Mom of the Year

I am going to give myself an award. Many of you think you deserve this award, but I assure you – it is mine.

I get the Bad Mom Award.

It all started seven years ago when I got a nursing degree. I am very compassionate with anyone outside of my family, but within the family, I think it is whispered behind my back that I am a bit of a Nurse Ratched (imagine that!). When I got the nursing degree, I began to think that I knew what I was doing. When I tell my husband when he has a fever, “You're not sick. Get up and caulk that bathroom,” I feel that since I have that RN behind my name, I know what's going on. Perhaps not.

It was a year ago that my son got slammed into a wall while playing indoor soccer. He's young. He's flexible. When he started complaining that his back hurt, I raised an eyebrow and gave him an ice pack. A few months later, I took him to the chiropractor. It helped, but the pain came back. I figured that the kid had never had aches and pains – he just hadn't learned to ignore it. Another month of ice and Advil, and I said, “Okay. I'll get it x-rayed.” I said this begrudgingly, which I am truly sad to admit.

It turned out that the poor boy had a bi-lateral stress fracture of his vertebrae. Bad Mom Award.

Then there was the time my daughter said that she had an upset stomach before going to school. “You're just tired,” the Mom of the Year said. “Brush your teeth.” After which, the girl proceeded to throw up her entire breakfast (and probably the previous night's dinner) in the sink. Again, Bad Mom Award.

And then this week. My daughter had missed gymnastics last week for a stomach ache. I had been lax. I had given in easily and allowed her to miss without so much as a temperature check. So, when she met me after school this week and said that her stomach hurt again on a gymnastics day, my head spun around a couple of times and I said, “You're not sick. You're just tired.” Hm, I sense a pattern here.

She replied with tears and a loud voice saying, “Mom! I'm really sick! Why don't you believe me?”

My answer was, of course, “Quit yelling.” I still didn't believe her.

We made it to the car and I gave in to her squalls by dropping by our house instead of going straight to the gym. “Just take my temperature!” she wailed.

I bared my teeth at the poor child and said, “Okay, fine. But if you don't have a fever, you are going.”

She did not have a fever. I said, “Get dressed. We're going,” which set off another round of “Mom! I'm really sick!”

I narrowed my eyes and said, “Okay. You stay home, but you are not moving off of that couch. No TV. No iPod.”

The girl slept for two hours. She really was sick. Bad Mom Award.

So don't feel bad. You are a good mom. You just might want to avoid my house if you're ever feeling sick. I might make you go caulk the bathroom.

Wanderlust

I want to travel. I have a burning passion to see and experience as much of the world (and beyond) as I can. If Star Trek became reality, I would be at the front of the line to go.

My sons say, “Then just go.” I would love to, but I’m just not that selfish, surprisingly. I will give up my trip to Italy this year to pay my sons’ college tuition.

But that doesn't mean that I’m giving up on traveling…

I am blessed to live in a culturally abundant area. I traveled to India today as a matter of fact. I went to the Indian market. I ate the tikka masala with the fingers of my right hand and immersed myself in the smells of curry and cardamom. I struck up a conversation with the store clerk. I entered a world where I was the only one with blue eyes and where English was the exception, not the rule.

I love going to Sweden. When the electric doors of IKEA open, the smells of lingonberries and Swedish meatballs tickle my senses. The neatly arranged room-boxes and modern light fixtures with names like “Söderhamn” and “Magnarp” make me feel like I should go bleach my hair and eat some gravlax.

A few weeks ago, I went to Korea (North or South – doesn’t matter, I’m safe). .

I ate my bulgogi from my lunch box plate with chopsticks, heady with the slight scariness of not knowing exactly what I had ordered at Chang Jing restaurant, and of hearing only Korean spoken at all of the tables around me.

When I go to China, I am amazed at all of the live seafood and the fruits and vegetables that I’ve never seen before. I brought fresh juji fruit home(and you thought it was just a candy) from the Ranch 99 Chinese market the other day. I had to google how to eat the things. The last time I went there, I had to find an Asian teenager who spoke English to tell me how to buy the pastries (it’s more complicated than you would think). It was scary. Awesome.

Mexico is easy. I actually speak some Spanish. There are so many Mexican grocery stores and restaurants around here that I actually feel somewhat comfortable there. I went to La Michoacana this week. I was the only white person there. :)

Sometimes, I don’t have to actually go anywhere at all to travel. My son’s piano teacher’s wife is from Taiwan. She taught me some Chinese, fed me Taiwanese food, and showed me pictures of her beautiful country. Ni hao. And I’ve been to Russia.

When we remodeled our bathroom, the owner of the remodeling company was from Russia. I probably surprised him when I popped into the bathroom and said, “I want to learn to speak Russian.” But he humored me and I took a small trip to the Motherland.

