I'm still here! For those of you who were afraid that I got sucked into the whirlpool of toys, vomit, and dirty diapers, never to be heard from again...you can relax. Between swimming lessons, dentist appointments, and trying to keep my barrel horses ridden, I just haven't found much time to write the last few days. Yes, I know that I could write while my kids sleep. I could do LOTS of things while they are asleep. The only problem with that is this: while they are sleeping, I want to be sleeping, too! My body has this annoying need for 7 to 8 hours of sleep in order to function properly. Even though to the childless population, the words stay-at-home mom conjure up some image of a woman sitting on a couch in a housecoat stuffing her face and watching soap operas, nothing could be further from the truth! My daily life reqires supernatural amounts of energy and very few peaceful moments.
I prefer to think of myself as a stay-in-the-road mom. I wear running shoes every day, although some days I think I should trade them for combat boots. I dress casually, usually a tee shirt and shorts, although some days I think a referee's uniform would be a more appropriate outfit. I'm sure those stylish black pants hide a lot of flaws. But I prefer my running shoes.
I have an interesting relationship with tennis shoes. I remember the first pair I ever had - blue Kangaroos. They had a zipper pocket on the side for all the important stuff a six year old girl needs to keep...in her shoes. My first pair of sneakers held a special significance for me, because up until then I had been made to wear brown corrective shoes. Apparently my right ankle rotated inward, and the solution was to send me to school in the ugliest pair of brown shoes on the face of the earth. (At least that's how I saw it.) I suppose they did their job, as both of my ankles appear to be in good working condition now.
My current shoes are Saucony running shoes. My best friend as a kid had a pair, and I can remember wanting some so badly. Not that I was deprived as a kid...I just remember how cool I thought those shoes were. When I graduated from veterinary school and realized how much I was going to be on my feet when I was working, I bought my first pair.
Oprah Winfrey tells a story about the first time she started making a lot of money and rushed out to buy some Ralph Lauren towels. To her, that meant she had made it. Now I'm certain my salary as a new graduate was NOT the same kind of money that Oprah was making, but to a kid who'd never had a real job, I felt like I was loaded! It was the first time in my life I'd ever had money that was mine, that I'd earned and not been given. I admit that I caught a terrible case of "Doc-itis" as Dave Ramsey calls it, and bought plenty of stuff thinking, "I have a job! I can afford this!" I also admit that it came back to bite me in the butt later in life, but that is a story for another day.
I love my running shoes. I don't do much actual running in them, as is evident by the size of my butt, but when I lace them up each morning, I take a deep breath and feel like I'm headed to the starting line of my day. When the gun goes off, there are days that I'm already behind the pack. There are days that I feel like the starter loaded a live round...and pointed it at my head instead of up in the air. And every so often there are those days when I feel like Usain Bolt, sprinting down the track and looking back over my shoulder. Try to catch me, suckers! Those days are decidedly few and far between. I have also discovered as a parent that the moment you congratulate yourself on having it all together, someone immediately pukes on your shoes.
I also wear tennis shoes most of the time because my feet hurt. My grandmother and mother were kind enough to share their lousy foot genetics with me, so finding a pair of comfortable shoes is like the quest for the Holy Grail. When I went shoe shopping after vet school, it took me two solid hours of trying on sneakers to find a pair that fit. Actually, I found two. I threw the first one away last year. When I find a good pair, I wear them until they fall apart.
These running shoes have taken me a lot of places. Sometimes I feel like a hamster on a wheel, running my legs off and never getting anywhere. Other days I feel like a rat in a maze, no clue where the heck I'm going, but by golly I'm going to get there in a hurry! Wow, two rodent references in the same post. Can't wait to see what kind of ads those bring up!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Pregnancy Test Warning Label
I think pregnancy tests should come with a warning label. Okay, maybe more of a disclaimer. Yes, I know that they come with a package insert (I've seen them all. I should have stock in EPT.) But the only thing the package insert really tells you is how to tell whether you're pregnant or not. And they must not do that too well, as so many of us feel led to take another test right away, just in case we read the first one wrong. I propose that those things should come with something else.
Something like this: Congratulations! You're pregnant! Or you're not! We sincerely hope you got the answer you were looking for. You can go ahead with your plan to take another test. We're pretty sure it's going to say the same thing, but if you want to give us ten more bucks, we'll take it. If you are not pregnant and wish to be, we will gladly take your money again next month. If you want to increase your odds of getting pregnant (and the pressure on your partner) please invest in one of our company's ovulation predictor tests. These can help you finish removing the romance and spontaneity from your sex life, as well as telling you the most likely days to conceive your little bundle of joy. Our company thanks you for your business!
If you are pregnant, congratulations! Please sit down and buckle up, as we are about to share with you a few of the things other people have tried to explain, but you never really understood until now. Thanks to the little plus sign on the test you just took, you will now be relinquishing control of your life physically, mentally, emotionally, and in all other ways.
