Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes, turn and face the strange...

One of my kiddos is home sick today.  Nothing serious but enough to keep the both of us home today.  As I am sitting here with the sun shining through the window on this beautiful fall day I can't help but think about how much has changed this past year.

In addition to us moving, Sara starting Middle School and Emily starting preschool I have just finished up the first month of my new job.  For the first time in 18 years I am no longer working as a Child Life Specialist in a hospital setting.  To be honest something I thought would never happen, being a Child Life Specialist wasn't just a job for me, it was a huge part of my identity.  The Child Life field was what I dedicated my adult life to.  I loved it and was good at it.  My new role is the Director of a Pediatric Daycare and Preschool, still working with medically fragile children and their families along with typically developing children.  In a previous life I was a preschool teacher so this is the perfect combination of my skill set.

I always thought my career path would head in a different direction.  I thought I would retire from a hospital.  I am not that touchy-feely, religious or crunchy but I honestly think the universe was trying to tell me it was time for a change.  Giving up the security of my job, the health insurance, the comfort etc. was a bit daunting but the mission of the new project made it so easy get on board with.  The school is named after one of my dear friends and it is an inclusion school for children and families from all walks of life and abilities.  Something Linda was passionate about.  It really is a privilege to have a small part in continuing her legacy.  I truly feel her spirit when I am there everyday.  So though no longer working as a traditional Child Life Specialist I feel this is exactly where I am supposed to be.

I can honestly say that my life is really good right now.  Really good.  It is like everything has fallen into place they way it was always meant to be.  I love working for someone who respects me.  I love being able to help create something new and innovative.  I love how happy Sara is in Middle School.  I love that Anna has so many friends in our new neighborhood.  I love that Emily is making her own set of friends in school.  I love not being so stressed all the time from a toxic work environment.  I love how strong my marriage is.  I love my life right now.  It is a really, really good place to be.

***Trigger warning--Some people may not like the next paragraph--too bad, so sad--my blog, my words, if you want the happy ending I suggest you stop reading here--if you want the truth read at your own risk***

This was not a career change I originally sought out but  one I am so grateful I made.  The past 7 months I have come to realize sometimes things you think you want really aren't always what is best.  While still working at my former job I was asked to step in to a new role.  I did and really gave it my all.  Though I was receiving a lot of positive feedback it quickly became obvious I was just being used as a place holder and completely being taken advantage of by someone I thought I knew.  For future reference; typically when you f*ck someone like that you should at least buy them dinner.  There were others who despite me defending and advocating for,  felt it necessary to screw me over-one while sitting on the board of an organization I helped create.  Hope my coat tails are comfortable sweetie!  For the record; I know who actively supported me, who claim to have supported me but sat back and watched me get screwed while saying nothing and those who stabbed me in the back.  Though I may forgive, my memory is like a steel trap.  Like the saying goes; during trying times you see who your true friends are.  A shitty experience to go through but despite it all I am happier than I have been in years--so for that I am grateful.  Oh, and if you think this paragraph is about you, it probably is.  Muah!

The Truth Comes Out, I Have Been Having an Affair!

Yes, it's true I have been cheating on my ever faithful life partner.  But, before I get to my trifling ways I want to welcome you all back to my blog!  Thank you for being patient with me for the past 9 months while I was locked out of my blog.  Our old laptop went nuts and we had to reformat it.  So my direct link to my blog was gone.  I forgot my password to get in.  No worries, I can just reset my password through my recovery email, right?  WRONG!  Why you ask?  Oh, because I forgot the password to get into my recovery email as well. Yup, you read that right.  But if you know me in real life you are most likely saying to yourself, yeah, that is about right for her. 

So for the past nine months I have been trying to reset the password to no avail.  I did think of just logging on like a regular blog reader, not as the blogger and cutting and pasting all 180 posts I have written over the years and starting over with a new server but, pure laziness prevented me from doing so.  I would sit at the computer about to start and then it was time for the Wendy Williams show or a rerun of Dr. Phil from 15 years ago would call my name.  I am a very weak person and I would give in to temptation.  Reason #879 I could never home-school my kids.  #1 reason being- No Effing Way!  But I digress...so last night I tried to send a recovery message to my phone, something I have tried no short of 37 times before with no luck. It was more proof I had some wonky lemon of a phone.   For some reason last night I noticed at the bottom of the password reset request page two words; text and call.  Huh, what happens if I click on text?  IT IMMEDIATELY SENT MY PHONE A TEXT RESETTING MY PASSWORD!!  For F*ck's Sake, would you look at that?  I have my new password!!  Who would have thought this whole not being able to get into my blog thing was user error?  Oh wait, Chuck would!  He knew there must have been something on my end I was doing wrong because my track record with technology would lead any sane person to that conclusion.  But now here we are, back in the blogging action!

So about that affair I have been engaged in.  I consider myself a very loyal person-sometimes to a fault-but I like to think of it as a character trait and not a character flaw.  So if you have been reading my blog for any length of time you know I have been extremely faithful to my one and only.  My one true, deep and abiding love.  A love that has never, ever let me down.  A love that has been there for me through times of joy and times of sorrow.  A love that has seen me at my best and absolutely hands down at my worst.  A love I never thought I could ever turn my back on, but sadly I have put my own selfish needs ahead of this union and have strayed.  I am ashamed to admit I have a side piece. As Dr. Phil says; you can't fix what you don't acknowledge.  So it is time for me to come clean, time for me to unburden myself of this secret life I have been living;  I have cheated on Market Basket and started using the Walmart Grocery Pick-Up app.  God, it feels good to get that off my chest.  I feel like I can come out of the shadows and breath again. 