No, I haven’t set foot in China, Korea, or Russia. Not yet, at least. And Antarctica is still calling to me. I’ll get there when the time is right. For now, I may not be seeing the buildings and northern lights, but I am meeting the people who are from the places I want to go. It’s good. When I travel, I like meeting the people and plunging myself into the different cultures most of all anyway. I’m going to make a call to my Mary Kay lady now – she’s from Germany…

On the subject of happiness...

I’ve been reading Ayn Rand. I’m sure she has influenced this blog entry. Thank you Ayn.

We can do everything in our power to be happy and actually find joy in our hearts. But then, we meet “the looters” as Ms. Rand calls them. These are those people in this world who despise seeing happiness in other people. Some of these people don’t even realize that they do this, and they would be dismayed to learn that they are. These people, though, are a true evil in our world.

These people will systematically remove all sources of happiness from our lives. If fishing makes you happy, they will complain until you stop. If dancing gives you joy, they will either criticize you until you don’t want to do it anymore, or they will just refuse to let you dance. If watching sports on TV is a source of pleasure to you, these people will whine until you stop. Slowly, cunningly, these people will separate you from all that makes you smile – your family, your children, pets, friends, religion, sex, even certain foods. It is the most insidious of all forms of abuse. If someone hits you, you are obviously abused. But most victims of this type of torture probably don’t even know what is going on. They just can’t seem to get happy, especially children whose parents do this to them.

There is a sister to this sort of abuse by removal. It is the abuse by adding things that make you unhappy. The perpetrators of this are the people who make you do things that they know remove your happiness. There is a sadism in this type of abuse. These are the people who say lots of “Sorry”’s, and “It can’t be helped.” These are the people who take their kids or pets into the doctor for unnecessary visits and tests –just to torture them. The employer or spouse who makes you do jobs they know you don’t like, just to see you suffer. Subtle. Sneaky.

And unfortunately, I think women are the more guilty of this theft of happiness than men. How many wives nag their husbands about golf, sports, fishing, even working late?

Once these thieves have separated you from what makes you happy, they will tell you how bad that thing is (“Your family is so low class…”). So, not only do they steal your happiness, but then they make you feel guilty for ever having enjoyed dancing (for example) in the first place.

I don’t know why these people do this. I know some who do this that had perfectly happy childhoods, trauma-less lives. Maybe they just can’t stand to see someone else happy. Maybe it’s some sort of envy or misplaced competitiveness.

Whenever I’ve seen this sort of vile abuse, it has usually been between a couple in a relationship or between parents and children. There are even those who abuse their pets, denying the animal the freedom to choose what makes them happy (all in the guise of “It’s for their own good.”). Luckily, I escaped such a relationship, but only after some serious, slap-me-in-the-face divine intervention.

I urge you now. Look at yourself. Look at your partner. Is she/he stealing all that makes you happy?

RUN! Run now!!

Run before you are sucked dry of all that gives you life, of all that makes you smile.

Are you the one doing this to someone else – your partner, your child, your pet? Stop. You are a monster. You don’t think that you are a monster, but you are. Figure out why you are doing this. Fix yourself; don’t break everyone around you.

If someone is stealing your happiness, just remember that you deserve to be happy, everyone does. Don’t fall for that load of crap that we all deserve to suffer. Just read a little Ayn Rand – you’ll see. And eat that piece of cake if it makes you happy. Don’t let anyone deprive you of that small slice of contentment.

How to Be Happy -- The Final Episode

Well, here it is… the final installment in my tips on how to be happy. I really hope everyone who has read them is at least a little bit happier. I have to say, I have enjoyed writing them. I feel like I might be making the world a tiny bit better -- I suppose I’ve always been an idealist. Here they are, the final tasty bites. Enjoy.

• Eat yogurt. It’s crazy, I know. But really, studies have been done (see http://health.yahoo.net/experts/dayinhealth/are-probiotics-new-prozac) that have proven that those who take some sort of pro-biotics daily are just happier.

• There are lots of things that you could try to ease stress and make you happier. I haven’t tried all of them and I have only listed a handful here, but I will try to post a link for each one. That way if you’re interested, you can check them out. Then let me know what you think!
Self hypnosis (http://www.mindtools.com/stress/RelaxationTechniques/SelfHypnosis.htm)
Deep breathing and guided imagery (http://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/deep-breathing-guided-imagery-0622124)
Emotional Freedom Technique (http://eft.mercola.com/)
Essential oils and aromatherapy (http://www.swansonvitamins.com/blog/natural-health-tips/essential-oils-aromatherapy-guide)

• There are a few things that you should NOT do to make yourself happier. Do not self-medicate with things like alcohol, illegal drugs, out-of-control shopping, or overly risky behavior. Moderation, moderation.

• Finally, just laugh. Find the humor in the things around you and just laugh. Dr. Seuss said, “From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.”

That’s it. Enjoy your life. You are meant to be here – the world needs you. Again, it was Dr. Seuss who said, “Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.”