Your body now belongs to your baby. You will feed it, pamper it, and subject it to all manner of uncomfortable medical procedures solely for the benefit of the tiny person growing inside you. You will lie awake at night daydreaming, worrying, or trying to figure out how you are supposed to sleep when you can't get comfortable and you have to pee every 30 seconds. You will overcome your fear of needles, doctors, and hospitals as you subject yourself to poking and prodding by total strangers in the interest of delivering a healthy child. You will add new terms to your vocabulary, fun things like stretch marks and hemorrhoids. If you are lucky enough to need a C-section, you will receive a daily reminder of the fact that you let someone cut you open and play with your guts in order to remove your baby from your body.
You will now begin to attract attention, whether you like it or not, no matter where you go. Women in the grocery store will feel entitled to put their hands all over your belly. Total strangers will offer you unsolicited advice about what to do with your body and your baby. Everyone you see will want to know "what" you are having, when it will arrive, and what its name will be. Then they will share with you their thoughts on whether you should have another child (you know, if the child's gender isn't what they think it ought to be) and the name you have so carefully chosen. Because we all know that annoying, crazy woman at the mall should get a vote.
Every Supermom you know will tell you what to eat, what to wear, and what fun, artsy fartsy projects (maternity photos and plaster belly molds and such) you should do while you're pregnant. You will smile politely while you fantasize about one of two things - ripping their head off of their shoulders or having a bowl of ice cream and a nap. The subject of your fantasy will be solely at the discretion of the hormone fairy. She will determine your mood at that particular second, and then on a whim will inform you that you are no longer angry, but now need to weep uncontrollably. As an added bonus, we'll let you in on the fact that the hormone fairy hangs around long after your delivery. That bitch will move into your spare bedroom and mess with you long after you have evicted that precious baby from your body. Just something to look forward to!
You will plan out the perfect delivery to the letter, and fantasize in your head just how everything will go. In your mind, you will go into labor in the morning, when your hair is clean and fixed and your makeup is fresh. After a brief, not too painful labor, you will deliver the most beautiful child ever conceived while Daddy holds your hand, says all the right things, AND takes all the pictures you wanted. Then you, the beaming, not high on drugs, not a hair out of place mother will pose for pictures with your gorgeous baby who does not at all resemble an alien with a conehead. The horror of what you just put your body through will not even occur to you at this point, because the drugs will not have worn off yet. That comes later. Enjoy this part, sweetie, because we can almost guarantee that your delivery will NOT happen that way. Delivering a baby is kind of like planning a wedding. You can be certain that something will not go according to plan, but hopefully it's nothing major and you get the desired outcome.
The one thing that we can tell you about your pregnancy is this: you won't regret it. You'll actually miss that big belly when it's gone. And no matter how easy or hard it is, or how much your delivery fails to resemble your fantasy, you'd do it all over again in a second. Congratulations on taking the plunge. Let go of the bar, throw your arms up in the air, and get ready for the roller coaster ride of your life.
Something like this: Congratulations! You're pregnant! Or you're not! We sincerely hope you got the answer you were looking for. You can go ahead with your plan to take another test. We're pretty sure it's going to say the same thing, but if you want to give us ten more bucks, we'll take it. If you are not pregnant and wish to be, we will gladly take your money again next month. If you want to increase your odds of getting pregnant (and the pressure on your partner) please invest in one of our company's ovulation predictor tests. These can help you finish removing the romance and spontaneity from your sex life, as well as telling you the most likely days to conceive your little bundle of joy. Our company thanks you for your business!
If you are pregnant, congratulations! Please sit down and buckle up, as we are about to share with you a few of the things other people have tried to explain, but you never really understood until now. Thanks to the little plus sign on the test you just took, you will now be relinquishing control of your life physically, mentally, emotionally, and in all other ways.
Your body now belongs to your baby. You will feed it, pamper it, and subject it to all manner of uncomfortable medical procedures solely for the benefit of the tiny person growing inside you. You will lie awake at night daydreaming, worrying, or trying to figure out how you are supposed to sleep when you can't get comfortable and you have to pee every 30 seconds. You will overcome your fear of needles, doctors, and hospitals as you subject yourself to poking and prodding by total strangers in the interest of delivering a healthy child. You will add new terms to your vocabulary, fun things like stretch marks and hemorrhoids. If you are lucky enough to need a C-section, you will receive a daily reminder of the fact that you let someone cut you open and play with your guts in order to remove your baby from your body.
You will now begin to attract attention, whether you like it or not, no matter where you go. Women in the grocery store will feel entitled to put their hands all over your belly. Total strangers will offer you unsolicited advice about what to do with your body and your baby. Everyone you see will want to know "what" you are having, when it will arrive, and what its name will be. Then they will share with you their thoughts on whether you should have another child (you know, if the child's gender isn't what they think it ought to be) and the name you have so carefully chosen. Because we all know that annoying, crazy woman at the mall should get a vote.
