“”Marriage is a great institution- if you like being institutionalized” – that’s the statement I’ve always heard anyway………
The main question in every happy marriage at some point comes down to this… “Smother him in his sleep or put the earphones in and just play happy music until it passes?” STOP- before everyone gets their knickers in a wad- I’m a woman so I used the pronoun “him”, but trust me I am well aware the feeling is mutual and he’s felt the same way about me just as many times in all these years of marriage.
Tonight I am choosing listening to the music (your release may be something besides music, but just go with me here) I am dancing to the music not because it wouldn’t be simple to smother him in his sleep or that I couldn’t hide the body. (I’m a Southern woman with access to a chipper shredder, at least 10 bottles of bleach, and miles of woodlands) I choose the music tonight because even though I don’t really “like him” right this minute I am well aware I would quickly miss him if he were gone.
Some days as I look at his face I think to myself- really “You Again”? (oh hush- you’ve all thought it at least once if your married – it’s not my fault you won’t grow a set and say it out loud) On these days there is a standard monologue that shortly flows through my conscience. It sounds something like this “RELAX- this too shall pass- you know he’s a good man, he usually makes you laugh, he’s been a great dad and you still actually love him after all these years” The first question I always have as these thoughts flow through is “where did SHE come from?” Why does my conscience always have the sweet southern accent and sound EXACTLY like my mother?? That’s a whole different topic for a later date, but let’s just say it’s sooooo not fair……………..
I remember looking at this man sleeping next to me when we were newly married with all the fascination of a new born baby. I remember feeling how lucky and happy and nothing could ever change that feeling. Almost 20 years and three parasites (children for those sweeter parents) later – nope no more fascination at all – just a snoring asshole. Luckily an asshole I would quickly miss! (Insert annoying sweet southern accent monologue here)
As women, the entertainment industry feeds us princess movies and romantic movies designed to show us what relationships “should look like”, but have you ever noticed they all end after “they get together” and never show us the everyday monotony of waking up and going to bed with the same person for 20 or 50 years. Why do you think that is????
I’ll tell you- The first reason is that would be a horribly boring movie. Can you imagine watching a movie on the drudgery of everyday life? The only thing that movie would be good for is replacing counting sheep. The main reason we don’t see that type of movie is the reality of that kind of love isn’t pretty. That kind of love isn’t all butterflies and rainbows. That kind of love takes commitment (mainly a commitment not to kill them), but a commitment just the same.
I’ve been really lucky and watched my parents hit the 50 years of marriage milestone this year. I’ve watched them do the ebbs and flows of marriage with as much grace as anyone could ever expect.(50 years is a long ass time) It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t a perfect marriage (there’s no such thing), but it was as good of an example as anyone could ask. I watched them love each other, dislike each other,and always come back to love. They taught me a lot about true love- true love takes commitment, sacrifice, and a complete surrender of yourself on occasion (i.e. don’t smother them in their sleep) Some days you’ll wake up and may not want to see their face, but if it’s the right one give it a few days and it will probably be different.
As I sit here tonight after deciding that I couldn’t do away with him, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t really want too because I would miss him- I realized maybe that’s what real long term love is….. It’s the commitment to wait the few days to see, it’s the commitment to try, it’s the commitment to the everyday chaos and monotony, and definitely the commitment to listen to the happy music and not smother them.
I guess that means if I’ve got to be institutionalized – I’ve chosen this institutionalized chaos…………………
Well here I sit on my back deck with the computer in my lap on an absolutely beautiful spring day trying to determine which one of these crazy idea’s floating around in my brain I will share with the world today. I took a hiatus for quite a while and realized after writing the other night I missed it more than I cared to admit.
I enjoy the release and the self examination that comes with writing. Some people choose to look in the mirror and reflect. As I age, I still use this method on occasion, but there is only so much evaluation I can do in the mirror. After you convince yourself those are “laugh” lines and show you’ve had a great life the reality of “I’m just getting damn old” creeps in. I find it best to move away quickly before my brain, who is still convinced it’s 15 on a good day and 20 on a bad day, explodes. It really hates that reality and I have found it’s much more fun to let it have it’s way.
