Karma is, Apparently, a Bitch

 

 

Turns out, I have a bit of time on my hands. This post is brought to you from my office/bedroom/crafting room for the next five days, where I sit radioactive (yes, you read that right, we'll get to that a bit later...). I know that this blog is monitored by family members who are nosy as heck. Well, glad that I will be able to shake up your boring existence for a bit.

 

 

For over a year, I did not feel like myself. I noticed that I was losing weight no matter how much I ate, and that my moods were cycling between anger and sadness more often than what was normal. I wrote-off the weight loss to my vegetarian and fitness-filled lifestyle, and the feelings of sadness and anger to my life situation. Life situation you ask? Well let me explain a bit.

 

 

 

Due to the fact that my family of three and I have no real biological family support network, I have always tried to treat other people as "family". Hell, I've always treated my husband's side of the family well. I was the official "Martha Stewart" on that side of the family, always inviting people into our home to be treated to wonderful celebrations, and to be waited on. When my MIL was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor, I functioned as her health care POA. When no one else could bear to see her sadly-deteriorated state, I was there by her bedside, holding her gaunt hand, and speaking calmly to her. I have no regrets about this, because I believed, and still do, that it was the right thing to do. I have yet to be asked by any of my in-laws, "How are YOU doing, C?" Sure, I've been there for all of them, but when it came to seeing me as someone with needs, the only sounds audible were a bunch of proverbial crickets chirping.The way of relating in that clan is pretty much "don't ask and don't tell". Interactions between family members are obligatory, and without much interest/concern. Just get it over with as soon as possible, and disperse to opposite sides of the continental United States, Sir!

 

 

 

When I  heard of even casual acquaintances having challenges, I came with a meal, or some kind of emotional support. One person was having trouble with a sick baby, and I could tell that she needed an ear. Upon arriving at her house, I noticed that it was a disorganized mess. Later that Summer, I gave up hours to try to organize it in an attempt to help her mood. My husband gave up his time to perform some carpentry skills there. Again, that just seemed the right thing to do. Couples with marital agreements, another individual going through an ugly divorce, I was there....

 

 

Fast forward to last year.... My husband and I started having some challenges with our daughter. No drinking, drugs, sex type of stuff, but still upsetting stuff to us. Because both of us were dealing with the same issues, both of us were under the same stress. Therefore, it was hard to find support from each other. In a state of desperation, I called up a friend of over 15 years, Nervous Nelly.

 

 

When I was pregnant with my child, NN declared herself to be an "Auntie". She took great interest in my daughter....until she became a grandmother 8 years later. She knew that my daughter did not have active and interested Grandparents. That did not matter to her; my daughter was a great "stand-in" until the real-deal came along. Funny, NN would lament when my daughter was young how I would probably have no time for her, because I would be busy in the new phase of my life. Turned out that she was wrong, I always has time for her. After years of trying to embrace her and her family, and in my worst time of need, I was left emotionally and physically deserted.

 

So, in addition to being devastated about no longer having one of my oldest friends to turn to, I also was dealing with the fact that there was no family, either.  The Grandparents liked "to be kept up to date", but no more. My daughter's legal-guardians-in-the-unlikely-event-of-a-statistically-low-demise-by-parental-units  never came by/contacted us (unless it was a rare Christmas that they were going to another relative's home nearby, and needed our house for a toilet break, and an under sixty minute obligatory visit). One family member is only heard from  when something is needed, or there is something to brag about. Another is just simply too far away. I told my FIL how I felt about all of this; his response was to ignore me for a year. All of this simply felt like yet another blow when I was already down.

 

About two months ago, I had what I thought was pink eye. When I hit urgent care the next morning, the nurse informed me that my blood pressure was very high. Being that it is usually low, I decided to schedule a physical for the first time in 4 years. I told the doctor that thyroid disease runs in my family, and that it would probably be a good idea to check my levels. As fate would have it, my levels indicated something was wrong.

 

After a visit to a specialist, I was diagnosed with Graves Disease (both the weight loss and emotional issues were symptoms) and put on the first line of drug therapy to try to get my  levels down. I ended up having a horrific allergic reaction that took two weeks and two rounds of steroids to stop. With meds no longer being a option, the only option left was radioactive iodine therapy. In the last week, I've been in and out of the local hospital three times. Two days ago, I swallowed a radioactive pill, and was sent on my merry way. SWALLOWED A RADIOACTIVE PILL AND SENT AWAY???? Why, yes, that's how our lovely medical system handles this. Before 1997, people like me were hospitalized to reduce risk to others. Now, they make you initial a few statements of things you will not do to reduce risk, and that's it.

 

I sent my family away to a hotel for a couple of days to be safe. I was asked why I wasn't the one to go to the hotel to keep that "stuff" out of my house. I did not do so because I believe that  would be unethical. It's been days of isolating myself in certain areas of the house, suiting-up with gloves and a mask for any kitchen activity, and trying to avoid my beloved Siamese second born.  I am grateful that my family had the financial resources to be able to absorb the cost of both two nights of hotel and the associated meals out. I am also thankful that at this time of stress, the three of us rallied and, once again, took all of it on just the three of us.

