The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

I Shouldn’t Be Allowed Out In Public

So much ridiculousness and so little time here at Real Estate Tangent. I’m just going to give you a few little snippets of my current insanity for today (feel free to assume I’m super busy with important real estate things and not obsessively watching every single episode of Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis in sequential order and wishing Jeff was my best frenemy):

1.    I went to the Arizona Blogger Conference 2012 (or ABC12) this weekend. I found out about it on Twitter from one of the adorable (young) bloggers I’ve been following, Kara. I should have probably guessed that because she is an attractive, early 20s, style/lifestyle blogger and the other organizers of the event appeared equally so, most of the attendees would be too, but for some reason I was unprepared to be the old lady in a way too normal outfit. I mean, for chrissake, I didn’t even have a headdress. It was sort of humiliating. I should have worn my tennisy-running skirt with the pasta spoon attachment. Then at least I would have fit in a little better. Jeans and a dark grey sweater-top with ballet flats? What the hell was I thinking?

The conference was fun, though. There were amazing goodie bags, great speakers and even fun vendor tables to peruse. One vendor was a hair salon in Scottsdale. The hair ladies were doing samples of a new product for everyone at the event. The product was a sort of ‘hair shadow’ that produces a temporary colored streak effect. It’s basically a packed powder (like an eye shadow) you rub on a section of hair to get a pink, orange or purple streak that washes out. Everyone at the conference was walking around with awesome hair streaks.

Of course I was in love with this product. I’ve always wanted to go super edgy and get like a sleeve tattoo or my eyebrow pierced or dye my hair navy blue or something, but I’ve never felt quite committed enough. I just sort of want to try on a full sleeve tattoo and see if I can pull it off. Can’t I just see if I like it for awhile? No?

Because I’m a total wannabe and I loved how the purple streak was subtle, but awesome in my dark hair, I bought a container of this stuff.

The morning after the conference, Jason, the kids and I got up early to make the two hour drive to Tucson to have brunch with the kids’ Grandma Linda, who was in town for a wedding. The plan was to hang out with Grandma Linda for awhile, drive back to Mesa and have family dinner at my parents’ house for my brother-in-law’s birthday. I was wearing a scarf with a little bit of purple in it and I wanted to show my sister this hair stuff I bought (and let’s face it, I’m an eight year old who got something new and wants to wear it RIGHT NOW), so I put a purple streak in my hair before we left.

Two hours later, we got down to Tucson, walked in to the lobby of a nice hotel and spotted Grandma Linda with a group of her cousins also in town for the wedding. The Newlin family trooped over and was greeted warmly and introduced all around. After introductions, Linda leaned in to hug me and say hello, and pressed her cheek against the side of my head in a friendly southern hug (she’s from Dallas).

As Linda pulled away and smiled at me, I realized, with horror that my obnoxious purple hair streak had transferred directly to the side of her lovely face. I kid you not, it looked like this:

I was faced with no choice but to explain to her and the rest of the group of 50-65 year old women I’d met 13 seconds earlier why my hair had just rubbed off on her face.

Please don’t let me pierce anything. Things would inevitably get embarrassing AND dangerous.

2.    When we were finally on our way home last night after being out for most of the day, Jonas announced fairly urgently he had to go pee. We were only about three miles from home and he’s four and a half years old, well past the potty-training stage, so we told him to hold it and we’d be home in just a second.

This resulted in a fairly passionate second attempt on his part to get us to… stop on the side of the road, I guess? But we really were just so close, and we figured he was being tired and dramatic, so we renewed our assertions that he cross his legs and think of something else for 45 seconds and we’d be home.

We should have known there was a problem when he quieted right down, but we are stupid, stupid parents. We really had hope that for once, he’d just decided to stop arguing and do what he was told. It’s like we’ve never even met Jonas.

No, he just decided then and there he was going to pee himself, his car seat and the seat underneath and that was that. He didn’t bother to announce it, and he didn’t sob with remorse or embarrassment like other children might. He quietly, calculatingly, spitefully relieved himself all over the inside of the GOV and got out like nothing had happened. It wasn’t until Gray touched Jonas’s car seat while getting out that anyone was alerted to the disgusting mess.

I know Jonas thought for a minute there that he had us by the balls. We’d made him live in discomfort for 78 seconds longer than he wanted to, so he was going to punish us but good. The kid’s smart enough to know I would have to clean up his urine-soaked chair and that I wasn’t going to enjoy it. I’m pretty sure he regrets it now, though. It’s only been about 15 hours since the incident, but I think the fact that I’ve answered every question he’s asked me for the last 15 hours with, “NO YOU CANNOT BECAUSE YOU PEED IN THE CAR AND I HAD TO CLEAN IT UP,” has already gotten a little old. And you can believe I’m going to continue answering in that manner until he’s an adult and buys his own car and I’m an old lady with a weak bladder and we go on a road trip together and I drink 5 Snapples in a row (because I’m sure by that point Diet Coke will have been outlawed as toxic for human consumption) and ‘just can’t hold it to the next rest stop’. Then we’ll be even and I’ll forgive him.

3.    I was emailing today with a friend who’s frustrated with her boyfriend. He’s a certain type of man I am quite familiar with because I’m married to one. I kind of want to write a book on marriage and communication and call it, Tell Me I’m Pretty Right Now and Make Me Believe It. But the problem is I’d have to tell the story about how I dumped a pitcher of cold water on my husband one time while he was sleeping as a method of communication and as soon as people read that one I’d probably lose my credibility in the self-help industry. So I guess I won’t.

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