Am I Over The Hill Already?

So today I made a trip to Southside and it was surely an adventure.

An adventure I say!

Firstly, said adventure began in the epic quest to find someone’s shoes. It doesn’t really matter which monkey’s shoes it is I quest for because they oh-so-politely switch up shoe losing duties amongst the three of them- you know… to keep things fresh.

Then after having completed the soul charring challenge of dressing and shoeing both monkeys (Oldest Monkey is with his mother) we preceded to move our expedition to the outdoors [insert scary music here]. It was at the bottom of the steps that I realized the folly in our plan…. our stroller was in the car. While this is not overall a bad thing, it is a bad thing when said car is with hubby at his place of employment in Canonsburg and I remain here…. in Pittsburgh…. strollerless. Knowing full well that all adventures have multitudes of obtacles I decided to continue on.

So we rode the bus down the hill…. for two reasons actually
1- I am insanely lazy and don’t like walking
2- On the way down I would be passing a playground and since I had a few errands I had to run of the utmost importance*, I really didn’t want to tease the kids with the promise of playgroundery and not deliver.

So I ran my errands, they were not exciting nor can I spin them into funny in the slightest so I’m skipping them.

From the completion of said errands I was shepherding the monkeys back to the bus stop. Now this… this is what has me writing this entry. As I walked down the street, carrying the smallest monkey on my shoulders and all the things we had to pick up (pack horse is right up there in the list of mommying duties) we passed by three young men. I’d say they were 14ish or so. I should go to bended knee and thank God that I happened upon the company of these young men, for without them and their thoughtfulness I would never have been aware that I have boobs.


They took it upon themselves in Boy Scoutish fashion to inform me that I do indeed have ‘Huge Knockers’ and if they do say so themselves ‘Big F’ing Tits’. Clearly until that moment I have never been aware that I, Stephieface, possesed mammaries of any type. All this time I had thought that my shirt was just bumpy, I never realized that I had boobs.

I do not recall when I was younger, being so forward to people who were clearly older than me. Then again I was a shy kind of person. Nevertheless, its precious times like these that I realize how old I am at a totally venerable 30 years of life. Sheesh.

To continue, we rode the bus back up the hill, at which the smallest Littlest Monkey feel into what I’d like to call the Toddler Coma, the peaceful slumber of a toddler when they go to sleep at the most inoppurtune of moments from which they cannot be awakened until you have carried them all the way home from the bus stop, stripped them of clothing, changed their diaper, and are perched mid way into placing their sleeping bodies into their cribs….. it will be that moment that wakes them. Meanwhile you are weary and exhausted from having carried 30+ lbs of dead weight up your steep hill, looking very much like Frakenstein in the old black and white movies when he lurches from the brush carrying that poor little girl.

All of this adventure for just a few little errands…. I think I’ll remain a homebody.

*I bought yarn on eBay and was taking personal money and putting it in the joint account to cover it. Curse you yarn addiction! Though it is a totally lovely tweed wool yarn from Russia…. curses anyway!



  1. Stephanie said,

    June 14, 2006 at 3:54 pm

    And that is why I don’t leave the house.

    I’d hate to find out that I had boobs. I mean, such a shock, after all this time!

  2. Severina said,

    June 14, 2006 at 6:47 pm

    Yeah, I never even notice mine as I cram them into their holders every morning. It’s pretty helpful that young pups point them out.

    You know those things can be dangerous weapons. You ever see any Chesty Morgan films?

  3. Sunflowerfairy said,

    June 16, 2006 at 9:48 am

    The worst part was that it was in front of your kids. Bleck, nasty.

    And I love ups because that means I don’t have to leave the house, unless it’s something that absolutely can not be delivered to me.

    Man, I’m lazy.

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