This year I have purchased approximately 72 women’s razors–not the disposable kind, but the ‘Venus’ kind with a reusable handle that is used with replaceable razor heads – its a cool system. However, they are all missing. It’s a good thing the weather is cold and I won’t be wearing shorts any time soon.
My youngest daughter splits her time between my house and her dad’s house, and I STRONGLY suspect that if I were to ransack his house I would find at least a dozen of the missing razors as well as an assortment of my blouses, earrings and shoes. It’s not that Guzzy intends to take my things; she simply borrows them and they subsequently disappear. Once in awhile an item will reappear after a long absence, which results in a debate regarding its true ownership.
The advantage of having a son is that he doesn’t steal his mom’s stuff. However he posed other challenges during his teen years, including his period of experimentation with his hair, which led to the single most insightful statement ever uttered by his father: “That boy ain’t right”.
Ben, is still traumatized by the time that we went jeans shopping with his then-teenage sister. Kelly was (and is) a very short young lady for whom girl-size clothing styles were no longer appropriate or well-fitting. There were a grand total of 3 pairs of jeans in the entire mall that fit her (trust me, she tried on all of them). After hours of shopping, Kelly settled on a single pair; by which time I was willing to pay any price to get the heck out of the mall and Ben was showing signs of PTSD. It took her longer to select a pair of jeans than it did to be born.
Buying jeans with Ben was a breeze; it consisted of walking to a pile of jeans (in the nearest store – it didn’t matter where) and grabbing a pair off the stack. He would hold them up to himself (in lieu of trying them on); shrug, tell me “they’ll fit — I have a belt”, and we were all set. Easy Peezy.
For years I bought Ben clothes for his birthday so that he would at least temporarily have something clean to wear. For most of his college years Ben’s clothes resided on his bedroom floor. He lived in a run-down ‘student’ house with several roommates. I did not visit his house often, because I didn’t like facing the fact that one of my children was living in filth. After Ben married Jess, they moved to house in Savannah, GA next to the Army base where Ben worked. While visiting, I was totally gobsmacked by finding clean, matching towels in their bathroom. Hallelujia and Thank You Jess!
It’s Saturday and I will be running errands. The first item on my list is to buy some razors – maybe I should get the jumbo economy pack.