Loft vs. Random Craigslist Person
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch, Uncategorized
On Friday, November 23rd, I went to Ann Taylor Loft, trying to find an outfit for two holiday parties I had this past weekend. I found something I liked, but the pants were a bit too short, as they always are unless I order a tall pair online (They do not carry tall sizes in stores). I figured I could tuck the pants into some boots and “make it work” Tim Gunn style. However, when I brought them home and started thinking about it, I realized that it is ridiculous for me to own a pair of pants that I can only wear with boots. I went online, found a similar pair of pants in a tall size and ordered. Standard shipping takes 5-8 days. So, I paid $14.95 for shipping so that I’d have them on the third business day. I didn’t want to be without pants for the party, and thanks to my nursing-for-a-year body, I’m a rail right now so there are no pants that fit me in the house.
Let’s review. I ordered them Friday, the 23rd of November, at about 4 p.m.
I emailed Loft on Tuesday because when I clicked on the tracking number, it gave me a message that said a label had been printed but that the package had not yet arrived at the UPS facility. I was concerned. Their customer service person told me I’d have my pants by Wednesday at 7 p.m. She told me if I didn’t, to call back then.
Guess what didn’t show up by Wednesday at 7 p.m.
Because I’d had the day from hell, I asked Mr. BBM to please call customer service and find out where my damn pants were. He told me it was unlikely they would talk to him because he isn’t me. I told him to tell them he was me, but with a head cold.
The phone call basically went like this:
Mr. BBM (in girl voice): “Hello, this is Jessica.”
Loft Person: “Um sir, you don’t need to do this.”
And then they pretty much told him they have no idea where my pants are. They’re pretty much Osama Bin Laden, circa 2004. While on hold with Loft’s customer service, Mr. BBM called me on my cell phone. I was en route to another mall with my Mom to try to find different pants. I answered the phone via my bluetooth van connection so my Mom was privy to the conversation. Mr. BBM started to tell me I wasn’t going to have my pants, and what happened next was an adult-sized temper tantrum of epic proportions.
“You tell them to OVERNIGHT ME a NEW PAIR of PANTS!” I told him.
“Yeah, they’re not going to do that. It’s past 3 p.m. so they couldn’t overnight until tomorrow and they don’t deliver on Saturday” he said.
I flipped out and said a lot of things my PG blog can’t handle and I’m pretty sure my Mom was wondering how she had ever given birth to this spawn of Satan who was spewing out F-bombs about pants. But I was completely done with the day and the whole situation and I just couldn’t help myself.
While Mr. BBM negotiated a refund on the $14.95 shipping and a $10 gift card (not e-gift card because I had sworn to him I would NEVER EVER get back together with Loft online-yes, Taylor Swift style), I decided to stop at White House Black Market, where they actually have pants with at least a 33″ inseam IN STOCK.
I found a new outfit there for the party and came home.
Rewind to Monday. . . I was hoping to find a stocking holder that matches the other two I have for the girls for Little Man. I happened to find one online that a woman in Virginia was selling for $2. I paid her via PayPal and took a chance she was not a serial killer or thief when I gave her my address so she could mail it to me. It arrived on Wednesday. . . before my promised pants. A random Craigslist person is a more efficient and trust-worthy shipper. Seriously.
Today is Monday, December 3rd. This morning, my $10 Loft gift card, the “apology” for not sending my pants on time, arrived on my doorstep. The apology arrived BEFORE the actual pants. If they don’t arrive tomorrow by 7 p.m., Loft will launch an “investigation,” comp my pants and send me a new pair, which, you know, if I’m lucky, might show up by July. Velvet pants are so in during July.
The Problem with Election Years, Dishonesty and Facebook
When I was a writing major at the University of Pittsburgh, there was much discussion in many of my classes about integrity and honesty in journalism and writing. As a creative nonfiction major, brutal honesty was important. Since you have the “creative” part though, there was always the question of how creative you could get without losing the integrity of the piece. This commitment to honesty is a big reason why I have yet to write any kind of nonfiction memoir. People I write about would hate me. I tend to see people for who and what they are. Most people don’t like that kind of honesty.
