I know I often complain of living in such a small town and more often than not, I am daydreaming of moving to somewhere a bit more urban. Today is not one of those days. Today I am very proud of my small town. Today we will say goodbye to one of our own. Today our town will lay a hero to rest.
We live in a sleepy little town in the central part of the state. It is an old mill town built along the Blackstone River. It is full of hardworking people who really do care about one another. In the 6 years or so that we have lived here I have seen and experienced first hand the community come together in hard times. Within hours of house fires emails are flying around coordinating donations for the displaced families, when the school override failed parents came together to raise funds to keep some of the activities from being cut and during the awful winter this year neighbors helped neighbors dig out from the snow. When I had complications after Emily was born and was in and out of the hospital people came out of the woodwork to help me...watching the girls for me, making dinners for us and even just standing next to my car in the morning so I didn't have to drag the baby out at school drop off. Many of them I barely knew at the time...now I consider them friends. The term "salt of the earth" really fits for our town.
So when a 22 year old soldier from our town was killed in Afghanistan, his death rocked our little town to it's core. Bad things like that happen to other people, other places...not here. Now, don't get me wrong, our town is not perfect, we have our issues too (break-ins, drug problems and our fair share of crazy), but the death of such a young, promising member of our community has hit hard.
Once again our town has pulled together to support his family. Almost every house has an American flag proudly displayed, which were handed out by local veterans who stood in the town square for days making sure all who wanted one got one. The firefighters worked tirelessly putting up flags and yellow ribbons all along the funeral procession route. The little bridal shop in "downtown" has flags in their window, the cafe has messages of thanks on their sandwich board...so do several other businesses. I have seen street sweepers coming through to clear away all the winter sand, volunteers decorating the traffic islands in red, white and blue and making sure our town looks its best for the soldier's family. It is just a small way for us as a town to show his family our appreciation. It gives me goose bumps every time I drive through town.
One thing that strikes me the most is that no one I have talked to in town knows this soldier or his family. It doesn't matter. When one of our own is hurting, we are all hurting. Through all of this I have not heard any of the typical rhetoric, "we need to get the hell out of there"..."bomb them all"...because, again, it doesn't matter right now. No matter what side of the aisle you sit on, a 22 year old died. Showing his family our gratitude and respect is all that matters right now.
Later this morning I will be taking my girls out on this raw and rainy morning to stand and watch the funeral procession. I want them to understand what a true hero is. I think too often people look to sports stars and entertainers as role models. I always hear the term "class act" thrown around when an athlete tosses a ball to a kid in the stands. To me that is not a hero. I am sure it is pretty easy to sign a contract awarding you millions of dollars to throw a football. It takes unbelievable courage and bravery to sign your name on a military contract. Many young men and women are literally signing their life away when they sign on that dotted line. To me, a hero is an ordinary person who, when faced with an extraordinary circumstance rises to the challenge; soldiers, firefighters, police officers, doctors, nurses and teachers. My girls like to listen to Taylor Swift and Katy Perry, that is ok...I think they have good, positive messages for girls in their music. However, when it comes to role models I will teach them about Malala Yousafza the young girl shot by the Taliban because she refused to back down in her idea that girls should receive an education, Mother Teresa for her dedication to helping the poor...the likes of them.
As I sit and type this post the girls are putting the finishing touches on the signs they plan to hold as the hearse and family ride by. It is because of the sacrifices of this young man and so many men and women that have gone before him that I am able write about and post my opinions, that my girls are able to receive an education that has given them the ability to read and write their signs, and, that we have the freedom to walk down the end of our street to see his procession go by. For that we are eternally grateful. Rest easy Corporal John Dawson. Thank you for your service.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Till Death Do Us Part?....What about a bad haircut?
In this year of our Lord two thousand and fifteen, I can formally announce it has happened. I know many of you thought this day had already come, but you can all rest assured it is now official....the world's worst hair cut ever has been given. I am the lucky recipient. In thinking of how I would describe this abomination to you I can honestly say words failed me. I am having an incredibly difficult time finding the words to describe what has happened on top of my head. I will try my best, but, in all fairness to my faithful readers, the words I type will in no way, shape or form truly convey the horror that is now my new style.
I have no one to blame but myself. I haven't had my hair cut in a few months...it is a shorter hairstyle so realistically I should be in the salon every 5 weeks. It was really shaggy and out of control. I have been putting off making an appointment because I really haven't been in the mood to be out and about in society lately. Plus, I can't justify spending $70 for a 10 minute hair cut when I have 3 kids. The money can be put to better use. So even though I know I am going to come out disappointed I strayed from the regular salon and opted for a more economical cut.
I explain what I want to the stylist. Stick to the same shape of the cut I have, just cut about 1/2 an inch off. So she gets to work; washes, cuts and blow dries it. It didn't look any different from when I walked in...in fact, it somehow looked even longer and scragglier. I voiced my concerns in a very nice way...she wet it again and got to work. I was only half paying attention because Sara decided to get her hair done also, so as I was getting cut I was chatting with Sara's stylist. Big Mistake!! When I finally looked in the mirror I was horrified. Somehow she managed to defy all laws of physics and cut the top short and leave the back and sides longer, yet there was a circle of longer hair that was standing at attention right in the center of my head. Kind of like a 3 tiered cake. I know you are thinking, oh, like a mullet? I wish it were a mullet...then there would be at least a name for it. A traditional mullet is short on the top AND sides while longer in the back. This is short on the top and longer on the SIDES and back. I know it is hard to picture so let's see if I can paint a more descriptive picture for you; so imagine an old man--bald on top with long scraggly hair around his whole head....kind of like Friar Tuck. Then take that same man and put a really short toupee on top making sure it is kind of off center and askew. Yeah, that is a good start. Oh, then add a cowlick right in the front. In 42 years I have never had a cowlick there but magically one appeared after this chick's handy work.
I wish that were the end of the worst hair cut ever, but no my friends...it is even better. On the left hand side of my head she left about 30 hairs untouched. I have a tuft of hair sticking out a good two inches longer than the rest. Hmmm...what to do? What to do? I have a couple of fantastic options; 1. I could leave it and just have it blowing in the wind and make people try and figure out if that were a special request on my part, 2. I could braid it into a rat tail and bring the late 80's back, or 3. I could curl it into a pretty little tendril and place baby's breath throughout. I decided to take scissors to it and cut that sh*t off.
So there I was sitting in the salon with what is unequivocally the worst hair cut ever when a dad walks in with his two young impressionable daughters. I know they were looking at me, though trying to not look too closely for fear of their corneas burning off, wondering if I am the "before" or "after" version of myself. Poor things...they had such pretty hair when they walked in...
