Hot Tin Cans
So I’m sitting here in a full tin can that feels like its about 1000 degree’s trying to figure out if I’m having a hot flash or if it’s just damn hot in here. Having a middle seat in a full plane is never my idea of fun, but when you have begun to glisten with sweat like a cold glass of sweet tea on a hot summers day it just makes it ever more joyful. I’m wondering if I’ll leave a ring – maybe I should have a coaster now too? I look around the plane and no one else seems to be fanning themselves rapidly, but – note to self- I finally found an actual use for the safety brochure that no one EVER reads. All I can say to the safety directors at Delta is bless you for the fan and please don’t move it to digital til I’m done with the change.
That’s the fun thing about middle age – I’m finding so many uses for items I had never really thought of before. In my younger days ice in your bra or underwear could be fun- now it’s almost as good as air conditioning. My ice maker now doubles as a hat and my whole head can almost fit. Fans can be made out of almost any item in a pinch. Hell- I’ve even used my laptop in desperation once.
Well they finally turned the air on in this tin can which I’ve also learned can be used as hair dryer – so until next time………….
Well Time- March On……..
I know all you people keep saying the 40’s is the new 20’s, but let me just tell you that now that I am in my mid 40’s all I can say is “BULLSHIT!” I could try to say it nicer (I even tried to explore how), but bullshit really seems to be the most appropriate and best way to nail it. There are a few advantages of age. Wisdom and treachery are a two of my favorites, but in general getting old really isn’t all that much fun.
I know that on the TV they keep showing us these 40 to 60 year old’s that still look 20. Really?? I’m sure they have “good genes” and all, but come on I’m sure I could too if I could pay millions of dollars for people and products to make my wrinkles go away. They may look 20, but I bet they can’t get to the bathroom before they pee on themselves either. That should be the real age test for women- not wrinkles. When you are in your twenties you can run a mile. When you are in your 30’s hard coughs and sneezes become a issue. In your 40’s after having parasites (children for those nicer than me) just thinking about it and making it in time becomes your comedy or tragedy of the day. I feel like I spend a lot of time during my day doing what I call “the don’t pee pee dance” I do it in the car, I do it in the grocery store and I do it in hallways. It now takes me 10 minutes to get out of the car in my own driveway after traffic. Not because I’m stuck on the phone or even getting my stuff together, but simply because it takes me that long to psych myself up for the attempt to make it to the bathroom in time. I now know why adult diapers are such big sellers because otherwise by 60 I am sure we would all just be permanently living in a bathroom too afraid to come out.
The other age test these freaks of nature should have to pass is the joint noises test. I just want one time when one of these women goes on a talk show to talk about her “staying young” techniques I want them to walk down the stairs with microphones on their knees, not their jackets. I remember lovingly the days when I used to be able to bound up and down the stairs. Now when I walk up and down the stairs it sounds more like someone burning themselves while popping popcorn. “Pop, ouch, pop, ouch, pop, ouch” My hips now too are joining in on the conspiracy against me. They are evil and go out at the most inappropriate times. I’ll gladly avoid the stairs, but the hubby and I have a goal to get kicked out of the old age home for inappropriate behavior and I’ll certainly need my hips for that.
The other joy of middle age which I could do without is having my own little personal summer times. The government gives out many subsidies. I think one they are ignoring is personal cabana boys for middle aged women. This would not be a permanent subsidy, but a temporary one (kinda like welfare was supposed to be) For about 5 years all middle aged women going through menopause would be assigned one cabana boy. His job would be to follow us around with a cup of ice and large fan. He should pay attention and anytime we start sweating for no reason (or glowing for my southern lady friends) he should jump into action and feed us ice and quickly fan. Pay attention to history and all the famous queens with their personal people running around fanning them- they weren’t really hot they were going through the change and understood what was needed. I may just hold out on picking my next candidate for president until I can find one whose platform is cabana boys or hell- maybe I’ll just run myself. My platform will be “Menopausal women unite” The men may not vote for us, but I bet they’ll be to scared to tell us. 🙂
Since I don’t have millions I am deciding to grow old gracefully (or not so much-depending on how you look at it) What tickles me is we put so much emphasis on the wrinkles on our face and so far I’ve found those are the least annoying parts of growing old. It has taken me years to get these “shit eating grin” lines permanently etched on my face and I think they deserve to stay. I don’t mind seeing my laugh lines in the mirror- they’re my badge of courage. Those lines mean I’ve found ways to laugh even through the tears. Those lines mean I have laughed, those lines mean I have loved, those lines mean I have lived, and those lines mean I have survived. As I look in the mirror tonight at the wrinkles and try to figure out why my grandmother when she was younger is staring back at me I hear the the immortal words of Dolly Parton in Steal Magnolia’s “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marching across your face” Well time- march on………………….
God Bless The Pictures!!!
Aside Posted on Updated on
As I sat here tonight in my chair and looked above my head at my favorite painting above the fireplace of the picture of my young family, I thought about how much everything has changed over the years. When this picture was taken they were all just toddlers and babies. I used to look at the picture when they were all 5 to 9 and think wow how the the parasites (children for those nicer than me) have grown. Now as I look at that picture I think where did those babies go??