Often, when I am relaying the events of my day to Mr. BBM, he will say, “You really need to write a book about this.” But I don’t. I don’t even blog about it anymore because everyone I know reads this blog. I’ve offended people by what I’ve written even when I’ve been genuinely complimentary. Simply put, I just can’t win; but regardless, I always stand behind what I write and what I think. Agree with me or not, you always know where I stand.
Which brings me to what I really want to discuss, the lack of integrity and honesty in writing these days. There doesn’t seem to be any fact-checking anymore. Writers can throw together numbers and half-truths to make any story they like. There are no consequences for writing something that’s not truthful, unless you consider a “consequence” being booked on every national TV show to gain more publicity for yourself. It’s for this reason that I absolutely despise election years. Facebook statuses becomes less about “what you are doing” and more about what political statement you can make without really making a statement. Of course, some people are blatant about it. Most of these people have been hidden in my news feed because I need to keep my blood pressure under control; many are not even respectful about it. For example, my favorite offensive statement of the political season: “Anyone who votes for Romney is stupid and/or racist.” I’ll be voting for Romney and I’m neither of those things.
Others post links to various biased b.s. and then get upset when you post something contrary that happens to be factual. The other day someone posted a picture of low gas prices that said something to the effect of “just kidding-these WERE the prices when Obama first took office” on their Facebook feed. A comment quickly followed about gas prices under George W. Bush. I had a feeling it wasn’t an accurate statement so I looked it up out of curiosity and came across several articles, one an article that looked at gas prices for every President since Carter. The article then broke down the percentages that gas prices rose or fell under Carter, Reagan, Clinton, both Bush’s and Obama. I posted it. It happens to be interesting. A person replying after me said that he was a registered Republican and that you have to look at a bunch of different areas and to keep an open mind. He cited the stock market stats. To be honest, I had no idea what any of those numbers meant so I asked Mr. BBM about it and went “hmm, ok.” There was no argument. It was three people stating opinions on a picture of gas prices, a picture that was an obvious political statement. Then what happened was this. . . the person who posted the picture said she didn’t mean to be political (It was a picture of gas prices and had the word “Obama” in it. . . um, ok) and that people should chill. Her father then commented on our thread of articles and told us all to “get a life.” Not a single one of us had said anything even slightly disrespectful to each other or about anyone else. There was no argument. Then another post was started about how wacky people are (me and the other two commenters apparently) and someone said something to the effect of, “Wow, how did that get so out of control?”
Blink. Blink.
Um, have they ever watched a show when Ann Coulter or Alan Colmes happens to be booked? Our posts were wacky? Out of control? No, actually they were rather pensive and respectful of each other considering that we are only weeks away from an election and obviously don’t agree with each other. And wait a second, didn’t the owner of the page post the picture to begin with? I found myself wishing Facebook had a “Hide this person until after the election” button. Instead I decided it was time to bid this “friend” adieu. When you bait people, and then get ticked that they are having a discussion about it, and then try to back away from the fact that you even posted it when it still lives on your wall, that’s just odd. How did I even become friends with someone I barely remember from school anyway? It made me gain that much more respect for my friends who allow polite disagreement on their pages; in fact, some people even encourage it. This political season is ripe with controversy right now. And if this doesn’t also prove that I really need to spend some time weeding my FB “friends” and with my heavy bag, I don’t know what will. Things like this probably shouldn’t tick me off as much as this did. Frankly, I’m tired of all the political nonsense.
On the eve of the first debate, I can’t help but think about that Jim Carrey movie “Liar, Liar.” You know, where he is compelled to tell the truth and only the truth? Wouldn’t it be nice if that happened on debate day with both candidates? If I operate under this same premise, it’s probably wise that I stay off my Facebook news feed tomorrow through the first week of November. In fact, maybe longer.