When you see me out and about no need to tell me it really isn't "that bad". I have spent most of last night and early this morning painstakingly cutting each individual hair to try and get it to at least blend and not look like some futuristic, shelf looking, cheap toupee. I keep telling myself it is only hair it will grow back. For the next few weeks I will be going heavy on the eye make-up trying to distract the world and have them focus on my baby blues instead of the bird's nest atop my noggin.
So I am giving Chuck a free pass. If he wants to divorce me I will not contest him. It is not because I do not love him, quite the opposite I do very much. In our vows I remember saying things to the effect of; for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health...I do not, however remember any caveat about in good hair and in bad. This is about as bad as it gets.
Now, who knows? Maybe she is fantastic at what she does and was just pissed off at me for questioning her stylistic abilities after her first go around with my hair. Maybe this is just hair dresser karma. Maybe I should have just left well enough alone. Or maybe she flat out sucks. I will never know for sure. What I do know for sure is that you all can rest easy the next time you sit in your stylist's chair...you will get a decent hair cut. The worst cut ever has come and gone, and I have taken one for the whole human race. You are welcome!
I have no one to blame but myself. I haven't had my hair cut in a few months...it is a shorter hairstyle so realistically I should be in the salon every 5 weeks. It was really shaggy and out of control. I have been putting off making an appointment because I really haven't been in the mood to be out and about in society lately. Plus, I can't justify spending $70 for a 10 minute hair cut when I have 3 kids. The money can be put to better use. So even though I know I am going to come out disappointed I strayed from the regular salon and opted for a more economical cut.
I explain what I want to the stylist. Stick to the same shape of the cut I have, just cut about 1/2 an inch off. So she gets to work; washes, cuts and blow dries it. It didn't look any different from when I walked in...in fact, it somehow looked even longer and scragglier. I voiced my concerns in a very nice way...she wet it again and got to work. I was only half paying attention because Sara decided to get her hair done also, so as I was getting cut I was chatting with Sara's stylist. Big Mistake!! When I finally looked in the mirror I was horrified. Somehow she managed to defy all laws of physics and cut the top short and leave the back and sides longer, yet there was a circle of longer hair that was standing at attention right in the center of my head. Kind of like a 3 tiered cake. I know you are thinking, oh, like a mullet? I wish it were a mullet...then there would be at least a name for it. A traditional mullet is short on the top AND sides while longer in the back. This is short on the top and longer on the SIDES and back. I know it is hard to picture so let's see if I can paint a more descriptive picture for you; so imagine an old man--bald on top with long scraggly hair around his whole head....kind of like Friar Tuck. Then take that same man and put a really short toupee on top making sure it is kind of off center and askew. Yeah, that is a good start. Oh, then add a cowlick right in the front. In 42 years I have never had a cowlick there but magically one appeared after this chick's handy work.
I wish that were the end of the worst hair cut ever, but no my friends...it is even better. On the left hand side of my head she left about 30 hairs untouched. I have a tuft of hair sticking out a good two inches longer than the rest. Hmmm...what to do? What to do? I have a couple of fantastic options; 1. I could leave it and just have it blowing in the wind and make people try and figure out if that were a special request on my part, 2. I could braid it into a rat tail and bring the late 80's back, or 3. I could curl it into a pretty little tendril and place baby's breath throughout. I decided to take scissors to it and cut that sh*t off.
So there I was sitting in the salon with what is unequivocally the worst hair cut ever when a dad walks in with his two young impressionable daughters. I know they were looking at me, though trying to not look too closely for fear of their corneas burning off, wondering if I am the "before" or "after" version of myself. Poor things...they had such pretty hair when they walked in...
When you see me out and about no need to tell me it really isn't "that bad". I have spent most of last night and early this morning painstakingly cutting each individual hair to try and get it to at least blend and not look like some futuristic, shelf looking, cheap toupee. I keep telling myself it is only hair it will grow back. For the next few weeks I will be going heavy on the eye make-up trying to distract the world and have them focus on my baby blues instead of the bird's nest atop my noggin.
So I am giving Chuck a free pass. If he wants to divorce me I will not contest him. It is not because I do not love him, quite the opposite I do very much. In our vows I remember saying things to the effect of; for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health...I do not, however remember any caveat about in good hair and in bad. This is about as bad as it gets.
Now, who knows? Maybe she is fantastic at what she does and was just pissed off at me for questioning her stylistic abilities after her first go around with my hair. Maybe this is just hair dresser karma. Maybe I should have just left well enough alone. Or maybe she flat out sucks. I will never know for sure. What I do know for sure is that you all can rest easy the next time you sit in your stylist's chair...you will get a decent hair cut. The worst cut ever has come and gone, and I have taken one for the whole human race. You are welcome!
Thursday, April 2, 2015
#TBT #tiredhairymess #thankyou #whatthef*ckisahashtaganyway?
So I am not one to fall victim to trends or fads on
Facebook. You will never see any #TBT pictures on my timeline. I have never and will never "hash tag" anything....Oh,
when did the pound sign become a hash tag? And when for the love of God did the number sign
change to a pound sign? I don’t pass along any of the electronic chain letters I
get. I don’t forward things to five friends. I won’t tell you how we
met so you can assign me a number or whatever the heck people get
assigned. I also never get into the whole month of
gratitude. It always cracks me up seeing this poignant posts on
people’s walls during November…I want to comment, “umm…I know you in
real life…you are not that deep…you really are saying you are grateful
for cozy socks, hot cider and a good book?...wasn’t it just last week
you were complaining about the smell on the T, the jackass from the
parent drop-off lane and the dumbass at Dunkin Donuts that can’t get
your order right?” Anyway, back to my post…I decided it was high time I
share with all of you some of the things I am thankful for.
- Thank you Pop Tarts. Just as I was feeling bad about eating two of your chocolate crap cakes for breakfast I saw right on the box you are cholesterol free. So my breakfast was kind of healthy after all.
- Thank you Emily for waking me up at 5:03 a.m. EVERY. DAY. If you did not reach over and pull my eyelid open and stare at me while asking for “Peppa” I might forget to wake up and miss out on my day.
- Thank you again to Emily for somehow finding your way into my bed each night. It's not like I really want a good night's sleep anyway.
- Thank you to all of my children for staying up past 8 p.m. If you went to bed on time I would actually get a chance to watch my crush, the one and only Anderson Cooper...thank you for taking away my 60 minutes of happiness.
- While we are talking about the lovely Anderson Cooper, thank you to the world for being so effed up I can’t watch the Coop while my children are awake.
- Thank you Anna for collecting and storing in Ziplock bags the cat whiskers, cat nail trimmings and rogue cat hair wisps you find around the house. I may be the mother to a budding serial killer but at least the house is free of cat hair.
