annual WTF- do- they- wear- for- easter post

Easter revolves around these shoes....because they keep my little girl looking 3.... and since she typically looks like she is 5 and acts like she is 20, she needs every bit of 3 she can get.
Here's what I'm thinking....


MIDDLE:




OLDIELOCKS:

or the white dress with yellow sweater......




BALONEY:

This is my life......

My daughter just told me she puts stink bombs in her underwear.

She then stares at me with a blank face and says...

"What?"

I looked at her and said "What?" (I mean really, is that conversation starter?)

"Well, I'm like "what" and you're all like... frozen."

To which she makes a horrible grotesque face. As if she froze witnessing a horrifying incident while falling.

An apparently that's how I look, upon news such as stink bombs.

Before laughing hysterically.

And she's only 3.

The happy in my day

"We tend to seek happiness when happiness is actually a choice."

Today I chose:

to take delight in watching my little girl give her speech about Wales, and realized that my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. The best part was when I winked at her when it was over, she smiled that snaggly tooth grin and blinked both her eyes back at me. My Middle.

to listen to my Baloney chatter away in my back seat and enjoy just how very lucky that I am to have such a chatty girl. Not a day goes by that I don't laugh at that girl.

to watch my Oldest do her homework, easy peasy, no questions asked. Her ease and love of learning is a gift. To herself and to us. She is brilliant.

to be happy, and ignore when others say things that try to make me unhappy. Sometimes I think people are waiting for someone to make them happy, when really happiness is there all along. I need to remember this when it starts to suck me in.

to help the husband. He does so much for me, and simply just loves me, every day, all the time. It made me happy to help him. He is perfect.

I still wear hooker shoes

Years ago, when I first met my husband's mother, she commented on my choice of shoes. I was wearing a long skirt with a tank top, and we were going out. She took one look at my knee high black boots with a chunky heel and exclaimed,

"You are wearing streetwalker boots!!!"

She sounds like a pearl clutcher, but really, she's not. Nor is she from the farms of Amish town or the halls of a convent. Streetwalker? Really? Who says that? A hooker is a hooker is a hooker. Go ahead and say hooker boots. (to which most hookers would laugh, since they were more clubbin boots. I got game.) I should have told her to save the streetwalker business for someone that doesn't know that she shows off her cleavage. Always.

Anyways, I have given birth to 3 kids. And cared for several more. I have found grey hairs on my head and worn my pajamas to drop my kids off at school more times than I can count. I have worn fat mom pants, and driven a mom car. I scrapbook, and fold laundry and only get my hair done a few times a year. And nails. I work out sometimes and stuff my face with my kids leftovers the other days.

But if you open my closet, there they be...... hooker shoes. High heels galore, boots with heels. And when I put them on... I am every bit the hot momma that my husband met all those years ago. I will always have hooker shoes.