Tax returns at Chez Gamers' Babes mean the following:
- Pay off a bill or two
- Buy needed things for the house (this year it's a new bunk bed for the girls, since ours literally fell apart over the holiday break)
- Put a chunk in savings
- Split the rest and play with it
So with my play money, I. Went. Shopping. I bought stuff off my
amazon.com wish list
(mostly books, plus one thing for each kid and for
hubby - total of $100). I also shopped at
The Body Shop and at the Clearance pages of
Catherines/FashionBug and
Avenue. I got six tops, three pairs of pants, some undergarments both top and bottom, two pairs of shoes I can wear with my orthotics, and assorted makeup items; because I was careful about the clearance shopping, I did it all for under $150, including shipping and tax. I plan to spend the rest on Other Things for Me - haircut and color, maybe a massage.
Speaking of massage, this is the homegrown part of the equation. Abby enjoys rubbing my shoulders and my feet. Lizzy likes to scratch my back. I am not as a rule going to say no to any of this. The three-year-old brushing my hair I could live without (I'm not fond of having my nose or ears brushed). But she so enjoys doing it that I usually let her.
They're a such a strange mix of child and adult, these two. As I type this, Abby is inserting
butterfly clips
in assorted colors into my hair - and she's still at a more-is-better stage of self-decoration. Or Mom-decoration. Today while at Gramma's house, she told Gramma she was "evil" for making her lie down (three sleepovers in a row made her very tired). But she was asleep in minutes. Now she's stroking the back of my head and yelling at Lizzy for putting butterfly clips in "the wrong places". And Lizzy says, "fine!" in that incredibly teenage tone and stomps off, muttering to herself, only to come back thirty seconds later, grinning from ear to ear, showing me a "picshah I dwawed of me and Abby".
How old are they again?
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