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Picture our dinner table. Not the table itself, because it's crappy and needs refinished. Rather, picture the scene at our table while we
Mike begins to laugh to himself, and then, as if aware we were all staring at him, he said, "One of my friends got a virus on his computer...from PORN. And I had to fix it for him
"How do you know he got it from porn?" Dad says.
"Oh, easy!" he replied, "it was called a TROJAN!"
...blink...(insert hysterical laughter here).
When the tears stopped flowing and I could breathe again, the only sentence I could muster was something about he and I talking about the birds and the bees, history and truth in advertising.
Sometimes I just lurve parenting!
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...it's like a fart in church. It happens, we know it happens, we can smell it coming, but we're really helpless to do anything about it. Besides, sometimes, it brings relief.
This is precisely one of the several changes we are in the midst of right now. Nothing as chaotic as buying a house, nothing as profound as going on a mission trip, nothing as miraculous as having another child
He is leaving the world of fast food management to re-join the ranks of retail sales management. Goodbye free food. Goodbye holidays and weekends. Goodbye day-after-Thanksgiving sales. Oh wait...he never froze his butt off at a large box-store at 4:00 a.m. to catch the sales. So that won't change much. What will be thankfully different is his sense of belonging. Because I'll tell you, if any man belongs in a store full of electronics for 12 hours a day, it would be the Mr. He might as well have circuitry for veins and a motherboard for a brain. And not to mention a HUGE hard drive. Wrapping my arms around him and nuzzling my face in his chest when he comes home will inspire a completely different kind of hunger from now on. And with the decreased stress (I hope!), he ought to be more readily available to
Plus he gets a discount. C'mon, daddy, mama needs her an ipod!
Other changes at the house of TSM include the merciless expansion of my ass, the addition of two abandoned kittens ("just until we find them homes" I said...psh...) and my least favorite of all the changes, the change in the Oregon weather.
What's so bad about weather? Besides those perky weather girls and weather men with bad toupees, the weather can make a simple day turn into a nightmare of pain and hopelessness. Much like parent-teacher conferences. And yoga classes.
The cold air has made its way into the Pacific Northwest, and headed straight for my body. Apparently, the Arctic air and Fibromyalgia spend the colder months of each year gettin' busy in my muscle fibers. And lemmejusttellya, they're like teenagers in their parents basement. So I have developed a special frienship with the phamacist and am crossing my fingers and toes that I don't come out of this in the spring with another nasty addiction to add to my collection. Here's hopin'!
Changes both good and not-so-good have arrived, but I find a special comfort in knowing that soon, the discomfort of these changes will be replaced by the chaos brought by changes of another kind alltogether.
They way I see it, as long as none of these changes call me "Grandma", I think we're good.
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As night falls, the sky turns a brilliant mixture of purples and blues. The birdsong is replaced by the sound of crickets chirping, and the nocturnal wildlife begins to stir. The light fades away, replaced by a warm glowing from the windows of our home, evidence of the lives inside continuing, despite the darkness outside.
Marvin the Moth approaches our house, and begins fluttering against the window, trying in vain to gain access to the flame that is our kitchen light. The noise draws my attention, and I study him briefly before heading outside to get a closer look.
He is beautiful in his own way with his wingspan and brown & tan coloring. He is active and strong, and I size him up for what will soon be a sight to behold.
I cup my hands around him and feel him struggle against my palms, trying to get free. Alas, it is too late for Marvin, for he has a date with destiny in the form of Gertie the Garden Spider.
She is stunning and large, easily the size of a half-dollar. She makes her home in the Clematis bush outside our front door, and ha become accustomed to being offered winged creatures nightly by her human roommates.
As I hold Marvin's wings and wiggle him in the web, leaving him free to struggle in vain in Gertie's web, I hear what appears to be moths shrieking in the trees around me. "Oh the humanity!" and "Save him!". But it is too late. Gertie scurries down, sinking her fangs into Marvin as he utters his final words:
Death Resides Here...
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We're turnin up the heat for this one, folks!
I wanna know who makes you " hot and bothered"!
Where are the best blogs about sex? Preferably the married kind, of course. Who makes you laugh about your positioning? Nod your head about embarassing topics and go a little lust-blind thinking about the nasty?
Guess it's a hot topic for me lately, but I wanna know!
My favorite is listed above. I tell ya, those wimmins are the hotnessss!!
Post your favs!
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Here's something you don't want to overhear from the kitchen when you are eating at a restaurant:
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........."Five second rule!"
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The call came in, and I have a clean bill of health! As ecstatic as I was to hear it, I probably sobbed for a half hour releasing all the stress that had built up while I waited.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Worry for nothing? Even if it had been the worst case scenario, would worrying have helped? NO! Be anxious for nothing, says the Bible...a book I need to spend more time reading.
I'm not where I should be, folks. Methinks it might be time for some changes.
Like working out. Starting today. And quitting smoking. And drinking.
Maybe.
Thanks for all the support!
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"This might be a little uncomfortable..." she said.
