. Anything from Motherhood Maternity. Everything I have bought from that store in the past has been a mistake, from the morning sickness-curing lollipops (newsflash: they're just regular candy. Buy some jolly ranchers instead, why don't you?) to the ombre died silk pink tunic, to the bright coral floral old lady dress, to the long black dress made out of sweater material. You catch my drift. I lose my style compass when I go in there. It's hard enough to have style while pregnant, anyway.

6. Anything for children or babies with the word "Einstein" in its name. I feel like it is deceptive to put that name on a video to assuage parents' guilt for allowing their little ones to watch television. A paranoid, guilt-ridden parent sees the word "Einstein" and thinks, "oh, this will actually be really great for my baby, and make him smart, which is all that matters." Ick. It's such a lie. And so cruel to exploit the guilt and good intentions of young parents. I hate. I mean, the real, not baby or little, Einstein is rolling over in his grave right now.

5. Any sort of wooden sign with a message on it, like "all because two people fell in love," or even a one-word message like "DREAM." I don't need my walls telling me what to do all day long. Why don't YOU dream, you stupid old wooden sign. I'm trying to watch TV right now!

4. Fake flower arrangements, which include, but are not limited to, grasses, and ivy that sits on top of a tall ledge or kitchen cabinets.

3. Children's shoes with Disney characters on them, though this is getting harder and harder to enforce.

2. Ankle bracelets. That ship has sailed for me.

1. Spam.

Unsolicited Advice from a 10 Year Marriage Veteran

Ten years ago right now I was marrying Michael. Actually, I may have been hyperventilating in the car speeding to the temple because I was late due to a major hair mishap, but that's not really relevant here. All you need to know is we got married. The photographer, a really good family friend, teased Mike about his 5 o'clock shadow at 11:00 am; we weren't organized with our photos because nobody took charge; we had our reception in the gym of our church(along with all the basketball hoops and foul lines) and nobody could dim the lights, and the tablecloths were too short for the tables, and I served ice cream sundaes in February (?!), and the line was boring, exhausting, and long, and Mike's feet were blistered and bleeding, and we almost completely forgot to cut the cake and do the whole "toss the bouquet/garter thing" and when we did I was in a bad mood because of exhaustion and it showed on my face in the pictures, and then when it was time for us to leave the reception (2 hours later than planned), I hugged my sister and burst into tears because I knew I would be moving to China for a year and this was goodbye. My hair, however, remained perfect the entire day.

Were I to plan my wedding again, I would get married at 3 or 4 pm, have a nice dinner, and maybe an open house at home. I would write down exactly what I wanted out of each photo, and I would probably not serve ice cream in winter. Hair would be less of a priority. But alas, I didn't know my own taste back when I was 22. Now all I can do is hope to take complete control over my daughters' weddings, and force them to fulfill my unfulfilled dreams. (My poor mother did her best to guide me while giving me creative control, bless her heart.)

I am glad, however, that I chose to marry Mike, who is totally awesome. And I think it's a good sign that things have only gone uphill since our less-then-perfect wedding day. What if that had been the high point of our lives? I mean, a wedding is just one day, but a marriage is your whole life and then some, so it really isn't too important if you have a basketball hoop hanging over your head in your wedding pictures as long as you marry the right person. How's that for a golden nugget of advice? See? I am so seasoned! Here are some more nuggets that I have to share, roughly in the order that I learned them:

1. Bring a change of clothes and shoes on your honeymoon. You don't want to have to wear a dress and high heels the next day. It's also a good idea to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, deoderant, and other sundries of personal grooming. Sometimes your mind is on other things!

2. Make sure to move away with your new spouse immediately, preferably to a foreign country. This may seem like a hardship, but it will teach you to really turn to each other. Moving into an apartment in the same town you grew up in may encourage you to continue relying on your mom or family members when you need something. You need to create a sense of family with your spouse in those formative months.

3. If you get called to be nursery leaders right away, try to get out of it.

4. If your husband works a twelve hour night shift and doesn't do well on inadequate sleep and has a penchant for sleep walking/talking, try to make him switch to the day shift.

5. Never sneak up on your spouse while they are in the shower and throw a small dog in there with them. It scares them and they won't let you forget it.

6. Plan on not having a baby for 2+ years, but then accidentally have one within the first year of your marriage. There's no better way to get to know each other than during an emotionally draining pregnancy and a horrifying labor/delivery!