I can promise you the hubby and parasites (children for those nicer than me) really don’t miss their “favorite” wife and mom and her writing. After I wrote the last blog and made the announcement “I believe I’ll pick up writing again” there was a huge collective sign that I am pretty sure even Prince in heaven heard. Then their negotiations began. Things like- “Can we not document every embarrassing moment in our lives” To which I replied to these poor,, pitiful, pleading members of my family in the sweetest smart ass voice I could muster between the giggles “Oh sure, no one would EVER want to hear the story of how I set off a complete pack of firecrackers in your room one morning when you wouldn’t get up because that’s just too mundane” (Yes that really did happen and if you’re a parent who struggles with the teenager and getting up – I highly recommend the method especially if you make them clean up the shrapnel)
Since at least three of these people are stuck with me for life,whether they like it or not, I get a little more leeway than with most. This is the only advantage you get when you actually build them inside your body, spit them out of your loins and then feed them from your chest for months and then cook for them and have to hand out $20’s for years to come. (ie. parasites) Since it’s the only advantage I get I figured I should exploit it to the fullest. The hubby- lets just say that’s a whole different exchange program 🙂
So back to here I sit with all these crazy idea’s and as I evaluate each one and flesh em out in my brain I remember why I took the hiatus in the first place. Most of the things that inspire me to write my brand of comedy are either controversial or would be easy recognizable to others as to who I was “picking” on.
In this everything offends me world comedy has become really hard. I’m a person that thinks that you can find a little funny in almost everything. It’s usually all in your perspective. I choose to see the funny (remember- those are laugh lines not wrinkles- it’s my make believe world and I like it here) I do my best to surround myself with others who do the same and thank my lucky stars there are still a few, but most take themselves and their beliefs waaaay to seriously.
I don’t ever really want to hurt anyone and I definitely never mean to offend and I refuse to argue with those who do not get comedy so I’ve evaluated and I’ve decided there is only one course of action for this old Southern woman to take. I’m gonna have two different blogs. I’m going to keep this one for the mostly non controversial and the “in general” harmless stuff and create another anonymous blog for the I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.
I’m excited about this new venture!! Somewhere I can just write, evaluate myself and the world, say what I please without the polite Southern restrictions I place on myself should be fun and hey it’s a safer release than say- running away or drugs. Those are typically frowned upon.
So for those of you who get easily offended or take everything way to seriously- if the next blog that goes viral seems to be about you and the baby shoe fits- you never know- it just might be!! 🙂
The one thing in life I am more and more convinced of is that sometimes I really need a warning label. The problem is – I never can think of just one. This warning label would need to be more like a scrolling LED sign that hangs around my neck that can be changed on a daily basis, but I’m sure if you asked my hubby or parasites (children for those nicer than me) they would probably say it would need an auto change by the second. I’m sure if you asked them it would read regularly -“she’s just crazy- so deal with at own risk”
The reason I’ve decided to warn you about my warning labels (today) is that I’m gonna actually talk (out loud) about that ever so disturbing and even more aggravating thing called “MIDDLE AGE”. Now for most these words have a simple enough definition. It simply refers to the middle part of your life. Generations ago (I’m going with the Dark Ages cause it makes me feel better about getting old), when the average life expectancy was about 45 or 50, middle age landed squarely in your 20’s. However in today’s world where the average life expectancy is starting to push the 80’s the definition of middle aged has changed significantly. Now middle aged is considered your 40’s and 50’s.
Now if you are a woman under the age of 35 – I would highly suggest you stop reading this very second!! You are having fun and living in the prime of your life. There is absolutely no reason for you to know that these horrid things I’m going to talk about are going to happen to you regardless of all of your efforts to the contrary. Just keep having fun and living in your dream world – if for no other reason that us middle aged folks can look at you lovingly and smile. We smile not because of the memories or the longing, but just because we know what’s coming for you and we giggle at your oblivion.
What brought this to the forefront for me tonight was I got the rare chance to speak with one of my girlfriends from college. As we age this gets harder and harder to accomplish- not because we don’t want too- but life just gets in the way. A full time job, 3 parasites with a million things “that have to be done” , a hubby “with needs” , a million loads of laundry and dishes, and a household to run just take entirely too much of my time! Yes I know you’re asking how I got time to write this- well let’s just say the household part is a mess!! Someone once wrote that boring women have immaculate houses…………. Well let’s just say I’m far from boring!!
I digress…. back to my conversation with my girlfriend.