Two are teenagers now and one is on the precipice. They drive me nuts everyday. They make me look at my husband regularly and say “Why exactly did we have three children?” and say “Please for God’s sake goooooo to bed” on a regular basis. They make me cuss, pray, thankful, and in general drive me bat shit crazy daily.
The amazing thing though is in reality they are still here and will survive because whether they are 4 or 40 in almost every parents eyes they still are their babies. They still have those big ole toddler eyes and cheeks to us parents and when we question whether to eat our young or not- the pictures are here to reminds us.
God Bless This Picture Until They’re Grown!!!
On The Road Again!
Aside Posted on Updated on
Yesterday as I was taking a road trip my mind started to wander (I was riding not driving so no where near as dangerous than it wandering normally is) As I was riding down the road I started to think about our interstates. The United States interstate system was developed to help get goods to us quickly and cheaply. Our grocery stores are full of things now for us to buy so it can just rot in our refrigerator. These roads are becoming ever more important because we need our things, such as banana’s. Banana’s and their potassium are important and can fend off infertility. After having 3 parasites in less than 4 years, (children for those sweeter than me) banana’s have been outlawed in my home. I may need strawberries, but (sing along) “we have no banana’s – we have no banana’s today” I am also about to have three teenagers so I am really ok with anything that can enhance selective and time lined infertility so no banana’s for them either. Actually I’m all for using any and all non permanent infertility aids. As a matter of fact – I pray for them.
These interstates were also put in place for us average Joe’s to get from point A to point B much quicker. They all look the same though. As a matter of fact most of the time we can’t even tell the difference in what part of the country we are in other than the trees that mind-dumbingly line each side of the interstate. When we used to drive down old 2 lane or 4 lane highways we got to see many things and learn a little more about a culture. Now we pretty much are resigned to learning about their trees and their culture through what’s on an exit ramp and billboards.
This started me giggling about what outsiders must be learning about the south while driving through.
1) We have pine trees
We have lots and lots of pine trees, If they happen to come during April they can even experience a whole new version of yellow snow. This isn’t the yellow snow of the north during winter- this is a whole new experience. When our pine trees (or evergreens for those from other parts) decide to pollinate they produce enough enough bright yellow/green stuff to populate the world. They don’t populate the world- they actually just cover everything with this yellow/green dust like substance that is about the same consistency as sand. I always love to watch the new transplants trying to keep their cars clean during this new experience- it takes a few years to learn it’s a lesson in futility. We southerners just know – wait it out- wash it in two weeks.
2) We really really really like waffles!
Get off the interstate in most Southern states and turn to the left or the right and there will sit that little yellow topped building called Waffle House (usually on both sides of the exit). They are all open 24 hours a day so if you need a waffle fix at 3 am we’ve gotcha covered. Many parts of the country have adult rights of passages. I have decided the South really has two. The 2 am drunk waffle visit and the 11 am hung over Waffle House visit. Once you have done both you are officially ready for adult life in the South and if you accomplish both in one day you are ready to conquer the world. There is no better “hair of the dog” than a grease fest Waffle House visit. You can do your Bloody Mary if you want, but I’ll take my medicine scattered, covered and smothered please.
3) Club Risqué is as important as peaches and nuts (there might be a joke in that)
Now I know they’ve changed their names, but if you’ve driven on our interstates you’ve seen the billboards. These billboards have caused many a complicated and entertaining conversations between mothers and children. As soon as they begin to read the question always comes “mom, what’s adult entertainment?” Some mothers almost wreck and some mothers say I’m not sure and the mothers like me say “well it’s kinda like shoe shopping, but different and I’ll explain it later.” Phew!! Now on to the next question “mom, what’s a pecan log?” I just smile sweetly and make the dirty jokes in my head.
You would think that being in the Bible Belt we would have serious issue’s with all of this adult entertainment advertising, but we seem to be able to live in the duality just fine. We have more churches per capita than other region. There is one on about every corner, but in our history there was a bunch of towns that the only things that gave the churches a run for their money was the brothels. We just didn’t put em on the corners we actually gave them a whole part of town. I think we understand that not everyone needs the same stimuli to say “Oh God” and we appreciate religious fervor in all it’s forms.
Now on this trip I had the pleasure to get off the interstate and go off the beaten path for a while and oh the education on the south these people are missing. I started to add them here, but realized that if I can’t write a whole blog on a store that advertises lingerie and bait then I should never write again. So until next time………………..
I’ll Go Down Kicking and Screaming
As I sit here this morning during Easter weekend I am reminded of many southern traditions from my childhood and how they change over time. As I ponder many of these southern traditions I am reminded that a few needed to pass politely into history. There is still a few examples of bigotry and racial oppression, but for the most part most southerners today have shed these beliefs and traditions. For many they were never part of their belief systems or traditions in the first place. In my house the “N” word was of those words that was equal to or worse than the “F” word and if ya wanted an ass beating – say either. As this tradition quietly (or not so quietly) passes into history we all take a huge sigh of relief.
There are many of our traditions though that are slipping into history that I, for one, will go down kicking and screaming to defend before they go down quietly. I decided to make a list of these traditions and why I think they are worth fighting to keep.