- Thank you to the TV channel TLC and your show My 600 lb. life. If it weren’t for you I may have put down the bag of Doritoes after a few chips, but, thanks to your programming I ate the whole bag and felt validated in my decision to “go all in”…bring on the scooter!
- Thank you to first grade Common Core Math for solidifying my 7 year old’s burgeoning sense that her mother really doesn’t know everything.
- Thank you peri menopuase for effing up my body. I really was hoping at some point to relive my teenage acne…oh, and I always had dreams of running away with the circus…thanks to you I am single-handedly keeping Clearasil in business and I am well on my way to being able to fill in for the bearded lady should she need to take a leave. You are just awesome!
Thank you to anyone who made it through my cranky post. #youarewaybetterthanme
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Accidental Fecal Release
Again, sorry for the huge gap between posts. I have not been in the mood to write since my mom died. Anyway, I figured I would give it a try today and see if I can write myself out of the funk I have been in. Here goes...
So after coming home from my mom's services I decided we needed a distraction from all the sadness we had just endured. Chuck agreed and we hastily booked an overnight at the new Great Wolf Lodge that opened up not too far from us. We booked the fancy room with the Wolf Den bedroom for the kids...like anything cool we try to do, it, of course came back to bite us in the ass. So two days later we spring the kids from school a little early and head to the hotel. Chuck and I are so excited because we have kept it a secret from them. We are driving in the middle of nowhere and neither of them ask where we are going...I am so disappointed. Finally about 5 minutes from GWL I make them guess where we are going. After a boatload of clues Sara figures it out.
So we get to the hotel, get registered and settle into our room. The girls are so excited and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the cool wolf den bedroom with the bunk beds. We get our bathing suits on and head for the water park. There are so many cool water slides, wave pools and water toys kids will be entertained for hours. Yeah, except mine. Safety Sara insists on wearing one of the community life jackets provided by the park...even when she is in the wave pool. Oh, and when I say she is "in" the wave pool I mean her feet, ankles and her shins are in the wave pool. Yet, she still insists on the life vest. I guess you never can be too careful. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum we have Emily, the baby, whom left to her own devices would sail over Niagara Falls in a barrel if we let her. That kid has no fear and no sense. Not a good combo in an everyday setting, a recipe for disaster in a water park. Poor Chuck was on Emily duty for most of the trip. Then we have Anna...she had fun for about 28 minutes and then decided she was done. So we change up, have dinner and hit the arcade.
Bedtime comes and they excitedly climb into the bunk beds in the wolf den. The baby is in the pack and play and Chuck and I settle into our bed. I am so physically and emotionally exhausted I just want to get a good night's sleep. Not more than three tenths of a second after I close my eyes I hear it..."mom...mom...hey mom..." OK, so one of my children has long straight hair that she parts in the middle and she is an extremely pale child. I swear to all that is holy on more than one occasion she has woken me from a deep sleep and when I see her standing over me in my bed I nearly sh*t myself thinking she is a ghost. Anyway, back to the story...without boring you with all the details Sara is terrified of the wolf wallpaper that is their little bedroom...she ends up in bed with Chuck and I end up on the pull-out couch...oh, and at some point the baby ends up on the couch with me.
So morning comes and we get ready for the water park again. We head down and are about 30 minutes too early so we hang out in the arcade. I need to use the bathroom so I head back to our room...and wouldn't you know it...friggin fire alarm is going off so we can't get back to our room!! I only brought one bathing suit and it is still damp from the day before so in addition to having to hold my pee indefinitely (sorry, there is no way in hell I am going to pull my bathing suit down and be pretty much naked in a public bathroom) I am freezing.
So we spend some time wading ankle deep in the pools. When the girls have had their fill of the human stew that is a public pool we change up and have lunch. As we are heading back to the kiddie rides we get handed a formal memo from one of the life guards outside of the pool. I take a glance at it and it says the pool will be closed due to an "Accidental Fecal Release"...huh? Oh my God! Someone sh*t in the pool! Someone sh*t in the pool and now it is closed. Now, of course this being me and my family it is no ordinary poop. No my friends, this is super poop! Cryptosporidium to be exact. Now, you may not be familiar with this super sh*t butt, pun intended, being the nerd I am I knew exactly what it was. I am an avid viewer of Monsters Inside of Me. Dan Riskin, the biologist that hosts the show is a friend in my head. I swear to God if someone gets infected with Bot Bot fly larvae I could remove that thing in my sleep. So if you feel something crawling around in your head and you recently spent time in the tropics give me a call and head over with some Vaseline and tweezers...I can have you good as new in no time. But back to the Crypto. So the memo goes on and says that the pool will need to be closed for 18-24 hours per the CDC!! Yeah, it is that kind of super poop! Cryptosporidium is not your run of the mill diarrhea...it is sh*t that is encased in a hard shell. I sh*t you not!! It is crap ensconced in shell a la M&M's. So seeing that I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy I start envisioning some kid popping a squat in the corner of the pool unleashing a torrent of mini M & M-style crap out of their ass.
Now I am curious, how did they know it was super sh*t and not just your everyday turd? Who has that glamorous job of testing each loaf? I hope they get combat pay for that duty...ha-ha...see what I did there? Duty? Oh, and how do they know it was an "accidental" release? Maybe some parent had it and was ready to stick needles in their eyes and decided to take their morning sit-down in the pool instead. I mean it is kind of a brilliant plan. Think about it. Once the pool is closed there really isn't that much to do and you could pack it in early and head home. Or, another thought I had was this; there is alcohol available for the adults. A lot of alcohol. Maybe one of the dads had a few too many the night before during the mind numbing story time/dance party. It is conceivable that while in the pool with his kids he let one rip and unfortunately it was more than a fart. Who knows? It could have been a case of the beer sh*ts that shut the place down. I guess I will never know.
Since returning from Great Wolf Lodge I have heard from 2 friends that have gone. Both of them reported being the victims of an AFR. That is what they call them there. I guess they happen so frequently the staff can't be bothered to say it in full each time. An Accidental Fecal Release is so common it is now simply referred to as an "AFR".
So the take away from our Great Wolf Lodge adventure is this; don't pay extra for the fun kids room if any of your children are afraid of paper wolves potentially attacking them in their sleep, bring your own Clorox bleach wipes...you never know when you may need to bleach your entire family down and if you think you may have to urge to stick needles in your eyes due to excess forced family fun, make sure to have a pack of mini M & M's on hand so you can inconspicuously drop them in the pool and yell, "Holy Sh*t! We have an AFR over here!!" You are welcome!
So after coming home from my mom's services I decided we needed a distraction from all the sadness we had just endured. Chuck agreed and we hastily booked an overnight at the new Great Wolf Lodge that opened up not too far from us. We booked the fancy room with the Wolf Den bedroom for the kids...like anything cool we try to do, it, of course came back to bite us in the ass. So two days later we spring the kids from school a little early and head to the hotel. Chuck and I are so excited because we have kept it a secret from them. We are driving in the middle of nowhere and neither of them ask where we are going...I am so disappointed. Finally about 5 minutes from GWL I make them guess where we are going. After a boatload of clues Sara figures it out.