7. This will seem like parenting advice, but actually it is marriage advice: sleep train your baby. Never think that he or she will magically start sleeping through the night at 6 months. Use a book (I recommend Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child). If you do this, you won't be resentful towards your spouse when you are the only one getting up with the baby at night. Also, give a bottle to your newborn asap so your husband can feed the baby sometimes when you can't be there to nurse. This will greatly increase peace, harmony, and equality in your marriage, and one bottle now and then isn't going to kill your baby (take that, La Leche League!)

8. Don't try to get your spouse to quit school and become a mailman. Sometimes it's tempting because mailmen have good benefits and a steady income. But graduate school pays off in the end. And education is something you take with you forever. The mail, well, it just gets shredded and thrown away.

9. Don't get everything you want the minute you want it. Work towards something, save for it. Make goals and try to reach them. You will hate struggling in the moment, but you will look back at it with tremendous fondness and it will make you a better person and make your marriage better.

10. Try to live in a foreign country again once you have two kids. It will suck and be hard, but it will bring you all closer and give you collective memories ( as in "Remember the stinky tofu!?" "OH MAN! That stuff was sick." "How about that chicken and rice plate!?" etc.)

10. Go on dates often, but please don't refer to every Friday as "date night." That is SO college.

11. Don't use your blog to validate your happy marriage. There's just something fishy about it. Some things should be kept private.

12. Make it a rule not to "friend" ex boyfriends/girlfriends on Facebook. Again, this is just fishy.

13. Cook authentic Italian food with really good ingredients. Because even dinner should be a work of art.

14. Never compare your marriage with anybody else's. What worked for Paul and Linda McCartney may not work for you.

15. Make fun of people together.

Don't you think I should write a book? I wonder what nuggets I'll have in another ten years? Stay tuned to find out. Happy anniversay, Mike!

I'm Thirty Now

So, today I turned thirty. I guess I should be all reflective and pensive and somber and full of thought about what I've done with my life and what I wish to continue to do with my life. In reality, I am just trying to figure out how I can get my hands on a chocodile. But, in the interest of posterity, here is a list of things I either have done or would like to do now that I am thirty.

1. Get masters degree (have done)

2. Get PhD (wish to do)

3. Write best-selling novel under the pen name "Pippy McSqueaker" (wish to do)

4. Have three kids (have done)

5. Be DONE having kids (???????)

6. Look people in the eye when I meet them for the first time, shake their hands firmly, and state my full name really confidently, like this: "Carly Paul, how the hell are you?" (wish to do)

7. Live in foreign land (have done)

8. Live in London while writing best selling novel under the pen name "Pippy McSqueaker" (wish to do).

9. Find opportunity to say "I don't understand the question and I won't respond to it" in normal conversation (wish to do)

10. Find opportunity to use the word "gauche" appropriately in normal conversation (have done)

11. Walk into movie theater, buy large popcorn with extra butter, then walk out without seeing a movie (have done)

12. Punch someone in the face (wish to do)

13. Have someone write a touching tribute to me on their blog (wish to do)

14. Visit the home town of Vlad Dracula (wish to do)

15. Visit Alcatraz (have done)

16. Sit in the Senate bathtub in the basement of the capital building in Washington DC (have done)

17. See U2 in concert 4 times (have done)

18. See Bob Dylan in concert (have done)

19. See the White Stripes or the Raconteurs in concert (wish to do)

20. Exercise regularly in a non-obnoxious and unassuming way and genuinely enjoy it (wish to do).

Happy birthday to me. I ordered some shoes and a sweater from Old Navy as a gift to myself. Mike bought me a hat rack and rocking chair and took me out for my traditional hunk of birthday meat. Snakerivermama took me out to lunch and is feeding me dinner, as well; my mom gave me another set of Fiesta ware, my dad gave me a Pottery Barn gift card, my mother in law is sending something from Land's End, Hoss is sending something that I'm sure will be cute and charming, Kacy sent me a Stendig calendar, Holden brought me breakfast in bed. So....what are YOU doing for me?

28: Pros and Cons

I turned 28 on September 15th. Now, I am not one of those people who thinks that 28 is old, or that 30 is old. 30 is the new 20, which means 28 is the new 18. And at this rate, by the time I'm 90, I will really only be the "new" 70. So don't think that this is one of those stereotypical "I'm getting old" type posts, because it's not. Don't write comments saying "you think YOU'RE old, try turning 35!" etc. I just thought I'd objectively list some pros and cons about turning 28.