BAD MANNERS ARE WORSE THAN NO MONEY
When my parasites (children for those nicer than me) were small and before they could understand adult concepts, I made them memorize and say little sayings to try to cement some things in their brains before those brains were too full of useless knowledge and commercial jingles to hear anything else. One of these was “bad manners are worse than no money” Manners in their simplistic form are designed to make people feel more comfortable. They are a set of rules that we all live by to show respect and caring for other people. Manners also show other people many important things about you. They show your upbringing, they show your level of respect for other people, they show your level of respect for societal rules and they show your respect for yourself. You can live in a shack, but if you know basic manners you can go anywhere with anyone and survive and thrive. I still hear my dad say to the kids every meal he eats with them “What’s important?” to which they reply “Manners Da”
GOOD OLE BOYS AND SOUTHERN LADIES KNOW AND UNDERSTAND THAT BEING HUMBLE IS A STRENGTH
Southern society has always prided itself on raising gentlemen and ladies. Our society today has seemed to embrace the term “redneck” as a catch all for southern gentlemen, but when I grew up there was a definite difference in being a “redneck” and being a “Southern Gentlemen”. They are called by many names, but the one I miss seems to be “Good Ole Boy”. A “Good ole boy” embraced all of the best traits of being a southern gentlemen. How to spot a good ole boy is easy. He says “yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir and no sir”. He hold doors for others and shows respect for his elders. He has a polite greetings for anyone he passes on the street and waves at people he doesn’t know. He always remains humble. This trait takes many a people in business off guard. He can be the smartest man on the planet and CEO of the largest company in the south, but if you ask him what he does for a living his answer will always be “I run a little company down in Atlanta” If the name happened to be Coke you would have to pull it out of him with pliers.
Now our ladies have rules too. Southern ladies fix food for anyone who has a surgery, a baby, or a death in the family. If you have a death in the family it can be an excuse to buy a new freezer to put the food. Southern ladies take pride in being humble and serving their community. Southern ladies take care of each other and know there is strength in each other. Please don’t think being humble means we don’t take care of ourselves or do not take pride in ourselves because that’s just a straight up myth. I never saw my grandmother have a grey hair, not do her make-up or not have her nails done in public until she was pushing 90. I still won’t go to the grocery store without mascara cause she would “roll over in her grave” I tell my husband all the time “I come from a looooong line of prideful southern women so it’s no my fault- just hush cause I’ll be ready soon” Steal Magnolia’s was the quintessential Southern woman movie. I miss the days of going to the beauty shop with my mama every week at a certain time. All the same women were there every week and listening to their conversations. I really wish I had known and had written some of the sayings down I would be rich. If they weren’t at the beauty shop they were at church. These women knew everything about each other. They made each other stronger just by being together. Southern ladies are made of stone so put them together and they become a wall who you can’t knock down with any weapon.
YOU WEAR YOUR BEST TO CHURCH ON SUNDAY MORNING
This is one I am convinced that big ole boulders are going to come whizzing at my head, but I’m going here just the same so throw away. Like it or hate it this is a southern tradition that seems to be going by the wayside and it makes me sad. Easter coming around every year seems to remind me lovingly of this tradition.
When I was little I would get up every Easter morning and run to see what the Easter Bunny had placed in my basket. There was always candy and a toy. We would play for a little while and then the best part of Easter morning came. It was time to get ready for church. It was the best part because I finally got to wear my “Easter dress” This dress which I had looked at lovingly and had wanted to wear for weeks I could finally put on. There had many a fight with mama for weeks as I had begged to wear it and was told no. It was laid out on my bed with everything else that was new. It only happened once a year, but there it was laid out for me. I had new underwear, new socks, new shoes and that pretty new dress and sometimes even an Easter bonnet. That means hat for those of you confused. After I was dressed I would put it on and look in the mirror and twirl a few times. FYI- all southern girls like to twirl- it’s pre-programmed in our DNA. We twirl in a pretty new dress and it doesn’t matter if we’re 2 or 80. Easter was the day you wore your very best. When you got to church everyone looked so beautiful and handsome in their new spiffy cloths. Jesus had risen on that day and we were showing him the respect that gift deserved by wearing our very best. Maybe that lesson is why I have such a hard time with the dressing for church tradition going by the wayside.
Now I am as guilty as the next person of not holding up this tradition as it was handed down to me. When I was young if you were a girl you wore a dress to a church service. It didn’t matter if it was a 11 am on Sunday morning or 6 pm Sunday night. It didn’t even matter if it was a Wednesday night during revival. If there was preacher in the pulpit a dress was expected. (Southern revivals are a whole different blog) There was a whole section in my closet that could of just been labeled church dresses. There was the play cloths, the school cloths and the church cloths and if mama caught you confusing the three there was hell to pay.
In general all methods of dressing has come down a few notches. Most men do not wear three piece suits to work and ties in most industries are no longer required. The pant suit has become the standard woman work place uniform including mine. I wear pants to church now some Sundays and there are still mornings while I put them on I am afraid my granny is gonna come haunt me. I still can’t bring myself to wear casual cloths to any church service. I still can’t even really allow the parasites to dress casual. All I hear is my grandmother in my head saying “If you have enough respect for the world to dress for them shouldn’t you have enough respect for God to do the same” That voice is loud and forceful and seems to come out of my mouth now to my own parasites as they get ready for church. There are not as many suits in their closets, but my mama and I still makes sure there are sports jackets, khaki’s, dress shoe’s for the boys and dresses that twirl for the girl.