We talked about our parasites. She has a few older than mine so I listened intently so maybe I will know what’s coming. You know what I learned? I need a MUCH bigger savings account!!! We talked about our mutual friends. Guess what I learned? Absolutely nothing different- people don’t change – they just get more resolute in their ways. We talked about our families. I learned we still care about each other and our worlds and have great memories of each others extended families.
We were laughing and talking and talking and laughing and then somehow “getting older” became part of the conversation. I’m sure it came up talking about the parasites or maybe just in the normal conversation, but it came up just the same.
That’s when the laughing started to sound more in the hysterical dimension.
How I know it got louder was two of the parasites walked in (because they are nosy) and whispered “Who are you talking to” and “How do you like my haircut?” and “I need to be a school early” and “”Can you help me with my homework? etc etc Haven’t you ever heard the rule “If mom is actually having fun we must ruin it or bother her immediately”? Children seem to come out of the womb with this Super Power!!
Oops- I digress again
Why we were laughing so hard is the “very” normal conversation that middle aged women have been having for generations (that we just didn’t know was coming), but is here just same. It’s the dirty little secret (ok- not so secret) of middle aged women everywhere……………………
Bladder control is a thing only for the youth!!
We laughed because we couldn’t cough, sneeze, run, jump or in any way move too fast anymore without having an accident. We laughed that when we went grocery shopping now we walked by the Depends aisle and actually considered buying them, but still clung to the idea that a pad should work just fine. (Hey don’t judge some women actually need the extra baggage in the rear department- I might of already bought them, but sadly I’m not one of those women) We laughed about the pee-pee dance (for those of you that aren’t aware -it’s that dance we all do that try’s to convince ourselves we can actually make it the 10 feet to the bathroom, but still fail) We laughed that we spent about half of our time either in the bathroom or looking for the bathroom (we used to look for our kids, but now we actively just look for bathrooms) Basically we just laughed about the joys – or not so joys- of creaking knees, hurting joints, and the pee pee dance.
As I was laughing so hard tears were running down my face and pee was running down my leg I learned the most valuable lesson of all……………. “Getting Older Sucks”, BUT going through it with good friends makes all the difference. It decides whether it’s miserable or a joke. It decides whether it stops your progress or just inhibits it a tad. It decides if you fight the inevitable or accept it with giggles. All I know now is I won’t grimace next week when I pass the Depends aisle- I think I’ll smile and giggle cause I have friends I can “DEPENDS” on!!
In today’s world truly being from the South has lost many of it’s meanings. Today most people that live in the South are from other parts of the country. I understand the phenomena because if I had to live buried in snow 9 months of the year I would pack my bags and run faster than a hungry cheetah toward warm weather too. Because of this plethora of what we in southern polite society call “Damn Yankee’s” (this is different than a normal yankee because these never leave) finding a person who can make a single syllable word sound as if it has more than 3 is almost as hard as finding that illusive needle in a haystack. We are still around it’s just we temper it more in public. As one of my close friends says to me regularly “uh oh your southern is showing- did you spend time with your family today” to which I respond “Yeeeaaah maaaaybe a lettle too much”
Because these little southern society nuances are disappearing it always make me giggle and laugh when something just “hits me upside the head” (yes another southern term) and says “By Golly you do still live in the South”. One of these little baseball bats came tonight. As I sat and watched, oh just another mind numbing stupid entertainment TV show”, a ticker flashed across the bottom of my screen. As my hubby and I read this ticker we both started to laugh. It said and I’m quoting “Breaking News at 11- Thief runs off with 10 foot rooster”.
Now for anyone who knows me understands that something this absolutely bizarre takes my brain by storm. This is a situation my gray matter has never considered nor thought of so the implications and questions start before I can even help myself. The things that start neuron explosions in my brain can be quite odd and even a bit scary. As I sit with tears of laughter rolling down my face I begin to rapid fire them at the hubby. (He’s just so thrilled because this poor man lives with this insanity everyday) I always start out innocent enough, but as I really get going my brain gets and evil streak that would make Betty White blush.
So this poor man who loves me gets to sit and hear questions such as:
Exactly how strong is this thief to run with a 10 foot rooster? Is he Hercules because I’m pretty sure a 10 foot rooster is heavy
How do we know it was a thief and the yard bird didn’t wander out of his yard and he was just collecting it? This is the South and there are still people with yard birds
What does one do with a 10 foot rooster? My family has eaten a whole lot of gospel bird (fried chicken for those of you not from here) in our lives and I’m not sure we’ve ever eaten that much
This is about when it all starts to go down hill……..