Pro: after battling with troubled skin since the age of 12, I can finally focus on a new skin problem and buy products that include the words "anti-aging" in the title.

Con: unfortunately, those products ALSO include the words "anti-acne."

Pro: maturity and life experience have made me wise and less willing to pout and get upset over small things.

Con: even if I wanted to pout, I don't have the energy to do it.

Pro: it's not such a bad gig being the mother of two cute kids who are funny and cool

Con: realizing that I still have some good child bearing years left and that means pressure to procreate some more

Other Con: having a four-year-old who is savvy enough to say "Mom, why don't YOU try Proactive?" when he sees commercials for it on TV (and then he checks up on me: "have you been using your Proactive, Mom?". . . at the grocery store, in a loud voice, in front of lots of people).

Pro: I've got ten years between me and high school, and hopefully most people will have forgotten not only who I am, but my penchant for wearing ugly faux leather, seventies-style jackets from D.I.

Con: I probably won't get invited to my 10 year reunion, since I wasn't invited to my 5 year reunion, either.

Pro: I'm finished with school and can focus on fulfilling my dreams of being a bon bon-eating stay at home mom

Con: me no thinky so good no more.

Pro: my husband is thoughtful enough to get a babysitter and take me out for a romantic dinner on my birthday

Con: I had to cut the evening short, since I spent most of it complaining about indigestion and my bad back, as well as discussing my fear of "those wild teenagers that are everywhere."

Pro: I can rise above fashion trends and focus on collecting classic, high quality pieces for my wardrobe

Con: I still feel drawn to the "junior" section of all stores, and feel an acute sense of not belonging in such places as Hot Topic (even though I would love to buy their Led Zeppelin t-shirt and wear it with pride).

So that's about all I can come up with now. Remember, me no thinky so good no more. I'll tell you when I can think of some more pros and cons.

I am a Frumpy Old Woman (Or, What I SHOULD Have Worn to the U2 Concert)

What I wore: Parachute-esque jeans, hot pink t-shirt, sage green hooded cardigan, and a grey parka (hate the word parka, for some reason, but that's what it was).

What I SHOULD have worn: sleeveless, strapless santa claus suit over tight jeans and ugg boots, with santa claus hat on top.

Or: loose blue chiffon halter top, tight jeans, and large fluffy ugg boots. Because those were the outfits worn by the tramps Bono asked to join him on stage. Tramps!

Or, if I wanted to look like Bono (which I have tried before): tapered black jeans, with the bottoms sort of scrunched up against large, round-toe cluncky black boots; captain's hat.



Note to Bono: tapered leg jeans are not flattering on short, thick men. I love you and feel that you could wear sweatpants and still look good. And I know that I am not one to talk, with my parachute jeans, but I'd like to see you in a nice straight leg trouser, in which your leg seenms to float, rather than shlump.

Moving on....
Highlights of the concert include

1. Eating a FANTASTIC french onion steak sandwich at Red Rock before we went to the Delta Center.

2. Kacy and me running like the wind when we realized we were waiting for Christian at the wrong spot and that we could possibly be late for Bono's big entrance. "I hate us!" Kacy yelled as we flew across the icey sidewalk. For those of you who know me personally, you know that it's a big deal for me to run. In fact, I don't think I've run since '01, when I was trying to catch a bus in Shanghai....

3. Bono appearing OUT OF NOWHERE on the stage! How did he do that?

4. Kacy and Christian meeting a member of Maroon Five while I was in the STINKIN' bathroom! I'm always in the bathroom when important things are going on.

5. Bono taking off his sunglasses for a touching rendition of Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own.

6. Kacy breaking into the touching moment by shouting "is that a bald spot on Bono's head?"

7. Kacy shouting "take your shirt off!" at Bono during his political commentary (steak sandwich dinner: $20. U2 ticket: $160. Kacy's running commentary during the concert: priceless).

8. Larry Mullen Jr. coming onto the ramp to play a single drum, while Kacy and I commented on his large upper body and seemingly atrophied waist and legs. Drummer's syndrome?

9. Everything Bono did, including wearing this shirt:


10. Ending the concert with 40, and Larry Mullen Jr. being the last to leave the stage.

11. The dance moves of the man in front of us, who liked to do "rainbow hands" and "jazz hands" throughout the concert.

In all, it was WICKED AWESOME.

Happy Blanniversary to ME!