This tradition was never about wearing khaki’s and a jacket or even a dress. This tradition was just always about wearing the best you had in respect for God. If the best you have in your closet is jeans and a sweatshirt then that is what you need to wear, but if you spend more time getting ready for the world during the week than you do for God on Sunday morning then think about where your actual priorities and respect are pointed.
So as I sit here today missing a lot of the traditions of my youth and thinking about how they have changed I am realizing that most true southern traditions won’t really ever go away. They will just change with the times. How we teach the future generations to be good ole boys and southern ladies will be up to us. The actual traditions may change it’s the message that’s important. The message of manners, humility, service, strength and respect can resonate and be taught in many ways. That is one of the great things of being a parent you get to teach your own parasites the lessons you find important in the ways you believe work. These were usually handed down to you in traditions and you will pass them down to your own even if they change a little with the times. My parasites may not have a new outfit laid out for them in the morning, but the best in their closet will be laid out and pressed and as we make our way to church I am sure somewhere my grandmothers voice will come sneaking out of my mouth again explaining why.
Well What Was It?
This afternoon I actually for a change had all three of my parasites (again children for those sweeter than me) in the same room. Now that they are getting older it happens ever so less frequently. One is usually hiding in their room doing God knows what (he’s a teenage boy and there are days I’m afraid to ask- yes I know he can wash it as long and he wants). Another is in their room sleeping (teenage girls seem to need an inordinate amount of sleep or maybe she’s faking so I will go away- you know mom’s are annoying) and the youngest is outside blowing something up (making mama yell “What the HELL was that!!” seems to be a preteen boy skill). This afternoon however; they were all in the room.
I decided it was time to talk (yes I know I was asking for trouble, but sometimes ya just gotta go for it) My first question was easy. “How was school?” The eldest said the standard teenage boy answer “fine” The middle said “Just another standardized test day” and the baby- well the baby said “We had tests so it was yucky” Hey he’s a boy so it was more words than fine which made me happy.
My next question was “What did you learn today?” The eldest said “teenage girls require too much money and attention” (I thought about probing that one, but as his mama this assessment might end up being easier for me so I let it go) The middle darling said “there seems to be a lot of girls confused about their sexuality in my school” (saving the rest of that conversation for a whole separate blog” The youngest parasite said “I love my new substitute teacher- she’s cool” (he’s a simple child)
Now since we were still talking an no one had run away I decided I would ask something a little more difficult. My next question was “What impact on someones life did you make today?”
This question actually took my normally quick witted and clever parasites off guard. Usually my quick witted little smart-ass’s make me regret asking questions of such magnitude because they say things that scare me. This made me even more scared. When the youngest thinks I can actually see the wheels turning in his brain and most of the time they make me cringe, because they turn waaaaay too much like mine. I did get a few smart-alack responses such as “My fart didn’t stink the bathroom up and run anyone out” but in general I just got confused looks. Maybe I should ask them these things more often, but hey I can’t get them in the same room that much.
Finally one said “mama what do you mean?” my answer was cryptic “Did you smile at anyone who looked sad today? Did you help anyone who looked weak today? Did you say hi to anyone who looked lonely?”
They started to look at me with those teenage eyes that say “wow you’re old and stupid and don’t even know it- do you mama?”
I asked again- “well what was it?” and none could answer so I gave them a task for the rest of the week They are to watch and smile at anyone who looked sad even if they were rude to them and help anyone who looked weaker than them even if they didn’t ask and say hello to anyone who looked alone even if they rolled their eyes.
Now they are just teenagers so now they realize mama is trying to teach so they immediately tried to leave the room and I said “Not so fast my babies” Let me tell you a story.
Here it is:
“I was a self absorbed teenager just like you!! Twenty years later I was somewhere and someone walked up to me and told me a story about one night I has been kind to her because she was upset and when I asked why and she didn’t want to tell me I never asked any further and just sat with her even though we weren’t close (I am sad to say I didn’t even remember the night) She told me she had come there intentionally to tell me thank you because she was raped that night and anytime after that she had thought people weren’t kind she thought of that night and that I had been kind to her” The night I found this out I cried myself to sleep because I didn’t remember. How could I forget something that was clearly that important to someone else’s life?
I informed the parasites that sometimes now I wish I didn’t know that story because it is so much easier to be self absorbed. It is easier to live life thinking that anything you do doesn’t have an impact on anyone other than yourself. When you find out it really does it changes you. If I could help someone that much unintentionally who had I hurt unintentionally? I’m a believer in duality so if I helped someone I probably hurt someone that much too and that makes me sad!
So after my little lesson and six little rolled eyes I still gave them their assignment for the week. Tell me three people you helped and three people you hurt this week. My prayer is they are like me and the REAL one’s they don’t remember either.
