Welcome, Welcome!!!

Thank you for visiting my site.  As you can see, I have just started.  Keep checking out the pages because I will keep adding to them as I remember more stories.  Please, feel free to share some of your stories! 

I hope you will come back and visit often.  Remember, I’m just a slightly un-stable menopausal mom, pre-geezer hood, trying to keep a foot in the modern world while raising a son, keeping a job, and holding on for dear life to my husband , family, and friends.

Let’s share our madness !!!!!!!!!!

Adventure at the Beautician’s

Those old white hairs had begun to peak thru.  It was time.  So, off to my beautician I went.  Just one small snag in this usually pleasant experience, my son had to come along.  My nine-year old was less than enthused to say the least.  However, a book  and his DSI thing-a-ma-jig made it a pinch less life threatening. 

So, my fav beautician of over 20 yrs of hair and friendship did her amazing thing to my hair.  I had aluminum foil and goop all over my head and went to “cook” in a seat next to my son.  Of course he  began to laugh hysterically. 

Maaaaaahum!  What is on your head?

Well, it’s stuff to color my hair, to get rid of those white hairs you give me.

But mom, they are still there, underneath.  Mom, you know you can’t cover-up your oldness!

Thanks, son.  I love you too!

The Claw

Don’t you just love all those wierd and quirky traditions that families develop over the years?  It wasn’t until I went to college that I found out that my mother was the only one in the world who called a sweat shirt a sweat sack.  So that’s what I called them too.  That is until my future husband heard me one day say , wait until I get my sweat sack.  He still hasn’t finished laughing, and we’ve been married 33 years.  The odd thing is, you never know that it’s only your family that does it until you just happen to be around someone else when you do it, and they act as if they have just seen a space alien.  Up until that point, you are quite happy in your own little delusional world of what you think is “normal”.

The biggest collision of worlds comes when two people get married.  I had never heard of the claw, until the first summer of our marriage.  My husband’s family finds it fall down on the floor laughing funny.  Me, not so much.  Can we say creepy?

So what is the claw?  Well, my father in-law started it when his kids were very young.  He had long skinny fingers which he could bend at that top joints giving his hands a strange and scary claw shape.  The claw would appear out of no where at any time.  You could be sitting on the couch, when this strange claw would start coming at you from around a corner.  You can imagine how little kids would scream and giggle with fear and delight. Seeing the claw coming towards them.  Sometimes to engage in massive tickling and other times just to threaten ominously.  Again, me, not so much.  I just found it creepy.  Still do.

My husband has carried on the famous claw tradition with our own son.  His hands can do pretty much the same thing his dad’s did.  I did say creepy, didn’t I?  Of course, our son finds it hilarious.  He screams and giggles as soon as the claw appears.  My husband has added his own flair to the beast.  Sometimes, he twitches his hand to alert everyone that the claw is about to take over.  This new twist to the game only seems to heighten the delight for our son.  I still say, creepy.

We now have a new player to the game.  Our almost 2 yr old chocolate lab, McCoy.  She is the most dear little soul on the planet.  She mother’s over us all, but especially our son.  Her whole life revolves around that little boy of ours.  She plays, protects, snuggles, follows his every move and breath.  She is his partner in crime.

So, I’m sitting in my chair, reading my book when I hear the screams begin.  I had just kissed my husband goodnight.  He had gone upstairs to bed and my son began to scream like he was being murdered.  Now how sad is it that I didn’t even flinch.  I knew exactly what I would see if I raced to the scene of the crime. There would be my husband, standing in the hall, his hand, um excuse me, the claw reaching in the room towards our son.  My son would be screaming and wriggling all under his covers in delight at the prospect of being attacked.  This is when the new player comes in.  At his first scream, McCoy goes racing to his side to bravely protect our boy from the terrifying claw.  She barks.  She jumps.  She runs from boy to claw and back again.  The whole thing turns into one great big 3 Stooges skit.  They all just think it is the most fun.  I have to admit, the uproar and mayhem that ensue is kind of funny.  But I still say – creepy!  Funny? Not so much.   I did say creepy, didn’t I?  :0

My Son’s Growing Vocabulary

My son is now 9, and just finished 3rd grade.  This has been a huge year of changes! 