Every Supermom you know will tell you what to eat, what to wear, and what fun, artsy fartsy projects (maternity photos and plaster belly molds and such) you should do while you're pregnant. You will smile politely while you fantasize about one of two things - ripping their head off of their shoulders or having a bowl of ice cream and a nap. The subject of your fantasy will be solely at the discretion of the hormone fairy. She will determine your mood at that particular second, and then on a whim will inform you that you are no longer angry, but now need to weep uncontrollably. As an added bonus, we'll let you in on the fact that the hormone fairy hangs around long after your delivery. That bitch will move into your spare bedroom and mess with you long after you have evicted that precious baby from your body. Just something to look forward to!
You will plan out the perfect delivery to the letter, and fantasize in your head just how everything will go. In your mind, you will go into labor in the morning, when your hair is clean and fixed and your makeup is fresh. After a brief, not too painful labor, you will deliver the most beautiful child ever conceived while Daddy holds your hand, says all the right things, AND takes all the pictures you wanted. Then you, the beaming, not high on drugs, not a hair out of place mother will pose for pictures with your gorgeous baby who does not at all resemble an alien with a conehead. The horror of what you just put your body through will not even occur to you at this point, because the drugs will not have worn off yet. That comes later. Enjoy this part, sweetie, because we can almost guarantee that your delivery will NOT happen that way. Delivering a baby is kind of like planning a wedding. You can be certain that something will not go according to plan, but hopefully it's nothing major and you get the desired outcome.
The one thing that we can tell you about your pregnancy is this: you won't regret it. You'll actually miss that big belly when it's gone. And no matter how easy or hard it is, or how much your delivery fails to resemble your fantasy, you'd do it all over again in a second. Congratulations on taking the plunge. Let go of the bar, throw your arms up in the air, and get ready for the roller coaster ride of your life.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Dental Hygiene
Local commercials in my area have always been a major source of amusement for me. Misspelled words, incorrect grammar, horrible Southern accents, you name it. We done seen it all. I have to tell you that some of my favorites are the ones done by local businesses that involve some sort of health care "minute." Hospitals, veterinarians, and day care centers, just to name a few, bombard us with their wisdom each and every day during the potty - I mean commercial- breaks. But I heard one the other day that left me shaking my head.
A local dental practice has begun a "dental health minute," which has provided some mildly amusing stuff in the past. Up until the other day, my favorite was the one where the guy wasn't even trying to pretend that he wasn't reading straight from a teleprompter. The script had obviously been written by someone in approximately the sixth grade. I know this because every sentence started with whatever subject he was discussing that day, something really exciting like root canals, and he used the same two words eighty-seven times. To which I say, don't they have producers who record that crap and edit it before it goes on the air? Boy was someone asleep at the wheel!
I now have the distinct honor of reporting that I have a new favorite "dental health minute." In this one, Dr. Strangelove decides to step outside the fascinating world of dentistry to address...wait for it...parenting!
This man actually recommended that you not share your food or drink with your child, AND that you not kiss your baby on the lips because BACTERIA could be transferred from your mouth to theirs. Wow. Just sit there for a minute and think about that. Needless to say, my mind went crazy.
Here are a few of the questions I would like to ask: first and foremost, are you now or have you ever been a parent?!? I'll go one better. Have you ever actually been in the room with a child while someone else is eating? My kids have the most fantastic selective hearing on the planet. When they are watching TV or I am calling them to do something they'd rather not, they actually become deaf to the sound of my voice for brief periods of time. I was really excited the day they told me they were going to test their hearing at school, because I admit I was beginning to have concerns. The great state of Mississippi assured me that they could in fact hear, but I wasn't convinced. Luckily, my fears were laid to rest by a potato chip bag. I could rattle a bag of Doritos in the kitchen and those suckers would wake up from a coma, drag themselves out of bed and RUN to me.
Sitting down with food around my kids is sort of like being surrounded by a pack of wild dogs. I could have a big steaming pile of poop on my plate, and if I sat down to eat it they would circle around me and elbow each other for the prime position just so they could get a bite. My personal favorite is my daughter's habit of ordering what she wants at a restaurant, then eyeballing MY order as soon as our food arrives. She asks for a bite of my food before my plate has even touched the table. Either that or she asks something like, "Mom, are those cheese sticks? Mmm, those look really good...do you think I could have one of those?" And of course, I give it to her. Isn't there some sort of unwritten rule about that when you become a parent? You know, something like "what's mine is mine and what's yours is mine, too?" There is at my house.