Now I know what you are thinking; how could you?  MB has been there for you with the lowest prices around, MB has been there when you needed to go gluten free for 6 months, MB had a God Damned aisle by aisle binder of gluten free products for you in your time of need! MB gave your children countless free bakery cookies so you could finish your shopping without wanting to abandon your children in the soda aisle.  MB was there when you forgot your wallet in a snowstorm and had to wait for Chuck to drive the 20 minutes to bring it to you and let you jump right back into line.  MB was there period.  I know all of that and I get it and I returned the favor by supporting them through the strike and shopping elsewhere, I drove 20 minutes to the Basket despite knowing I would inevitably get massive stomach cramps that would cause me to feel as if I were going to sh*t myself on the drive home. True story-Sara hated going shopping there with me, for some reason every, single time I would go there I would get a stomach ache without fail.  Not sure if their refrigeration system wasn't up to par and I was inhaling Freeon that made me sick, if there is ecoli mixed in with the sawdust they have on the dirty floors or if it was a nervous stomach caused by the anticipation of having to hug it out with Michael after he would bring the groceries to my car for me.  Whatever the reason I took my life and my underwear in my hands every Thursday so I could return the love to MB. 

I don't know exactly when it happened or how I fell out of love with the Basket but you can't help your emotions.  Feelings are feelings, they aren't right or wrong, they just are and right now I am in love with Walmart.  The online grocery shopping/pick up has been a game changer!  Life changing really.  Here is the short version; you go online, order your groceries, set a pick up time, you go to Walmart at said time and they bring the groceries out to your car and load them in for you.  OK, so there is no long version-it is that simple!!  To go to Market Basket I would have to drive 20 minutes, shop for an hour and a half and drive home another 20 minutes.  Now I seriously roll out of bed, drive less than 10 minutes and get my car filled with food-never having to even get out of my car.  I mean Market Basket is like an old love; comfortable, dependable and familiar.  Walmart Pick Up is like an exciting, sexy new love.  One you are drawn to and can't get enough of.  The icing on the cake that makes Walmart so enticing is that Market Basket is in the catchment area for their Savings Catcher so I have the convenience of Walmart Pick Up with the Market Basket Prices!  Can it really be wrong when it feels so right?  We have already earned $70 back through the savings catcher!  We used it last night when we went school supply shopping with the girls.  OK, so that was a treat!  The girls wouldn't stop fighting so I threatened to go without them and I was going to get them Barney and Dora folders-that got them to stop right quick.  Oh and since when did buying school supplies cost $180?  When I was in school we needed  a Trapper Keeper, some loose leaf paper and a pack of #2s.  Now the list is so long and specific; 4 plastic 2 pocket folders with holes to go in a binder.  I found paper ones like that but not plastic.  So I had to buy a 3 hole punch to make holes in the friggin plastic 2 pocket folder to go in the binder.  UGH! 

But back to my tawdry affair...I feel a sense of relief letting the world in on my dirty little secret so there are 2 more things I want to confess; 1.) I have been cheating on my vacuum and 2.) I have been cheating on the true love of my love Anderson Cooper, though that I will delve into in another blog post.  Back to the vacuum.  I love having vacuum lines on my rug!  Last year there was an article about vacuum lines-how if your house is so clean you can see vacuum lines then you aren't spending enough time with your kids and actually living life-something to that effect.  Anyway, I LOVE having vacuum lines.  I like having a clean house.  There I said it.  I think you can have it all-you can have a clean house and spend time with your family.  I don't think it makes me a bad person to want to not live in filth.  Well, sadly for my upright Hoover I have been seeing another on the side too.  Roomba is her name and she is SPECTACULAR!!  I just turn her on with a push of a button and in about 25 minutes my entire downstairs is rid of cat and dog hair, crumbs and the general filth associated with a family of 5.  Do I feel a little dirty going behind the uprights back? Yeah.  But it is amazing to have that time back to do other things I love-like scrolling through Facebook, reading People Magazine or dozing on the couch.  You might think I am taking the easy way out and I might be-it kind of reminds me of the time I bought a belly fat zapper from a 3 a.m. infomercial.  I would hook it up to my belly, sit on the couch eating popcorn while shocking away the fat.  Now, obviously that didn't zap away the fat and all it did was leave me with a first degree burn on my belly, but this, this my friends really works!  I get the vacuum lines I want and don't have to use up any of my precious "me" time! 

So call me a cheater, a hussy, whatever, but guess what?  I am living my best life sitting on the couch eating groceries someone else shopped for while watching Roomba clean for me.  Like Wendy Williams says, "How you doin?"

I’ve got something important to say, let me run to my car so I can tell you!

 

So now that we are fully into 2018 I figured it was time to officially say good-bye to a few things that drove me absolutely bat-shit crazy in 2017.  Here they are in no particular order;

 

Kale-  I have tried it.  It is absolutely disgusting.  I think most people pretend to like it because it was the new healthy fad.  It is gross.  And what the hell are Kale chips?  I’m sorry but no matter how hard you try you cannot make them be a legitimate substitute for real chips.  Never going to happen.  I tried making Spinach chips a while back when those were a “thing”.  I sprayed the baking sheet with Pam and they still stuck and broke into a million pieces when I tried to take them off the pan.  If you take a paper thin leafy vegetable, dehydrate it and try to move it from where it lays it will break into tiny slivers.  There is no way around it.  So, I was at the Basket the other day and they had a display with some Kale chips.  I took a walk over to check them out and yup, just as I suspected there was a bag full of green dust.  I swear to God, I could put parsley in a Ziplock and call it Kale chips and no one would know the difference.  I really hope the kale fad dies out in the new year.

