Gavin hid his Snuggle Puppy in the the covers of his bed at Meme's and Papa's on Thursday, so the Puppy accidentally got left behind when we came home. Papa was very understanding, and in an effort to end the all-out mourning Gavin was experiencing, he mailed him to us overnight. We began to encourage and console our son with the knowledge that his Snuggle Puppy was taking a trip, and that the mail lady in the white truck would put him in the mailbox tomorrow morning. When Friday morning came, Gavin reminded me that we needed to get Puppy out of the mailbox, so he accompanied us out there, and was overjoyed when his precious Puppy was indeed among the mailbox's contents.... He spent the rest of the morning telling and re-telling the story of Snuggle Puppy's journey... "The mail wady in the white twuck put Snuggle Puppy in the mailbox..." and singing loves songs from The Veggie Tales video based on the Prodigal Son story... "You can always come home to me..." Yes, I'm serious. You can't make this stuff up. :)
As well as Snuggle puppy, my new dress (Ryan bought me a vintage dress on ebay for my birthday.) arrived in the mail today. After cleaning up breakfast I decided to try on the dress... Chloe was napping upstairs, Ryan had left home to run his biz errands, and Gavin and his Prodigal Puppy were hanging out with me...
I figured the 1950's tafetta lined lace dress (I'll attach a picture) might be a little small after I saw it, but experience has taught me to try things on anyway, cause you never really know until you do...
I stripped out of my pj's and proceeded to slip on the darling vintage frock. It slipped onto my arms, shoulders, and over my head with relative ease...but, then there was a problem. The stylish 3/4-length sleeves began to constrict like an amazon boa, and there I was, with my arms firmly stuck in a 45 degree angle from my hips.
Luckily, I was able to breathe, (but not deeply). Having taken my glasses off, I now found myself blind and utterly unable to place my specs back on my face. After about 15 seconds of assessing the situation, the somewhat limited O2 getting to my brain told me that savory scent I was detecting was indeed cooked goose.
I gingerly used my remaining hand/finger dexterity to flip open my cell phone, push the quick dial number for Ryan, and the speakerphone button. Then I prayed that he would answer...and he did.
I relayed the predicament quickly, using clear, unmistakable language like "emergency", and "immediately", and "circulation restriction".
He chuckled, a none-the-less concerned chuckle, and said he was on his way. I breathed a [shallow] sigh of relief and commenced to standing awkwardly in our home office. Only then did my three-year-old companion take notice of the situation. He momentarily released his death-grip on Snuggle puppy, and began to walk in circles around me (the oddly stiff, maternal mannequin) and make commentary.
"Mama is getting dwessed" he sweetly mused. After a moment he realized just how indisposed I might in fact be.
Then he noticed, with glee, the gaping hole on my right side, created by the side zipper of the dress. Stripped of all my natural defenses, I had hoped this patch of my nakedness (measing roughly 8X8) would escape his attention. But, alas... it did not.
In awe and innocence, the wide-eyed child crooned, "Ooooooooooooohh" and ran his finger up and down the exposed area. I dissolved in hysterical laughter at the whole situation. It was too much. My only defense was to run circles through the house, trying to avoid excess strain on the tiny, vintage article of clothing, whilst Gavin's prime directive was to chase me at full speed, repeating the "tickle Mommy" procedure, ad infinitum.
After 15 minutes or so passed, my biceps ached from holding their 45 degree angle, and my forearms, and hands were very cold and nearly numb from the constriction factor. Lightheaded from running for my dignity, whilst oxygen restriced, I decidedly sprawled myself on the guest bed to relax my arms for a moment. Gavin sweetly crawled up beside me, placed Snuggle Puppy in the imobilized crook of my maternal arm, and whispered, "Gavin and puppy rest with Mama..." and there we remained until shortly before my extraction officer arrived.
After several laughs, a fair amount of panic, and about 9 failed attempts, Ryan and I finally found the only possible position from which the dress could be removed. While I stood, nearly motionless, and bent at the waist nearly in half, Ryan slowly, carefully "peeled" the uber tight shoulders and sleeves off my upper body. Gavin danced about my exposed underside, gleefully tickling his Mommy at will, with his Daddy and Mommy momentarily powerless to do anything about it but protest vocally! But boy, did we do that!
Once freed from my dainty, lacy, vintage straightjacket, I took a moment in the floor to collect myself, sharing a hearty laugh with both my hero and my torture guard.
And so, as I begin my search for the perfect, tall, pre-pubescent, 11-year-old girl upon which to bestow this lovely frock, I will consider the lessons I have learned.
Wait to try on tricky, non-stretchy, vintage items, until my full disaster/extraction team is assembled and present.
Restrain/distract my 3-year-old before any such future attempts to, "get dwessed"...
Oh, and don't have the audacious vanity to suppose my size 4 self might fit into (what I now suppose must be) a size 0 dress. The listing and the dress tag just called it a small. I now know I must be on the jumbo side of small... :)
The hippy in me hates that, the reverberating thought in my head is, "what did people do before cell phones and lycra??"
The "Charlotte" Spider and "Lightning McQueen's" One man pit crew
Motorcycle Madness
What a Happy Little Arachnid...
Lightning Houck