How to Be Happy -- Part Deux

I hope there are some of you with smiles on your faces who didn’t have them last week. :) Here are a few more tips:

• Eat healthy foods. I’m not a low carb person. I like carbs. I need carbs. The key is moderation. Eat chocolate – just not the whole bag. Eat a steak – just not every night. Eat bread – just not the whole loaf. Eat close to the earth (I mean the food is unprocessed; not that you’re lying on the floor). :)

• Take up a hobby. Try something new. Learn something different. I have pretty much worn my family out with all of the stuff I’ve tried. I’m off the Bikram Yoga and on to Tai Chi now.

• It’s okay to be sad. Allow yourself to go through the stages of grieving (see http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/000617). If you don’t let yourself be sad, your grief will spill over when you least expect it and you’ll find yourself bawling uncontrollably if you step on an ant. And don’t mistake the normal sadness of life for depression. Everyone needs to be sad once in awhile.

• Go outside of yourself. Quit thinking about how you feel; think about helping someone else. Volunteer somewhere. And remember that when someone is mean to you, they are probably having a bad day. It most likely has nothing at all to do with you. They are not trying to hurt you or give you some sort of message by their behavior. You are not a bad person because the cashier snapped at you. It’s her problem, not yours.

• Be present in the moment. Be here. Be now. Feel the chair on your skin. Feel the air blowing on your face. Feel the mouse under your hand. Smell the plastic smells of your computer. Leave the past in the past. Welcome the future and let it unfold in its beauty without your worry hastening its blossoming prematurely.

• Just as you have to give yourself the okay to be sad, you must give yourself permission to be happy. I blame it on soap operas. No one is ever allowed to be happy on those shows. As soon as something good happens to one of the characters, something awful happens. Life isn’t necessarily like that. If you allow yourself to relish in your joy, something horrible is not going to happen. Again, live in the moment. Don’t borrow sadness from tomorrow.

• Listen to music. Let it wash over you and immerse you in its healing power. Try different genres and see what brings a smile to your face. I’m listening to Reign of Kindo as I’m writing this (http://grooveshark.com/#!/search?q=reign+of+kindo), and I’m smiling from the inside out.

• Forgive. Let go. You’re only hurting yourself by holding a grudge. You are letting the people who hurt you continue to hurt you. And forgive yourself. Nobody is perfect.

• Don’t compare yourself to others. There will always be people better than you and people worse than you. Just be you. Be the best you that you can be. Compare yourself to yourself and grow from there.

• Change your routine. There is safety in sameness, but there is joy in variety.

Now go. Be happy. Embrace yourself. You are loved.

How to Be Happy -- Part I

I get asked all of the time, “How do you stay so happy?” My nickname at a few of my jobs was Sister Mary Sunshine, or sometimes just Sunshine. I usually smile and say, “I just have big teeth. It only looks like I’m happy and smiling all of the time.”

Really, I’m not qualified to tell you how to be happy. Happy is something I struggle to be all of the time. I walk on a tight-rope of happiness and sadness all of the time – who doesn’t? I have, though, learned a few tricks along the way that keep my walk a little tilted toward the happy. I’m going to share these tricks with you. I have to do this in a few blogs because there are so many of them. They are all somewhat equally important, so just take and use what you want. They won’t all work for you.

Who knows, maybe I’ll make you a little happier, and that, my friends is what life is all about…

• Exercise, exercise, exercise. No really, just exercise. Whether it’s walking the dog or running a marathon, just get up and exercise.

•Get some sunshine – every day. Go outside and face the sun. Walt Whitman said, “Keep your face always toward the sunshine and shadows will fall behind you.” It’s true.

•I talked about personality types before (see June). Figure out what makes your personality type happy and do it. For example, if you are an introvert, make darn sure you get alone time – as much as you need.

•Find joy in small things. Whenever I see a cardinal, I smile. For me, a cardinal is a sign of hope, a little message telling me that everything is going to be okay. Figure out what your personal small joy is and bask in it.

•Believe in God. It is so nice to share the burden of this life. He can carry a big load.

•Remember that you are not alone. We are all connected by this crazy thing called life force. Look around you. You are never, ever going to be alone. Even if you were at the top of a mountain, all by yourself, someone is connected to you in spirit. Someone cares about you.

•Surround yourself with positive – positive people, positive TV, positive movies. Read the paper or the internet instead of watching the news on TV. Then you can skip over the icky stuff. I read a quote on Pinterest that said, “Spend life with who makes you happy, not who you have to impress.” That’s good advice.

•Sleep. Take naps if you need to. But don’t freak out if you don’t get enough. That won’t help you. Eventually you’ll just pass out, so don’t worry. Somehow you’ll get enough. And maybe you just don’t need as much as everyone else.

•Fake it until you make it. Get yourself up and slap on make-up and a smile. If you’re not happy, just act happy anyway and happiness will follow. And believe me, that smile you just slapped on is going to make someone else happy, so just go with it.

That’s all for today. There are more to come. I’m going to leave you with a quote from Mother Teresa: “Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” So smile. I’m smiling at you now. :D

Silver Linings Part 2

I just got home from yet another vacation filled with silver linings.