They Can Be “Special” To Me
Typically I sit around at night doing my best impression of a mother paying attention to the multiple conversations spouting out of her children. They stand around all shouting “MOM” at the same time and then start the rapid fire multi conversations. I guess they think I am the queen of the multi-task. I’m good, but hell no one can listen to all that babble especially when it’s a three for one. I said impression because I have the mastered the art of pretending to listen to the millions of words that come pouring out of the parasites (children for those nicer than me) mouths. I have learned that I can get away with looking in their general direction periodically while actually listening to about every 20 words. As long as I smile and say yes or ok every 100 words they are fooled and I can continue to actually listen to the show I am watching or writing my blog. This skill has saved me millions of hours of mindless conversations about Lego’s and Barbie’s. I don’t mind buying Lego’s and Barbie’s, but I am too damn old to care what outfit she’s wearing, where she is going on her date with Ken, or which Lego spacecraft we are building today. I’m happy they are happy, but I would really rather talk about anything else up to an including bowel movements.
Now as they get older I am being forced to change the actual listening patterns to an extent and listen to the closer to 10 word range. This has gotten to be such a habit that now I can’t help it I actually listen to every 10th word even when they aren’t talking to me. Tonight as I sat here staring at a blank screen trying to decide what to write two of them were sitting across the room talking to each other. My first thought was GLORY HALLELUJAH they aren’t talking to me. After a few minutes I heard one word come out of one and my ears perked up. A few seconds later I heard another and decided to listen a little closer. They were having a conversation about school. One was saying “I know I’m only in advanced classes, but not in Horizon’s (the gifted program) so I guess I’m just normal. The other then said – yep I guess we are just normal. What was said didn’t bother me. It was how they said normal that bothered me.
When did NORMAL become a bad thing?
My solutions was to go straight to the dictionary to look up some definitions of the word normal to try to decide what the problem seemed to be
Normal: conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.
So normal, in it’s most basic form, means conforming to a standard. There are rules (or standards) in everything. Society has standards or rules that most of us are expected to live by in our daily life. So being normal really means agreeing and living by societal standards. Basically it means being a regular person. It means we don’t kill, we don’t steal, we respect authority, we try to hold down a job, we pay our bills, we pay our taxes, we raise our children. In general we do what is expected of us to live in our society.
As I pondered this new phenomenon of the word normal being the new “terrible” thing to be I at first was confused. As I continued to mull it over a while I started to think about conversations I’ve had with other mothers over the years. You know those “super” moms who believe they are raising “phenoms” in multiple disciplines. These are the over achiever moms with the over achieving kids who are running between 3 sports with “extra” specific practices in each, then off to piano and voice lessons, then to the tutors to keep their grades up all for each kid. Those moms who then get home and give their kids specific time lines of their lives from the time their little feet hit the floor in the morning til their heads hit a pillow at bedtime. Inside my house has always just been a loosely scheduled mad house that would rival any good three ring circus. The clowns are always just running a muck.
Maybe it’s my fault my parasites are just “normal”. I may have squished their individuality like a bug. When they were young I established a pattern of normal. As we drove to a destination we would discuss their behavioral expectations at the event. As we sat in the car at the destination they were required to repeat them to me before they were allowed to get out of the car.
The grocery store visit was always my favorite:
Me: What does mommy expect?
Parasites in Unison: I have to stay with you, mind what you say, and not yell
Me: Perfect let’s go
They each learned their lesson the hard way what happens when you don’t follow the expectations.
One ran from me from one side of the store to the other and got a (What I call) a sweet little love tap on his cute little rear end
One decided to throw a temper tantrum to which I sweetly picked her up out of the buggy, sat her on the floor, looked at her lovingly and said “I’m sorry- mommy doesn’t talk to children who behave this way” and calmly walked away and continued shopping (It’s amazing how fast those little eyes dry up and they behavior changes when they realize you aren’t entertaining their behavior nor or you coming back) Have you ever tried to go to the grocery store with three little ones? Trust me-being tarred and feathered would be more pleasant so there has to be some type of “normal”
My second favorite was family gatherings. My hubby and I both come from large families so it happened almost as much as the grocery store.
Me: What are the rules?
Parasites in unison: We must be polite and mind our elders, use our best manners, we shouldn’t interrupt adults conversations, we should shake hands and introduce ourselves and and we should be careful around other peoples stuff
Me: Perfect – let’s go
I also had “God Forbid” behavioral expectations for school
1) Respect your teacher
2) Never “not mind” As they’ve aged it’s changed to be never be disrespectful
3) If you get in trouble at school you get in trouble at home
4) Do your best work
I am a firm believer in organized sports and we play regularly, but I also have always tried to allow each one to have at least 6 months a year that every minute isn’t scheduled and doesn’t produce pressure. They play a lot outside. They play football, kickball, baseball and lots of other invented games in the front yard. They build forts and drive tractors with their granddaddy. They play a few video games and in general just be kids with no pressure to preform other than their standard school day. When it’s time to perform then perform, but when it’s time to play then play. I expect and want them to work hard and play hard cuz isn’t that normal?