 

Unpack-  I am not talking about unpacking from a wonderful, relaxing vacation.  I am talking about all the political pundits on cable TV who when faced with a multi-faceted topic say, “OK, let’s unpack that”, “We need to unpack that idea”, “Let me unpack that for you”.  Drives me f*cking nuts.  I don’t know why, but it is like nails on a chalkboard to me.  I just picture them placing on old timey leather suitcase on the bed, and slowly taking out old, stale clothes one piece at a time and then pulling out an old, yellowed lacy piece of #metoo or #russiancollusion or whatever the daily topic was.  I know it is stupid, but it just annoys me to no end.  Thank the walking upright Gods I have never heard Anderson Cooper speak that word, I swear to God the second it comes out of his mouth our love affair is over.    Another one that grates on my nerves is the phrase “deep dive”.  As in take a closer look.  When they weren’t ‘unpacking” in 2017 they were taking a “deep dive”.  I love listening to Jim Braude and Margery Egan every day but there was one day when Jim said he was taking a deep dive and I screamed at Alexia to turn off.  Poor thing isn’t used to getting yelled at, but I couldn’t listen a second longer.  I didn’t listen to them for a week.  Not that they will ever know about my silent protest, but I know.  So, unpack that Jim and Margery.

 

Slime-  I hate slime.  I hate everything about it.  One of my kids is obsessed with it.  Obsessed to the point I am considering calling TLC and having her featured on an episode of My Strange Addiction.  Now I know a 10-year-old loving slime isn’t as strange as a 38 year old that likes to eat dryer sheets or a 53 year old that lives her life dressed as an infant, diaper and all, but it drives me insane just the same!  I find remnants of it everywhere, it has ruined books, table cloths, a dresser and most of my Tupperware has been sacrificed all in the name of slime.  As a matter of fact, one of my kiddos and I are locked in an epic showdown for the ages; she got yellow slime on the doorknob to the basement.  I refuse to clean it and she can't play with slime until she cleans it.  So far neither one of us has budged.  May the best person (mom) win.  I hope this fad leaves us just as 2017 has.

Eyebrows-  I just don’t get those big, thick, heavy, way over drawn eyebrows.  It is not a good look.  For anyone.  Ever.  My last post told you about someone at the grocery store.  Well, at the cafeteria at work there was a beautiful young girl.  She was stunning; beautiful skin, beautiful hair, perfect body, etc.  But she had these fake eyebrows that looked like the friggin count from Sesame Street.  They had to be a solid inch thick and a good 6 inches in length (not including the sharp, razor thin ends that finished off somewhere behind her ears).   I didn’t want to look or comment because I did not want to encourage this look in any way, shape or form but I couldn’t look away.  You know how they say right before you die you are drawn to the light?  It was like that, there was something magical about these brows you are just drawn to them and no matter how hard you try you can’t look away.  They were that spectacularly ridiculous.  I hope 2018 brings back a subtler brow.

 

Car confessionals-  This I trend I don’t understand at all.  My Facebook feed is filled with people sitting in their cars waxing poetic on whatever the current injustice in the world is.  Racism?  There is a car talker for that.  Sexism, someone sitting in their car telling men how to behave?  You bet.  Bullies? Oh, you can find at least 579, car seat social justice warriors discussing them.  I don’t get it.  When I have something important to say I have never had the urge to go sit in my car and discuss it to an imaginary audience and then post it online.  I just don’t understand this concept at all.  But I think I am in the minority here, when I see people post these videos their comments are full of phrases like, “true story”, “amen” and the ever popular; “this” (with any arrow pointing up), Logistically I have some questions; 1. Do these people have a camera already mounted in their car in case they feel a soliloquy come on?  Or do they have to go get the camera ready?  2.  Do they practice in front of their mirror, so they know what they want to say? —these seem pretty thought out, they angles, the facial expressions...  3.  Do they pull over to a safe place so they don’t put others lives at risk when they are saving the world with their car seat confessional? 4.  Do they clean their cars out in case the camera angle dips down a bit.  If I were ever to make a car seat video and the camera panned around the world would see my car is a sh*t hole. Or is it that their house is such a mess they need to go to their car to film their monologue?  And 5.  Why the hell are you making a video of yourself talking to no one in your car?

I am imagining if you are the type of person that takes to your car to make a video chances are your life is kind of in shambles, so your car is your only safe place.  Case in point.  Poor Tyrese has been making a LOT of car seat videos.  His life is spinning out of control, I watch TMZ, I know these things.  Some people have the Wall Street Journal or NY Times.  I have Harvey Levin.  Seeing his life fall apart in a sequence of these videos has made me think there needs to be some kind of system in place for the makers of said videos.  Like you know how some repeat drunk drivers have to blow into a device before they can drive their car?  I think some of these repeat car video offenders should have to pass some type of standardized psychological test before given free reign of their car mounted camera.  And don’t get me started about the people that make a car seat video AND use that asinine filter that makes their eyes bug out, their mouth super wide and have chipmunk voices.  I hope these videos go the way of the ones where people would stand silently, with somber music playing in the background while they held up page after page of cue cards with some pull at the heartstrings crap while making ridiculously over the top facial expressions, like that God-awful side smirk. 

So here is to 2018!  A new year and a new crop of things to drive me bat-shit crazy!!  Happy New Year!!

I’m too young to be “too old for this sh&t”

 

So lately I have caught myself muttering under my breath, “I am too old for this sh*t” and after hearing myself say it 4 times in about an hour it got me thinking; Am I too old for this sh*t?  In my mind I feel like I am too young to be too old. 

