Not a Hearing Aid

I got a Ferrari a couple of days ago. Well, it wasn’t really a Ferrari, but it was sort of a mid-life crisis thing. I got the top of my ear pierced.

This piercing obviously wasn’t a necessary thing, or even a truly cosmetic thing. Heck, you can hardly see it as my hair typically hangs down over my ears. I suppose I just needed to do something to feel a little younger, to feel a little more alive, and to feel little like I have control over something. So, perhaps it was stupid and perhaps it was painful… but it actually felt good doing it.

When I turned thirty, it really didn’t feel like that big of a deal. I didn’t feel like I was going over any imaginary hill. In fact, I suppose turning thirty made me feel like an official adult. I had my life under control. I didn’t feel old. But turning forty is an entirely different story. I very clearly feel like I’m approaching the top of this particular hill. I feel that inevitability of growing old.

So perhaps my little piercing wasn’t the greatest idea, but I’m very glad that I did it. And now I’m going to start tackling my wardrobe and attempt to stop wearing “mom clothes” and get into something a little more edgy. Who knows, perhaps I’ll have a tattoo before too long!

Oh… and I officially turn forty in May of this year. I am planning to parachute out of an airplane… in my edgy clothes with my new earring and possible tattoo. I want to be the coolest old lady on the block.

“Survey Says…”

Hubs races dirt-bikes. Although he is not the most competitive in the sport, he has a great time with the guys that ride! He always has so much fun tackling a challenging course. We usually mix it up with a little camping, camp fires and just hanging out outdoors. It’s actually lots of fun.

This weekend, however, there was an entirely different sort of dirt-bike race. One guy’s 13-year-old kid (we’ll call him Hatfield) and another guy’s 13-year-old kid (we’ll call him McCoy) race in the same level. Apparently, Hatfield usually does better, but McCoy was able to beat him this particular day. Hatfield’s dad reportedly didn’t think much about his son losing to this McCoy kid and was making snide comments. McCoy’s dad had enough and it started a shouting match!

McCoy’s dad was yelling at the top of his lungs at Hatfield’s dad around the camp fire, dropping F-bombs left and right. There were about 8 kids nearby, as well as other adults just enjoying the outdoor evening after a race. I’m glad Cookie and Pumpkin came into the trailer to pee so they didn’t have to hear it. And they weren’t going back outside! We just waited inside our trailer for the heat to die down. And I figured we were lucky it didn’t come to fisticuffs (I love that word, never get to use it!).

I felt so sorry for their wives and little Hatfield and McCoy, as I’m sure they were so embarrassed. And the worst thing is, still today they probably both think they were right! Neither of those men probably sees that they were BOTH wrong!

Idiots.

I bet Richard Dawson never hosted this kind of Family Feud!

Mommy’s Little Boy No More.

The Weasel has seemingly lost his mind… but that’s okay with me.

My 16-year-old son has decided to sell the TV in his room (which he bought with his own money) and his X-box (which he bought with his own money) so that he can buy a new laptop or netbook or notebook or something or other.

This seems like a reasonable thing to do. But, we rarely saw Weasel downstairs for about the last two years as he entered his teenage funk stage. He was always in his room playing his X-box or watching his TV. I tried very hard to leave him alone since I knew he was a teenage boy and I knew that he seemed to relish in being miserable and lonely… and I knew (or hoped) it was temporary. However, I would make him come down for dinner or to do his chores or to talk about his day, but generally I left him alone.

Now all of a sudden… CHANGE.

He has started smiling more, started interacting with all of us more, started being a part of the family again. He even wants to go on our family outings that I sometimes gave him pass so that we all wouldn’t have to suffer through his sighs and rolling eyes. He’s even dressing in something other than a black t-shirt! He’s back!

And to boot, he thinks he is spending too much time playing X-box and watching TV, so he decided to sell them. Um… are you feeling okay? I checked him for fever and made sure his eyes weren’t dilated. He seems okay.

So, now I’m so happy to have my son coming back to us. I missed him so much. Maybe he’ll go back to sleeping with his Blue-Corner-Blanket (more on that another time). Or maybe I can just sit back and watch my beloved son as he turns into a man.

I suppose now I have to call him Mr. Weasel? Nah… not until he is taller than me. Oh wait… he is taller. Okay, not until he starts wearing a suit to work. And first he has to get a job!