This time the family went tent-camping in the mountains of New Mexico. It was a great family-bonding experience. There was no electricity at the camp site, but we did have water (really, really cold water). And showers, sort of. Okay, so maybe not actual showers – more of a drizzle in a shower-shaped stall that had a button that had to pushed every 10 seconds or the water shut off.

It rained while we were there – every night. The silver lining? Our tent didn’t leak. And it was great sleeping with the sound of rain on the roof of the tent.

On our first full day in the mountains, we went for a 2.6 mile hike on the side of a mountain. While we were hiking, we got hailed on. We had no shelter, and we had just stopped under a pine tree to eat our sandwiches. What started as rain gradually upgraded to a lovely shower of pea-sized hail. The good thing? It wasn’t baseball-sized hail.  And as my daughter sat shivering in the hail with her wet shorts and t-shirt, she said, “This is the coolest thing ever!” The Doritos got a little soggy, but the cookies were fantastic. Even my wizened 19-year-old said, “This is how a vacation should be.” Who would have thought…

We decided to relax the on the day after our hike by going to a hot springs spa. This was going to be the highlight of our vacation (at least for me). We used to look for caves to explore on family vacations. Now, we’re changed our focus to hot springs for the old, achy bones. I was so excited. We got there and I started handing out the swimming suits. Guess who forgot the bottoms to her suit? Of course, it was me. Lucky for me, my son was wearing a pair of sliders that he could do without that I could wear. And even luckier for me, he had worn his black ones, not his white ones.

On our way home, we stopped at a Benedictine monastery north of Santa Fe (Christ in the Desert). It is a beautiful, peaceful place, bursting with the spirit of God. I drove on the way to the monastery. My husband drove on the way back. The road to the cloister is a 13 mile rock and red dirt path perched at times on the side of desert mountains. It takes a full hour to traverse it. On the way back to civilization, we got a flat tire. The road was so bumpy, we didn’t even feel it. Lucky for us, a car was behind us that flagged us down to tell us (and we thought they were just wanting to pass). We completely shredded the old tire. Again, lucky for us, we didn’t damage the metal wheel. And our spare was in good shape. And the boys got to climb one of those desert mountains while Dad changed the tire (“Best part of the trip Mom!”). And Dad was driving (not Mom) when it happened – thank you, God, for small favors.

We had to change our travel plans and spend the night in Santa Fe instead of Amarillo since our spare was a small one, and Amarillo was way too far to go on that spare. Santa Fe is cool! And we had really great New Mexican food. And the hotel didn’t charge us a fee to change our reservation. And Wal Mart was still open so we could buy a new tire.

You see, if you look hard enough, you can always find the silver linings in the dark clouds. What could have been a disastrous vacation was actually an amazing adventure. It’s all in the attitude. And chocolate helps too.

Embracing Your Personality

My son is very interested in the Myers- Briggs Type Indicator. This is a personality test that shows how you perceive the world and how you will most likely make decisions, all based on a series of questions. There are many ways to take this test. I like http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/jtypes2.asp. There is also a good one at http://www.25quiz.com/. Basically you are typed as four different letters – either an E (extrovert) or an I (introvert), an N(intuitive) or an S (sensing), an F(feeling) or a T (thinking), and a J (judging) or a P (percepting). The web sites above can give you all of the details of what each category means, as does Wikipedia. I love personality tests. I guess I’m always trying to find myself, and then when I do, I think it’s funny.

I am an INFP most of the time. Occasionally I test as an INFJ, but I think I do this because society really wants us to be J’s. I have adjusted to society’s demands and developed my J side in response to these demands. You see P’s fly by the seat of their pants. J’s are the ones who are always on time, who plan things, who are organized and structured. J’s are the good employees and the good students. P’s are the ones who like surprises and don’t really know what is going to happen tomorrow. P’s will plan as a means of security. That is what I do. I plan to make myself feel safe and to have things to look forward to. I’m usually on time like a J, but I stress a lot to make myself be on time. I don’t think a true J would stress over it; I think it would come naturally to them.

So, when I realized that I really was a P deep down inside, I decided to embrace this facet of my personality. It’s okay to be a bit “flighty,” as I was called as a girl (“free-spirited” is what I like to be called now). You should be proud of your personality type – rejoice in it. Find the good things of your type and feel pride that you are like that. Everybody was made in a different way, and the world needs all of those different types. No one type is any better than any other type. P’s need J’s, and J’s need P’s. That is how I came to tell my son that I have decided to embrace my P-ness.

Say it out loud. I said it several times before I realized why my teenage sons were snickering every time I said it and telling me not to say it again.

But I say, go ahead. Embrace your P-ness, and whatever else you want to embrace – as long as it makes you happy and lets you know that you are wonderful just the way you are. 

The Rules of Driving in Texas

I want those who move to Texas to know a few of the rules of driving down here.