And another thing: the whole bacteria issue. I refer you again to the question, "Have you ever actually been a parent? Have you observed the daily habits of children at all?" Let's see, my kids drink out of the toothbrush rinse cup, fill their mouths with bathwater, and put their hands in their mouths after they've played in the dirt at the arena. I could go on for hours here. Those things make me want to puke, and I don't even have a booger eater...that I know about! You're worried about the bacteria that I could transfer out of MY mouth to theirs? Whatever, dude.
Kissing my sweet baby girl on the lips is sometimes the highlight of my day. As far as I'm concerned it's one of the best parts of having a baby, and I don't intend to stop because some guy on TV said to. If eating off my plate rots their teeth, I guess my children will just have tooth decay. Poor little suckers. Someday when they talk to their therapist, they can blame that on me, too.
A local dental practice has begun a "dental health minute," which has provided some mildly amusing stuff in the past. Up until the other day, my favorite was the one where the guy wasn't even trying to pretend that he wasn't reading straight from a teleprompter. The script had obviously been written by someone in approximately the sixth grade. I know this because every sentence started with whatever subject he was discussing that day, something really exciting like root canals, and he used the same two words eighty-seven times. To which I say, don't they have producers who record that crap and edit it before it goes on the air? Boy was someone asleep at the wheel!
I now have the distinct honor of reporting that I have a new favorite "dental health minute." In this one, Dr. Strangelove decides to step outside the fascinating world of dentistry to address...wait for it...parenting!
This man actually recommended that you not share your food or drink with your child, AND that you not kiss your baby on the lips because BACTERIA could be transferred from your mouth to theirs. Wow. Just sit there for a minute and think about that. Needless to say, my mind went crazy.
Here are a few of the questions I would like to ask: first and foremost, are you now or have you ever been a parent?!? I'll go one better. Have you ever actually been in the room with a child while someone else is eating? My kids have the most fantastic selective hearing on the planet. When they are watching TV or I am calling them to do something they'd rather not, they actually become deaf to the sound of my voice for brief periods of time. I was really excited the day they told me they were going to test their hearing at school, because I admit I was beginning to have concerns. The great state of Mississippi assured me that they could in fact hear, but I wasn't convinced. Luckily, my fears were laid to rest by a potato chip bag. I could rattle a bag of Doritos in the kitchen and those suckers would wake up from a coma, drag themselves out of bed and RUN to me.
Sitting down with food around my kids is sort of like being surrounded by a pack of wild dogs. I could have a big steaming pile of poop on my plate, and if I sat down to eat it they would circle around me and elbow each other for the prime position just so they could get a bite. My personal favorite is my daughter's habit of ordering what she wants at a restaurant, then eyeballing MY order as soon as our food arrives. She asks for a bite of my food before my plate has even touched the table. Either that or she asks something like, "Mom, are those cheese sticks? Mmm, those look really good...do you think I could have one of those?" And of course, I give it to her. Isn't there some sort of unwritten rule about that when you become a parent? You know, something like "what's mine is mine and what's yours is mine, too?" There is at my house.
And another thing: the whole bacteria issue. I refer you again to the question, "Have you ever actually been a parent? Have you observed the daily habits of children at all?" Let's see, my kids drink out of the toothbrush rinse cup, fill their mouths with bathwater, and put their hands in their mouths after they've played in the dirt at the arena. I could go on for hours here. Those things make me want to puke, and I don't even have a booger eater...that I know about! You're worried about the bacteria that I could transfer out of MY mouth to theirs? Whatever, dude.
Kissing my sweet baby girl on the lips is sometimes the highlight of my day. As far as I'm concerned it's one of the best parts of having a baby, and I don't intend to stop because some guy on TV said to. If eating off my plate rots their teeth, I guess my children will just have tooth decay. Poor little suckers. Someday when they talk to their therapist, they can blame that on me, too.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Run Your Own Race
Several years ago, I was given a Joel Osteen book as a Christmas gift. I had never heard of Joel Osteen or his books, but as I began reading I found a multitude (Biblical term) of things he said that were directly applicable to my life. Now I love to listen to his weekly sermons while I'm dressing for church, and frankly sometimes I get more out of what he says than the live action version. No offense, Brother Sammy. On many, many occasions I have felt as though he were speaking directly to me. And no, not in a horror movie, psychic friends, freak show kind of way. He doesn't call me by name, and I'm pretty sure his head has never spun around.
It just seems like the topics he chooses often relate directly to what's going on in my life. It's almost like a sport now...I wait to see if he's going to guess correctly this week. And yes, I completely get that his messages are constructed in such a way that they appeal to the masses. That's why his church has a gazillion members, some of whom are willing to send him large sums of money, which I am not. I have to admit, any time I hear a televangelist ask for money, I immediately think of one of my all time favorite movies, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and Randy Quaid saying, "If I just had back the money me and Catherine sent to that TV preacher that was screwing the hockey players." That always makes me giggle.
