Category: Random

When you’re a kid, you are always counting down to the next great thing. You count down to Christmas. You count down to Birthdays. It’s all so exciting!

Two weeks ago, Justin turned 35. So obviously, it meant that in 14 days, I too would be turning 35.

Then, I woke up this morning, and Justin was wishing me happy birthday. Oh crap, that’s right!

The excitement over the day is lost. It’s cool–I have now graduated to the next age bracket. I’m no longer 25-34. Nope, welcome to 35-44!

This morning at work–my very last day as a lead lifeguard (yes, that’s right. I am once again an Assistant Aquatics Manager. Or at least, I am, as of tomorrow)–my boss called: “what are you doing this morning?”  Well, I was planning on guarding: “what do you want me to be doing this morning?” It turns out, he wanted me to go to a meeting with a team of 10 individuals to discuss locker room renovations at the gym/pool.

Of course, I’m wearing a bathing suit and flipping hot pants. This is how I make first impressions. With booty shorts. Pardon my bathing suit, I wasn’t expecting to be walking around with a handful of adults who put clothes on to go to work.

It all went swimmingly (see what I did there)! I even got to give some input, and hopefully they were able to hear my ideas over my hot pink tank top and spandex.

I worked out with Terry, who had me do terrible, terrible “box jumps” up a dang amphitheater’s outdoor cement retaining wall-style seating. There is nothing more terrifying that jumping onto a 2-3ft cement barrier. It felt more like 5ft (um, yes, I was jumping walls nearly as high as I am tall. Ok, maybe I wasn’t, but my shins were telling me it was all much too high for any human to jump). This is his idea of fun–all in my preparation for the Spartan Race in July.

I had intended on going out to dinner for my birthday. Of course, at 6:30am when I finished throwing dinner into the crockpot, I remembered today was my birthday. So much for going out.

All during dinner, our puppy, Emma, kept running outside, and then running back in. We watched her carry one of her blankets outside. Oh Emma, you’re a crazy girl. The kids asked to be excused. Then Justin told Emma to “drop it.” What did she have? Oh, just a skein of green embroidery floss. I glanced outside and saw that she had already brought pink string out. We watched her drop the green skein. Justin wandered out to pick up the string: “Sammi! You need to see this!” I better get my phone…

It turns out, Emma was creating some sort of shrine to a dead mouse. String art, with a rodent center.

I might have forgotten that today was my birthday, but at the end of it all, I was given a pretty awesome gift. A ridiculous collection of string, places around a dead mouse. And a full evening of giggles. Thanks Emma.

And thank you to everyone who wished me Happy Birthday! I’m now closer to 40 than I am to 30, and that’s totally cool. I’m still just as awkward!

This morning, I finally remembered to shave my legs. For a lady who spends most days in a bathing suit, I should really be better about shaving regularly. But, my legs are long, and it feels like it takes forever. And I always end up with tiny cuts everywhere.

This morning, my worst nightmare came true.

I should start by explaining that I took a film class my freshman year of college. The professor had us watch a short film by Scorsese, titled “The Big Shave.” In it, a man shaves his face. Then he goes back and shaves again, this time shaving his skin off. Now, I am a girl who likes gross things. Blood and injuries. It’s all fabulous and interesting! But that short has stuck with me for 17 years, and still, the thought of it makes me cringe.

I basically reenacted that short this morning. 

Instantly, I had an “oh crap” moment–especially since I was only halfway through shaving my first leg when the incident occurred! I WANTED to call it quits, as the blood mixed with water and made the injury look a million times worse.

Alas, I managed to finish shaving, without passing out from the blood loss. Miraculously enough, I did manage to complete the job with any further incidents. But really, there has to be a better way! This is probably why I only shave my legs once a week…or maybe this is the result of weekly shaving. I have no skills.

The struggle is so real, folks.

I see people my age, out in the world, dressed like big kids (or, adults maybe), and I don’t even know where to start.