You know honey it could of only been better if they had of used the word “cock” instead. (Yes – cock is a perfectly acceptable word for rooster- get your mind out of the gutter with mine)
Why would you want a 10 foot cock in your front yard? Unless he does yard work then maybe
How exactly does a man run with a 10 foot cock? Maybe there’s “shrinkage”
Why exactly do you want a 10 foot cock? I might have an answer for that
Where does one find a 10 foot cock? This is the age old question of women every where
Where do you hide a 10 foot cock? hmm- that kinda sounds uncomfortable
Can you shop for 10 foot cocks in your neighborhood pawn shop? Now that might get interesting
Why would a man want to steal a 10 foot cock? Maybe he is a porn agent
The questions go on and on…….. until I’m a giddy fool and the husband is looking at me with that ever loving look of “for the love of god woman please shut up”
Well the news finally came on and the reality of a big ole metal rooster wasn’t near as fun as my imagination, but is reality ever as much fun or as bad as your imagination?? I can speak from experience, in my twisted mind, it isn’t so I’m going back in for more.
I’m dreaming it’s College football bowl season and the Oregon St Beavers are playing the South Carolina Gamecocks for the National Championship! So until next time when we discuss the joys of that commentary…………………………….. 🙂
Oops- I watched the news again!!! Now I know better and am well aware that watching our new sensationalist, ratings driven, and politically slanted (pick a program based on which side you already believe) news media makes my head spin around and look like Linda Blair in the Exorcist. I know this to be a fact, but sometimes I decide to give them the benefit of the doubt and try it again. It’s never a good idea, but my optimistic soul over rules my brain and the result is….. oh a reaction something similar to an atomic bomb of words such as those my southern mama would disown me for actually writing publicly so you will just have to guess.
Now the latest that has seemed to of “Gotten My Goat” (yes gotten my goat is a southern term and it’s appropriate-and no I don’t know the origin so go look it up) is a news special on the college spring break in Panama City. Now this news channel (let’s just call it the channel for the fundamentalist right which for our purposes we’ll just call the Al Jazeera of America) If you are Chicken Little and believe the sky is falling then “By George” this is the channel for you!!
Now anyone my age that has ever gone on a college spring break or a graduation trip with friends without parents knows exactly what happens on those trips and if you have forgotten then shame on you!!! If you are sitting in your home 30 years later saying things like “that wasn’t happening then” or “we didn’t do THAT” or the ever famous LAST WORDS “my child will not” then you have either completely forgotten reality or have found that elusive little ostrich hole to put your head in that keeps eluding me. (trust me I have teenage parasites and I really want that hole) 🙂
The reality is-there is drinking. Yes a lot of drinking. That is what college age kids do on spring break. That’s why they go. Yes- to the mama that thinks little Johnny is perfect- the percentage chance of your perfect son drinking a beer during spring break is probably -oh close to 98%. The chance of him actually hugging a porcelain throne during that week is probably over 50%. Oh and mama of perfect Katie- your chances are about the same, but the toilet hugging probably goes up.
If you will all remember back through the fog of adulthood you will remember a few things. This right of passage consists of waaaaay to many of your friends all crammed into one hotel room (you’re in college and it’s all you can afford). There at least two others sleeping on the floor because there isn’t enough beds or it happens to be a friend from another room who that was just as far as they could make it at that particular moment. The refrigerator is completely full (of mixer and beer) and there is a one loaf of bread and PBJ on the counter. The table has been converted into a compilation of drinking games, and there are empty beer cans -oh in every nook and cranny available. It takes 3 hours and an entire box of trash bags just to clean the room before you leave.
I’m not saying I agree with the right of passage, but I still understand IT IS a right of passage. I’m not saying I want my parasites (kids for those new to me) to participate in the right of passage, but I still understand that after 18 they probably will!! I just hope someone who truly cares about her is nice and holds her hair back and protects her as she sleeps on the bathroom floor. That friend who loves you enough to hold your hair back is a friend for life and I’ve been lucky (or dumb) enough to have a few.