Back in December I turned 45.  That was a hard number for me to swallow.  The day after you turn 45 you are officially on the downward slope to 50.  50!  How is it that I am now closer to 50 than I am to 40?  I know with every passing day I age but I honestly still see myself as 25.  I don’t see myself as middle-aged.   But the more I think about it, the more reality sets in and I am old enough to be too old for this sh*t. 

We had a big snow storm recently.  Our driveway and sidewalk were full of snow that needed to be removed. Chuck was doing the bulk of the shoveling but has an injured elbow, so I was helping.  He was using the decent shovel since he was doing the lion’s share of the work.  I was left with one of those collapsible ones you keep in your car to dig your tires out.  I liken it to a soup spoon.  So, there we are in sub-zero temps with whipping winds in the dark trying to dig out from a nasty Nor’easter.  The dog is out and wants to play, one of the girls is “helping” shovel by throwing snow in the places I have already cleared and the other 2 are trying to build something in the snow and getting frustrated because we are more focused on clearing the snow than helping them.  The girl helping storms off and pouts when I ask her to shovel another spot. Good times abound.  Finally, after muttering, “I am too old for this sh*t” more times than I can count I head inside to make dinner.  The next few days pass without incident.  On the 3rd day I wake up at 1:18 a.m. in excruciating pain.  I knew instantly what it was.  My mother F-ing Rotator Cuff.   Last spring, I tore my rotator cuff.  Don’t ask me how because I don’t have a clue.  Apparently, it is an injury of overuse.  If you know me at all you know I don’t overuse my body in any way, shape or form.  To this day it remains one of Life’s great mysteries as to how that injury occurred.  I had a cortisone injection some PT and  was good to go.  I haven’t had any problems with it since so I honestly forgot about it.  That is until 1:18 last Sunday morning.  I was able to get back into PT quickly and was looking for some relief.  So, the therapist says he is going to do some cupping on my shoulder.  Sure, I say.  I mean Gwyneth Paltrow is famous for cupping.  That is how I learned of it in the first place.  If it is good enough for Gwyneth it is good enough for Erin.  I mean she is this dainty little celebrity flower, I am not.  How bad can it be?  For the love of God, I am not as tough as Gwyneth at all.  AT. ALL.  That sh*t hurt like a sumabitch!  My shoulder ended up all bruised and battered.  It hurts to wear a bra and this weekend, unlike most weekends, I actually had plans that involved leaving my house and interacting with society, so I had to wear a bra.  I swear to all that is Holy when I go back to PT on Tuesday if he even hints at cupping again I will throat punch him.  So, when it comes to shoveling point goes to “I am too old for this sh*t”.  For the record, as we speak Chuck is at Home Depot picking up our brand-new snow blower.  So, when it goes to that Mother Nature, point goes to us bitch!

 

Recently with my kids I feel a sense of urgency to teach them as many life lessons as I can.  I am not sure if that has to do with my birthday and my new-found sense of hurry up and get my life in order before its over, or the shithole that has become our society.  Our president, love him or hate him has given me the freedom to use the salty language I prefer.  I may not be able to say words like science or evidence based but I do get to use words like shithole, pussy, bigly and covfefe.  So, as I try to raise three impressionable young girls into three independent, open minded, compassionate young women I feel like time is running out.  I don’t know what it is lately, but I feel like I have this small window of opportunity to pour as much kindness and good into them as I can.  I want them to be decent and productive members of society long after I am gone.  I am trying so hard not raise a-holes and the more and more time they spend out in the real world it seems to be getting harder and harder.  I have always put thought into how I was raising my children but now I have been consumed with this incredible sense of responsibility to ensure my daughters have a strong sense of self, sense of purpose and sense of doing the right thing even when it is the hard thing to do.  Raising children is a younger woman’s game.  Having my third at just about 41 has made me very tired.  Again, point goes to “I am too old for this sh*t”. 

Since my birthday and my realization that this isn’t a practice run, this is the only shot I get at life I have decided I need to get healthy.  Really get healthy.  Not just lose a few pounds, but transition to a more active lifestyle.  If I want to see my girls grow up into these decent young women I am pouring so much energy into I need to really change some things up.  Right before my birthday I had an appointment with my cardiologist.  Because my heart conditions are congenital, meaning I have had them since birth, I am seen by a doc at Boston Children’s Hospital.  So, I get to sit in the waiting room with little kids.  The way my appointments were set up I had to be there all day with several hours in between visits.  Going to a children’s hospital is always eye opening, despite working in pediatrics for almost two decades it is so different when you are there as a patient and not staff.  Being there and being treated for a heart condition that could have killed me and has killed so many always leaves me with a sense of gratitude for having grown into adulthood a privilege that is denied to so many.  Now, since my last cardiac appointment I have put on a crap ton of weight.  I had Emily, my mom died, and I have not put myself first in a very long time.  I packed on the pounds.  I knew it.  I didn’t need an 85 pound, if that, 24-year-old Cardiac Fellow to tell me.  But she did.  She came in and told me that we all struggle with our weight.  Now I don’t know much about her, who knows maybe she did have a weight problem in the past.  Maybe she has been counting her Weight Watchers Points and working out at Curves.  But my friends listen up, she told me the secret to weight loss; she told me, “when you are hungry for chips and cookies, just eat carrots and celery instead”.  She was completely earnest when she said this, bless her little heart.  I looked right at her and said, “oh my God, are you serious?  That is the secret?  That is all I have to do?  Eat carrots and celery when I want junk food?  Oh man, I have to go home and tell my husband now I know what I have been doing wrong all these years!”.  Yes, I was a snarky a-hole but she was so condescending.  She must have cried to the attending, who is amazing and so down to earth, because came in she said, no need to stock up on carrots and celery, don’t focus on the scale, just try to add in some healthier choices from time to time and make yourself a priority every now and then.  That I can get behind.  Mary Alice, our dog, and I have started going for walks when the weather allows.  Poor thing, she loves going to explore the new neighborhood but if we had to rank every member of our family for their fitness even Mary would come in behind me.  As I trudge up the hills of our neighborhood I may have let a few “I’m too old for this sh*t” slip out.  But in this case, I am taking a point for me.  See that Dr. Valente?  I took the point for myself so technically that is making myself a priority!