So we get to the hotel, get registered and settle into our room. The girls are so excited and LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the cool wolf den bedroom with the bunk beds. We get our bathing suits on and head for the water park. There are so many cool water slides, wave pools and water toys kids will be entertained for hours. Yeah, except mine. Safety Sara insists on wearing one of the community life jackets provided by the park...even when she is in the wave pool. Oh, and when I say she is "in" the wave pool I mean her feet, ankles and her shins are in the wave pool. Yet, she still insists on the life vest. I guess you never can be too careful. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum we have Emily, the baby, whom left to her own devices would sail over Niagara Falls in a barrel if we let her. That kid has no fear and no sense. Not a good combo in an everyday setting, a recipe for disaster in a water park. Poor Chuck was on Emily duty for most of the trip. Then we have Anna...she had fun for about 28 minutes and then decided she was done. So we change up, have dinner and hit the arcade.
Bedtime comes and they excitedly climb into the bunk beds in the wolf den. The baby is in the pack and play and Chuck and I settle into our bed. I am so physically and emotionally exhausted I just want to get a good night's sleep. Not more than three tenths of a second after I close my eyes I hear it..."mom...mom...hey mom..." OK, so one of my children has long straight hair that she parts in the middle and she is an extremely pale child. I swear to all that is holy on more than one occasion she has woken me from a deep sleep and when I see her standing over me in my bed I nearly sh*t myself thinking she is a ghost. Anyway, back to the story...without boring you with all the details Sara is terrified of the wolf wallpaper that is their little bedroom...she ends up in bed with Chuck and I end up on the pull-out couch...oh, and at some point the baby ends up on the couch with me.
So morning comes and we get ready for the water park again. We head down and are about 30 minutes too early so we hang out in the arcade. I need to use the bathroom so I head back to our room...and wouldn't you know it...friggin fire alarm is going off so we can't get back to our room!! I only brought one bathing suit and it is still damp from the day before so in addition to having to hold my pee indefinitely (sorry, there is no way in hell I am going to pull my bathing suit down and be pretty much naked in a public bathroom) I am freezing.
So we spend some time wading ankle deep in the pools. When the girls have had their fill of the human stew that is a public pool we change up and have lunch. As we are heading back to the kiddie rides we get handed a formal memo from one of the life guards outside of the pool. I take a glance at it and it says the pool will be closed due to an "Accidental Fecal Release"...huh? Oh my God! Someone sh*t in the pool! Someone sh*t in the pool and now it is closed. Now, of course this being me and my family it is no ordinary poop. No my friends, this is super poop! Cryptosporidium to be exact. Now, you may not be familiar with this super sh*t butt, pun intended, being the nerd I am I knew exactly what it was. I am an avid viewer of Monsters Inside of Me. Dan Riskin, the biologist that hosts the show is a friend in my head. I swear to God if someone gets infected with Bot Bot fly larvae I could remove that thing in my sleep. So if you feel something crawling around in your head and you recently spent time in the tropics give me a call and head over with some Vaseline and tweezers...I can have you good as new in no time. But back to the Crypto. So the memo goes on and says that the pool will need to be closed for 18-24 hours per the CDC!! Yeah, it is that kind of super poop! Cryptosporidium is not your run of the mill diarrhea...it is sh*t that is encased in a hard shell. I sh*t you not!! It is crap ensconced in shell a la M&M's. So seeing that I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy I start envisioning some kid popping a squat in the corner of the pool unleashing a torrent of mini M & M-style crap out of their ass.
Now I am curious, how did they know it was super sh*t and not just your everyday turd? Who has that glamorous job of testing each loaf? I hope they get combat pay for that duty...ha-ha...see what I did there? Duty? Oh, and how do they know it was an "accidental" release? Maybe some parent had it and was ready to stick needles in their eyes and decided to take their morning sit-down in the pool instead. I mean it is kind of a brilliant plan. Think about it. Once the pool is closed there really isn't that much to do and you could pack it in early and head home. Or, another thought I had was this; there is alcohol available for the adults. A lot of alcohol. Maybe one of the dads had a few too many the night before during the mind numbing story time/dance party. It is conceivable that while in the pool with his kids he let one rip and unfortunately it was more than a fart. Who knows? It could have been a case of the beer sh*ts that shut the place down. I guess I will never know.
Since returning from Great Wolf Lodge I have heard from 2 friends that have gone. Both of them reported being the victims of an AFR. That is what they call them there. I guess they happen so frequently the staff can't be bothered to say it in full each time. An Accidental Fecal Release is so common it is now simply referred to as an "AFR".
So the take away from our Great Wolf Lodge adventure is this; don't pay extra for the fun kids room if any of your children are afraid of paper wolves potentially attacking them in their sleep, bring your own Clorox bleach wipes...you never know when you may need to bleach your entire family down and if you think you may have to urge to stick needles in your eyes due to excess forced family fun, make sure to have a pack of mini M & M's on hand so you can inconspicuously drop them in the pool and yell, "Holy Sh*t! We have an AFR over here!!" You are welcome!
Sunday, February 15, 2015
42 years, 1 month, 14 days, 6 hours and 57 minutes...
That is how long I was lucky enough to have my mom. She died one month ago today and it seems like a lifetime without her already. I have never known such complete sadness.
My mom spent Christmas Eve with us at our home. I never imagined she would be dead 3 weeks later. Everyone says there is nothing like losing your mom, I am sure short of losing a child this is true. Try to imagine finding out as of right now you could never see, hear or speak to your mom again. Terrifying, right? Well, forget that feeling because that is nothing like it at all...it is at least a million times worse than anything you can imagine. The other day in talking with someone else that lost their mom she described it perfectly. Before you have kids you imagine what it will be like...you think you know what it is like. Then you have kids and realize you really had no idea at all. The instant intense love you feel the moment you become a parent is nothing that can be described in words. It was the same way when I lost my mom. She had some health issues and I had thought about what it might be like when she died. Then she died and I realized I had no idea at all. The moment she took her last breath the unbelievable sadness and emptiness I instantly felt, again, is something that can not be described in words.