Many people today seem to want their kids to be “Super” and “Excel” in everything. I just want and strive for my kids to be normal. Maybe I squished their individuality, but have you ever gotten a compliment from another parent or adult that said “Wow- I am super impressed with your kids individuality and he is welcome here anytime” I bet you haven’t, but you will get a compliment on manners and respect though. Those compliments seem to come regularly now and they make me beam with pride. You can keep your sports compliments, piano compliments, singing compliments, and grade compliments. Those are great, but the them being “normal” compliments are just fine by me. I’ll take “what a nice young man he is for holding the door open for me” any day.
I pray they become more normal everyday. The “Normal” prayer for my children goes something like this: I pray they stay well grounded, know their own strengths and weaknesses and value them, show respect and know their place in the world, have empathy for those with less, and in general become good humans and tax paying citizens!
Normal shouldn’t be the new four letter word. I’m perfectly happy and pray they remain “normal” to everyone else. They can be “special” to me.
Karma- Ain’t She A Bitch
I try to never write when I’m really upset. I try to wait a few days so I can calm down and think of a funnier way to get to the point. I usually try to be funny yet pointed cause I find if I construct about ever few sentences for someone to laugh it’s not nearly as controversial. Most people (or maybe just me) seem to take criticism or constructive criticism much easier when given with a few laughs. You know that great song -everyone sing along- from Mary Poppins “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down” We can say as a society that news channels, news papers, drama’s or even reality TV changes our society, but comedy is what makes many actually examine what they find funny and change their perspectives. It can never change a belief, but it does help in the examination.
I’ve only found one bitch that seems to have a more messed up sense of humor than mine and her name is Karma! She has always been one of my favorite comedians. She is the best I’ve ever seen at making people eat their words. She can serve up a whole big ole plate of humble pie better than any professional chef. I’m convinced she just sits around having a glass of wine with her wolf like ears perked up just waiting for some unsuspecting human to say something stupid so she can make them eat their feet. She is the epitome of “open mouth -insert foot” My daddy only preached to me about one thing ever. It could be the only thing I really ever heard, but I’m going with preached. All he ever said was “Child listen to me closely- NEVER EVER say my child will not cuz you made me eat every word. Just don’t do it and maybe they won’t.”
As I said my daddy preached this so many times in my life- I have NEVER EVER said it cuz that lady named Karma scares me. I’m not scared of many people or things. The very short list of things I’m scared of are: my parents, my ancestors rolling over in their graves, the monkey bats from The Wizard of Oz, Freddie Kruger from Nightmare of Elm Street, Jaws, and Karma. Every now and then my hubby will get brave during a children conversation and stick his chest out and say something like “My child will” and he wakes up 15 minutes later after the “thunk” of the flip flop hit him in the head. I don’t throw things at the hubby (often), but you can bet a flip flop flies at his head before even half of the statement gets out of his mouth. I’m already “payin” for both of our raising the last thing I need is Karma to come bite me in the ass times two!!
The only other thing I’ve found that can change a person’s perspective faster than comedy is that sweetheart I call Karma. She just sits around waiting with that evil smirk on her face for you to say something stupid. Trust me- just pick someone that does something you don’t understand today. Condemn their behavior. Tall about it a lot to anyone who will listen (gossip about things you don’t know for those of you confused). I promise as soon as you do Karma will pick someone you love to punish for your arrogance. It may be your child, your sibling, your spouse, your parent, your cousin or your best friend, but trust me you will learn to accept and understand the behavior because she will pick and punish someone who you will love unconditionally to prove a point. That’s her sense of irony and you put it out there and you can’t tell me you never heard the term “Karma’s a bitch”? You just choose to take her on and lost!
There’s an old saying about people that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and in reality don’t we all live in glass houses. Are any of us perfect? Isn’t a glass house just a protective barrier we all build against the world so we can go to bed and say “Thank God that’s not us” Even if our houses aren’t broken, do any of our windows not have a few spots or cracks? One of my favorite southern sayings has always been “Well bless their heart” which applies to those people out there testing my friend Karma-good luck with that!! For those of you who know better than to mess with bigger stuff than yourselves my second favorite saying is the “There for the grace of God, Go I! Trust me -when you have to go down the more difficult road it’s always less painful to travel without the taste of your boot leather in your mouth!
If You Think I’m Crazy Now…..
My house growing up was an estrogen metropolis. There were three women and my poor dad. The poor guy was so outnumbered I think his testosterone levels had to of been lowered once a month just for survival. He lived through thousands of naked Barbies and baby dolls that needed to be held. Through the teenage years we traveled on the roller coaster of girl hormones and my poor parents just hung on in the back seats for dear life. There was the yelling and temper tantrum throwing. There was the busting out crying for no good reason and the monthly melody of “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go eat worms” followed by door slams. Such is the life with just girls.
You can imagine my surprise when I went for my first ultrasound and low and behold there was a little extra appendage. I was having a boy. I had no idea how to raise a boy. I hadn’t prepared for a boy. I had spent the first three months of my pregnancy looking at little pink dresses because we all know how well that assume thing works out. But here it was – a little HE was coming into my world. I immediately started to change plans. I changed the nursery idea from Nursery Rhymes to John Deere. I had John Deere before John Deere was cool. I had to order the material from their corporate and have the entire ensemble made, but it was the first so damn the torpedo’s and the cost. I started looking at little boy cloths and picking out the cutest ones with baseballs, footballs, and in general sports themes galore. By the time he came into the world everything was prepared, but me.