Uncomfortable was an understatement. Uncomfortable is when you have to curl your toes for a minute while they finish the swab. This was painful.
When she suggested this procedure, I resisted. I asked if I really needed to have it done, and couldn't we just wait for another appointment. I was there for my annual, and the less poking and prodding, the better. She asked if I wanted it straight or if I wanted it sweetened a bit. Momentarily sidetracked by thoughts of coffee, I said, "Straight, please." That's when she dropped the C bomb.
"The last woman who came in with your syptoms had uterine cancer."
Of course, I agreed to the biopsy, though it was invasive and painful, it was necessary. I was quiet for a while, remembering my friend Bridgett who had been in my stirrups a few years ago. We lost her barely a year after her diagnosis. I was struck by how different this was than that cervical cancer I had seven years ago. Cervical cancer can be treated fairly easily. Rarely does it kill you. Endometrial cancer is a fight, at best. Almost always requiring surgery, treatment ranges from a D&C to a hysterectomy and on up to chemo and radiation. I learned this from the several searches I did when I got home.
I also learned that I am high-risk for this type of cancer because of my lack of menstruation. Funny, I used to think I was lucky. All my friends were complaining of cramps and heavy periods, while I just shrugged and said lightly, "I never get them. Maybe once a year."
I hope my luck isn't running out.
Now I wait, smoking like a chimney and watching my phone for missed calls while imagining the worst. How would I tell my children? My husband? My mother? This is such an inopportune time to go through this kind of treatment. Or surgery. Of course, when is it ever a good time? As new business owners with school about to start and sports and activities ready to kick into high gear, I can't afford to be out of commission any more than I already am.
With all these practical considerations, it's easy to ignore the basic emotion that has taken up residence in my heart: fear. The truth is, I'm terrified.
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Last night, the darling Mr. grilled up some dee-diddly-icious steaks (courtesy my good friends Lew & Cindy) and we enjoyed them thoroughly. Once we were stuffed and immobile, the Mr. thought it was time to give our puppy, Sasha, a bone. OH boy, time for a bone!
He held the juicy morsel up above the 4 month old poop machine, and told her to "sit". She sat, and looked, and sat...but then lost control of herself and...jumped up and swallowed the bone whole! This bone was a good 2.5 inches long and 1 inch wide!
Good news, though, the vet said just watch her for abdominal distress and lack of appetite. Apparently, there's a good chance the pup's stomach will take care of the problem. So we watch, and we wait!
After this joyous festivity, all I can say is...
...we need to kick the dogs out of the bedroom at night, because clearly she's been watching Mom too much.
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I take great pride in offering you my interpretation of the faces I saw sticking out of car windows for three straight weekends whilst they drove by my yard sale, deciding whether or not to stop.
Enjoy!
And my absolute favorite....
Be wary, oh yard-salers! Someone is watching you! Next time, I shall have my camera at the ready!
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Good news: Mike does not have mono. Apparently it was just a virus. He is feeling better and back to his usual self.
Bad news: Mike is back to his usual self.
Good news: We decided to buy the web design business I have been working for in the last year, and are now, like, BUSINESS OWNERS!
Bad news: We decided to buy the web design business I have been working for in the last year, and are now, like, BUSINESS OWNERS!
Good news: Tomorrow is the 4th and WE R GUNNA PARTAY!!
Bad news: My mother is coming the next day after a very large party at my house. And it is THRASHED!
Good news: It's no different than any other day!
Happy 4th everyone!
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Or, at least has something like a second head sticking out the side of his neck.
Turns out it's a lymph node. Swollen like, HUGE. And now he's really sick. REALLY sick. He couldn't walk to his bedroom. His throat hurts, he has as high fever and is sick, sick, SICK! So off to the doctor's office we trotted (I trotted, he shuffled). Then the doc spoke those words that ease the minds of parents everywhere-"Well, I'm not saying it's not cancer...but I feel quite comfortable that it's probably mono."
...*blink*
Well, I suppose that's definitely the preferable of the two. Heaven knows when I saw that mass on his neck I thought the worst. Is anyone else this neurotic? I had visions of diagnoses for Lymphoma and Hodgkins, chemo treatments and losing my only son. Do you suppose it's all the internet's fault? I mean, now we can research symptoms 24 hrs a day! I know all the bad stuff that causes swollen lymph nodes! Yay!
Folks, lemmejusttellya that mono is a nasty virus. It seriously sucks, and when you just turned 16 and have a summer ahead of you, it's like a death sentence. My poor son's summer is not looking too good.
I'm going to try to sleep now, hoping he doesn't call my cell phone unless he really needs me. I gave him the house phone and am sleeping with my cell in case he needs me. Because he's too weak to walk across the house.
C'mon, all you mommies...are you getting that "awwww!!!" feeling yet?
I'll keep you posted.
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Yes...I am particularly gifted at this little solo-act. I can bait a hook and cast it out in 5 seconds flat, leaving all on the banks of the lake in awe and wonder, wanting desperately to see more.
