You guys. This week. NOT WORKING FOR ME.
So I decided to buy myself some nice maternity jeans. Some that won't give me a saggy diaper butt and/or be made of cheap fabric that will chafe my legs. I don't do crap jeans, okay?! I place my order. The jeans come in as planned. They're Joe's, they're a jeggings material, and they're very comfy and very cute. I wear them on our Texas trip. And while I'm sitting at dinner after a day of shopping, I feel an odd sensation. Like ... the sensation of bare buns on booth. Huh? Can't be. I'm glad I'm wearing a long sweater. We get back to our hotel, I take a look at my rear, AND I CAN SEE MY REAR. They'd split all the way across the backside. It's not like I tried to cram myself into size 25s, yall, they had room for the rump to grow, so I did NOT just split my pants because I eat too much, okay? Annoying. I come home, and I call Pea in the Pod approximately 25 times over the course of a week (in alllll my spare time). Twice I hold for as long as 15 minutes, then get sent to voicemail, then leave voicemails that nobody returns. Awesome. So finally, I get smart and instead of pressing the number for customer service issues, I press the number for new orders. And get hung up on once when the operator, apparently miffed that I'm NOT a new order, "drops" my call. Really?! Really. Keep calling. Keep calling. Finally, late Tuesday evening, I get a real live human on the phone who, while not exactly Polly Polite, doesn't hang up on me. She agrees to accept my return, setting up a UPS pick up for the next morning. I place a new order for replacement jeans, because obviously this is about 100x faster than waiting for an exchange. Send J to his office at 8pm to scrounge up a box and print off the paperwork and get me a DQ mint Oreo Blizzard.
Yay! Problem solved! New jeans!
So the next morning, I set out my package for UPS pickup. In a super obscure place, aka, my front door. And UPS guy? Comes, checks my SIDE door, and leaves me a note saying this was my one and only pickup chance in this lifetime and now I have to hunt down some randomass warehouse to get my return on its' way. Not yay. I haul the kids all over the place finding this warehouse, and arrange a swap - their patience and good manners (read: not kicking the back of my car seat 500x times, suspending screaming contest) for a couple of Happy Meals. Yeah, yeah, pink meat, whatever. Drop off the package. Drive to McD's. Order the meals. Happy kids! Yay! Get to the window.
NO WALLET. And no wallet = no Happy Meals. I'm sure you can understand that my kids weren't super happy about driving away minus the promised Happy Meals? Yeah. (Fortunately they have a really, really great daddy who agreed to run the Happy Meals home.)
Sigh. Are you still reading?
So today. UPS drops off my package! Yay! New jeans, just in time for a dinner out with the hubs to celebrate my 20th birthday this weekend!
I open the package.
I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU.
Pea in the Pod: ADDED TO BOYCOTT LIST.
I had to go get another Mint Oreo Blizzard* just to make this all okay. And I snuggled a friend's squishy new baby girl, so that helped bring down the spiking blood pressure, too. But still. GAH!
*So far, I don't appear to be diabetic at all. My blood sugar numbers are smashing. I'll eat Blizzards until they're not.
the next, next stage
15 hours ago