So back to why this program “Got My Goat” It was designed to do nothing, but scare the absolute shit out of every parent in America of any child age 10 to 25. They put a blonde woman (who may be all of 30) out in an entrance to the beach in Panama City right in the middle of Spring Break. Now she just stands there and does interviews as the kids pass. I am sure they stood there for an entire day and we got about a whole 5 minutes. We only saw the drunkest and most disrespectful. (oh- they were there then too) We only heard the drug stories (oh- they were there then too and just like us our little blessings will have to determine there own path) We only heard about the nudity (fyi- there have been girls who were willing to flash their melons longer than we’ve all been alive and will still be here long after we are dead and buried and rolling over in our graves)
Do you think they walked down the beach and showed us the kids having a few beers and playing Frisbee? Of course not!! Do you think they showed us the interviews of respectful kids who said we are just here having fun? Of course not!! They showed us only the scariest, most sensational, and ratings driven and then acted like it was the end of the world as we know it!! Suddenly all the youth in America have gone completely off the rails and OH MY- chicken little the sky is falling!!
Well guess what parents – they are doing exactly the same thing college students have been doing for generations!! There have been disrespectful kids, kids that do drugs, girls who flash, and the standard ole drunken debauchery for as long as there have been college age kids and guess what the sky hasn’t fallen yet and probably won’t this time either. Every person still has to pick their own way. I know you want to think it’s obviously worse, but it’s not! I know you want to believe it’s much scarier now, but it’s not! I know you want to think my child will not, but they will!
Wanna know the funny part to me- 30 years ago our parents were saying the same thing. Wanna know the funniest part to me- 30 years from now those exact same kids who we saw in the news cast will be saying the exact same thing about theirs!
So maybe the only true reality is that spring break is the college age right of passage and the middle aged believing the world is going to hell in a hand basket is the middle age right of passage. Maybe we should put it right up there with loss of testosterone and menopause.
I’ve decided I’m not going to fall for their sensationalism. I’m gonna go for a stroll through memory lane. As I remember the crowded hotel rooms, and beer stained carpets I’m gonna smile. One because of all the precious memories and two because I survived. I survived with wonderful memories and lots of life lessons. Not only did I survive – my parents survived (and trust me there was many a day they thought they wouldn’t) I’m gonna smirk at my parasites who think I’m completely clueless and laugh because they have NO idea. I’m gonna “secretly” laugh when I bust them and smirk when I intentionally don’t because I’ve gotta let them think they’re smart sometimes.
The reality is that the sky isn’t falling it’s just time marching on and it happens to be their turn to make those memories. What I’ve learned is those memories will help them raise their own someday and keep a smirk on their face and trust me since they’ll be paying for their own raising they’ll need it!!!
One of the advantages, or disadvantages, of having a teenage daughter is the plethora of teenage movie and television drama’s. Just take a look at the CW or ABC Family which cater to the teenage girl. There is a vampire show for every love torn teenage girl’s fantasy boy and/or a show based in fantasy land high school where love conquers all and the mean girl always loses.
As a mother who chooses her battles wisely, I was aware I would never win the battle of the teenage girl heart and taste for the love torn so I bribed instead. She is watching and learning football with mom and I, in exchange, watch teenage girl shows and movies with her. The bribe does seem to be working in my favor. We have passed the basics of football and she is moving right along in learning positions and plays. God bless some poor teenage boy who thinks he’s getting off easy with the dumb pretty blonde. Oh wait- her favorite restaurant is Waffle House, she likes the taste of beer and she knows football. Maybe the teenage boy is getting off easy and we should all be blessing her father and brothers instead! 🙂
So back to the teenage girl drama’s. Since I haven’t watched this many since I myself was a teenage girl I am finding myself in a quandary. On one hand I am very nostalgic. It’s similar to listening to the radio and an old song comes on which brings a smile to your face. You listen and remember a certain party, old boyfriend or experience and suddenly you are back to the age of 17 and all the emotions come rushing back and you smile because if only you had the wisdom of today. I watch and remember my youth when cute boys, parties, and small drama’s made up everyday and I thought life was difficult. The only difference now is I smirk.
On the other hand do I pass on my wisdom to my baby girl? Do I tell her they are fantasy land? Do I tell her the reality of sometimes the mean girl does win and sometimes, by accident, you are her or that teenage boys are not pining away in their rooms for you because they have “other” interests and by other interest I don’t mean football? Should I tell her their brains come back at 25 and it’s in her best interest just to wait? Should I tell her that life is much more complicated than a movie and that sometimes love doesn’t conquer all at 16, but when she thinks her life is over it’s just getting interesting?