#1 Use of the Horn – I got honked at today. My feelings got hurt. I plotted revenge for a full four hours. My husband asked, “What were you doing?” That is not the right attitude. The question is, “What is wrong with that person?” I decided to cut this person (yes, you, in the gold car, whatever kind of car it was) some slack. In Texas, we do not honk at someone when it is their choice whether to go or not. It is just not done. For instance, if someone is waiting for traffic to clear before going, you DO NOT honk at them. Your horn should be used sparingly in this southern state. We are a very polite people. You may honk (and by honk, I mean gently tap on the horn, not lay on it) if a light turns green and the person has not gone after a slow count of 2-Mississippi. Or, you may honk if someone begins to change lanes in front of you, a little too closely – again, a light tap. The only time you may either lay on the horn or tap repeatedly is if you see someone you know. This is a friendly way of saying “Hello!” The horn is not a means of communicating anger. Repeat – the horn is not a means of communicating anger. You may use the middle finger, under the dash, for this. And you may call other drivers any sort of creative string of cuss words that you want, as long as you smile while doing it. Remember that we are allowed to carry concealed weapons in Texas – and we like our high-powered weapons.

#2 Two Lane Highways – On the highways where you have one lane going in either direction, if someone gets up on your tail because they want to pass you, it is proper etiquette to pull over onto the shoulder (slowing down slightly) to let them pass. And then, and here is the most important part that no one is remembering these days, the driver that was allowed to pass should either give a little wave to say thank you, or if he has tinted windows, he should flash his emergency flashes for a couple of seconds to express appreciation.

#3 The Fast Lane – Ok, so we like to speed in Texas. If the speed limit is 65, it is assumed that you will go at least 70. Rumor is that you can get away with eight over, but I wouldn’t want to test that. That being said, if you are not going at least 10 over the limit, you ONLY get in the fast lane if you need to pass. In case you are unaware, the fast lane is the far left lane on a highway. If a big ol’ pickup truck gets right up behind you while you are in the fast lane, that means you are going too slow in that lane. Pull to the middle. And by golly, if you are going to pass, speed up to do it.

#4 Tailgating – Just don’t do it. It’s stupid, rude, and dangerous. If someone is not going fast enough for you, just pass them. Good grief.

That should be enough to get you by while you are down here. If you have any questions, please ask. And if any of my Texan friends can think of anything I forgot, please add away. Now, drive safe, y’all.

Sweet Sweat

I am a sweater -- not a soft, furry, warm thing to wrap around you. I'm talking about a dripping down my face, wet underarms sweater. I've always been a sweater. In high school, I didn't have an air conditioner in my car (in West Texas), and I had vinyl seats. I used to drive to school leaning forward off of the seat back so that my shirt would not show my sweaty back. After all, women aren't supposed to sweat -- we're supposed to "glisten."

I have been doing Bikram Yoga lately which I love because it embraces my sweatiness. We do yoga in a room that is maintained at 105 degrees, and sweating is highly encouraged. This, though, is one of the few times that sweatiness is a good thing.

In my last blog entry, I mentioned that I have started taking care of an older gentleman in his home. I went to his home to meet him and his wife as part of the interview process. I was a little nervous, their house was a little warm, and it was 101 degrees outside -- elements of a perfect storm for a sweater.

As we talked, I first felt my underarms getting hot. Of course, I had worn a cotton shirt that showed sweat. We stood up to go and look at something, and I felt a trickle of sweat go down the backs of my knees. Then I felt a spring of water sprout on my back. So, as I stood up, I realized that not only did I have big sweaty rings under my arms, but now I also had a lovely stripe of sweat going down my back, and I probably had little creases on my khakis behind my knees where the sweat had started.

They hired me. Amazingly, after all that sweating, they hired me. I can imagine the conversation after I left:

"She seems like a nice girl," the wife said.

"Mmm hmm," the husband answered.

Then there would have been silence until one of them said, "A bit of a sweater."

Then they would have both nodded and shaken their heads, in pity. But eventually the worry would have been overcome as they would have said, "But she'll be okay. We can't hold that against her."

I'm sweating a little right now just thinking about it.

Hey, I wonder if anyone is willing to pay money for sweat...

Selling My Body

My one desire in life is to stay home and raise my children. Okay, so that's a bit dramatic -- maybe not my one desire. I want to go to Antarctica, I want to go up in a hot air balloon, I want to get a book published. But I really, really love being a stay-at-home mom.

In order to stay home with my kids, I have to figure out a way to pay for my sons' college (yes, plural). I have two in college now. I am terrified of working full-time as a nurse, and I have not become the rich and famous writer that I dream of being, so I have to get a bit creative. Nothing illegal, just creative.

A friend of mine suggested that I write about some of these things. I think she thinks I'm a little crazy.

One of the things I do is get on focus groups. You know those people with the clipboards in the mall who want to know your opinion that you avoid eye contact with? Well, I walk up to them. I've made a few bucks here and there by giving my opinion on things like mounting tape and razors. It's kind of fun, and I've gotten really good at telling people exactly what I think. The pay varies, but if I actually get chosen to be on a focus group, I can make around $100 for a few hours of talking.