Love you, Weasel! 

The Corners of My Mind

The existence of forgetting has never been proved:  We only know that some things don't come to mind when we want them.  - Friedrich Nietzsche

My memory sucks. There is no other way to put it… it sucks. If I try to remember something and I look away for two seconds, the thought is gone. It has just vanished. At times, I may have a vague recollection that I may have forgotten something. But in general, I don’t even have that. So if there is no one there to remind me, it may be forgotten forever.

Lately, it seems worse. I’m not sure if it’s because I had the recent surgery and the anesthesia did something to my brain; or because of all the stress from the recent wrecks and just life in general; or because of the weather and my allergies; or even because I just don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s frustrating.

I think the most fearful thing is the fact that my grandfather had dementia and I think that I might be in the early stages. I consulted with Dr. Worldwideweb and realize that I don’t really meet the criteria for the early stages of dementia. However, I do think I might be in the early stages of the early stages.

Whatever the reason, I know that I need to work on my memory. I am going to better incorporate post-it notes and writing notes on my hand. I am going to email myself little reminders. I’m going to focus more. So if anyone has any thoughts on improving memory, please share.

Oh, and thank you God for the whole attached head thing. That was a good one.

Unlucky Day

So, Friday the 13^th isn’t the only day to be wary on the calendar. Apparently, Wednesday the 13^th can be just as treacherous.

On Wednesday the 13^th of January, I got a call from Weasel. I anticipated him asking if he could go to so-and-so’s house, but instead I hear “I hit a car.” Of course, I ask if everyone is okay (especially my baby boy) and want to know where they are. I am not too far, so I head straight over there.

And this is what I find:

 

Weasel came over a hill and this lady was waiting to turn left and was stopped in the lane. He wasn’t able to stop in time and slid into her car. It was drizzling and the roads were a little slick. He was fortunate enough to hit someone who was nice to him. She could have been yelling and screaming at him, but instead was understanding and compassionate.

Well, his car is no longer drivable and is presumably totaled. We watched it get towed away and headed home.

I had to hurry and feed the girls, because we had to leave for gymnastics class in about 30 minutes. On the way there while waiting at a stoplight, I hear the car behind me start to slide on those slick roads… right into me!

So now my car has been hit! This poor girl that hit me was pretty shook up, and her car looked a lot like Weasel’s just a little while earlier. I tried to be as compassionate as the person that hit my son. These things just happen.

Best part about all of this… now Weasel has to find a job to pay for his deductible! AND I am demanding better grades in school as a way to make it up to us! Of course, I won’t hold my breath.

Prepare yourself… the next Wednesday the 13^th is in October 2010.

Enable Cookie

Today is Cookie’s birthday! My littlest baby is now 3-years-old!

And she seems to know that she is getting bigger. If you try to tell her that she is too little to do something, she responds that she is big! And she knows this because she can hop like a bunny. Apparently, actual little kids cannot hop like a bunny. She can even demonstrate her amazing hopping abilities, if you doubt her.

Of course, her growing up does not alleviate any fussing or arguing with her sister. Pumpkin and Cookie can still fight about who gets to open the door, or who gets to carry the bag, or who gets to get their hair done first. Everything can still be a race, and Pumpkin always beats Cookie… but she does have two years of development to her advantage.

I would like to say that I know exactly what it was like being the baby sister. My older sister was always the prettier one, always the more social one, always the one that won the races, always had more friends, etc. But I came back with a vengeance.

So you’d better watch out, Pumpkin… it’s just a matter of time before she teaches you a lesson or two. And you might want to be a little nicer and maybe let her win once in a while. We don’t call her Cookie for nothing… she is a tough little cookie. She’ll beat the crap outta you in a few years, if she thinks you deserve it.

Happy Birthday, Cookie!

Enlarged Heart

We did not plan on having Boog; she was a surprise. And even though I was devastated at the time to find out that I was pregnant when I was 20-years-old, I soon came to find out it was the best mistake I ever made.

I remember how much I loved that little girl when she was just a wee baby. I always felt like I had the great ability to love more than normal people, and this was true of my first child most of all. Boog was spoiled by her grandparents, her daddy and her mommy. She was always so cute and so happy. You couldn’t help but smile whenever you were around her. It was like her aura was happy.