The sermon this past Sunday was about running your own race and being focused on the journey that is uniquely yours. It was absolutely jam packed with excellent advice on how to ignore the people in your life who are jealous of you, who are trying to bring you down. I have heard him say before that it doesn't matter what you do, some people will never be "for" you, even in your own family. People will pressure you to conform; they will try to mold and shape and pound you into their idea of what you are supposed to be. There are those people in your life who will be happy as long as you are content to remain in your current state of affairs, that will despise you when you begin to improve your station in life and come into God's favor. He went on to say that God has chosen the path that he has laid out before you, that he has put people and circumstances in your life that will help you along that path, and that when you will step out of God's favor is when you are doing things that are not in his plan for you.
Wow. That was a lot to take in. It also gave me a lot to think about. A few short years ago, we would have said goodbye to people we knew in high school and never heard from some of them again. And then there was Facebook! I look at it as a double-edged sword. I really enjoy keeping up with friends and family who live far away. I have seen pictures and read stories about their lives I would never have had access to. I have kept in touch with acquaintances from across the nation that I met before I was married.
More importantly for me, I have felt less isolated as a stay at home mom of small kids because I can "talk" to other people who have been where I am now. There's just something about saying, "I was cleaning up puke at 1:30 this morning" and someone responding, "Oh, I've done that lots of times. Were there chunks in it? I hate the chunks!" Just makes you feel better in some small way. Or, "My kid peed on the playground at McDonald's today" and hearing back "Oh really? My son pissed on the floor at the grocery store." Hooray! I'm not alone. Other people have gotten sucked into the whirling vortex of vomit, crap, and toys and clawed their way out on the other side. Some of them are even partially sane once again now that their kids are all grown up. There's hope for me!
One of the best things that has happened so far is that I have reconnected with people from my past that I never really took the time to get to know. I have figured out that I missed out on some really fantastic people who were in my life because I didn't give them a chance. I talk often with a few people I knew in high school who make me laugh until I cry. I had no idea they were such fabulous writers or that they were so freakin' funny! Maybe if I had started talking to them sooner I wouldn't have been in such a bad mood for so many years. WHERE WERE YOU PEOPLE? Why didn't you tell me that I needed to pull my head out of my a__ sooner? GAH! Oh, well, at least you're here now. Thanks for brightening my day, even if it's just by saying, "Look, I have it so much worse than you do it's not even funny!" Point taken.
The other edge of the Facebook sword is this: I can totally see how people look at the CAREFULLY SELECTED parts and pictures of other people's lives that they choose to share on Facebook and think that they are missing something in their own lives. That's the beauty of the Internet. You can make your life look however you want to online! Wake up, folks. People leave out the uncomfortable stuff! Divorces, financial problems, less than perfect spouses and rotten, rebellious kids...they're all still out there! You just don't hear about them because people choose not to share that. I actually find it quite funny to match up the things people post online with what I know to be true about their actual lives. I guarantee you the picture you have in your mind is a far cry from reality. As someone who has appeared (at least once, on some occasion) to have it all together, I am here to tell you that I don't. Every day is a balancing act, and more often than not I end up in the net. Or on the concrete. Depends on the day. A woman from our church told me once that my husband and I "seem so laid back and calm, like you never lose your cool." To which I say, "I would like to thank the Academy..." because my acting skills have obviously improved! Take home lesson for the day: Don't judge a Facebook by its cover.
It just seems like the topics he chooses often relate directly to what's going on in my life. It's almost like a sport now...I wait to see if he's going to guess correctly this week. And yes, I completely get that his messages are constructed in such a way that they appeal to the masses. That's why his church has a gazillion members, some of whom are willing to send him large sums of money, which I am not. I have to admit, any time I hear a televangelist ask for money, I immediately think of one of my all time favorite movies, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and Randy Quaid saying, "If I just had back the money me and Catherine sent to that TV preacher that was screwing the hockey players." That always makes me giggle.
The sermon this past Sunday was about running your own race and being focused on the journey that is uniquely yours. It was absolutely jam packed with excellent advice on how to ignore the people in your life who are jealous of you, who are trying to bring you down. I have heard him say before that it doesn't matter what you do, some people will never be "for" you, even in your own family. People will pressure you to conform; they will try to mold and shape and pound you into their idea of what you are supposed to be. There are those people in your life who will be happy as long as you are content to remain in your current state of affairs, that will despise you when you begin to improve your station in life and come into God's favor. He went on to say that God has chosen the path that he has laid out before you, that he has put people and circumstances in your life that will help you along that path, and that when you will step out of God's favor is when you are doing things that are not in his plan for you.
Wow. That was a lot to take in. It also gave me a lot to think about. A few short years ago, we would have said goodbye to people we knew in high school and never heard from some of them again. And then there was Facebook! I look at it as a double-edged sword. I really enjoy keeping up with friends and family who live far away. I have seen pictures and read stories about their lives I would never have had access to. I have kept in touch with acquaintances from across the nation that I met before I was married.