A month ago I entered a brain study. I did a bunch of memory tasks while the examiner did an MRI of my brain. $30 an hour. Not bad. I even got $10 to spit in a tube. I told the pastoral assistant at my church that I was selling my body. She shook her head. She knows me well.

I heard there was another study going on that they pay participants $10 a test tube for blood. I'm trying to get into that one. I wonder how many tubes they need... I think I heard the name of the study group was DraculaInc. Does that sound suspicious??

Now I'm going to help take care of an older gentleman one day a week. Yeah, it's actually nursing. But I don't think it's going to be scary. There are no open wounds and nobody is in labor.

I wonder how much I would get for donating plasma? Isn't that one of those things they pay you for? What about a kidney?

You know, things would be alot easier if I would just win the lottery...

A Funny Story

So, I’m supposed to be writing a synopsis for my romance novel. Writing synopses is not one of my favorite things. So what am I doing? I’m going to tell a slightly bawdy story. It’s not too bad, but if you’re squeamish, you might want to stop here.

I was waiting for my daughter to get out of her gymnastics class the other day. I don’t usually socialize – I’m the mom with the laptop fired up, typing away, occasionally glancing over my bifocals to make sure my daughter is still alive. I intersperse my romance writing “He ran his fingertips down her soft skin…” with mental commands to my daughter, “Point your toes!”

That is probably what got me in trouble.

The mom on the couch across from me was talking to her two-year-old son. He had just cleaned the floor with his hands.

“Come here, Timmy, and get some hand sanitizer,” she said. (I changed the names to protect the innocent.)

Timmy looked up at his mom, then looked at his hands, then shook his head. No hand sanitizer necessary, he had decided.

“Timmy, you’ll like it,” his mom said. “It’s new. It’s G-Spot scented.”

Okay. So right here was when my eyes shot up from my laptop and I accidentally swallowed my Altoid. I really, really wanted to see the woman who had bought G-Spot scented hand sanitizer. And a badly curious little side of me kind of wanted to know not only what a G-Spot smells like, but also how the manufacturer figured that one out.

Apparently the mom sharing the couch with the mom of the toddler was curious as well. For the record, both of the moms sitting across from me looked perfectly normal, very mommish in their decently lengthed shorts and t-shirts. The curious mom looked to her couch-mate and said, “Hm. I’ve never heard of that one.”

To her credit, her eyebrows were only slightly raised and her mouth was not letting in flies (unlike my own at the time).

“Oh, you haven’t? It smells really good. Here have some,” the boy’s mom said.

I was about to reach my hand out and ask for some when the curious mom asked, “What was that scent again?”

“It’s juice box scented.”

Ohhhhh. G-Spot, juice box. Whatever.

So, now back to my synopsis.

Motherhood

Motherhood changes everything.

For instance, time is now measured in "Sponge Bobs". When my daughter asks me, "How long 'til we get there?" for the 517th time, I answer with, "Four 'Sponge Bobs'." In other words, we'll get there in two hours. The unit of measurement has changed with each child ("Barneys", "Blue's Clues", "Power Rangers", etc.), but the concept remains the same.

And my name. I used to be Jennie. But now, and forevermore, I will be Mom. My kids all call me Mom. My husband calls me Mom. And I call him Daddy. Always. I heard my 87-year-old Uncle call my Aunt "Momma" a few years ago, so it's not just me. When I'm a grandmother, I want to be called "Mombo." It's kind of a mix between Rambo and Mom. I like to flatter myself and pretend like it fits. Do you think my husband will still call me "Mom," or will he make the switch to "Mombo?"


And I'm not allowed to cuss anymore. In my mind, when that truck cut out in front of me the other day, I called the driver all sorts of creatively strung together physically impossible forms of excrement. But my mouth said, "Boot licker. Fat cow. Turkey breath." I even had to quit saying "Fat Cow" for awhile because my daughter picked up on it and pointed to a fluffy ice cream eater at Baskin Robbins and called him a "Fat Cow." Lucky for me, she was pretty young, and it sounded more like "Facka," which I was easily able to turn into "Frankie? He does look like Uncle Frankie. Look at the rainbow ice cream!" We have no Uncle Frankie, of course.


My music repertoire has significantly changed since I have become a mother. Since I'm usually doing some sort of motherly duty when my kids are watching TV (which, of course, my kids never do since I am the perfect mother and the fact that I know the complete morning PBS line-up is just not true), I only hear the music in the shows which they don't watch. I can sing the "Sponge Bob" theme song, the "F-R-I-E-N-D-S" song from "Sponge Bob", most of the "Barney" songs (although my daughter doesn't like the "I Love You" song because it's too nice -- her brother's influence), and the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" theme song. Thanks to the blessing of three teenage boys along with my five-year-old, I am also well-versed in such bands as Disturbed, Muse, Big Phat Band (that son is studying Jazz at college), and Dream Theater. I know most of the words to "Welcome to the Black Parade" by MCR (that's mom-cool for My Chemical Romance). :) They've also taught me how to text -- although they enjoy mocking my amazing texting skills. Whatever...