This little appendage came with lots of rules I didn’t know. They come in at the hospital and tell you they have to cut on it which is incredibly scary for a new mama. When you get them home you have to keep it really clean and sanitary. You learn that little appendage even as an infant can stand straight up. After you get pee in your eye once you learn real quick what that standing up means and that the diaper needs to be put on the front first. Forget everything you ever learned about changing a diaper- trust me- the front goes down first!
As they grow this appendage starts to take on a life of it’s on. When you go in to wake up your toddler- there it is – standing at attention, It still means the same thing, but it still takes you off guard at first. They also learn where it is and how to manipulate it themselves. I learned this lesson the hard way. As I was sitting on my bed one morning talking on the phone this cute little toddler boy creature I had made walks into my room. He has somehow gone from feety pajama’s to butt ass naked in approximately a minute. He is standing there in all his glory. He is grinning bigger than a Cheshire Cat. His hands are on his hips and his chest is stuck out like he has conquered the world. He looks up at me and says “Look mama – made big pee-pee – and hung my pacey on it” There it was- a pacifier hanging by the handle off his appendage. As I sat there stunned and not exactly knowing how to deal with this new experience I decided my best option was to call the hubby to find out if this was normal. I assumed it was when his answer was “That’s my boy”
Now that boy is a teenager that extra appendage officially scares me to death!!
I seem to be a little odd in the things that scare me as a mama. Most people seem to be petrified of their daughters during these years and have the idea that boys are easy. I am the exact opposite. I hope they are brilliant and don’t do anything dumb, but since I know there are probably no Nobel Prize winners coming from my loins – I have been saying “please be smart and cover your soldier” since I was quickly laying that diaper down on top of it before it pee’d on me. Here’s always been my thinking: If my teenage estrogen queen gets herself in trouble I have some say so and control. If God forbid something does happen I will be involved in the decisions and the future. If my teenage testosterone kings get someone else in trouble my boys nor I have any say so in the decision or future what so ever.
Now you may think this makes me a control freak and maybe it does, but it scares me more than the monkey bats from the Wizard of Oz. Oh- and at 45 I am still petrified of the monkey bats. When I have these horrifying thoughts I start to hear the monkey bats music and start to hyperventilate. I try to talk to them often about smart decisions and dumb decisions and how to protect themselves etc etc etc. Some days I feel like all I do is talk about teenage decisions until I’m blue in the face. I give them a situation and ask how they would handle. I give them an example and ask if it was a smart decision or not. I ask them for examples of things they’ve heard at school that were dumb decisions and how they would of handled them differently. I talk, threaten, and plead and hope they listen at least a little and then I pray pray pray and hope they and I survive the roller coaster of the teenage hormone years because I’m just holding on in the back seat and getting ready for the ride.
I’m praying for the Nobel prize winners, but until then my newest threat for my testosterone kings is one of my favorites. Sometimes fear can be a powerful motivator and I need them motivated to over rule their hormones during those special moments!!! “Boys ya know I’ve always said that orange isn’t in my color wheel, but the quickest way to see mama wearing an attractive orange jumper and to only visit me on Sundays is to it let some crazier women than me be raising my grand baby. Oh and FYI- If you think I’m crazy now – you won’t of seen nothin yet!” Since they already seem a little scared of me when I go crazy- let’s just let em think on that….
Should Of, Would Of, Could Of
This afternoon the parasites (children for those of you nicer than me) all started to come rambling in from school. First through the door is the youngest. He comes in yells “Mom”, immediately throws his book bag in a corner and gives me the obligatory kiss on the cheek. I ask “how was school” and get the standard boy answer of “Fine”. About and hour later the next in the door is the oldest. He yells “Mom”, throws down the book bag and gives me the obligatory kiss on the cheek. I ask “how was school” and get the standard boy answer of “Fine”. About 45 minutes later the next in the door is the middle parasite. The experience starts off the same. She walks in the door yelling “Mom” throws the book bag down and gives me a kiss on the cheek and then everything changes. She begins to talk. She proceeds to tell me absolutely everything that was said or done at school that day until my ears start to bleed or she is so exhausted she decides to take a nap. Since she is a teenage girl thankfully usually the nap comes first, but I’m waiting on the ears to start bleeding any day.
This is a pretty standard afternoon in my house and has been for many years. Most of this ritual was started when they started kindergarten. They came home and threw their book bags down. I pointed at my cheek and they knew what was expected. I never had to say “give mama a kiss” they just leaned in and kissed my cheek. Somewhere over all of those years I stopped having to point. It just became part of the routine I now take almost for granted.
This started me thinking about other routines we do every day and how many of those we take for granted.
1) No one leaves in the morning without a kiss on the cheek and a “Love you- have a good day”.
This is why my mornings take forever! One parasite leaves at 6:55. The hubby leaves at 7:30. The next parasite leaves at 7:35 and the next leaves at 8:20. I finally get to my life after all of this insanity. There is a whole lot of niceties going on in my house before 8:30 in the morning. Some mornings I’m grumpy and they may not come out with the same sweetness as others. Some mornings these sweet words are done in a tone that the devil would be proud of, but they are said just the same. If you think mine come out my mouth with a tone you should hear a 14 year old sleepy boy saying it at 7:30 am to his mama. There are mornings I am pretty sure he has been possessed by a demon. I keep watching just to verify saying the word love doesn’t force his whole body into convulsions and his head to spin around. So far so good, but hey- it could still happen.