I had to tell the girls when they came home from school. I have never dreaded anything more in my life. I honestly can say this was the most difficult parenting moment I have ever. My mom had only been dead a few hours, I wanted to just curl up in bed and sob but I needed to be the one to tell them. As a Child Life Specialist this is something I do...sadly, I have experience in explaining death to children. I have been the one to break the news to a child that their sibling died or given parents the words to use with their children. I know how to do it. I know what to say. I had been preparing my kids in the few days leading up to her death. They knew grandma was sick. They knew the doctors and nurses were trying really hard to make her better. They knew they were trying every medicine they had to make her better. They also knew that no matter how hard the doctors and nurses try she might just be too sick and there might not be any medicines left to try...and she might not get better. I know for their developmental stages I needed to give the physical explanation of death. That is what they would understand. I know I just answer the questions they ask and not to give any extra information. But you know what? None of that knowledge made a difference. It was the worst thing I have had to do. The girls were devastated. Sara loudly sobbed for at least half an hour straight. Anna quietly cried into my shoulder for at least an hour. Later on I found Anna crying behind her puppet theater. Several times they would lock themselves in their room and cry under their covers. It is gut wrenching to watch them deal with such pain.
In the midst of helping them deal with their own grief I had to help plan my mom's services. When someone dies somewhat suddenly their is no time to take a minute and catch your breath. We needed to get a cemetery plot, plan visitation and her funeral. It is all so overwhelming and unbelievably expensive! The funeral business is the business to go into. You can make a fortune! I think in the same way there are wedding planners, there should be funeral planners. There are so many decisions to make on the spot and at a time when you really are unable to think straight. You should have someone run all the errands; to Wal-Mart for picture frames, Office Max to print off the programs, the florist to order arrangements, the mall to buy appropriate funeral attire. It is all so overwhelming, yet it needs to get done. I had to get an outfit to wear...I needed a black suit...I don't wear suits to work so I had to get one. I was wandering the store aimlessly when a saleslady came over and asked the occasion I was shopping for. My mom's wake and funeral I answered. It was so surreal. I was shopping for clothes to wear at my mother's funeral. What the f*ck!!! Within 10 seconds she had 3 other sales associates at my side helping me pick out clothes. I was a blubbering mess in the store. I had to get a ton of picture frames for the wake. Sara came to Wal-Mart with me to get them. We wandered around the store for an hour because I couldn't focus. Finally we were checking out. I opened my wallet and my debit card was missing. I reached for my credit card and that was gone. I couldn't think straight. Are you kidding me? Now on top of everything else I have been robbed. I pull out my cell phone to call Chuck and it is dead. I start having a full on anxiety attack in Wal-Mart. This is not happening. Not now. Not here. Not in front of Sara. I find my debit card at the pharmacy and turns out Chuck had used the credit card to order my mom's flowers earlier in the day. But things went from bad to worse. I get home and spend a lot of time typing up a eulogy for my mom. With a few sentences left the computer crashes and had only auto-saved the first sentence. It all hit me. I have never felt such rage in all my life. I ran out on the porch and let out a god awful scream. It was a sound I have never heard before. Dogs off in the distance started barking it was so loud. I can't believe #1. I am having to write a eulogy for my mom...my mom who was sitting in my living room just a few days before and #2. my computer crashes so I have to do it all over again...it was so painful to write the first time now I have to do it again?
We get through the wake and funeral and I don't know how, but something came over me and I was able to get up and read my mom's eulogy in the church. My mom deserved it. She deserved more than just a generic funeral service. My younger brother also got up and gave a beautiful tribute. I also wanted to do it for my children. This was the first funeral they attended...it was going to leave an impression one way or another...I wanted to make sure that in addition to seeing great sadness they would also see me stand up tall and strong and talk about the love I had for my mother. We let them decide how much they wanted to participate, assuring them there was no right or wrong choice...they both wanted to go to the wake and funeral so we let them.
The first two weeks I was just numb. I couldn't sleep or eat. I was just surviving. The past two weeks have been even tougher. Now reality is setting in. My mom is gone. I will never see her again. My kids will never see her again and that just sucks. The sadness is always right there underneath the surface waiting to come out. I have 3 kids. I have to get up and get them ready for school. I have to change diapers and clean the house. Life goes on. But there are times everyday when the sadness just comes out. I was driving down to see my dad and Anna asks, "are we almost to Grandma and Bucka's house?...I mean Bucka's house?"...her innocent little correction killed me. Thankfully she was sitting behind me and couldn't see the tears streaming down my face. Another day they were off playing and come and ask me for a box. Thinking they were doing some craft project I ask what it was for. Oh, we are playing funeral they answer. I know that is developmentally appropriate and a normal, healthy way for children to work through their grief but it was like a punch to the stomach. Walking through the store the other day and I saw cards for "Mom" and I lost it. On Friday I asked Chuck if he checked the mail because my parent's had sent the kids something. I burst into tears just as soon as that left my lips...my dad sent them something...not my parents becuase my mom is dead.
Yesterday we had our first family event, a cousin's chocolate Valentine party, since my mom died. It was heartbreaking to see my dad walk up the stairs to my house without my mom. The kids had fun but for me it was so hard to have this party go on and not have my mother a part of it. She was missing and it really was hard not to notice the emptiness.
For the past 15 years I have been working in hospitals and one of the things I have told families to do when a loved one is sick or has died is to keep things as normal as possible for the other children. I want to apologize to every family I have ever said that to. F-ing Impossible! There is no way to keep things "normal"...so I am sorry for ever making a family more stressed or feel like they are failing if they weren't able to keep things "normal".
This year is going to really suck having all the first Easter, Birthday's, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. without her. This is my new reality and I don't like it. I am terrified of a life without my mom, but, like I said in my eulogy for her; my promise to her is this; though some days will be difficult, we will get up. We will go on. We will continue to lead the successful lives you worked so hard to give us. We will continue to draw on you for inspiration as we raise our children in a way that would make you proud, and, we will make sure all of your grandchildren know you and the amazing person you were.
My mom spent Christmas Eve with us at our home. I never imagined she would be dead 3 weeks later. Everyone says there is nothing like losing your mom, I am sure short of losing a child this is true. Try to imagine finding out as of right now you could never see, hear or speak to your mom again. Terrifying, right? Well, forget that feeling because that is nothing like it at all...it is at least a million times worse than anything you can imagine. The other day in talking with someone else that lost their mom she described it perfectly. Before you have kids you imagine what it will be like...you think you know what it is like. Then you have kids and realize you really had no idea at all. The instant intense love you feel the moment you become a parent is nothing that can be described in words. It was the same way when I lost my mom. She had some health issues and I had thought about what it might be like when she died. Then she died and I realized I had no idea at all. The moment she took her last breath the unbelievable sadness and emptiness I instantly felt, again, is something that can not be described in words.