 

Things haven’t been all gloom and doom lately.  There are a few times when I was like, OK Erin, you’ve got this.  You might be middle aged, but you aren’t on the Geriatric service just yet.  And then reality rears its ugly head.  I have been finding a crap ton of greys in my eyebrows.  Like a lot.  I have been plucking them out but then I am left with bald spots where I should have eye brows.  Not a good look.  Eye brows are tricky.  I am sure I could get some hair dye and take care of the problem, but I can almost guarantee that would somehow end with me losing my eyesight.  Most likely only in one eye and I would have to wear a pirate patch.  My kids would have a field day with that and I can’t let them win this round.  So, I have taken to filling in my eye brows. This is a skill that is way easier said than done.  Don’t fill in enough and you have these weird, soft brown looking divots peppered throughout your eyebrow line, fill in too much and you look like you took Tom Brady’s black undereye light blocking cream and haphazardly smeared two swaths of sh*t across your eyebrow line.  It is a daily struggle to find the middle ground.  The other day I was at my supermarket of record.  (Not saying the name of the store to protect this girl’s privacy.)  I went to the courtesy booth.  The girl has her back to me and when she ever turned around it took all the strength I had not to burst out laughing and shout “da f*ck happened to your face?”  She had what can only be described as a wooly mammoth drawn above each eye.  They were both perfectly shaped so, 1.  She must have purchased a kit with a stencil, 2. She invested some time in drawing them on and 3.  She did this on purpose (or I am hoping against hope she lost a bet).  I couldn’t stop staring and part of me really wanted to secretly snap a picture but then my sensibilities snapped in and my sense of humor was replaced with a sense of sadness.  I felt so bad for her.  It hit me, and I got really sad, this poor girl has no one in this world that loves and cares about her.  If she did there is no way on God’s green earth they would let her out of the house looking like Bert from Sesame Street.  Now, before anyone gets on me for making fun of someone’s appearance, something I would never do.  This was her choice!  She was not born this way!  These were not her God given eyebrows.  These were those drawn in ones you see all over YouTube makeup tutorials.  I am all for a person’s personal style, making statements through fashion etc.  When my girls are teens if they want to dye their hair purple and shave it into a reverse mohawk, get a nose ring, wear ridiculous clothes-have at it.  But if one of them ever, EVER tries stepping foot outside the house with these ridiculous over drawn in eyebrows I would stage an intervention so fast A&E couldn’t get a camera crew here in time.  But I digress, my eyebrow issues don’t end there.  As if grey eyebrows didn’t scream “I am too old for this sh*t” enough, I found a rogue one you can only see in profile.  You know one of those eyebrows that grow super long and stick out up above the natural eyebrow line.  Yup, that kind.  So now every morning not only do I have to fill in the bald patches I now have to take my mirror and check out my profile to make sure I don’t have any long ones waving at the people.  Oh, and for the record, now that I am teetering on old lady problems I have added checking for stray nose and ear hairs to my daily beauty regimen.   I will take my old lady, crepe papery hands, put on my progressive lenses and just give a big, fat check in the “too old for this sh*t” column.

Since my birthday I have really been taking inventory of my life.  It is like I have been slapped into reality; this isn’t a practice run.  I only get one shot at this and I need to make sure I am getting it done on my terms.  After focusing so much on being a mom for the past 10 years I am slowly learning to put myself first every now and then.  Being a mother makes it impossible to put myself first all the time, by virtue of being a mom your children should and deserve to come first the majority of the time.  But little by little I am taking back some of my life.  I love to write, it is like therapy for me.  I have started to clean out a storage room in our basement and I am working on turning it into an office, so I will have my own quiet, private space to go and write.  Who knows? Maybe I will even write a book about being a Minivan Mom before I am really “too old for this sh*t”.  Stay tuned….

 

 

 

 

Saturday Night Science

I know lately I start a lot of my posts with, "I am sorry I haven't written in a while blah, blah, blah..."  The blah, blah, blah is usually something that has kept me away from the computer.  Well this blah, blah, blah is a big one!  We moved!  I have a whole blog post I am working on about the move, but in the meantime here is a quick one to hold you over.

So we moved in very short order and we have been super busy with Halloween, the girls birthdays, a broken bone, Thanksgiving, pneumonia and getting ready for Christmas.  In the 6 weeks since we moved in this is the first weekend I have had off from work that I have absolutely nothing planned.  I left work yesterday and decided I was going to stay in my pjs all weekend and binge watch some mindless show. For the record I found a really good one called 'Catastrophe' on Amazon, oh and after seeing Amazon's logo over and over again today I am not entirely convinced it is a Smile.  I think it is a penis.  Yup, there, I said it.  It is a penis and now every time you look at the Amazon logo you will see it too.  You're welcome.   So far it hasn't strayed too far from that but my binge watching has been interrupted by the kids bugging me every 4 minutes for a snack, a new, dry pair of gloves (first snow fall of the season today), the dog wanting to go out etc.  Well, the kids went back out to play in the snow, Chuck was watching TV so I figured it was a good time to take advantage of one of the perks of our new house.  Our huge Jacuzzi soaking tub.  Yup, I was going to take some time for me.  It has been a stressful week with sick kids, an insane calendar full of extra stuff to get done, you mamas know what I am talking about.  So I was ready to relax...