A very important thing that I have learned is that silence is not golden. Oh, no. Matter of fact, if there is silence it usually indicates that either my five-year-old is coloring on the walls or on her body with permanent markers, or one of my teenagers is making out with his girlfriend. Not good.

I have also learned some amazingly wonderful things as a mother. Did you know that every time a mother gives birth, she grows another heart? I loved my first son so, so much. When I got pregnant with son #2, I was worried that I would never be able to love him as much as I loved my oldest. Oh, but I did -- because I grew a whole new heart. And it happened again with my third son. And with my baby girl.

I love being a mom. My horizons are forever expanded. Anyone up for a rousing round of "The Song That Never Ends?"

We have time because it's one Sponge Bob until lunch time...

Athena

The newest member of the zoo is a cute little kitten that we named Athena. It's a big name for such a little cat, but it fits her because Athena was the Goddess of War.
My mom, God love her, likes to sugar-coat. When she asked us to take this sweet little kitten that had wandered up to their barn, we asked her if she was friendly.
"Oh, yes. She comes right up and brushes up against me and talks all the time. She's so sweet," she said.
This was great! We already had two cats: Rocket and Abbie. Rocket is very playful -- overly playful. My son used to have scratch marks all over his hands from the cat attacking him. The cat is not scared of anything, and he sits lovingly on our laps. But I always feel like I need to warn people who want to pet him, "He bites." And if it is a neighbor kid who is getting especially affectionate, I sometimes add, "He'll rip off your arm and use it as a toothpick, so be careful." That usually gives them a suitable amount of caution. Abbie, the other cat, is not really even our pet. We call her "The Ghost Cat." We only see her when she wants to eat. Even then, if she sees one of us, she jets out of there like someone just lit her tail on fire. Anyway, we were looking forward to a sweet, friendly cat that didn't make us feel like we were taking our lives into our hands every time we touched her.
Athena is a beautiful cat. When we first saw her, we were so excited. She was cowering in the corner of her cage that my parents had transported her in. We knew she was a little scared from the trip to our house, so we just figured her eagerly-awaited friendliness would become apparent. She growled at us, but we knew this was normal behavior for a stressed cat. We just opened the door to allow her come out whenever she was ready -- which we were certain would be soon, of course, because she was so friendly!
Well, she got out of her cage and found her food bowl. But she was still growling. My mom said, "Oh, isn't that cute. She's talking."
"Mom, she's growling," I said.
"Oh, I don't think that's growling. She makes this cute little noise all the time. I think she's just talking."
I love my mom. She has such an optimistic point of view.
Athena has lived with us for a month now. She is still "talking." Matter of fact, she pretty much "talks" all the time. She mixes it in with a purr now and then, but she even growls while she's eating (it sounds like a low, guttural "Nom, nom, nom, nom.") She is friendly, though, while she growls. And she's friendly while she terrorizes our other cats. And she's friendly while she marks her territory on our clean clothes and on my husband's computer bag. Yes, she's friendly.
But darn it, she's a cute cat. And she is getting better. Matter of fact, she was just sitting on my lap. You know, maybe she really is talking. :)

Silver Linings

My son's favorite saying is "Where there are black clouds, there are silver linings." It is a line from a Dream Theater song. What a great way to look at life. It's not always easy to see life this way, but I'm going to try right here to do it.

Let me start with my last posting. Sweet Stephanie passed away. I suppose the silver lining there is that she is in a better place, probably looking down and feeling sorry for us lowly earthlings. And her sweet son is living the ultimate three-year-old boy life. He lives out in the country, catching bugs and going fishing. He lives with his Granny and Paw Paw. He has starting sleeping in his underwear -- "Cause that's what Paw Paw does." Everytime I see him he has a smile on his face.

So after that, my husband got diagnosed with colon cancer. Here I am, four kids, two cats, a dog, a chinchilla, and a snake, thinking of how terrified I am of the "C word" in my wonderful young husband. Okay, silver lining. My husband went in early! They caught the cancer in its early stages and they were able to surgically remove it all -- no chemo necessary. Not only that, but my husband got a nice long vacation with his very own personal nurse (yours truly) waiting on him hand and foot.

We had scheduled a family vacation to South Padre Island to visit relatives and play on the beach. We got my husband's diagnosis within a week of our departure date. We decided to just go. Life is too short (don't we know it!). The old mini van with over 100,000 miles on it was making this high-pitched squealing sound (and I was pretty sure that no one had hidden a baby pig in the car -- it was a possibility). I decided to take it in to get it fixed before embarking on the ten hour drive to south Texas. Lo and behold -- the squeal was a fan belt, but the bigger problem was the leaking water pump. Eeek! So thousands of dollars later, the squeal is gone. Silver lining? We got our car fixed before we broke down on the lonely stretch of nothingness (except for hungry vultures) between Kingsville and Harlingen. And there wasn't a pig living in the trunk of my car.