Six Months
Babies develop in phases. Maybe it’s because he’s my third one, maybe because he’s my last one, but the time periods between these phases are entirely too short. Baby Belated is now 6 months old and it feels like he’s doing something new every single day.
He went from being this pleasant little infant, to a very busy and curious little guy who just doesn’t want to stay still. In the past two months, he’s mastered sitting, and easily goes from sitting into a belly crawling position. Speaking of belly crawling, he’s getting quite good at moving around. He can push himself completely up with straight arms and he’s beginning to move those legs into crawling position. Yes, I’m getting scared. If I leave him to go wash my hands, I am now coming back to find him feet away from where I left him. He’s realllly good at moving himself backwards; and if there’s something new to explore, like his sister’s book bag, he finds a way to get there.
He’s decided that diaper changes are super bothersome to his busy schedule. I can’t remember the last time he didn’t try to escape when I changed him. Last week, he started saying “da da.” And although he hasn’t yet mastered “ma ma,” Mr. BBM is pretty sure that he’s calling me “ra ra.” I’ll take it.
I’m also happy to take the giant sloppy kisses he’s now giving. Yes, that’s a hickey on my arm from little man. Yes, that’s likely drool dripping off my cheek after one of his killer sweet kisses. I get these little affections quite often now considering the little guy has discovered we are no longer attached and does not like that at all, not one bit.
Although he just started eating cereal and some fruit last week, he’s pretty much mastered that. He’s already eying up my eggs and bacon in the morning.
At his well visit last week, the doctor reported that he is now 29 inches long (100th percentile and just plain ridiculous) and 18.6 lbs (60th percentile). He’s a lean, sweet, little machine. While our doctor was examining his belly, he started giggling so hard that he was snorting. I’m fairly certain his doctor fell in love with him, because she just kept tickling his belly and telling him how cute he is. Not that I’m biased or anything, but my little man is a looker. He’s the cutest thing EVER.
His personality is developing so rapidly and it’s such a good one. He enjoys making us laugh and has started doing this adorable little face where he scrunches his nose and breaths in and out really fast. The girls crack up and then he does it even more. He loves to laugh and we do lots of it in this house, now that he’s here.
Tonight, Mr. BBM helped him to stand up and he was taking actual steps. I told Mr. BBM to knock that off immediately. I have much more baby proofing to do around here. I’m already freaking out about having a crawler in the house; an early walker? Um, no thanks.
I realize the blog updates have been few and far between. That’s because I am soaking in every single moment with him (and I’m slightly out of practice with writing something good and effective in these short baby-free moments). I know how fast they grow up (says the mom of a now 11-year old), and I’m determined not to miss a thing about this little guy. Not a thing.
5 Months
This week, my baby turned five months old. . . already.
How did that happen?
The last month has been full of new things for Baby Belated. He turned his rolling of February into a mastered art in March. He started sitting up by himself and thinks that falling over into my waiting hands is the most hysterical thing ever.
He discovered that his feet make lovely teethers and when you can fit a hand in there at the same time, it’s even better.
Peek-a-boo has become a new and favorite activity. In fact, he sometimes laughs so hard that he chokes. Diaper changes have become episodes of “catch me if you can” as he rolls and wiggles away to discover something new.
More stable now, Swim Girl has discovered that she can carry him around; and oh, how the little guy loves his big sisters. Swim Girl finds it a personal challenge to get her little brother laughing at new things each day. Her crazy sounds and faces are quite popular in the repertoire. And of course, Sassy is never far behind in imitating her big sister. If it can make him laugh, it’s the activity of the day.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but I can’t help but reiterate how wonderful an addition this little man has been to our family. Now if I could just get him to slow down a bit.
