Well, it’s that time of year again…when we traipse out to Sauvie Island in search of the Great Pumpkin and hope it doesn’t decide to pour rain on us. Lately we’ve been so preoccupied with shoving our poor children into the car on weekends in search of the perfect home that we decided that we at least owed them a trip to The Pumpkin Patch. And yes, I mean literally, The Pumpkin Patch. That’s what the place is called. Clever, right?
As if Mondays aren’t bad enough, I had the pleasure of ending mine with a visit to the dentist where I proceeded to be tortured with six – yes, SIX shots in my mouth. Seriously, they do know that torture is illegal, right?
It’s really no wonder why I hate going to the dentist more each year. Except, that was kind of part of the problem. Yes, it is here that I must shamefully admit that until last week, I had not been in for a cleaning since about June 2010. But not without reason! It was also then that I had the lovely experience of oral surgery on both sides of my mouth to fix receding gums. And then it was that August that I had the infamous – at least in my mind – “jaw episode” and believe me, for quite a while after that the thought of even stepping foot in the dentist’s office for a cleaning was just not going to happen. So yes, it was more than a year before I finally decided that I was going to have to suck it up and make a cleaning appt.
I feel lucky that both of our children have generally been fans of their bedtime (so far, at least). Take tonight, for instance. I got home just after 6:30 p.m. Jeff had already fed Elena (because she also takes after her brother in the area of no patience when it comes to her dinner time) and not five minutes after I walked in, she was at the gate shaking it while she proclaimed, “bat! bat! bat!” Translated: I’m ready to go upstairs and take my bath and head to bed, people! But geez, it wasn’t even 7pm. Apparently she doesn’t realize that it’s okay for her to start stretching out her bedtime instead of being ready even earlier.
Regardless, I must say that after Jeff takes care of the baths and I chase her around to get jammies on and attempt to brush her teeth (she does not take after her brother in the cooperation department…or at least when he used to be generally cooperative pre-kindergarten, but that’s another post), our last minutes before bedtime are ones that I wish I could bottle up and take out whenever I need a smile in the years to come. Every night it’s the same routine:
I am absolutely positive that Closet Gremlins exist. What is a Closet Gremlin, you ask? Well, as the name implies, they are little gremlins who invade my closet at the beginning of every new season and steal all my clothes from the season that just ended so that, when that season rolls around again, all of the essential pieces of my wardrobe that are appropriate for that season are gone. Just like that.
I know this is true because every time I go digging for clothes at the start of a new season, I have absolutely nothing to wear. And I think, “How can that be?” Because I clearly recall going shopping and making purchases. And, I definitely recall wearing clothes every day. I also recall being in an outfit routine. You know – rotating things in and out – trying to space them out appropriately so I don’t get caught walking down the hall and having someone think, “Um, didn’t she just wear that the day before yesterday??” (Because zoo staff can be tough on fashion, let me tell you.)
As you might guess, I’m writing about this now because the Closet Gremlins have struck again. October in Portland has come in like a lion. Sunshine? Gone. Clear days? Gone. Rain? Check! Fog? Check! Apparently Mother Nature decided that Halloween was just too late for the crappy weather to start, so she’s getting a jump on things this year. Because of this, I suddenly have the need to reacquaint myself with all those lovely items I purchased last year. Except that I go in my closet in the mornings and I haven’t a clue what I wore last winter because it’s all disappeared. Sadly, this is why I am forced to go shopping again. It’s the fault of my Closet Gremlins, really, well dressed as they are.