To alleviate my quandary I decided to spend a little time sharing with my baby girl the teenage movies of my age. We watched Breakfast Club, About Last Night, St Elmo’s Fire and so on. Then I decided to watch the teenage movies of my moms generation. I watched Where the boys are and Beach Blanket Bingo (yeah for Netflix and On-Demand) and I had a epiphany.
Teenage movie’s have had the same message forever and who am I do try to change the message or teach a different perspective. Even if I could would she even listen or get the point? I remember how I thought my mom had “NO IDEA” of what I was going through. I remember thinking “She’s old and married what does she know about teenage boys”
Well it turns out now that I’m old and married and it may of taken 30 years and a teenage boy of my own that I now know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I do know a few things about teenage boys. I got all excited and was planning my speech to my teenage girl and then I surprisingly had an epiphany.
Who am I to tell her the reality? These movie’s and drama’s have had the same message since Shakespeare. What if there is a valid reason for the message? What is wrong with letting her believe he’s pining away for her in his room? What is wrong with letting her believe the mean girl always loses or that love conquers all? Reality will be here soon enough and maybe my job is to just be her mom.
My job is the shoulder to cry on and the voice in her head that says Prince Charming will be here soon and she’s better than him. Maybe I am supposed to be here for the moral compass when she’s accidentally the mean girl and tell her it’s o k when the other mean girl wins. My job is really just to watch them with her, be sweet to her when she’s confused, and get her through the next 10 or 15 years so when she’s nostalgic she can smirk.
My epiphany is sometimes you just have to learn the hard way. I have decided I’m going with this plan. First, it’s nicer than she won’t listen to me anyway and second she’ll grow up soon enough and I should just enjoy the time. All I can really do is pray that one day she’ll really understand the lessons I’ll give her this fall on the concepts of football. Every girl needs a line to block for you and a strong safety to have your back.
Maybe my mom wasn’t so clueless after all!!
So yesterday I had another birthday! I got out of the bed, went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror and said “Wow- so this is what 46 looks like?” Since I was reflecting, I spent a few extra minutes and low and behold I noticed those new wrinkles and pounds I had been purposely avoiding. I had seen them, but I am convinced that avoidance is a perfectly acceptable way to get through middle age. I can’t avoid the creaks in my knee’s anymore so only just glancing in the mirror is really my new survival mechanism.
I wish I didn’t, but I remember like it was yesterday being a teenager and thinking 46 was ancient! I remember listening to Prince singing “Party Like It’s 1999” and thinking I would be soooooo old (32) when it turned to the year 2000. Now it’s 2014 and it amazes me because I’m sure if I had even thought about being this age I would of pictured myself in the nursing home. I see my parasites (children for those nicer than me) faces and remember how ancient they think I am now and it makes me giggle. I get that evil age smirk every now and then as my brain says “Yes my child- please believe I don’t know what your thinking so I can bust you just for fun!!”
My brain has a remarkable way of convincing itself most days that we are still just 15 with just a little more wisdom (other than hangover days when it screams loudly “you are 40 something honey-what were you thinking??” but I don’t think those really count cuz it did that when I was 15 too!)
Since I had decided to do a little reflecting I was sending my poor 15 year old brain into a tail spin. It was doing all sorts of somersaults of justifications, excuses, and it’s best trick avoidance. I refused to listen I just kept right on looking. As I noticed the deep wrinkles I laughed as I remembered the immortal words of Dolly Parton in Steal Magnolia’s “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marching across your face” Yep- there were those pesky boot prints of the army of time. God bless my 15 year old brain because it kicked in immediately. It decided we should make some faces and I realized most of my deepest wrinkles are laugh lines. I realized an array of smiles have crossed this face over 46 years. I decided I wouldn’t be depressed about laugh lines- they really should be celebrated. Maybe with Botox, but celebrated just the same.
When I got around to the extra pounds I decided to listen to my young brain immediately (it was nicer). For those of us that did not get smiled on young by the breast goddess a few extra pounds can do WONDERS! I am convinced that those babies are the first place a woman gains and loses weight. That old statement that most men like curvier women makes much more sense to me. I am convinced for every 20 pounds a woman gains it equals a bra size. Now I understand most men don’t even see the extra 20 pounds, just the new boobs! It gives a whole new meaning to “give em what they want”, but me and the brain are going with it!! I think about losing the pounds all the time, but then the dessert hits the table and my teenage with wisdom brain says “yes, but those go with em” and I eat the cake anyway. Hey- I could always be gaining because I was pregnant and another year older is always better than 3 months late any day!!