After a tumultuous week, I finally took my Mom’s advice (which was, “men don’t get hints. Be bold! Say, ‘I want this job and you know I’ll be good at it!”), and talked to my boss. And also cried. Because I have overactive tear ducts, and they don’t know what to do in serious situation. I’ve tried talking to them, about controlling themselves, but the moment I started to say, “I’m crushed! I feel like I’ve done a great job these last 6 weeks, and now I’m told I’m ineligible, because of a technicality?!” Cue the tears. Thankfully, my boss has daughters, and obviously understands the struggles of emotional ladies.

The next step will be to interview, on Tuesday (send me positive energy, please). Which means dressing nice. Eeks!

Apart from the 6 months I worked in a salon, all the way back in 2005, my work attire has been bathing suits, and workout clothes. I had to dress up for monthly meetings when I was the Aquatics Coordinator back in Germany, but, not only was that nearly a decade ago, I was also pregnant for more than half of it.

Add to that the whole “Mom” thing. Every time I attempt to shop for myself, I either go crazy buying clothes for my kids, or I stumble into the fitness section and end up with running shorts and workout pants. Sometimes tops. Later I think, “crud! I was there to buy one pair of jeans! How did I end up with 10 neon tank tops!?”

I didn’t even let myself look at the fitness section. No! Booty shorts are not interview appropriate. Are they? Maybe if I was 21 and a size 2. But probably not ever. I don’t know anything about anything.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m a sweaty girl? If I just think about warm weather, I start sweating! Nothing says Professional Lady like boob sweat! That adds extra thought to any outfits. Ooh, pink! Just kidding. Better stick with darker colors. Can I please just wear running pants and a t-shirt?!

Justin was helpful: “What?! No! Sammi, that is not business casual!” Our kids were bored: “Mom? Can we buy something? Anything?!” Xander was full of compliments, as usual, and Shea gave all kinds of style advice, to include choosing this shirt:Nothing says “real, live grownup, who wants a big girl job,” like a t-shirt that reads, “Oh Please.” She gets it.

Outfits have been bought, adult status has hopefully been achieved. Honestly, for me, that was the hardest part of the interview process. I’m an introvert who loves to perform (that has to be an oxymoron), and that’s really all an interview is. Look at that, my performance major is actually relevant in life!

No really, I’m a total mess. Disorganized. Disheveled. Mainly, I’m too busy trying to remember to do everything, so when I jump from one task to the next, I end up lost. In my mess.

I’m currently sitting in the waiting room at the health clinic, because I like to wait until the very VERY last minute to do everything. Last night I took my very last anti-depressant. I ran out of birth control probably 6 months ago. And MY HIP.

Of course, then as I’m filling out the required nonsense (how hopeless do YOU feel today), this gem catches my eye:

Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. I manage to convince myself to come to the doctor once in a milennia.

But of course, I set my bag down and realize the pink canvas messanger bag I carry my life around in is covered in coffee stains.  Obviously. Because I spill coffee on a daily basis (I’m not kidding. I’ve even managed to spill coffee into a pair of boots, while wearing them). But of course stains on stuff are just gross, and even worse is that on pink, coffee stains come across more like blood stains! It looks like a murder occurred in close proximity to my bag! And I am carrying this around on my person!!! 

I can only picture what people think when they see me out in the world, with my murder bag. I know what I would be thinking, if I saw someone who wasn’t me. Gross!

This is me, unable to adult. Once again. I have no shame.

Lies. I have so much shame. Well, a little shame. I can hear Justin: “why are you gross!?” I can’t help it. I have a limited number of things I can remember to do on a daily basis, and Not Be Gross isn’t on the list. Although, really–it should be.

And of course when all is said and done, I still managed to forget to bring up my lack of birth control. So, I guess I stuck to their 2 Issue Limit.

Yeah. That’s right. You wish you were carrying around the coffee stained murder bag. Don’t be jealous. Not everyone can pull off the homeless look.