2) Whoever cooks dinner gets a Thank you from those who ate
We do not eat out a lot- actually almost never. Now I’m not saying we are one of those families that eat together at a table (like we should). We are a standard family that makes it’s plates and sits around the boob tube eating. We just have never eaten out a lot so I’m not sure when this one started or why. Maybe it started with my father always telling my mother thank you for dinner. Maybe it started when I used to work crazy hours and my husband would cook dinner when needed and I felt guilty. Maybe it started because my husband was happy when I cooked. I’m not sure, but it seems to be part of our routine now. With three parasites running in multiple directions we have learned that dinner at home some nights is a challenge. Whoever gets home first, decides to stay home from practice, or just gets up out of their chair first cooks. I seem to lose in the “get out of the chair first” battle so I do a lot of practices to balance out the load. What I appreciate about this routine is it doesn’t really matter who cooks. It doesn’t matter if it’s one of the parasites (happened once in almost 15 years), the hubby, or myself. If you eat- you must say thank you. SHHHH- the best part is it’s so ingrained – I even get a thank you for take out – cuz that dialing the pizza place was exhausting!!
3) No one goes to bed without a kiss and and “I love you and sweet dreams”
I used to love this time of day soooooo much!! When they were little you would feed them and they would say thank you. Then they would get their baths, brush their teeth, get on the pajama’s, and get in the bed. We would go in and tuck them in all snug as bugs in rugs, give them their kiss goodnight, tell them we loved them and have sweet dreams. There was usually about another 30 minutes of insanity while we tucked them in again and repeated the process a few times, but eventually they would be asleep and we would have about 2 whole hours of adult time before we fell over.
As they age this sweet experience has all gone to SHIT!! Now it works more like this. At 8 pm I start yelling at the youngest to get in the shower to which he “remembers” he has homework because “he forgot” at 4. At about 8:30 to 9 pm everyone is home or comes inside and we finally eat dinner and they say thank you (Yes I do know why I am getting as big as a house). At 9:15 to 9:30 I start yelling at the youngest to go to bed (He’s 11 not 6 so just relax) About 15 minutes after I have accomplished the feat he begins to yell “MAMA” throughout the house so I go in for his kiss and sweet dreams. At 10 I start yelling at the two teenagers to get in the shower and bed. At 10:30 the middle child comes out in a towel, shakes her wet head in my face and giggles. At 11 I go into each of the teenagers rooms, yell at the top of my lungs “FOR GODS SAKE GO TO BED” give them their kiss and I love you/sweet dreams. I then walk to my bedroom and crawl in the bed defeated. Then something rehabilitating happens. The hubby reaches over, kisses me and says Sweet dreams/ I love you.
My favorite part of this ritual is when other children spend the night. My rule does not change. If you spend the night in my home you get a goodnight kiss on the forehead and a sweet dreams. My eldest is a social butterfly so their are nights when I give a bunch of 14 to 17 year old boys a kiss on the forehead goodnight. The reactions of ones who have never spent the night in my home are always priceless. As I lean in to kiss them on the forehead they lean back and their eyes start to get very large. Luckily there is usually one there who has experienced it a million times who says “don’t worry about it- it’s her rule- suck it up and take your good night kiss”
Now I am looking around at my extremely messy house and thinking maybe I set my routines and priorities wrong. I should of added making the bed in the morning before saying have a good day. I seriously should of added one chore to the ritual after my kiss on the cheek in the afternoon. I should of adding doing the dishes after the thank you for dinner. I should of added a chore before bed.
I am a mama and we all can say I should of, would of, or could of all day!! Hell I may even add a few, but I doubt it. We all should of done something differently. We all could of done something differently. At the end of the day though we didn’t. We each raise them with our own set of priorities and values. Love and respect seems to be my most important, but yours may be financial responsibility or individuality. Just because my priorities are different than yours doesn’t mean mine are right and yours are wrong or vice-verse. They are just different. If we were smart we would learn from each other not judge each other. Unless they hurt someone outside of their family then who am I to judge? When did we decide as mothers that we have the right to judge each other? Was it social media or just the media telling us what we should think? When did we stop having the right to raise our children with what priorities are important to each of us? Isn’t being a mother a hard enough job without worrying about what our peers think?
I am reminded of one of my favorite sayings of all time “Behind every good child is a mama telling herself she is doing it all wrong”. Isn’t this the truth? The best mama’s worry about the future of their kids.The best mama’s think they have horrible children. The best mama’s do worry about what you think. The best mama’s beat themselves up every day with the would of, could of, and should of’s.
I don’t care how good or bad of a mama you are -your children are going to give you enough ego bruises for a lifetime. The one’s they don’t give you – you will give yourself. The one’s you don’t give will be given to you by your peers. So the next time when you bend down to pick up that rock to throw at someone who does it differently than you- just remember there is probably one out there somewhere aimed at you and black eyes are hard to cover up.
REDS WORLD TODAY 