More importantly for me, I have felt less isolated as a stay at home mom of small kids because I can "talk" to other people who have been where I am now. There's just something about saying, "I was cleaning up puke at 1:30 this morning" and someone responding, "Oh, I've done that lots of times. Were there chunks in it? I hate the chunks!" Just makes you feel better in some small way. Or, "My kid peed on the playground at McDonald's today" and hearing back "Oh really? My son pissed on the floor at the grocery store." Hooray! I'm not alone. Other people have gotten sucked into the whirling vortex of vomit, crap, and toys and clawed their way out on the other side. Some of them are even partially sane once again now that their kids are all grown up. There's hope for me!
One of the best things that has happened so far is that I have reconnected with people from my past that I never really took the time to get to know. I have figured out that I missed out on some really fantastic people who were in my life because I didn't give them a chance. I talk often with a few people I knew in high school who make me laugh until I cry. I had no idea they were such fabulous writers or that they were so freakin' funny! Maybe if I had started talking to them sooner I wouldn't have been in such a bad mood for so many years. WHERE WERE YOU PEOPLE? Why didn't you tell me that I needed to pull my head out of my a__ sooner? GAH! Oh, well, at least you're here now. Thanks for brightening my day, even if it's just by saying, "Look, I have it so much worse than you do it's not even funny!" Point taken.
The other edge of the Facebook sword is this: I can totally see how people look at the CAREFULLY SELECTED parts and pictures of other people's lives that they choose to share on Facebook and think that they are missing something in their own lives. That's the beauty of the Internet. You can make your life look however you want to online! Wake up, folks. People leave out the uncomfortable stuff! Divorces, financial problems, less than perfect spouses and rotten, rebellious kids...they're all still out there! You just don't hear about them because people choose not to share that. I actually find it quite funny to match up the things people post online with what I know to be true about their actual lives. I guarantee you the picture you have in your mind is a far cry from reality. As someone who has appeared (at least once, on some occasion) to have it all together, I am here to tell you that I don't. Every day is a balancing act, and more often than not I end up in the net. Or on the concrete. Depends on the day. A woman from our church told me once that my husband and I "seem so laid back and calm, like you never lose your cool." To which I say, "I would like to thank the Academy..." because my acting skills have obviously improved! Take home lesson for the day: Don't judge a Facebook by its cover.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
My Big Fat Redneck Trip to Walmart
When you live in the South, Walmart is just a part of life. You can make six stops, which for me equals unloading and reloading three children twelve times, or you can go to Walmart and get everything from your sleeping pills to your chicken livers to your flat tire fixed. No joke. You can buy cow tongue and fluffy bath towels in the same store. Who'd have ever thunk it? The idea of that much less work is just way too appealing to me. I am a one stop kinda girl these days! However, I am also willing to pay a babysitter well so that I don't have to take the short people with me when I go to Walmart. The way I look at it, I'm paying the sitter what I would have spent on the extra things they begged me to buy, so financially it's a wash. Plus, I get to shop in peace. I wander up and down every single aisle (so it will take longer) and make no apologies about it! I smile sympathetically at the women with bratty kids who are lying the middle of the cereal aisle screaming, and they look at me as if to say, "If you had kids, you would understand." Oh, I understand, lady. I understand more than you know. I'm simply on a break. As an added bonus, I get to listen to the radio station of my choice on the way there and back without Shrek on the DVD player behind my head blaring in my ears. It's heavenly.
Yesterday, I made an epic trip to Walmart. What made it even better was that I didn't plan it that way, it just happened spontaneously. Coincidence? I think not.
So there I was...doing my weekly grocery shopping. I was getting the usual: four different kinds of cereal, milk, diapers, eggs, bread. I guess I should mention that I did have five pregnancy tests in my cart. Calm down, calm down! I am not now, nor do I wish to become pregnant. Spoiler alert: They are for the cover of my book, which I hope to have published before my kids are in college.
I really wish I could do justice to the strange looks you get when strolling through Walmart with five pregnancy tests in your cart. I finally looked at one lady who was staring openly and said with a smile, "I just want to be sure." She was speechless.
I was headed to the checkout line when the phone rang. It was my husband. Was I still at Walmart? Why, yes, I was! Would I like to make a detour? Sure, why not? He then proceeded to describe the water moccasin in our lake that was roughly the size of his forearm. Would I swing by the sporting goods department and pick up some ammunition? Absolutely! As I have never actually purchased such a thing, I admit it was rather exciting. Redneck woman on a mission!
I got the box of bullets without showing any identification (which both surprised and worried me a little) and headed to the front of the store. Since it was a rather long walk, I started thinking about what was in my cart. When I started unloading it onto the conveyor belt, I started giggling and couldn't stop. Where else in the world can you buy men's underwear, bullets, and pregnancy tests all in the same shopping trip?