A little while later, we intended to get pregnant with Weasel so that the two kids would be two years apart. Before he was born, I found myself feeling so sorry for that little baby inside me. How could I possibly love it at all? I already loved Boog with all my heart, and there couldn’t possibly be much more love in me to share with this new baby.

Well, it turns out I was wrong. I didn’t need to share my heart at all. It seems that as soon as Weasel was born, my heart doubled in size… sort of like the Grinch, except mine started out large. And he was a boy! It is so true what they say about Mommy’s and their little boys. He is just a little more special in an entirely different way, just because he is my boy. But God knew to only give me one boy. They are not as much fun as the girls. He won’t let me paint his nails and he hates to shop. That’s no fun.

My heart has since quadrupled in size with the birth of Pumpkin and Cookie. And being in my mid-thirties when I had them (versus my young-twenties with Boog and Weasel) makes everything different. I appreciate things in them that I barely noticed with my first batch.

I feel like my heart is four times the size of a normal heart. I have so much love in me for all of my kids. It’s sort of amazing when you think about it. I hope that at least one of my offspring is reading this. Just know that you are loved terribly. And even though I know I am not the perfect mom, probably not even close, you could not possibly wish for a mom that loves you more. It just can’t be done.

Bun in the Oven or Bum in the Oven

Some of you may remember my bitch-post about how my mother would not retire. Well, good news… she is retiring September 1. (Although, I’ll believe it when I see it)

I realized that these nine months until she retires will be like the nine months of a first pregnancy, except she will be the baby that comes home.

1^st month:

PREGNANT: Realizing your life is getting ready to significantly change

RETIREMENT: Realizing your life is getting ready to significantly change

2^nd month and 3^rd month:

PREGNANT: Mood swings with the changes of hormones from the baby

RETIREMENT: Mood swings with the changes of hormones from coincidental menopause

4^th month:

PREGNANT: You start to feel it move more and more, reminding you this is really happening

RETIREMENT: You start to feel removed more and more, reminding you this is really happening

5^th month:

PREGNANT: The pressure on your bladder gives you the urge to go more often

RETIREMENT: The pressure on your life gives you the urge to go on vacation more often

6^th and 7^th month:

PREGNANT: The weight makes it hard to deal with pain in your neck and back

RETIREMENT: The wait makes it hard to deal with your pain-in-the-neck boss on your back

8^th month:

PREGNANT: Time to party with baby showers

RETIREMENT: Time to party with happy hours

9^th month:

PREGNANT: Counting the days because you are so ready for it be over

RETIREMENT: Counting the days because you are so ready for it be over

FINALLY:

PREGNANT: For the first time in your life, you have a baby to care for and dedicate the rest of your life to.

RETIREMENT: For the first time in your life, you have yourself to care for and dedicate the rest of your life to.

 

It’s about time, Mom.  I hope you don’t have a miscarriage!

Absence Makes the Heart Less Worrisome

I figured out a very important thing about kids living outside the nest. When they aren’t nearby, you don’t worry about them as much. This is funny to me, as I would have thought it would be the complete opposite.

I learned this important lesson as Boog is home for the holidays. She had a bad day and wasn’t in the best of moods. She left rather abruptly one evening and then didn’t come home that night. And then she wasn’t answering her phone or responding to text messages the next morning. This went on until early afternoon.

She’s hurt, or kidnapped, or worse… I just know it!

Part of me was 100% sure that nothing was wrong, while simultaneously another part of me was 100% sure that something was seriously wrong. I didn’t know which part to listen to, so I decided to calmly panic. It was officially time to start worrying.

So, I called the non-emergency number to find out how I can see if she was involved in an accident or something. I felt like a crazy mom. They confirmed she was not in jail, and her car was not involved in any accidents or citations. I called a couple of hospitals, just to check. You would think that not finding her would be good news, but I found myself almost hoping that she had been hurt. At least I would know where she is.

Finally, she called me back. She was safe, just being careless… or more accurately, she was being carefree. And I was being too protective.

I realized that if she was back at college, she would probably be missing for several days before I even noticed, much less worried. I’m trying to let my oldest daughter grow up. I’m trying to treat her like an adult. But, in my heart, she will always be my baby girl, no matter how old she gets.

And really? None of this would have happened if she would have just answered her phone! So is it really my fault?