His grades improved 🙂   He’s taller 🙂      He’s beginning to really be a help around the house 🙂

Sadly, both Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny have bit the dust 😦 

Maybe the best part is that he is really funny!  We have gotten past the burp, pee, poop, fart, gas, penis, and all other sorts of bodily functions  &/or body parts imaginable jokes.  Okay, he’s a boy, so those jokes aren’t gone.  He just tells them to his daddy now, and then they both laugh.  I continue to frown, like a good mom should.  Anyway, since this joke telling thing is rather new, sometimes I forget about his new skill.

We were driving home from school when it happened.  By the way, isn’t it amazing how the male species is genetically unable to carry on a conversation of any length, except when he is in a car?  Sorry, I digress.  Back to the story. 

 He used to warn me when he had something really big to say.  He would always start with, Mommy, can I ask you something?  When I heard that, I new to grip the steering wheel tightly, because what came next was always big!  Imagine what happened, when out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever, he said –

Mommy, what’s a p#ssy?

I immediately shreeked at the top of my lungs, and promptly drove off into the ditch!  What happened to his tag line?  Where was the warning?  Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he feels he can ask me anything!  But does he have to ask it while I’m driving a lethal weapon, tons of metal and steel and glass?  Putting our lives at risk, not to mention the other poor drivers on the road?  Oh, I can hear it now,  I’m sorry officer, my son just asked me what a p#ssy was, and of course I had to drive off the road.  Sorry.

I continued to shreek things like:

Never use that word!   We don’t say that!   Where on earth did you hear that?  That is not a nice word!  I never want to hear you say that again!

I finally got the car back on the road, all while I was shreeking like a crazed drug addict in need of a fix.  At the same time, he just kept saying,

Okay, but what does it mean?

When I finally slowed down my impending cerebral hemorrhage, and took a breath, I answered –

Well, it’s the private parts of a woman, it’s her vagina. 

Oh, is that all.

Is that all? (My blood pressure began to rise again!)  We don’t say that because it is saying that person is less than a person.  It is a very dehumanizing thing to call someone. I’ts like the person is less than you.   It’s just not nice!

Hmmmmmm.  Okay.  Mommy, what word starts with f and ends with k?

Having calmed down by now, I quickly answered with the big F word.  Yep, I laid an F bomb on my son, right then and there!  I didn’t even blink.  I  braced  myself for the next question, I knew would come.  What does it mean?  I was feeling very proud of myself.  I had calmed down, no brain explosion, no more shreeking, I was ready, yes I was.  So, I just laid it out there!   F***k

My son immediately started shreeking –

MoooooooM!!!!!!!!  You CAN”T say THAT Word!!!!!  NOOOOOOO, it’s fire truck!

Yep, not where my mind was headed.  Got to remember, he loves to tell jokes.

Oh no, Age and Menopause have Nothing to do With It

Okay, I admit it, I’m not only old school, but prehistoric!  I refuse to text or tweet!  My phone doesn’t even have a camera in it.  Although, I’m kind of changing my mind about the camera part.  Anyway, I still carry an actual day planner.  You know, the old paper and pencil kind in a small ring binder.  My entire brain is in that book!  It is never far.  However, it is difficult to add ideas to it as I drive.  The whole paper and pen thing and driving just don’t mix.  Long ago I came up with my own little solution.   I just call myself at home and leave messages for myself.  Usually this works great!  However, I came home and my boys had arrived first.  By boys I mean the husband and son units were ready and waiting when I hit the door.

Moooooom!   (Loud Laughing!)

What?

We can’t believe what you said on the phone!  (More Loud Laughing!)

What?

You know, you said,  oh, and you need to, oh wait, what do I need to, ah shit, I can’t remember!  I’ll call back when I think of it.

More laughing, both rolling on the floor! 

Well, I at least did call back didn’t I?  I did remember, didn’t I?  I just don’t see what you both find so funny? (Now we’re all laughing!)

I guess I might have to review that leaving messages for myself idea just a little.  😀

Can We Say Rude? Thoughtless?