When I told my husband the contents of my cart, he looked at me and said, "You gonna make some SOB admit that he's your Baby Daddy, aren't you?" Holy freakin cow, I really am a redneck! I gotta go have my roots done. Dr. Phil, here I come.
Yesterday, I made an epic trip to Walmart. What made it even better was that I didn't plan it that way, it just happened spontaneously. Coincidence? I think not.
So there I was...doing my weekly grocery shopping. I was getting the usual: four different kinds of cereal, milk, diapers, eggs, bread. I guess I should mention that I did have five pregnancy tests in my cart. Calm down, calm down! I am not now, nor do I wish to become pregnant. Spoiler alert: They are for the cover of my book, which I hope to have published before my kids are in college.
I really wish I could do justice to the strange looks you get when strolling through Walmart with five pregnancy tests in your cart. I finally looked at one lady who was staring openly and said with a smile, "I just want to be sure." She was speechless.
I was headed to the checkout line when the phone rang. It was my husband. Was I still at Walmart? Why, yes, I was! Would I like to make a detour? Sure, why not? He then proceeded to describe the water moccasin in our lake that was roughly the size of his forearm. Would I swing by the sporting goods department and pick up some ammunition? Absolutely! As I have never actually purchased such a thing, I admit it was rather exciting. Redneck woman on a mission!
I got the box of bullets without showing any identification (which both surprised and worried me a little) and headed to the front of the store. Since it was a rather long walk, I started thinking about what was in my cart. When I started unloading it onto the conveyor belt, I started giggling and couldn't stop. Where else in the world can you buy men's underwear, bullets, and pregnancy tests all in the same shopping trip?
When I told my husband the contents of my cart, he looked at me and said, "You gonna make some SOB admit that he's your Baby Daddy, aren't you?" Holy freakin cow, I really am a redneck! I gotta go have my roots done. Dr. Phil, here I come.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Magic of Advertising
Here's a fun fact that I find completely hysterical. Since my writing is something that I enjoy immensely and hope to turn into a career someday (like I don't have enough other things to do,) I was willing to allow Google to place some ads on my blog. They're pretty small; I don't find them to be too disturbing or obnoxious. Here's the funny, or mad scientist with brilliant, evil plan part, whichever camp you prefer to be a part of. The ads change according to the content of my blog posts! I know, I know, all you people in advertising are going, "Well, duh! Of course they do. Big deal." I, however, having no working knowledge at all of advertising find it TOTALLY FREAKING HILARIOUS.
For example, the other day I mentioned the word "vomit" several times in a post, and within hours an ad for personal vomit containment (airsick) bags appeared on my site. Another day I mentioned my desire to have a "free from the potty" party when all of my kids are old enough to go to the bathroom by themselves, and shortly an ad for a company that builds glass toilet partitions and partition hinges appeared, along with an ad for professional restroom cleaners. I'm seriously thinking of checking into the professional restroom cleaners. I could SO use their services.
Naturally, the immature, teenage boy part of my brain started going crazy. WOW, the possibilities here are infinite. I am really having to fight the urge to write one long post full of every embarrassing personal hygiene product I've ever heard of, along with every obscure medical condition I can think of, just to see which ads come up. I mean, toilets and vomit are a good place to start, but really, you start mentioning things like sex and alcohol and the sky's the limit. This just went from a site that caters to women to one that anyone can enjoy! Okay, okay fine. I promise to keep it clean. Well, sorta clean. Oh, alright, a little dusty with the occasional pile of dog poop. On your foot. That makes you drop the F-bomb in front of your kids. You were warned.
For example, the other day I mentioned the word "vomit" several times in a post, and within hours an ad for personal vomit containment (airsick) bags appeared on my site. Another day I mentioned my desire to have a "free from the potty" party when all of my kids are old enough to go to the bathroom by themselves, and shortly an ad for a company that builds glass toilet partitions and partition hinges appeared, along with an ad for professional restroom cleaners. I'm seriously thinking of checking into the professional restroom cleaners. I could SO use their services.
Naturally, the immature, teenage boy part of my brain started going crazy. WOW, the possibilities here are infinite. I am really having to fight the urge to write one long post full of every embarrassing personal hygiene product I've ever heard of, along with every obscure medical condition I can think of, just to see which ads come up. I mean, toilets and vomit are a good place to start, but really, you start mentioning things like sex and alcohol and the sky's the limit. This just went from a site that caters to women to one that anyone can enjoy! Okay, okay fine. I promise to keep it clean. Well, sorta clean. Oh, alright, a little dusty with the occasional pile of dog poop. On your foot. That makes you drop the F-bomb in front of your kids. You were warned.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Empty Nest
This time of year is all about graduations and children heading off to college because they are "all grown up." Those of us who have already lived through this magical time in our lives realize now how far from being grown up those kids actually are, but as we all know you couldn't make them believe it for anything in the world. When I think back on my decidedly well-behaved college days, I remember the friends that I had who took full advantage of ALL that college life had to offer and wonder how they are still alive. And not in prison. I have heard that God protects fools and little children, and I have been and been friends with both! My husband has informed me that there was a time in his life (before we met) that he felt the need to drink all the beer there was. Then, like most people we know, he outgrew it. I never went through that particular phase in my life, and he continually reminds me that perhaps that's what's wrong with me today...an alcohol deficiency. Maybe it's some sort of developmental phase that I missed, you know, like those kids who just started walking but never crawled. That would explain a lot.