Okay, so we have the van loaded up and ready to leave for the beach when my son comes downstairs and says (in that oh-so-sweet teenage way), "Who used all the hot water?" Grrr. Well, no one had used all the hot water. All the hot water was slowly leaking out of our water heater and onto the garage floor. We didn't have time to worry about this -- we had a beach waiting for us! So we turned off the water heater and left, saving the thousand dollar water heater replacement for when we got back. Silver lining? We caught it before we left. Coming home to a flooded garage and a million dollar water bill would have been a really dark cloud. The silver lining might have been pretty difficult to find there.

We had a wonderful time on the beach -- beautiful weather, good food, fun times with family. That is, beautiful weather until Hurricane Alex hit. We were staying on the tenth floor of a condo and we could feel the building swaying with the hurricane's force. We got up early on the day we were planning to leave and high-tailed it out of there, getting soaked all the way down to our newly-fixed car. We drove across the only bridge connecting the island with the mainland, the rain coming down like a river on our windshield and the wind threatening to whisk our van off of the narrow road. Silver lining? The city closed the bridge shortly after we left -- we would have been stranded on the island. And the other silver lining was that I got to be in the middle of a hurricane!! How fun was that? Yes, I'm one of those crazy people who goes outside to look for the tornado when the sirens go off instead of hiding in the bathtub. Maybe I could have my own storm chasing show -- "Blog in the Blender." Nah.

So see? It's not so hard to find those silver linings in the dark clouds. I could tell you even more stories, but I'll leave you with this encouraging thought: due to my husband's illness and an unfortunate turn of scheduling (I was supposed to work on my second favorite holiday -- Halloween!), I have retired from my job and I will be a fulltime caretaker of the zoo (we're getting another kitten!) and writer. I can tell you're bowled over with delight. Keep looking for those silver linings, my friends!

Beauty Tip of the Month

Here is my beauty tip of the month, or week, or day, or whenever I decide to write a new one:

Emu Oil!!

Yes, crazy, but true. A friend of mine with beautiful skin told me to try it. Sure enough, I really have noticed a difference in my skin tone. I buy mine from www.willowgroveranch.com/ . It is an emu farm in Texas that does not add anything funky to its emu oil. And, the oil doesn't smell bad (that was my first question too).

Gardening

I am basically a city girl with a country heart. In every house that I have lived for the last 20 years, I have planted a garden. I have grown okra, pumpkins, tomatoes, watermelons, carrots -- lots of things. Unfortunately though, I am not an expert gardener by any stretch of the imagination.

In my first garden, I planted pumpkins because someone gave me some free seeds. I had vines at least 20 feet long crawling all over yard. Out of all ten of those vines, I got one pumpkin. I tried pumpkins again two years ago, and got vines everywhere, but not even one pumpkin.

My second garden wasn't even in my yard. I asked my neighbor if I could use their flower bed and I planted a bunch of vegetables --no vines this time. It did okay until the aphids attacked. Oh, and out of five bell pepper plants, I think I got two peppers. Some mysterious herbivore ate the rest of them.

I have to tell you before I describe my latest efforts at gardening, that I like to grow my plants from seeds. It's kind of like baking a cake from scratch. It makes me feel like I'm a real gardener. I told my husband that I was going to plant a garden. I have found that the best way to get him to help me is to just start doing it myself. I drew a picture of the garden and showed him where I was going to put it. Then I told him I was going to rent a roto-tiller and dig up the yard :-). Next thing I knew, he was out there with a shovel, turning over the soil and making a beautiful garden for me -- what a great guy.

I planted my seeds in perfect rows and even put little labels on the ends of the rows. I figured all I needed to do now was wait, and I would be eating delicious, fresh vegetables in no time.

Part of this country-girl heart of mine makes me adopt pets. I really should be living out in the country. I had just adopted a puppy when I planted my garden. She was the latest addition to a family (at that time) of three kids, three cats, and probably a rodent or two. I'm not sure if I had the fish then or not. My sweet, adorable puppy was a digger. And she got into my garden and scattered my perfectly placed seeds all over the place. I now had no idea where any of the plants were, or even what plants they were. I spent weeks nurturing a tiny little seedling that turned out to be a weed. Meanwhile, I had plucked out most of my carrot seedlings, thinking they were weeds.

This year, I have planted okra, peppers, potatoes (including blue ones!), cilantro, parsley, tomatoes, yellow squash, sunflowers, and cucumbers. I have an out-of-control raspberry section (in the back of the picture) that has threatened to take over the entire yard. My threats have not scared it. Not even the rabbits have scared it. Maybe I'll sic the dog on it.

So far, something is eating the potatoes, the peppers, and the cucumbers. I stole a couple of lady bugs from my five-year-old's lady bug collection (I believe I took Lotsaspots and Baby) and put them in the garden. I will be in big trouble when my daughter realizes they are missing. Good thing she can't read yet.

I see a rabbit in the yard, so I better go defend my territory. Happy gardening!