I had to tell the girls when they came home from school. I have never dreaded anything more in my life. I honestly can say this was the most difficult parenting moment I have ever. My mom had only been dead a few hours, I wanted to just curl up in bed and sob but I needed to be the one to tell them. As a Child Life Specialist this is something I do...sadly, I have experience in explaining death to children. I have been the one to break the news to a child that their sibling died or given parents the words to use with their children. I know how to do it. I know what to say. I had been preparing my kids in the few days leading up to her death. They knew grandma was sick. They knew the doctors and nurses were trying really hard to make her better. They knew they were trying every medicine they had to make her better. They also knew that no matter how hard the doctors and nurses try she might just be too sick and there might not be any medicines left to try...and she might not get better. I know for their developmental stages I needed to give the physical explanation of death. That is what they would understand. I know I just answer the questions they ask and not to give any extra information. But you know what? None of that knowledge made a difference. It was the worst thing I have had to do. The girls were devastated. Sara loudly sobbed for at least half an hour straight. Anna quietly cried into my shoulder for at least an hour. Later on I found Anna crying behind her puppet theater. Several times they would lock themselves in their room and cry under their covers. It is gut wrenching to watch them deal with such pain.
In the midst of helping them deal with their own grief I had to help plan my mom's services. When someone dies somewhat suddenly their is no time to take a minute and catch your breath. We needed to get a cemetery plot, plan visitation and her funeral. It is all so overwhelming and unbelievably expensive! The funeral business is the business to go into. You can make a fortune! I think in the same way there are wedding planners, there should be funeral planners. There are so many decisions to make on the spot and at a time when you really are unable to think straight. You should have someone run all the errands; to Wal-Mart for picture frames, Office Max to print off the programs, the florist to order arrangements, the mall to buy appropriate funeral attire. It is all so overwhelming, yet it needs to get done. I had to get an outfit to wear...I needed a black suit...I don't wear suits to work so I had to get one. I was wandering the store aimlessly when a saleslady came over and asked the occasion I was shopping for. My mom's wake and funeral I answered. It was so surreal. I was shopping for clothes to wear at my mother's funeral. What the f*ck!!! Within 10 seconds she had 3 other sales associates at my side helping me pick out clothes. I was a blubbering mess in the store. I had to get a ton of picture frames for the wake. Sara came to Wal-Mart with me to get them. We wandered around the store for an hour because I couldn't focus. Finally we were checking out. I opened my wallet and my debit card was missing. I reached for my credit card and that was gone. I couldn't think straight. Are you kidding me? Now on top of everything else I have been robbed. I pull out my cell phone to call Chuck and it is dead. I start having a full on anxiety attack in Wal-Mart. This is not happening. Not now. Not here. Not in front of Sara. I find my debit card at the pharmacy and turns out Chuck had used the credit card to order my mom's flowers earlier in the day. But things went from bad to worse. I get home and spend a lot of time typing up a eulogy for my mom. With a few sentences left the computer crashes and had only auto-saved the first sentence. It all hit me. I have never felt such rage in all my life. I ran out on the porch and let out a god awful scream. It was a sound I have never heard before. Dogs off in the distance started barking it was so loud. I can't believe #1. I am having to write a eulogy for my mom...my mom who was sitting in my living room just a few days before and #2. my computer crashes so I have to do it all over again...it was so painful to write the first time now I have to do it again?
We get through the wake and funeral and I don't know how, but something came over me and I was able to get up and read my mom's eulogy in the church. My mom deserved it. She deserved more than just a generic funeral service. My younger brother also got up and gave a beautiful tribute. I also wanted to do it for my children. This was the first funeral they attended...it was going to leave an impression one way or another...I wanted to make sure that in addition to seeing great sadness they would also see me stand up tall and strong and talk about the love I had for my mother. We let them decide how much they wanted to participate, assuring them there was no right or wrong choice...they both wanted to go to the wake and funeral so we let them.
The first two weeks I was just numb. I couldn't sleep or eat. I was just surviving. The past two weeks have been even tougher. Now reality is setting in. My mom is gone. I will never see her again. My kids will never see her again and that just sucks. The sadness is always right there underneath the surface waiting to come out. I have 3 kids. I have to get up and get them ready for school. I have to change diapers and clean the house. Life goes on. But there are times everyday when the sadness just comes out. I was driving down to see my dad and Anna asks, "are we almost to Grandma and Bucka's house?...I mean Bucka's house?"...her innocent little correction killed me. Thankfully she was sitting behind me and couldn't see the tears streaming down my face. Another day they were off playing and come and ask me for a box. Thinking they were doing some craft project I ask what it was for. Oh, we are playing funeral they answer. I know that is developmentally appropriate and a normal, healthy way for children to work through their grief but it was like a punch to the stomach. Walking through the store the other day and I saw cards for "Mom" and I lost it. On Friday I asked Chuck if he checked the mail because my parent's had sent the kids something. I burst into tears just as soon as that left my lips...my dad sent them something...not my parents becuase my mom is dead.
Yesterday we had our first family event, a cousin's chocolate Valentine party, since my mom died. It was heartbreaking to see my dad walk up the stairs to my house without my mom. The kids had fun but for me it was so hard to have this party go on and not have my mother a part of it. She was missing and it really was hard not to notice the emptiness.
For the past 15 years I have been working in hospitals and one of the things I have told families to do when a loved one is sick or has died is to keep things as normal as possible for the other children. I want to apologize to every family I have ever said that to. F-ing Impossible! There is no way to keep things "normal"...so I am sorry for ever making a family more stressed or feel like they are failing if they weren't able to keep things "normal".
This year is going to really suck having all the first Easter, Birthday's, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. without her. This is my new reality and I don't like it. I am terrified of a life without my mom, but, like I said in my eulogy for her; my promise to her is this; though some days will be difficult, we will get up. We will go on. We will continue to lead the successful lives you worked so hard to give us. We will continue to draw on you for inspiration as we raise our children in a way that would make you proud, and, we will make sure all of your grandchildren know you and the amazing person you were.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Now I have seen it all!
Sorry for the huge gap in posts. My 16 month old has turned out to be a lot of work...to put it mildly. Now, I am not complaining...I love her more than life itself and I wouldn't trade her feisty little personality for a more docile one, but, she is a handful. That being said, I have not had any gaps in observing this weird little thing we call life...
As you know I live in a small town out in the central part of the state. If it were described on the news I am sure they would include the phrase "sleepy little town"...but lately I have seen a few things that have made me realize it may not be that sleepy after all.
** Camel Tow. No, I did not misspell "tow". I was driving along and had to wait as a huge tow truck turned in front of me. It was very flashy looking. It had a cartoonish looking llama on it. I kind of cocked my head and thought, 'why would a truck have a llama on it?'...Well, it didn't! It was a camel!! Huh, that was weird...then it hit me and I could not stop laughing (I do have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy after all!). It was Camel Tow! Friggin Genuis!!! So after a good 5 minutes of pure unadulterated joy I started to break this whole Camel Tow idea down. So what was their business model? Who is their target clientele? Are they targeting young men? What happens if they show up to tow away a feminist who has broken down? Do they get turned away? Oh, and if the business owner is a married man how did he broach that subject with his wife? Hey hun, I have an idea for a towing company...I need to dip into our nest egg and use all of our savings...oh and I am calling it "Camel Tow"...Wonder if they are still married? Oh, and if you are wondering there is WAY more than one tow company with this name. I googled it and there are several search pages devoted to camel tow.