Thanks to the magic of Facebook, I communicate with all these women who are about to become "empty nesters." They are all so sad, talking about how bittersweet it is to have children leaving home and wondering just what they will do with their time. COME TO MY HOUSE. That's what you can do! Then you can remind yourself how happy you are that your children are not this age anymore.
A few days ago, while the kids were swimming, one of them announced that she had to go to the bathroom. The people who lived here before us were smart enough to build a pool house with an easily accessible bathroom. No big deal, right? Wrong! Apparently putting back on a wet bathing suit when you are five is the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest. Not gonna happen without some adult supervision. So as I was wrestling my second child of the hour back into a wet swimsuit, I started thinking. My youngest child is almost ready to potty train. What will it be like when all of my children can go to the bathroom with no help at all from me? No pants to button or bathing suits to pull up. No walking them to the public restroom in a restaurant. I can't begin to imagine how much extra time I'll have on my hands. Added up, I spend hours every day changing diapers and addressing the older girls' bathroom concerns. I think I'll have a free-from-the-potty-party! I'll invite all my mom friends whose children have also reached this magical age, and we'll lie around and marvel at how much extra time we have. Then we'll take turns using the restroom in peace with the door locked, because surely they're going to leave us alone by then, right? Hey, a girl's gotta have dreams.
Personally, I've already got a list of stuff I want to do when these kids are grown that I'll never possibly accomplish before I die. I can remember my mother saying she couldn't wait to get to the nursing home so she could read all the books she wanted to, but never found the time. I'm sincerely hoping that my old a-- can still throw a leg over a barrel horse when my kids are grown! And I'm going to read, and cross stitch, and do puzzles, and all the other stuff I used to enjoy that my kids refuse to allow these days.
Not that I'm in a hurry for them to grow up and leave. I'm just saying that I won't be bored. I'm also a little worried that a couple of them may not leave. I have one who tells me every day that she just wants to stay here and help take care of the baby. I've tried explaining that the baby will be growing up, too, and that she won't need to be taken care of forever, but older sister is not convinced. Oh well, at least they like us. For now.
Thanks to the magic of Facebook, I communicate with all these women who are about to become "empty nesters." They are all so sad, talking about how bittersweet it is to have children leaving home and wondering just what they will do with their time. COME TO MY HOUSE. That's what you can do! Then you can remind yourself how happy you are that your children are not this age anymore.
A few days ago, while the kids were swimming, one of them announced that she had to go to the bathroom. The people who lived here before us were smart enough to build a pool house with an easily accessible bathroom. No big deal, right? Wrong! Apparently putting back on a wet bathing suit when you are five is the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest. Not gonna happen without some adult supervision. So as I was wrestling my second child of the hour back into a wet swimsuit, I started thinking. My youngest child is almost ready to potty train. What will it be like when all of my children can go to the bathroom with no help at all from me? No pants to button or bathing suits to pull up. No walking them to the public restroom in a restaurant. I can't begin to imagine how much extra time I'll have on my hands. Added up, I spend hours every day changing diapers and addressing the older girls' bathroom concerns. I think I'll have a free-from-the-potty-party! I'll invite all my mom friends whose children have also reached this magical age, and we'll lie around and marvel at how much extra time we have. Then we'll take turns using the restroom in peace with the door locked, because surely they're going to leave us alone by then, right? Hey, a girl's gotta have dreams.
Personally, I've already got a list of stuff I want to do when these kids are grown that I'll never possibly accomplish before I die. I can remember my mother saying she couldn't wait to get to the nursing home so she could read all the books she wanted to, but never found the time. I'm sincerely hoping that my old a-- can still throw a leg over a barrel horse when my kids are grown! And I'm going to read, and cross stitch, and do puzzles, and all the other stuff I used to enjoy that my kids refuse to allow these days.
Not that I'm in a hurry for them to grow up and leave. I'm just saying that I won't be bored. I'm also a little worried that a couple of them may not leave. I have one who tells me every day that she just wants to stay here and help take care of the baby. I've tried explaining that the baby will be growing up, too, and that she won't need to be taken care of forever, but older sister is not convinced. Oh well, at least they like us. For now.
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