Memorial Day Weekend was here!  We left the house, packed and ready to vacation.  It would be a quick weekend, but was just what the doctor had ordered.  I couldn’t wait to get away,  just to get a mental break!  This school year has been rough and it was finally over.  We were headed to a weekend of family and boating.  The minute we pulled out of the driveway, I could feel the dark cloud of stress lifting with every mile we drove, aaaaaaaah!

We arrived well after midnight and stumbled in to our beds.  The next morning, the 3 of us were starving.  So we drove to the local diner.  Now, we have gone to Celina, TN and Dale Hallow since I was a kid.  We know many people and enjoy the feeling of old home week every time we go back.  Our favorite place to eat is a one room diner run by a former waitress now owner of her own place, Doris.  My son talks about how great her biscuits and gravy are all year-long.  As usual, the place was packed.  A nice elderly couple invited us to join them at the long table they were sitting at, so we did.  We all settled in for some great home cooking and pleasant conversation.

The couple we sat next to were very sweet.  However, they were very difficult to understand.  Between the very poor dental hygiene and the thick accent, it was almost impossible to make out what they were saying.  My husband quickly gave up and I was soon on my own.  We talked about their grandchildren and our son.  Then, it happened!  Our son got up to go to the restroom, and as soon as he had left the table the woman leaned over to me and asked ,

Did you adopt him?

I replied quickly, yes.  (My husband and I are both white and our son “J” is biracial, so it is quite obvious that he is not the result of our union.)  Then she said it,

Couldn’t you have children of you of own?

Yes, we did, and he is right there!

She laughed and said, Oh, you know what I mean!

Yes, that was the problem, I most certainly knew what she meant!!! More questions followed about adoption, etc., but my mind was screaming!  Are you kidding me?  Couldn’t we have children of our own?  Obviously this poor woman had no idea of what she was saying, but come on people!  Can we say rude, ignorant, thoughtless, personal if you please!  Not to mention the implications of that statement!  Couldn’t we have children of our own,  just kept  ripping thru my brain!  All those old feelings slapped me in the face!  Infertility issues, adoption issues, and on and on my brain went into hyper-drive!  My husband saw the look on my face, and was his usual self.  When I told him what she had said, he just shook his head and said, shake it off.  Let’s go have fun.

I’m so proud of myself because that’s exactly what I did.  For the first time, I actually just shook it off, laughed the ignorance off!  I really did just let it go!  Amazing!  There is hope for me yet!

Baseball Heaven

A couple of weeks ago a life changing event happened right in my home, in the family room.  My men, my husband and 9 yr. old son were sitting in front of the tv.  My hubby was channel surfing, we were trying to decide what to watch, when a truly amazing thing happened.  A moment that will change our lives forever.  You ask, what could be so significant?  Weren’t you just at home, doing the normal stuff?  Oh ye of little faith, read on.  My heart stopped as I heard the following:

Daddy, hey wait, can we watch that baseball game?

The heavens opened, angels began to sing , and an otherworldly light surrounded my husband.  I heard in his voice the answer to a life long dream.

Of course we can!

With those two simple sentences our lives have changed forever.  My son has truly entered into the realm of sports .  My husband now has a partner in crime .  They just talked and talked about the game, the hits, the misses, the moves, the strategies, and on and on.

I was happy for my hubby, truly I was.  However, I could feel my eyes roll back into my head, I felt like a vampire who had just been sprinkled with holy water.  Oh NO !  Now they both would be wanting to watch endless games that last for years!  I could see my future of sports widow – hood flash before my eyes.  My worst fears were confirmed just tonight!

Today was our 33 wedding anniversary.  The day had all those little calls back and forth.  You know, happy annniversary, love you, what do you want to do tonight?  We decided to go to our favorite steak house.  It was there that my future was confirmed.  The boys, ( husband and son), sat on the side that faced the tv in the adjoining bar.  Of course a sports channel was on.  I felt like a 9 yr old girl fighting with my brother for the attention of our mutual best friend.  My husband was the center of attention.  Conversations were interrupted by grown up talk  versus sports talked.   The boys were rowdy before our food came.  How is it that grown men still act like little boys?  I mean really.  Women do not arm wrestle at the dinner table, come on!  And it was our anniversary, just a little romance would have been appreciated.  But no, between the tv and wrestling going on it was lost .  The final nail was nailed with what I heard next.