** OK, so now that you are back from googling 'camel tow' I had another bizarre experience the other night. I was at Kohl's picking up a few things. I was looking at some stuff right near the ladies dressing room when a customer came out to look for her item in a different size. Sounds normal right? We have all done that. Question for you? Have you done it in your UNDERWEAR? I sh*t you not, this lady came out in her bra and undies! She was wandering around the racks looking for another shirt in her underwear. Now, as if that were not weird enough, what appeared to be her husband and kids joined in the search for the perfect top. Not one of them said anything to her. Like, oh I don't know, "put some flippin clothes on mom!"...not a word from any of them. This family seemed to be of a different cultural background, however, the children spoke perfect English...so even if they were from a different country at one point, they have been here long enough to know Americans typically wear clothes while shopping in public. Oh, and to add to it, this lady was no Victoria's Secret model...don't get me wrong, neither am I...Adam Levine won't be calling me anytime soon, but if for some god forsaken reason I decided to walk around in my underwear I would make sure I was a little closer to looking like Giselle than Mama June. I swear to all that is holy-- I kept looking over my shoulder for John Quinones to come out and say I was on 20/20's What Would You Do? Sadly, that never happened and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time...and lucky me got to witness a middle aged lady, in desperate need of a wax, wandering around in her undies looking for a black shirt. With that kind of luck maybe I should play the lottery today!
** So I was driving to work on Sunday and was stopped at an intersection. Something to the left of me caught my eye. I looked over to see a young girl, probably late teens/early 20's cracking a whip. She was out in the driveway cracking a whip. "What the f*ck" is the first thing that came to mind...Then I wanted to know why she was spending her Sunday afternoon in the freezing cold cracking an honest to goodness real whip. Is she a dominatrix practicing for her afternoon session? Is she a lion tamer honing her craft? Is she just some super-nerd acting out one of those middle earth type movies? I will never know...there was no way I was going to stop and ask her. Whatever the motivation behind her bizarre hobby, at least I can honestly say a whip cracker does not make for a sleepy little town!
** My husband is NOT gay!! No, I am not making some surprise declaration about Chuck. That is the title of a new TLC show. I was dozing on the couch the other night and heard a commercial for a show called; My husband is NOT gay. I thought for sure it was a SNL spoof...but I remembered I was watching TLC and they don't advertise SNL. So as with everything else super important in my life, I Google it. Sure enough it is a real show about married men, that even though they say they are attracted to men claim not to be gay. I wish I could sit here and tell you I had the will power not to watch it, but I can't. I can pretty much bet you once it previews I will be DVRing the crap out of that and binge watching after the girls go to bed. I wish I were making this up, but this made me say out loud, "Now, I have seen everything!"
Again, I am going to try to be better about my posts...I learned a very important life lesson yesterday...if I want to get something done, give Emily some chocolate ice-cream and I buy myself 45 minutes. I will be stocking the freezer up right away!! Oh, and my little blog is about to hit 25,000 page views. I know in the blogging world that is not much, but I am kind of excited about hitting that milestone!
As you know I live in a small town out in the central part of the state. If it were described on the news I am sure they would include the phrase "sleepy little town"...but lately I have seen a few things that have made me realize it may not be that sleepy after all.
** Camel Tow. No, I did not misspell "tow". I was driving along and had to wait as a huge tow truck turned in front of me. It was very flashy looking. It had a cartoonish looking llama on it. I kind of cocked my head and thought, 'why would a truck have a llama on it?'...Well, it didn't! It was a camel!! Huh, that was weird...then it hit me and I could not stop laughing (I do have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy after all!). It was Camel Tow! Friggin Genuis!!! So after a good 5 minutes of pure unadulterated joy I started to break this whole Camel Tow idea down. So what was their business model? Who is their target clientele? Are they targeting young men? What happens if they show up to tow away a feminist who has broken down? Do they get turned away? Oh, and if the business owner is a married man how did he broach that subject with his wife? Hey hun, I have an idea for a towing company...I need to dip into our nest egg and use all of our savings...oh and I am calling it "Camel Tow"...Wonder if they are still married? Oh, and if you are wondering there is WAY more than one tow company with this name. I googled it and there are several search pages devoted to camel tow.
** OK, so now that you are back from googling 'camel tow' I had another bizarre experience the other night. I was at Kohl's picking up a few things. I was looking at some stuff right near the ladies dressing room when a customer came out to look for her item in a different size. Sounds normal right? We have all done that. Question for you? Have you done it in your UNDERWEAR? I sh*t you not, this lady came out in her bra and undies! She was wandering around the racks looking for another shirt in her underwear. Now, as if that were not weird enough, what appeared to be her husband and kids joined in the search for the perfect top. Not one of them said anything to her. Like, oh I don't know, "put some flippin clothes on mom!"...not a word from any of them. This family seemed to be of a different cultural background, however, the children spoke perfect English...so even if they were from a different country at one point, they have been here long enough to know Americans typically wear clothes while shopping in public. Oh, and to add to it, this lady was no Victoria's Secret model...don't get me wrong, neither am I...Adam Levine won't be calling me anytime soon, but if for some god forsaken reason I decided to walk around in my underwear I would make sure I was a little closer to looking like Giselle than Mama June. I swear to all that is holy-- I kept looking over my shoulder for John Quinones to come out and say I was on 20/20's What Would You Do? Sadly, that never happened and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time...and lucky me got to witness a middle aged lady, in desperate need of a wax, wandering around in her undies looking for a black shirt. With that kind of luck maybe I should play the lottery today!
** So I was driving to work on Sunday and was stopped at an intersection. Something to the left of me caught my eye. I looked over to see a young girl, probably late teens/early 20's cracking a whip. She was out in the driveway cracking a whip. "What the f*ck" is the first thing that came to mind...Then I wanted to know why she was spending her Sunday afternoon in the freezing cold cracking an honest to goodness real whip. Is she a dominatrix practicing for her afternoon session? Is she a lion tamer honing her craft? Is she just some super-nerd acting out one of those middle earth type movies? I will never know...there was no way I was going to stop and ask her. Whatever the motivation behind her bizarre hobby, at least I can honestly say a whip cracker does not make for a sleepy little town!