I scrub out and bleach down the tub.  Then set the relaxing mood; battery operated Christmas lights draped over the sinks and toilet paper holder.   Nothing screams "RELAX" like illuminated T.P.  Our old house  was so small if the lights went out in the bathroom all we had to do was light a match and it lit it up like the Goddamn halogen lights coming on in the bar after last call.  The new house not so much.  I had to scrounge for a candle to add a little more light.  I found a Holly Berry scented one to do the job.

I fill the tub, turn on the jets and go to get in.  Then faster than a Kardashian around an NBA player, I was brought back to Mr. Guenard's science class and Archimedes' theory of water displacement. The displacement method involves putting an object into water and carefully recording how much the water level rises. The amount that the water volume rises is equal to the volume of the object.  Well, I wish I had remembered this theory before I went to sit my fat ass down in the tub.  I was about half ass deep when I realized any lower and we are going to have a flippin tidal wave.  So I quickly let some water out. 

Another scientific lesson I revisited was the theory of buoyancy.  "Boobs are fatty, and fat floats. So  the more fatty, the more floaty."  I found that quote on the internet.  You can literally Google anything!  But it is true.  I was curious as to why if my whole body is soft and squishy why were only my boobs floating in the water like two of those buoys you see floating in the ocean and the rest sank like the Titanic to the bottom of my tub?  Buoyancy is the answer.  See my faithful blog readers you are guaranteed to always learn something new when you read one of my posts. 

Ok, so I settle in.  My boobs are floating, I have Enya playing on Pandora and I am good.  Then suddenly I notice the water is draining.  Turns out our fancy tub is very sensitive.  The drain stopper is the kind that is attached and you push it down to fill the tub.  It is right at the same spot my heel was touching so every time my heel brushed it, up it would pop and start draining.  So the tub and I played this vicious game of fill and empty, fill and empty.  Finally I decided to just keep my feet resting on the edge of the tub. 

I decide to keep my princess fantasy going and pamper myself.  I decide to do a full leg shave.  I admit it, even though Winter doesn't officially begin until December 21st I have already begun my winter shaving protocol...ladies you know what I mean; only shave the bottom 2 inches of your legs or only as much that might possibly show if crossing your legs when wearing pants.  I thought, hey it's Saturday night wink, wink.  But I am almost 100% sure this Saturday night will go like almost every other Saturday night we have had since welcoming  children into in our lives.  Chuck and I both delude ourselves into thinking we will have some alone, adult time and without fail by 9 o'clock one of the kids is in our bed and one of us ends up on the couch or in one of the kids beds.  I eventually come to the realization that our children are the ultimate c-blockers, I take some ZZQuil and fall asleep watching an old Dateline on Investigation Discovery.  So in keeping with this charade I even use actual pretty smelling shaving cream!  I am about 4 strokes in and I take off about 3 layers of skin from my ankle.  We're talking epidermis gone, maybe even the dermis layer.  I am bleeding so bad if I were doing this in the open ocean I would have been eaten by a shark in no time.  Yet I charge on.  I move to the other leg and made the move a little too quickly I might add...at 45 I am no longer as nimble as I used to be.  A rogue wave that would have knocked a fishing vessel over flies over the side of the tub.  Sadly, that is not the end of the impromptu water park I currently have in my bathroom.  I stood up for a second to grab a washcloth to try to stop the blood letting on my ankle and the whole water displacement theory comes back in a big way.  You see while I was fighting with the drain, I never filled the tub back up as high as it was when I started out.  So when I stood my fat ass up, the water level significantly went down, down below the Jacuzzi jets so the water that was left in them when shooting across the bathroom.  I sat back down and decided a little blood on my ankle wasn't worth a flooded bathroom.  I close my eyes for a minute and listen to Pandora that is now playing the operatic song "Time to say Goodbye"  I listen to Andrea Bocelli and I totally get into the Sarah Brightman part.  The song is over and I open my eyes.  Holy Crap!!!  When the whole water displacement/Jacuzzi jet spraying debacle happened a shampoo bottle must have fallen into the tub.  The tub was now overflowing with shampoo bubbles.  It was a scene out of flippin I Love Lucy episode. 

I gave up.  I was not born to be a princess.  I turn the jets off, turn Pandora from my relaxation station and get back to my roots and turn on my Daniel Tosh station and after about 2 more minutes I give up and just get out.  So lessons learned tonight; tubs are for kids, one and done for taking a Jacuzzi tub and who knew a scientific theory I learned in school over 30 years ago would one day be so relevant?

You Know I Wish That I Were Dickie's Girl

OK, so I know many of my work friends need a pick me up and any walking upright God knows that I need a good laugh right now too.  So for those of you that don’t know me in real life my husband and I made a spur of the moment decision to put our house on the market.  ARRRGGGHHH!  If I added up all the sleep I have had in the past week since we listed it I think I would come in at a whopping 47 minutes.  Not each night.  ALL. WEEK. COMBINED.  I am sure I will have a blog or two about that coming down the line, you know things like one of my kids clogging up the toilet 20 minutes before a showing…that kind of stuff.  But back to today’s post.  This is something that happened to me about a month ago.  As ridiculous as this sounds it is all true.  Here goes;

