if you think this is really about pants then you'd be wrong.

so i have this pair of white pants that i love. they are like those mythical pants from the books and movies. no matter what, when i wear them they are perfect on me. and by 'no matter what' i'm talking about weight and weight fluctuation. these pants give me curves where i want them and eliminate them where i don't. no matter what, they make my ass look perfect. and that is not a brag, that is a fact. and i think we all need to go easier on ourselves and praise ourselves more. so i'm just callin' it like i see it. and i love them for that.

so, the pants. they're white. and i'm not a fan of white. if it's a shirt it gives me some kind of sickly pallor, if it's pants i just know i'm going to sit in something, spill something, etc. and red wine? oy.

so i rarely wore these pants. even though they were perfect on me. yeah, that's how we women like to do things. well, this women.

and this was dumb so i started to wear them more. like i had to make myself wear them. and every time i put them on i loved them all over again, but i was terrified of spilling wine, food, etc. on them. but the more i made myself wear them the more i got comfortable with the fact that i did actually have the capability to keep myself clean in a social situation.

and the more i wore them the more i loved them. and the more i loved them the more i wore them. garden parties in the out of doors! a kegger! a baby shower wherein i managed to break my toe and catch my hair on fire and win the drinking contest i was having with myself BUT did not get one SPECK on my white pants! and then i started getting cocky. and smug. look at me in my clean white pants knocking back the red wine and getting nary a drop on myself.

my talents are endless.

and then came easter.

i was wearing my white pants. flitting about, plating all the appetizers before everyone got there. and then making bellinis when the guests arrived. pouring red wine. look at me with these drippy oven roasted tomatoes, watch while i make this bellini (peach juice, for those of you who don't know, is incredibly staining. weird, right?) hell i even made pea soup with a FIVE YEAR OLD HELPING ME in my smug white pants. pea soup. using the immersion blender and everything. not a drop.

god i'm good.

i thought this as i was putting the mixed berries on the pavlova and running my mouth about something. sipping at my red wine. look at me in my smug white pants.

and then it happened. one errant, terribly full to bursting juicy blueberry broke from the others and like it was in slow motion as it started to roll down my leg. all.the.way.down. on the white pants.

it was a mess. oh sure, it's not like it looked like a scene out of carrie or anything, but it wasn't pretty.

after all those times, the garden parties, the wine, the soup, etc. and it was the blueberry that did me in.

which just goes to show, sometimes it really is the little stuff. sometimes it's not what you think will happen, but what you never consider. because you've gotten cocky, or smug, or just because it was time. and that's how life is.

which brings me to the ball.

my husband and i don't fight. not because we are perfect (because we are not perfect) or scared to, or we don't know how, we are just REALLY lucky enough to both have good communication skills. and THANKFULLY smart enough to remember to use them. whew. skills which have come in especially handy this past year. and seriously, this last year has been so very hard i'm amazed that we aren't at each others throats. all.the.time. because it would be so easy. but, we aren't. thank you god we are not.

BUT

but a few months ago there was a situation. and it started with a yoga ball. and it ended in a standoff of mega proportions. the likes of which have never been seen in this house. and it ended quickly (sort of, i mean in the grand scheme of things) and ultimately with laughter.

BUT

and you know what i'm going to say.

it had nothing to do with the ball.

the ball was the little thing. even after dealing with the big BIG stuff for so long and jumping every hurdle, making everything work out of so very little, hanging on by a thread some days, it came down to a fucking yoga ball.

fucking yoga ball. he was the one who ordered it for me and was inflating it for me. and i was looking at this ball and it was way too small. and he tried to convince me it was the same size as my old one it was replacing. that he had checked and made sure to get the same one. and i would not believe him, and i would not budge because i'm not stupid that is not the same size by any measure. i did a lot of pointing and emphasizing of certain words.

it turns out when you inflate a physical therapy grade yoga/pilates ball you have to do it slowly. like over a period of a day or so. and this piece of information was not relayed to me, or i didn't hear it. (the jury's still out on that one) so yes, it was the same size, or would be *eventually.* but it wasn't then. not yet. but since i didn't know this, i just saw it being small and not the same size at all.

so from my perspective i'm right and he's wrong and why is he trying to convince me of something that simply cannot be true? and from his perspective i've lost my fucking mind over a yoga ball. which, to be fair, was true. i did. and it was not pretty. and then came the freeze out. which i'm really really good at. some people yell, some people throw things, i give the freeze out.

good lord. stress is a killer. and sometimes you don't realize you need a reliever until you are losing your mind over a yoga ball. yoga. ball. and no, the irony is not lost on me.

so what do the blueberry and the ball have in common? does any of this make sense? maybe. it does to me. because the blueberry and the ball are what happen when you're busy just trying to get through the day. living. they are the little things you don't count on.

everyone always worries about the big stuff of life. and the what ifs the big stuff brings. but the big stuff isn't all that hard if you really think about it. not really. because you see it coming. (or you don't but you quickly adapt) you make plans. you work at it. you're given a chance to figure it out.

but the blueberry and the ball are the little things you never see coming. until they're staining your favorite white pants or creating the biggest standoff you've ever had with your husband.

and you don't know it until you're in it and you've got to just figure your way out of it without making the little things bigger than they are. and without 'creating' more little things.

and part of this is about not getting too smug in your perfect white pants, and part of this is about how to learn how to take a step back and ask questions, even if you "know" you are right. especially if you "know" you are right. one minute of jumping off your high horse can do wonders. it's like a miracle cure.

and part of this is me telling you that if you have something that you love and that makes you feel good don't hide it away because you're afraid it will get dirty. or ruined. or broken. or lost. drag it out and wear the hell out of it, use it up and enjoy every moment of doing so.

life is just too god damned short for anything less.

x.