Hey, did you see that major league guy miss?  That was just like you in your last game, wasn’t it.  When did you know you had done something wrong?

As soon as I swung.

How many people told you about it?

3

Yep, Coach A, then Coach B, the me – Coach C.

Well, that about sums it all up.  Welcome to baseball heaven.

I’m Not as bad a Mother as I think I am!

Driving home from school the other day, my son brought up the recent tragedy of a young girl being suffocated in the snow.  She had dug a tunnel and it had collapsed on her.  Apparently they had talked  about  it at school that day. 

Yes, honey, she couldn’t breath and so she died.  That’s so sad, isn’t it?

No.

What?  What do you mean it isn’t sad?  She died, that is very sad.

No, not really.  I don’t know her.

But don’t you think it was sad for her family?  Wouldn’t you feel sad if it was someone you knew?

Well, maybe.  But if I didn’t like them, no.

Oh my goodness, do you hear what you are saying?  Yes, it is a very sad thing!  We’ll have to talk more  about this later.

At this point, I just ended the conversation.  I was getting more upset by the minute. Why didn’t my son understand what a tragedy this was?  My mind began racing!  That is never a good thing when I start to think.  I immediately starting flogging myself:  I’m such a bad parent, I’m not doing anything right, I should know what I’m doing, I have taken tons of child psych and child development courses not to mention the billions of books I’ve read, yet I’m still  a failure,  I’m not doing enough, I’m not instilling my son with caring and empathy, I’m not teaching him enough about my religion and faith, I’m not spending enough time with him, For heaven’s sake, I’m an educator, how could I be failing my son?  On and on my mind goes!!!!!!  The deep abyss of self-doubt sucks me into its depths!

My husband is no help.

Just forget it, he’s just trying to shock you!  Let it go.

How can I respond to that?  He doesn’t seem to have the same inner voice that constantly tells him how he is doing everything wrong.  I believe he has a genetic flaw of some sort! How can he take this so calmly?

Later, that same night the movie Air Bud was on.  My son talked on and on during the movie, telling me each detail just before it happened. Laughing and giggling , just enjoying.   All of the sudden he was very quiet.  It took a couple of minutes to notice.  I finally looked over and he was crying.  He looked at me and said, I told you this was the sad part!  We hugged and kissed and shared the sad part together.

I guess I’m not doing as bad a job at being a mom as I thought!

No More Naked Boy

The third grade year is one of great change.  It’s the year children become more independent.  Their teachers stop leading them around, spoon-feeding them on what to do and when.  To me, it’s the beginning of the loss of innocence.  Sadly, I knew it was coming.  Thought I had prepared myself for it.  As usual, I was wrong.

The first clue came when Mommy suddenly became Mom, or rather Mmmmaaaaahhhhhmmmm!  How could I not see it?  Mom, don’t hold my hand!   Mom, you’re embarrassing me!  Mom, I can do it!  I do have a college degree, took twice the amount of psych and child psych classes I needed.  Yet I was still so blind.  Or, can we all say, denial ?

The next big shocker came at Christmas time.  It really caught both myself and my husband off guard.  Mom, you know there is no Santa Claus, it’s really you and Dad!  I was heart-broken and pouted for a week.  Oh, of course we had the big discussion.  You know, the one about how we really believe in the spirit of Santa and giving and how God sent His Son, and on and on .  All our 8 yr. old would say was, come on, I know Daddy hides the presents in his trunk.  I could feel the white hairs actually shoot from my brain.

The final straw came sometime in January.  I tried to bring a wash cloth to him while he was  starting to take a bath.  It had never been a problem before. I should have seen it coming. Out came the loud and drawn out,

MOM, GET OUT OF HERE!  I’M OKAY!  GET OUT! 

I just want to bring you a washcloth.  Do you have a towel?

MOM!!!!!  GET OUT!!!  I”M OKAY!!!!!!!    GET OUT!!!

Geez, I’m not looking, you don’t have to yell.  Do you have a washcloth and towel?