So I was a flip phone hold out.  It was a simple phone for a simple girl.  My flip phone finally shit the bed and I needed to get a new phone.  Chuck got me a smart phone and I have to say, not really a fan of it.  I think it causes far too many problems for me than it is worth.   So one day about a month ago I was sitting in my kitchen writing my blog about our Disney Trip.  I was all alone in the kitchen and my cell phone was on the counter charging.  It had been there all day.  It rings.  I stumble around with it trying to figure out how to answer it.  Finally get it and say “Hello”.  “Who is this” someone asks.  I answer, “Erin, who is this?”  “You know who this is, you called me bitch” is the lovely response I get back.  “Umm, no my phone rang, I answered it so I think that means you called me”.  “Listen you little bitch”  is all I let her get out.  I told her, “you are not going to call me and start yelling at me, goodbye” and I hung up.  Put the phone back down and went back to writing my blog.  Not 2 minutes later does the phone ring again.  I tapped the ignore button and didn’t give it a second thought.  My phone beeped like I got a text message.  The following is the texting conversation I had with this girl.  I am going to type it as is, typos, grammatical mistakes and all.  Enjoy:

She sent me a text of a screen shot of her incoming calls that clearly shows my phone number as an incoming call.  It was accompanied by the following message;

Her:    “You got something to say bitch say it!  I can only gas this is one dickies little bitches…WOMAN THE FUCK UP!  YOU CALLED ME BITCH.  WEAK ASS LOOK AT THE SCREEN SHOT BITCH. PATHETIC AND YES IVE BEEN FUCKING HIM!!!! “  (OK, so I think in a text all caps means she is yelling at me and with 4 exclamation points I think she means business)

Me:  “Ok.  I have no idea who you or dickie are.  I have not used my phone all day.  I am a suburban housewife with 3 small kids.  I don’t have time to call someone else’s guy.  Though you texting me has brought some excitement to my day.  Oh and good for you from getting some from Dickie.  You do you girl!”

Her:  R u dumb?  Did I just magically create a screenshot with your number saying incoming call with the date and time??? You’re a fuckin liar grow up.  If u didn’t use uour phone to call me then someone else did.  LOOK AT IT”  (Ok, she is yelling at me again.  I am many things but I am not a liar, how dare she?)

Me:  Ok, for the 3^rd time I didn’t call you.  Not sure why my number is on your phone.  I get calls from (town I don’t want to disclose) on this phone all the time.  I have no idea who they are from.  Not that I care but you seem pretty insecure in your relationship.  Maybe it is time to find someone else.  Again, I don’t know anyone from (town I don’t want to disclose) or anyone named dickie but I do appreciate the drama this afternoon, it has been a nice break from CNN”S coverage of the health care debate.

Her:  So mature.  Pretty sure how phones work lol a person calls its in your log.  I sent it to in BLACK AND WHITE.  So grow the fuck up.  (again with the all caps and with the level of her anger I don’t think for one second she was doing any laughing out loud)

Me:  I am grown up.  I am 44, though I do wish I was younger.  Life is going by way to fast.  Feel free to call the phone company and ask them how it could happen.  It was not me.  Don’t take it out on dickie though when he tells you he isn’t banging a middle aged, overweight mom from central MA.  In this case he is telling the truth.  Shame though he sounds like a hell of a guy.  Seriously though, find someone better for yourself.  You have too much passion to waste on someone you don’t trust.  Again, thanks for making my afternoon  exciting but I have to go get dinner ready for my 2.5 kids and our dog.

Her:   I apologize.  Just seems way to convienieny with what is going on in my life.  2^nd girl to say I never called u when clearly your phone called me or I wouldn’t have your number or that screen shot.  (I do think convienieny means convenient, I do like the ring of  convienieny though) 

Me:   Not sure how it happened, if I called I would have admitted it.  I am truly sorry you have a lot going on in your life.  I was serious when I said you should find someone better.  No guy is worth getting so worked up over.  Find someone who appreciates you and that you can trust.  You shouldn’t have to second guess every number that comes up.  You are better than that.

Her:  Thanks. I don’t kniw how the hell that happened.  I apologize again

Me:  Ok so this whole thing got me curious so I googled if someone can make calls from someone else’s phone number and apparently there are apps you can use for something called phone spoofing.  Here is a screen shot of what I found

Me:  I sent her a screen shot, something I learned how to do while going back and forth with her, about phone spoofing.  I guess there is an app people can use to make calls from their phone but it shows up as someone else’s phone. 

Her:  Wtfff omg!  I can’t believe that’s even possible.  So not right.  But you and I both saw the screenshot with the date time and your number.  I can’t believe that’s legal.  I am SOOOOO SORRY AGAIN!  Never thought for a second anyone could or would do that.  Seems like a lot of effort especially to call and say nothing.  I live in the (geographical region I don’t want to disclose) in (town I don’t want to disclose)  if you were closer I would love to buy you a drink lol I’m a mother as well.  I have a (#) yr old daughter.  I’m so embarrassed.  Happened at an extremely toxic moment and I jumped to conclusions.  But thanks for sharing that info   (again with the all caps yelling but at least this time she was apologizing)

Me:  No worries!  We have all been there!  Life is tough enough, us ladies need to stick together and not bring each other down.  I did live in (town I don’t want to disclose) briefly about 8 years ago so the number might be from when I was living up there.  I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions, I would have done the same (no, I wouldn’t have but I didn’t know what else to say)

Her:  Thanks for being grown and an understanding compassionate woman about it!  God knows u didn’t have to.  And I don’t know if I would have addressed it with the class and maturity that you did  if u do come back to the (geographical region I don’t want to disclose) I would b estatic if you let me buy u a drink or coffee.  My name is (blank).  For a stranger you really have affected and enlightened me in such a positive way and for that I thank you.  (Ok, if she really read some of my comments I don’t think I was being that mature…)

Me:  You are welcome.  Nice to meet you (blank).  I’m Erin.  I do hope you keep in touch and I hope everything works out the way it is supposed to for you.