Today marks the one year anniversary of my blog. It is very close to the one year anniversary of Kacy's blog, which is no coincidence. I started blogging because she did, just like I got a Masters degree in Rhetoric because she did. When it comes to Kacy, my motto is "monkey see, monkey do."

Actually, the exact date of my blogiversary is unknown, because I started a blog and then deleted it in a post-op-medication-induced fit of depression and self-doubt. I got my appendix out, started a blog, and had a breakdown because I was sure that Sarah Marinara (the first non-relative to ever read my blog) had removed my name from her list of links. Over a period of, let's see...24 hours, I thought better of deleting my blog, and started it up again, this time lowering any expectations of Sarah Marinara ever reading it again. See? I told you I was all whacked out on my pain meds. Alas, my first blog ever written (entitled "Kitchen Sluts and the Bible") is lost forever. Now Sarah Marinara is married and I am about to give birth to child number two. Who knows that would have happened if I hadn't continued to blog??

I've been thinking a lot about my wild blogging ride, and I've decided that I am qualified to give others lots and lots of good blogging advice. So, those of you who are thinking about starting a blog of your own (Emily, this means YOU), here are some tips:

1. Never accidentally steal someone else's bandwidth. And, if you do, send them 12 cents immediately to rectify the situation. If the person happens to be an ardent Japanophile who is very sensitive about his picture of a girl in a kimono, you are in especially big trouble.

2. Never, ever, ever JOKE about the phrase "Junque for Jesus" because someone may give you a lecture about--heaven forbid--your own need for charity some day. Hey, I'm already there, my sensitive friend. I'm already there....

3. Never discuss the boys you went out with--even in code, and in innocuous terms--because there's the slim, but present, chance that one of them will google you and feel a need to write several lengthy blogs detailing his version of your short-lived relationship. Woopsie daisies!


So, that is basically the blogging trinity. Follow those three rules and you'll be fine. Learn from my mistakes.

And, to commemorate my one year, I will refer you to an early post and provide the accompanying picture that should have gone with it (but it took me a year to figger out how to post a picture).

Ahhh, those were the days. I knew so little of what lay ahead...

Happy Birthday, Hoss

Roses are red
I’m much older, and wise
But I’d give all that up
To have my 19-year-old thighs

There once was a girl named Carly
Who had eating habits like Chris Farley (RIP)
When she turned twenty-seven
She just thanked heaven
That her blog turned out so gnarly

Roses are red
I got a birthday card
With an ad for orthapedic shoe inserts
To support all this extra lard

There once was a girl named Cletus
In whose belly there was a fetus
Her brithday has come
So, come on, all you bums
Fly out to Tucson and meet us

Stuck on you like hump on grandma,
Love
Yourself

Places Where I Don't Belong

1. The Quarry or any other rock climbing place: no explanation necessary.



2. Hot Topic: I used to go in there all the time, but then I got married and had a kid, and, Kacy was right: strollers really don't fit in with leopard print lingerie and fishnets.



3. The posh Shops at Riverwoods: When the only thing you can afford is a spatula at Williams Sonoma, people look at you like they know....



4. Pet hospitals: I leaf through the lovingly-made scrapbooks full of cats named "Worthington III" and feel guilty about locking our cat, Headcheese, outside of my house all winter long.



5. Spas: I want to be a spa-attending person, I really, really do. But I feel so out of place there because of my split ends and my neglected eyebrows, and well, you've seen my legs.



6. Health Food Stores: they know I'm a fraud the moment I walk in, carrying my leather bag, chatting on my cell phone, fixing my makeup in a mirror, stepping on people's Birkentsock-clad toes with my spiked heels--I just exude all things synthetic.



7. The work room for all English Deparment faculty: people look at me like I'm a student and I don't belong there. Plus, I cower every time one of my old professors walks in and PRETENDS he/she doesn't know who I am. As if...



8. Nordstrom: unless it is the discount rack, I feel way out of place here. Unlike a place like Mervyns (where I totally fit in) the clothes are arranged according to designers' "collections." I just keep wandering around looking for the "misses" signs feeling under-dressed.



9. In the English part time faculty newsletter in which exceptional faculty, their teaching methods and recent publications, are highlighted (unless you count a blog as a major publication).



10. Ski resorts: no explanation necessary.



Places where I DO Belong:



1. Wal-Mart



2. Albertsons



3. Antique stores



4. Cozy Clothing



5. My couch



6. Shopko



7. Fast food restaurants



8. The internet



9. A cruise ship at the all-you-can-eat buffet



10. My bed, even more so when there's memory foam on it.