As I slide down the ramp of my 40’s and reflect in the mirror on this birthday, I realize more and more it seems to be all in your outlook of life. I can be depressed about the wrinkles or I can celebrate the army of laughs and emotions that have crossed my face. I can be sad about the body, which is changing daily, or I can relish in actually getting to buy a real bra size. I can be sad that my parasites see me as ancient or be excited that my brain actually knows what they are thinking and enjoy busting them and seeing their confused faces.
So as I stood there contemplating the years I realized the only thing I have truly learned in 46 years is that the truth is always just in your perspective and so stay happy and just make it up as you go along!!!
I am one of those people who, in my 40’s, is still lucky enough to have both of my parents. Not only am I lucky enough to still have them, they are both still extremely active. Now many days that activity can drive me crazy with the 40 phone calls to ask what size shoe’s, coats, shirts, pants, or underwear my children wear while my mom is shopping, but that’s usually because I don’t have any idea. Even on those days I still always answer because I remember how lucky I am that she is still shopping for them. Many of my friends have lost one or both parents these days so even when they are still giving me their own type of Southern loving advice (the rules) I still smile and try to live by them and require my children to live by them because I’m Southern and respect is still just respect.
This week though I am a little worried that they have completely lost all of their marbles!!
They left with my sister and 4 children (3 of them mine) to drive across country to Montana. The hubby and I will be flying out next week to spend a week with them in Montana and then we will fly home and they will drive back across the country with them for anther week. Now I love my parasites (children for those nicer than me), but even a 6 hour car drive with them can make me look like the exorcist while I turn green and my head spins completely around. A grandparents love must have a special patience button that you just don’t get when you become a parent. I have spoken with my mother everyday and she still just smiles and says “they are being soooo good” I’m starting to think that when you become a grandparent the government must sneak Valium in your water supply and if that’s the case can my parasites hurry and grow up (to 30) and give me grand parasites of my own. I could use a good dosing of patience, even if it’s in government mandated drug form!!
As a mom of three it is extremely weird not having your parasites at home. I have spent an evening on the back deck listening to very loud music with no one coming out to complain that we had no food. I watched an entire movie with no one coming to tell me they are bored. I’ve slept late with no one coming in to wake me up because we are out of cereal or milk. I took a nap in the middle of the afternoon with no one coming in to ask me why I am sleeping. I realized after 48 hours I am starting to miss the parasites because it is waaay to quite in my house. The insanity must be so ingrained in my brain now that when it’s turned off I’m just confused. I just wander around aimlessly waiting for some parasite to give me a direction. Luckily the hubby is handling having no direction very well. There are things happening that never happen when the parasites are here. Do dad’s get the same water as grandparents? So I need to go now so I can eat the brunch he made me complete with a cocktail. It may not be the same water as the grandparents get, but he’s trying to teach me. So until next time……………………………..
It’s another travel day for moi! I have always called these times the planes, trains and automobile days, but I am making an executive decision in my own brain to change the name to “Me walking my ass off day.” Now trust me my ass could use some walking off, but that should be voluntary and done on my own time not forced on me by some evil travel god who I must of pissed off in another life.
I want to know who these people are that get the first four gates in the terminals? I have never gotten one in my whole life. I’ve never even gotten a gate in the middle of the terminal. If you fly with me you can bet your bottom dollar we will be at the very end of the terminal coming and going especially if I’ve got a bunch of crap.
Now that I think about it I’m really not sure if I’ve ever seen one of those first four gates even being used. Maybe the airport just puts them there as a tease for those old and tired people like me. Those close gates just sit empty all day saying “haha you can sit here, but we are just really a rest stop before you have to carry all that shit in heels the other 1/2 a mile to your destination waaaaay down there at the end”. I swear it says “nanny nanny boo boo.” I look around and it seems no one else heard it so I refrain from sticking my tongue out at it- people might think I was weird.
Well today I just didn’t care. As I started the trek down the terminal with a heavy laptop bag, purse, and heels and realized I again was at the very last gate I just stopped at the first gate (which was empty shocker) and stuck my tongue out and shot it a bird and said “right back at cha”. Still had to walk the half mile, but hey I felt better and the looks I got were priceless!