OK, for the record I have NO intention of meeting up with her.  1. I don’t want to get beat up and 2.  Yeah, I don’t want to get beat up.  Now this did have a happy ending but, if you have been following my blog at all or know me in real life you know that deep down inside I wanted to call her back and say, “yeah, just shitting ya, it’s me Erin,  is Dickie there?”

Good-bye my friend

So my blog is usually good for a few laughs; me relating something funny that happened with me and my kids or just my odd observations on life but tonight I am going in a different direction.  Tonight I want to tell you all about someone very special to me.  Someone that I had to say goodbye to last night and far too soon.  Her name was Linda and she was amazing.

Linda and I have worked together for almost 8 years now.  Now I share a lot in my blog but there is a lot more that I keep private.  When I started my blog years ago I put some self imposed guidelines on what I would write about.  I don't write about any of my kiddos medical issues, I don't write about my marriage and I don't really write about my work.  I have made reference to working in the NICU but that is as far as I have taken it. Tonight I am going to describe a little bit more about what I do in the NICU.  I am not a doctor or a nurse, I am something called a Child Life Specialist. In my role in the NICU I spend the majority of my time with babies born dependent on substances their mom's were taking.  Or what the news call "drug babies".  Linda liked being assigned to those babies too.  We would spend hours on end in the nursery rocking those babies.  We would spend those hours talking about everything under the sun.  In the beginning our talks were more about superficial things like how hot Adam Levine is or stuffed pepper recipes.  Over time our talks became so special to me.  Linda became something I call a "momtor".  It is a silly term I made up for a small group of women, about 4, that I look up to or seek out when I am struggling with being a mom.  A mentor for motherhood.  They aren't perfect parents, but just women that to me are doing the best they can with what they are faced with with their children.  Linda and I talked a lot about our kids.  I knew no matter what I was thinking or feeling I could always be 100% honest with her and she would never, ever judge me even on my worst day. And on her worst day she never once forgot to ask me how I was or how my girls were and when she asked she really wanted to know.  And boy did my girls love Linda.  She would host a bake sale for the March of Dimes every year on Good Friday.  There are 2 things my girls look forward to every year, the Labor Day Duck Race and Linda's bake sale.  They get so excited.  It is the one day of the year they jump out of bed, get dressed up fancy and come and see their friend Linda.  This past year Anna my 7 year old made Linda the prettiest picture after the bake sale.  Linda teased me that it had swirly letters on it but the one Anna made me for my office had regular run of the mill capitals.  When Anna overheard me telling Chuck one night that Linda was having a rough spell Anna made her an activity book with homemade dot to dots, coloring pages and a word search that had the words; Linda, Love, NICU and Babies in it. It instantly brought me to tears because those words described Linda to a T.   Having to tell them that their friend Linda had died was second only to telling them my mom had died.  It was soul crushing. 


For the most part we were just work friends.  We grabbed breakfast only a handful of times and we did go see a medium together and Linda my friend, don't think for one second I didn't see the sign you sent me right around the time you passed!  Please know I am forever grateful for that.  Though we were "only" work friends that did not cheapen or diminish my love for her and the sincerity of our friendship.  She was one of those rare gems you connect with and forge a deep and sincere friendship.    All told I have probably spent more quality hours with her in the nursery the past few years than I have with any of my other friends.  I am so grateful to have had her in my life.


Linda was in so much pain this past year but would always put a smile on and care for all those around her.  If you didn't know that she had a terminal disease you would never have guessed.  One of the many, many qualities I loved about Linda is that she treated every single parent that walked through our NICU doors with the same kindness and compassion; it didn't matter if they were millionaires or homeless she always, always did right by her babies and their families.  She never let on to the NICU families that she herself needed care.  I do believe her NICU babies gave her the strength to go on for as long as she did.  One day not too long ago we were having lunch together after a particularly rough few hours with the babies.  I just looked over at her and it hit me she really wasn't going to be around much longer.  Tears started streaming down my face.  As I opened my mouth to say something she cocked her head to the side, gave me a smile and slightly shook her head no.  And that was it, she wasn't having it. Linda wasn't one for ever feeling sorry for herself.  There was to be no grieving before she died.  She lived life to the fullest and appreciated every day she was given.

I also want to take some time and talk about how special our NICU family is.  We have been dealt some tough blows this past year.  Time and time again I am amazed at how we all come together and come out the other end stronger.  In my role I am very fortunate because when needed I can step out and get myself together.  I am very fortunate in that respect.  My colleagues aren't that fortunate.  They are caring for critically ill babies.  They can't always take a step out to gather themselves together.  They have to stay with their babies and keep them alive.  I am constantly in awe at how they are able to give their all to their NICU babies and families while inside they are grieving.  The care they give the patients never falters and no matter the situation the families are none the wiser.  They are the most professional group of nurses I have had the privilege to work with. 

Linda was not much older than I am and that fact has not escaped me.  She died way too young and had so much life left to live.  In thinking how to honor her life I think the best way is to stay true to myself, my beliefs and live each day to the fullest.  Just be the best version of myself I can be.  I have already started to make some changes to do just that. 


I am not looking for  "so sorry for your loss" responses because even though I am hurting and suffering a loss, it is not my loss, it truly is the world's loss.  After people die you always hear things like "the world was a better place because of her", "the world will never be the same" well in Linda's case it is absolutely, hands down, unequivocally true.  The world will NEVER be the same without Linda.  The world WAS a better place because of her.  The one piece of comfort I take in her passing is knowing that a piece of her is inside every single one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of babies she cared for and her presence will literally be felt for generations to come.

Rest easy my sweet friend.  I will miss you more than words could ever do justice to.