Sadly, this doesn't help me catch many fish.
Summer is here, and I'm at the lake as often as possible (after all my work is done! Right, Alaena?) to cast a line and hope something bites. What usually bites, however, is coming home to children whose summer vacation is in full swing. God help me .
It's not so much that the kids are home and the house is a mess. It's the Lord of the Flies mentality that ensues when I pull out of the driveway, the frantic phone messages with full on battles going on in the background and the children meeting me at the door dressed in loincloths and spouting phrases like, "Me leader-you go now!".
Even catching a prize trout can't fix the sinking feeling I get in my gut as the distance between me and Hellhouse becomes less. It is in these times of crisis...these moments of fear and loathing...these moments of fleeting thoughts of turning around and never returning, that I ask myself this question: What would June Cleaver do?
If she saw my family? Probably high-tail her pump-clad feet far, far away. And fast.
Me? First I'll try it the "right" way...I'll separate the kids and talk to them about "what was YOUR role in all of this? How could you have changed it?" Then when they leave my room screaming "I HATE YOU!!" and I make the rest of them cry because I ask them to clean up their FIVE (5!!) drink cups with straws sticking out of them, the empty pudding cup and spoon and shredded fruit snack wrappers that are littering the floor and for heaven's sake, CLEAN UP the soda that spilled on one of the kitchen chairs! Once they're all a sobbing, angry mess, I can head to the lake for the rest of the day, knowing I have done my job and ruined their precious lives forever.
And I am SO not paying for their therapy.
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...Yes it goes on and on my friends...
So here's the deal. I want my peeps (that would be you) to leave me a ONE WORD comment. Each person playing off the last comment. Feel free to KEEP commenting if you have more ONE WORD(s) to add!
I'll get things started (and my darling husband will help).
This will be fun!!
(Comments appear with the most recent at the top...)
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I learned I was carrying a child. I was frightened and ecstatic and nauseous, all at the same time.
With each week, I studied the charts and books and spoke lovingly to my ever-growing belly in an attempt to introduce myself to my unborn baby. I am certain I made mistakes during my pregancies, but I always wanted only the best for each of my precious ones.
When they were born, I reveled in motherhood. I counted each tiny finger and toe, burning their little form in my memory forever. I cherished the sleepless nights, the sore nipples from breastfeeding and even the mustard-colored poopy diapers.
Never in my life had I felt such complete and selfless love as I have felt for my three children. Ever.
Nearly sixteen years after giving birth to my oldest child, I find myself weeping for them. Two of the three are in their teens, with the youngest headed there quickly. And I cannot for the life of me figure out who these ungrateful, selfish and ridiculous little people are or where they came from.
Never has the phrase "Hindsight is 20/20" been so heartbreaking. If only I had taught them the utmost respect for adults, themselves and each other. If only I had taught them the value of a dollar. If only I had taught them to be hard workers, always willing to lend a hand without being asked. If only I had taught them that they only have one mother, and she is to be treasured. Every tear is an "if only". And there are so, so many.
My chance to form them into the kind of people I admire most is gone. My effect on their character is so minimal now, and I find it ironic that it is now when I want so desperately to make an impact. Regrettably, it is too little, too late.
So when I blog about the downfall of this next generation-when I claim they are selfish and rude-when I tell you that our world is in very deep trouble if these are the folks about to start running it...
...please remind me where the blame lies: squarely on my own shoulders.
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So apparently I frighten people. Specifically, children. Sadly, my own children . And they're pissed.
In my defense, I didn't intend to frighten them. I was just trying to be silly. Funny. Ha ha. You know? I had forgotten that my woman-child has lost her sense of humor. And I don't think it's coming back.
It's been a day of attitudes and no-gratitude...failed driver's exams and kids pushing one another's buttons until Mom pulls her hair out. Finally, it was bedtime . Sweet, peaceful bedtime. Actually, past bedtime, by probably a half hour or so. From the back room I can hear it begin.
"Stop it!" one of them yells
"Shut UP! I can't sleep!" the other yells back
"I'm so SICK of sharing a room with you!" the other says
"MOOOOOOOOM!!!" they both yell
Meanwhile, I'm outside, enjoying the shadows of my newly planted trees, among other things.
Because I was outside, it was reasonable to take the shortest route to reach my darlings and
"Shhh...what's that?" one whispered. A smile crept across my face as I tried again, making a bit more noise.
"It's coming from the window!" one of them gasped, so I did it again.
The only sound this time was the thundering footsteps of both of my girls running down the hallway to my bedroom to tell me of the crazy person trying to get into their window.
This was met with my hysterical laughter just outside the back door.
My girls were not amused. Not even a little.
I tried to play it off. The 13 year old crossed her arms in a huff and hit the window in anger. The 9 year old was crying.
I am now officially a candidate for "Mother of the Year". Yay me.
Now all we need is the boy to go off in a testosterone-induced haze and burn the house down because one of the girls at the last pop tart.
...then again, perhaps I shouldn't tempt fate.
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