I am awesome.

I've been online for a while tonight. Checking other's blogs. Trying to get some ideas for my own posts; something that doesn't fully revolve around my children or my husband. Not that I get tired of these subjects, I just wonder if others do. And then I realized that I don't have a lot going on. If you take Jeff, Riley, and Cole out of my life's day to day, I'm a really boring person. Today I went to Sam's, as in, Sam's Warehouse Store. (See?) I noticed a tall, skinny girl standing behind me wearing skintight jeans, a low-cut top, and bright red high-heels with little white lacy socks. That was interesting. Her hair was, too. It was a black bob with about six, inch wide streaks of blood red throughout. She looked like she could be older than I, however, I'm not a good judge on stuff like that. When women wear a lot of make-up, it completely blows any chance I may have had at guessing their age. It totally throws me off. As I stood in line, trying to appear to be reading the directions on my new boat-sized bottle of shampoo, I found myself checking out her outfit and hair, and trying to evaluate her age; wondering what she does for a living. Then I focused on what she was buying. A humongous package of AA batteries and a humongous chocolate fudge cake. I suddenly had all these rude, kind of obscene, and somewhat catty thoughts about what she would need with those items. And then I had to mentally chastise myself, because I have become this total wench that stands in store lines and judges people for what they are buying. Embarrassed, I looked at the conveyor belt that now held my stuff: the aforementioned shampoo, a gigantic bottle of stool-softeners, some fiber capsules, and Miralax. Oh, and some strawberries, for my kids. Clearly, I have reason to be judgemental. I stood there contemplating my items and hers...and imagining a conversation we'd have, because we obviously have so much in common.

Me to girl: "Hey, I like your hair. I've always wanted to do something like that, but have been too wimpy to try...I'm 30, and I'm just not sure how well it would go over. But I am wearing two braids, see? I can be a little out-of-control sometimes."

Girl to me: "Oh, I would have never guessed you were 30. You totally look younger than that. And I love those braids, they are definitely making a subliminal statement.

Me to girl: "Ahhh, thanks. Also, I've been admiring your clothing ensemble. I can't wear skinny jeans. But I am pregnant. So I can't really wear skinny anything right now." (We both laugh, because in my imaginary dialog I am hilarious).

Girl to me: "You're pregnant? I totally would have never known. (If you would have seen her, you'd agree she'd be a person that says 'totally' a lot). How far along are you?" (Now I would have to lie, because I can't let her know I've never been able to wear skinny jeans...not since I was eight). (Also, in my imagination she's never been pregnant in her life, because she has one of those model bodies. And if she has, I won't waste a perfectly good delusion with reality).

Me to Girl: "Well, I have a few more months left, but I'm already feeling like I'm done being pregnant, you know?"

Girl to Me: "I've never been, but I can imagine." (We then end our conversation because it's time for me to purchase my stool-softeners).

Yes, it's a bit pathetic that I played out that entire scene in my head. And she probably thought I was mentally handicapped--especially because I have a severe staring problem when I'm daydreaming, and who seriously reads the directions on their shampoo? This is the kind of crap you have struggle through when it's all about me. I like to pretend that I'm a lot more interesting than I am....but this is it; like my picture, rolls and zit-cream and all. If I wasn't married, if I wasn't a mom, this would be all I had. So be grateful for me having others that I can tattle on, and tell stories about,and possibly over-exaggerate about. Need I say more? Please, please, no.