Little Girl Drama
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch, Uncategorized
I never know what I’m going to hear when I ask my daughter “how was school?” Most days, I hear about the daily drama. Girls who tell her “I hate you.” Girls who tell her “You’re mean.” She is supposed to write something on the board that she did over the weekend. This week, she wrote that she broke a swimming record after working really hard for it, and that is apparently “mean.” The day after she got another Junior Olympic qualifying time, she didn’t even mention it, opting instead to talk about how much fun she had at a sleepover. She’s not the type of kid to brag and rub things in. When you tell her she did a good job with a race, most times she smiles and then stares at the floor. She rarely takes credit for all of her hard work, and she does work hard. After working so hard for months to break that record, she was excited to share it with her class. And what did she get? “You’re mean!” whispered to her across the classroom, then screamed in her face at lunch in front of a table full of girls, and then told via one of her friends through the grapevine too, because the other two methods weren’t enough. Why is the other girl mad? Because she used to beat Swim Girl in that stroke. Not anymore, not even close. I always tell Swim Girl that jealousy and nastiness weigh you down and cause drag, in life and especially in the pool. How right I am.
It’s not just the mean and nasty stuff that bothers me either. Yesterday, my daughter showed me the “status” of some of her friends on Skype. Two of her friends have something that says they are “in a (sic) relashinship.” My question is “how can you be in one if you can’t even spell it?”
I happen to be friends with my daughter on Skype. I don’t allow her to have a cell phone at the very young age of 10. However, she does have an iPod Touch that she saved up for and bought herself. She has Skype on it and uses it primarily to communicate with her grandmother and grandfather who live hours away. I like being able to text her at swim meets and when she’s at a friend’s house. I am constantly monitoring her communication on Skype, and I often don’t like what I see from some of her “friends.”
Yesterday, she had a friend telling her to change her status to reflect that she is also in a “relashinship.” She happens to have a boy who is a friend that she hangs out with a lot at school. Sometimes he calls her. I monitor those calls too. Mostly, they talk about cannibalism, funny movies they’ve seen and other random, harmless stuff. They don’t talk about their feelings. There’s no “I love you” or not drama. They are just two kids who get along really well and have a lot in common. They remind me a lot of me and my best guy friend in school.They frequently sit together at lunch or talk at recess. They are friends and it is a completely innocent friendship. I see quite the opposite with some other girls who are her age.
The truth of the matter is that many girls her age like boys; my daughter likes to swim. Swim Girl spends at least five days a week in the pool which amounts to about eight hours minimum each week (not including meets). She practices “up” with the older age groups and she more than holds her own. A couple weeks ago, she heard a couple girls talking about her in the locker room after practice. They were talking about how hard she works and how much she deserves the successes she has had. She has found a really great group of girls at her swim club, a group that supports her accomplishments. At this past weekend’s meet, one of the 13 year old girls came up to her after her 50 free race and gave her a high five. This 13-year old then turned to me and said, “She had an amazing race! She is only like two seconds off of my time and I’m 13! That was awesome!” I only wish she had more girls like that at school.
There are a few of them. One girl swims with her at her club and is quite good herself. The two times in recent weeks when Swim Girl has been attacked by the very jealous “You’re mean” girl, this friend has stuck up for her. They do exist; I have to keep telling myself that, because otherwise I would want to rip her out of school and just home-school her. I know you can’t protect your kid from nasty people. The truth is they exist and they’re everywhere. At some point, she’s going to have to learn how to deal with them; she actually did a pretty good job of it yesterday. I just wish she had a little more time to be a kid before her dad and I had to start having “insult class” with her at home, to teach her how to hold her own when girls are nasty. I wish I had a little more time before I had to be lying in bed at night thinking about how to insulate her from this crap.
While many parents dread the day when their daughter moves on to middle school, I can’t wait. Diluting the nastiness is exactly what needs to happen; and I’m hoping that she will expand on the few good friends she has at school now and form a solid group that insulates her from all the drama. When my daughter hears about someone else doing well with swimming, she congratulates them and she truly means it. She shakes hands with the girls who beat her at swim meets and the ones she beats too. I have raised a good little athlete, but I have also raised a good sport. Shame on the parents who haven’t.
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