You know how, when you have been with someone long enough, you start to loose your own identity. Some say you even start to talk, dress, and think a like.
It's starting to happen.
This afternoon the doorbell rings and I run to the door. Hoping. Anticipating. AND ALSO PRAYING THAT THE DOORBELL DOESN'T SET OFF THE DOG AND WAKE UP MY NAPPING TODDLER.
Whew, not a peep from the little one.
When I see the small box sitting on the front porch, I immediately realize it was not my package, but my husband's. Something for his motorcycle. A new seat or something like that. I resentfully pick up his package and set in on the island. Feeling a bit pouty that it was not the package I was expecting.
Let me rewind. Last week we traded in my car. If you have been a regular fixture in our lives over the past few years- your totally not surprised. I can't really speak to that, besides saying, in my defense I had owned the car for 2 and a half years and it was now pushing 150,000 miles and maintenance on an Acura with that many miles does not come cheap. Plus, it was roomy enough for a momma of 1, but was probably going to be tight for a momma of 2. So we had been saving and looking and decided it was time to get something different. I badly wanted an SUV, but with the type of driving I do, gas gets pricey fast. I take one trip, daily to the gym and it all ends up being city-like driving. And I couldn't justify the gas I would use in an SUV to drive to and from the gym and picking up groceries.
So we decided to get another, newer, roomier car that gets good gas mileage. We picked something out that fit all my criteria, expect just a few minor things.
One thing that I didn't like about the car was that it didn't have a spoiler. Not that all cars have to have a spoiler, but this one looks way better with a spoiler. You see, what is happening here. Single Breanna. The unmarried gal--would never care about things like spoilers---this is the result of being married to a car junky.
So I jumped on ebay.............
Again with the identify crisis here. I am starting to think about taking up one of those "couple names" like "Bian" or "Iananna". EBAY--that is SUCH an Ian thing to do.
And I found a color matched spoiler for my car and ordered it. Gulp. I can't imagine drilling holes in my new car's trunk,but Ian assured me he is up to the task.
So you see, I have been patiently waiting for the mail person to drop off my spoiler. The spoiler I bought with MY "fun" money (we get a monthly budget for personal splurges).
Finally, just a few minutes later--the doorbell rings AGAIN. This time, FedEx. With a box that couldn't be mistaken for anything but my spoiler.
I bring it inside and giddily tear into the box to make sure the color and everything looked right. To this novice's eye, everything is a match. I still have a knot in my throat hoping this turns out okay, but my husband is a total stud when it comes to car stuff, so I have faith.
But you see, this gives me a real identity crisis. Since when do I spend my fun money on spoilers on ebay???? What happened to purses and make-up and splurges on shoes? Who am I? And why don't I have a pedicure?
If you see me in public and I am wearing Ian's shirts, just know, it isn't that serious. I am just to that point where the bump has out grown my clothing and I'm not motivated to pay maternity clothing prices for a whole new wardrobe. But if you catch me reading Car and Driver over Cosmo--I think an intervention will be needed.
It's starting to happen.
This afternoon the doorbell rings and I run to the door. Hoping. Anticipating. AND ALSO PRAYING THAT THE DOORBELL DOESN'T SET OFF THE DOG AND WAKE UP MY NAPPING TODDLER.
Whew, not a peep from the little one.
When I see the small box sitting on the front porch, I immediately realize it was not my package, but my husband's. Something for his motorcycle. A new seat or something like that. I resentfully pick up his package and set in on the island. Feeling a bit pouty that it was not the package I was expecting.
Let me rewind. Last week we traded in my car. If you have been a regular fixture in our lives over the past few years- your totally not surprised. I can't really speak to that, besides saying, in my defense I had owned the car for 2 and a half years and it was now pushing 150,000 miles and maintenance on an Acura with that many miles does not come cheap. Plus, it was roomy enough for a momma of 1, but was probably going to be tight for a momma of 2. So we had been saving and looking and decided it was time to get something different. I badly wanted an SUV, but with the type of driving I do, gas gets pricey fast. I take one trip, daily to the gym and it all ends up being city-like driving. And I couldn't justify the gas I would use in an SUV to drive to and from the gym and picking up groceries.
So we decided to get another, newer, roomier car that gets good gas mileage. We picked something out that fit all my criteria, expect just a few minor things.
One thing that I didn't like about the car was that it didn't have a spoiler. Not that all cars have to have a spoiler, but this one looks way better with a spoiler. You see, what is happening here. Single Breanna. The unmarried gal--would never care about things like spoilers---this is the result of being married to a car junky.
So I jumped on ebay.............
Again with the identify crisis here. I am starting to think about taking up one of those "couple names" like "Bian" or "Iananna". EBAY--that is SUCH an Ian thing to do.
And I found a color matched spoiler for my car and ordered it. Gulp. I can't imagine drilling holes in my new car's trunk,but Ian assured me he is up to the task.
So you see, I have been patiently waiting for the mail person to drop off my spoiler. The spoiler I bought with MY "fun" money (we get a monthly budget for personal splurges).
Finally, just a few minutes later--the doorbell rings AGAIN. This time, FedEx. With a box that couldn't be mistaken for anything but my spoiler.
I bring it inside and giddily tear into the box to make sure the color and everything looked right. To this novice's eye, everything is a match. I still have a knot in my throat hoping this turns out okay, but my husband is a total stud when it comes to car stuff, so I have faith.
But you see, this gives me a real identity crisis. Since when do I spend my fun money on spoilers on ebay???? What happened to purses and make-up and splurges on shoes? Who am I? And why don't I have a pedicure?
If you see me in public and I am wearing Ian's shirts, just know, it isn't that serious. I am just to that point where the bump has out grown my clothing and I'm not motivated to pay maternity clothing prices for a whole new wardrobe. But if you catch me reading Car and Driver over Cosmo--I think an intervention will be needed.
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