YES!!!!!!!  NOW GET OUT!!!!!!!

It was then I finally got it.  My baby boy was really growing up.  I was no longer Mommy, I was Mom.  There would be no more pictures with Santa.  Yet, I think the thing that I will miss most is my super-hero, “Naked Boy”.  Oh, Naked Boy was terrific.  He was free and happy and full of energy.  He would run around the house, naked, giggling and laughing all the way.  We would yell, there goes Naked Boy, being naked.  We would all laugh at the exploits of Naked Boy.  We loved his exuberance and the proud way he would stop, arms and legs spread in a wide stance, and smile and laugh while we cheered him on. 

The next morning, while driving my son to school, I asked him,

Soooo, no more “Naked Boy”?  I kind of miss him.

With as sheepish grin he said, 

 Yeah, me too.  He was fun wasn’t he?

Another School Project

I can’t believe it!  My son got an “A” on his science test!  I know he will need therapy when he grows up for that wacky study session, but at least he got an “A”.  I cried when he brought home that beautiful “A”.  Maybe we can go to therapy together!  Heaven knows I need it now!

What a difference a day makes.  Tonight we worked on his social studies project.  His class is studying landforms.  My son could have picked volcano, mountain, but he picked bay.  Inside my head was screaming, how on earth are we going to make a bay?  But we did it, and had fun too!

There is a beautiful bay, in a boot box, sitting on my dining room table.  We had so much fun painting, glueing, creating!  I even got kisses as we did it. Not one yell, not one argument, just pure mother and son time.  I was in heaven.  This was how I envisioned it would be with my son. Why it was a scene straight from the Ossie and Harriet show.   The two of us, having fun together, creating, learning, sharing, growing.  I should have videotaped it because I don’t even believe it actually happened.  But there sits the box, a blue sky with clouds, a bay with waves, a shore line, rocks, grass, a path to the dock that even has a leggo boat waiting to go fishing in the bay.  That box represent a little bit of heaven, not just a bay, but a great experience making it.  At least we will have one positive experience to share with our therapist someday. 🙂

Homework Headaches!

For 2 hours I was the epitome of motherly love.  I was soft voiced, gently coaxing my son to study for his science test tomorrow.  We laughed together as I made funny comparisons to help him understand types of soils, rocks and minerals.  He did seem to be trying to understand, for the most part at least.  I did it all without the help of my beloved xanax. 

Then, it happened.  We began to answer the test questions at the end of the chapter.  God help me, I snapped.  We had just spent 2 hours going over the same terms many times, and he could not answer the simplest question!  Can we say Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?

What type of rock is formed from sediment?

Just a blank stare.  Followed by, I don’t know, soil?

That’s when I turned green, my clothes ripped and I became a screaming hulk mom.

Are you kidding me?  Are you serious?  Seriously, don’t you see the word sediment in sedimentary rock?  How can you not see that?  We’ve just gone over this at least 1/2 a dozen times?  Do you know how much it would cost to pay me for tutoring you?  I’m a professional, I screamed at the top of my lungs!  I do this for a living!  People would pay me money to do what I just did for you for free, and you can’t be bothered to pay attention?  Are you kidding me?  Soil is a type of rock I screamed?

At this point, anyone with the good sense God gave them would have walked away, taken a moment, gathered themselves, sipped some water, anything to stop themselves!  Did I?  Oh, NO!  I continued!

Has your brain turned to mush from too many video games today?  Haven’t you been studying this chapter for a while now?  This is exactly why I’ve told you to bring this book home every night so we don’t have to cram a whole chapter  at one time.  How do you expect to pass the test tomorrow?  Weren’t you paying any attention at all?

On and on I went.  Oh yes, I went on.  We then reviewed for 20 minutes and accomplished more in that 20 minutes than we had in the previous 2 hours.  My voice is sore from screaming.  I’m sure even the neighbors can tell you the different kind of rocks! 

I admit I have never conducted a study session while screaming the questions at my students, but I did for my son.  I screamed questions,  he timidly answered. 

What have I done?  I’m sure I have now added several therapy sessions to the ones he will need in the future .  Professional?  Won’t somebody just shoot me now!