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...
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
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...
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...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
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. :)
Monday, September 27, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Death
I have a friend who is so close to me that I call her my cousin. Her sister died a few days ago – she was 35. She was in good health, the single mom of a three-year-old boy. She had just started seeing a man that she really liked.
People say that life is fragile. After helping dozens of babies into this world, watching how hard it is to make that big transition from mommy’s perfect world to our polluted, loud, angry world where they actually have to breathe, and watching the babies do it successfully and well (sometimes against all odds), I realize that life is not fragile. There are people who even wish that life were not so un-fragile. Life is not fragile, it is capricious.
Just when we think we have it all figured out, we have a neat and orderly plan for our lives, something changes and all of our dominoes topple. Sometimes the change is good, like news of a new baby; sometimes the change is bad, like a cancer diagnosis or a sudden death. No matter what it is, it completely changes our lives. Sometimes, it can even be one thing that somebody says to us that changes everything.
After a sudden change in my life, I received the sage tongue-in-cheek advice: “Man plans and God laughs.” Is this truly the case? Is God looking down on us, throwing things at us like He allows in the story of Job, then laughing? Are we here for His entertainment? I have read books that say that our purpose on this earth is to bring people to God. As a good little Christian girl, I have really tried to follow this. But even I have to question. Our entire purpose on this earth is to create worshippers of God? Is our God so needy? So lonesome? I'm not questioning the existence of God. Using all of my mere human arrogance, I am questioning His motives.
If God really wants people to come to Him, He ought to give Christians great lives. It would be simple – if I follow God, I will have a simply good life. I’m not saying that we would be all rich and never have things like death (after long, full lives) in our lives. I’m just saying that little three-year-olds would not end up without moms, and Christians would not get their luggage lost in the airport.
I do believe that my friend’s sister is in heaven, and that I will be in heaven as well some day. But after watching my friend and her family suffer, and her sister’s little son tell my friend, “I don’t have a mommy anymore,” I do have to stop and ask, “Why?” And I want to know where my God is that loves us so much that he gave His only son.
People say that life is fragile. After helping dozens of babies into this world, watching how hard it is to make that big transition from mommy’s perfect world to our polluted, loud, angry world where they actually have to breathe, and watching the babies do it successfully and well (sometimes against all odds), I realize that life is not fragile. There are people who even wish that life were not so un-fragile. Life is not fragile, it is capricious.
Just when we think we have it all figured out, we have a neat and orderly plan for our lives, something changes and all of our dominoes topple. Sometimes the change is good, like news of a new baby; sometimes the change is bad, like a cancer diagnosis or a sudden death. No matter what it is, it completely changes our lives. Sometimes, it can even be one thing that somebody says to us that changes everything.
After a sudden change in my life, I received the sage tongue-in-cheek advice: “Man plans and God laughs.” Is this truly the case? Is God looking down on us, throwing things at us like He allows in the story of Job, then laughing? Are we here for His entertainment? I have read books that say that our purpose on this earth is to bring people to God. As a good little Christian girl, I have really tried to follow this. But even I have to question. Our entire purpose on this earth is to create worshippers of God? Is our God so needy? So lonesome? I'm not questioning the existence of God. Using all of my mere human arrogance, I am questioning His motives.
If God really wants people to come to Him, He ought to give Christians great lives. It would be simple – if I follow God, I will have a simply good life. I’m not saying that we would be all rich and never have things like death (after long, full lives) in our lives. I’m just saying that little three-year-olds would not end up without moms, and Christians would not get their luggage lost in the airport.
I do believe that my friend’s sister is in heaven, and that I will be in heaven as well some day. But after watching my friend and her family suffer, and her sister’s little son tell my friend, “I don’t have a mommy anymore,” I do have to stop and ask, “Why?” And I want to know where my God is that loves us so much that he gave His only son.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
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).
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).
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