** My husband is NOT gay!! No, I am not making some surprise declaration about Chuck. That is the title of a new TLC show. I was dozing on the couch the other night and heard a commercial for a show called; My husband is NOT gay. I thought for sure it was a SNL spoof...but I remembered I was watching TLC and they don't advertise SNL. So as with everything else super important in my life, I Google it. Sure enough it is a real show about married men, that even though they say they are attracted to men claim not to be gay. I wish I could sit here and tell you I had the will power not to watch it, but I can't. I can pretty much bet you once it previews I will be DVRing the crap out of that and binge watching after the girls go to bed. I wish I were making this up, but this made me say out loud, "Now, I have seen everything!"
Again, I am going to try to be better about my posts...I learned a very important life lesson yesterday...if I want to get something done, give Emily some chocolate ice-cream and I buy myself 45 minutes. I will be stocking the freezer up right away!! Oh, and my little blog is about to hit 25,000 page views. I know in the blogging world that is not much, but I am kind of excited about hitting that milestone!
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
"You clearly aren't a teenager"
So I have since I turned 42 a few weeks back I have been having a bit of a reality check. I am in my 40's. Leading up to 40 was kind of crappy. Then when I turned 40 it wasn't too bad because a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant... something I had been hoping for for a really long time. Then 41 came and it was still alright because I had my sweet little newborn. Now at 42 I am officially IN my 40's. Like the saying goes, "it is what it is"...and I was just going to have to accept it...plus, I thought, it's not like I LOOK like I am in my 40's. I think I could easily pass for much, much younger. Apparently the local police department does not feel the same.
I was pulled over the other night...I get my registration and license ready ( oh Chuck was in his car right behind me and he just drives right by me....way to have my back babe!)..the officer comes to my window and says, "your all set mam, we are looking for a silver minivan with 2 teenagers in it...you clearly aren't a teenager." "Hey that is police brutality!" I said. The officer chuckled and sent me on my way.
While driving home my rage began to build. "Clearly"...really it was dark out, was it really that clear I wasn't a teenager? Maybe I was a a wild, throw caution to the wind, hot wire a minivan and go for a joy ride, reckless teen. How did he know without properly checking my ID? Maybe I was driving around with a fake ID? How did he know I wasn't 19 and still using my Joanie Jacamoni alter ego? Now, of course none of that was true but did he have to put such emphasis on the word "clearly". As the outrage grew during my little 1.5 mile drive home I decided I was not going to stand for this damn it!
African American's had MLK, women had Gloria Steinem, the gay community had Harvey Milk, who the hell do the elderly have? Betty White? Should I really call in Rose from the Golden Girls to defend my fellow octogenarians? Because "clearly" I am over the hill. I am calling the AARP and the protests will start at sundown I thought, looting of the local medical supply store to commence at midnight...walkers, canes and compression socks for all!
The day after I got pulled over I came home and found a message on my answering machine...it was AARP calling me about a subscription! I have since received 2 more messages from them. A$$holes! After careful consideration and the fear of potentially breaking a hip I called off the protests. I did however ask Santa for a towel this Christmas...so I could throw it in!! I am going to start watching Murder She Wrote and basically anything starring Angela Landsbury. I just ordered myself one of those sweet housecoats you can only find in the back of the coupon magazines that come in the Sunday paper. I stocked up on hard candies to have in a bowl on a side table and yes, I will have the requisite old person lace doilies under it. Oh, and I am working on gathering plenty of nick-knacks to have on the table too. Not sure why but once you hit a certain age your house seems to fill up with nick knacks and, according to the cop I am now that age. Oh, and as I am typing this I have a stash of tissues up my shirt sleeve...because you never know. I am also wearing a sweatshirt with multiple layers of applique...because that's how grannies role. I have secretly started weeding through the kids stuffed animals and anything on the smaller side now resides in the back window of my car, again, not sure what that is about, but, since I am "clearly" ancient I felt compelled to surround myself with stuffies. While checking my email today I had a message in my inbox from "Senior Singles"...I am seriously considering checking that one out because, if you remember Chuck left me on the side of the while I was being stopped.
So, as I carefully open the towel I asked Santa for this year, but before I throw it in, I will carefully fold up the wrapping paper and save it for next year, because "clearly" that is what on old lady should do.
I was pulled over the other night...I get my registration and license ready ( oh Chuck was in his car right behind me and he just drives right by me....way to have my back babe!)..the officer comes to my window and says, "your all set mam, we are looking for a silver minivan with 2 teenagers in it...you clearly aren't a teenager." "Hey that is police brutality!" I said. The officer chuckled and sent me on my way.
While driving home my rage began to build. "Clearly"...really it was dark out, was it really that clear I wasn't a teenager? Maybe I was a a wild, throw caution to the wind, hot wire a minivan and go for a joy ride, reckless teen. How did he know without properly checking my ID? Maybe I was driving around with a fake ID? How did he know I wasn't 19 and still using my Joanie Jacamoni alter ego? Now, of course none of that was true but did he have to put such emphasis on the word "clearly". As the outrage grew during my little 1.5 mile drive home I decided I was not going to stand for this damn it!
African American's had MLK, women had Gloria Steinem, the gay community had Harvey Milk, who the hell do the elderly have? Betty White? Should I really call in Rose from the Golden Girls to defend my fellow octogenarians? Because "clearly" I am over the hill. I am calling the AARP and the protests will start at sundown I thought, looting of the local medical supply store to commence at midnight...walkers, canes and compression socks for all!
The day after I got pulled over I came home and found a message on my answering machine...it was AARP calling me about a subscription! I have since received 2 more messages from them. A$$holes! After careful consideration and the fear of potentially breaking a hip I called off the protests. I did however ask Santa for a towel this Christmas...so I could throw it in!! I am going to start watching Murder She Wrote and basically anything starring Angela Landsbury. I just ordered myself one of those sweet housecoats you can only find in the back of the coupon magazines that come in the Sunday paper. I stocked up on hard candies to have in a bowl on a side table and yes, I will have the requisite old person lace doilies under it. Oh, and I am working on gathering plenty of nick-knacks to have on the table too. Not sure why but once you hit a certain age your house seems to fill up with nick knacks and, according to the cop I am now that age. Oh, and as I am typing this I have a stash of tissues up my shirt sleeve...because you never know. I am also wearing a sweatshirt with multiple layers of applique...because that's how grannies role. I have secretly started weeding through the kids stuffed animals and anything on the smaller side now resides in the back window of my car, again, not sure what that is about, but, since I am "clearly" ancient I felt compelled to surround myself with stuffies. While checking my email today I had a message in my inbox from "Senior Singles"...I am seriously considering checking that one out because, if you remember Chuck left me on the side of the while I was being stopped.
So, as I carefully open the towel I asked Santa for this year, but before I throw it in, I will carefully fold up the wrapping paper and save it for next year, because "clearly" that is what on old lady should do.
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