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 !!!!!!!!!!
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!
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 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.
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!)
We can’t believe what you said on the phone! (More Loud Laughing!)
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.
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!
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?
Yep, Coach A, then Coach B, the me – Coach C.
Well, that about sums it all up. Welcome to baseball heaven.
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?
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!