 

Happily, there were several good things that came out of all of this. Several people stepped up and supported me and my family through both emotional support, and the gift of food. With all of the quality solo time, I created about 5000 calories worth of hand-strung, candy garland for the tree in my "cage" (No worries, I wore gloves, did not drip saliva, and instructed my 15 year-old not to lick/touch it....). Finally, I had the time to reflect on my feelings, and create this lovely blog entry. Cheap therapy, anyone????

 

Yep, I've always done more to help others than I have ever received back. Is my karma likely to change anytime soon? Probably not. The people in my life who have let me down are not going to change. What *I* can change is my relationship with them. *I*  can give myself the gift of choosing not to participate in one-sided exchanges: the result of this will be to keep my "anger level" in check. *I* can choose to focus on the people who do come through for me. *I* can concentrate on that, and know that there are people who care. *I* can learn to except that things are not always fair. We are not always privy as to why this is the case. Some mysteries are revealed later, and patience must be exercised. The best Christmas gift that I can give myself, and my family of three, is to reflect on all of these things and make changes in myself. Best part of this gift? I don't have to worry about touching it and making it radioactive...

 

 

Merry Radioactive Christmas and a Happy Nuclear Year!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Dear Nosy Blog Reader (you know who you are :D ),

It's been a long time since I've signed into this blog. I've actually been quite busy with silly little things, like doing all of the tasks of a "happy housewife" ( :) ), a landscaper, a full-time co-parent, oh, and being gainfully employed 5-6 days a week. You know, actually having a life....

It came to my attention that you read my post about my feelings about my extended family that I wrote over a year ago, and forwarded it to your brother. I reread the whole post, and every word in there is, indeed, what we have experienced. Not wanting to go into any further detail (as the whole thing was never your business in the first place), but you also spied on the significant other of another family member within this year, and reported your "findings" to your brother, as well. Has he employed you to be his spy on the world wide web, or is this a "hobby" to fill your idle hours?

You read about some pretty sad feelings in that post. Did you take your concerns to me? Nope. Did you read about those feelings and attempt to help fill those voids for your great niece and nephew? Nope. You just used that information as fodder for the gossip mill. Last time I heard, you were identifying yourself as a Christian. Well, good Christians don't gossip. Apparently, the bible does not look favorably on this. Since you obviously have time on your hands, I *researched* something on the world wide web for you, too :)!!! ! Here are some bible verses to review to help curb your appetite for gossip and meddling( you'll find it at the bottom of the page :) ).

Anywhooo.... by meddling, you managed to illustrate perfectly how this family does more to hurt than to help. You have two grown sons, a "daughter in love", a husband, and two grandchildren. If they enjoy your gossip and meddling, go for it. Speaking for myself and my minor daughter, I am not interested. Along these lines, my minor daughter is your FB friend. While I am not on FB, I monitor her account (add that to the list of jobs in paragraph #1 :) ). In case you are wondering why you can't see much of her stuff anymore, I placed you on restricted status. My daughter's business is hers, and not fodder for your gossip.

Seriously, your behavior of being overly involved spying on the lives of others indicates that you have too much time on your hands. Volunteer at church, volunteer at a rest home, volunteer in a grade school mentoring kids while they learn to read. Something! Anything! Please!

Thanks :D,

Snarky Speaks

• Bible Answers

  • What Are The Gifts Of The Spirit?
  • What Is Speaking In Tongues?
  • What Do Christians Believe About Dinosaurs?
  • What Is the Rapture?
  • What does the devil look like?
  • What will Heaven be like?

• Great Book!

  

  
  Visit our Resource page for other books by our Writers

• Welcome to What Christians Want To Know! The mission of this site is to equip, encourage, and energize Christians. Look for regular updates including Bible Verses, Bible Stories, Christian Quotes, Christian Answers, and much more. Find out more here
  
  

  

Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/gossip-bible-verses-15-helpful-quotes/#ixzz2d58K5Tdh

If It Takes A Village To Raise A Child, What Do You Do If You Live In Greenland?

Many of my past blogs have been of the more humorous type. This one, however, grapples with an issue that my family has been dealing with ever since we brought Child into the world; how do you deal with not having a family support system for the emotional, and physical, challenges of raising a child?

Husband and I have always been of the independent mind set. We paid for most of our own wedding, and even purchased two homes, without any family financial support, before Child was born. Family members seemed to be of the mind-set, "don't ask anything of us, and we won't ask anything of you", and this suited us as a couple of childless twenty-somethings just fine. Becoming parents, however, changed things quite a bit.

Having aced my childbirth class, I (like probably many other first time, naive mothers...) felt that I was truly ready for all of the changes that motherhood would bring. Wrong! Of course, labor and delivery didn't end up going as planned. Heck, childbirth class also neglected to totally prepare me for the mood swings which would occur, as a result of both sleeplessness, and post-partum depression (it should be noted that Child was born in the 90s, before there was a agressive emphasis on identifying/treating this relatively common condition).

So, you are probably wondering, where were the grandparents during this time of great change? Due to mental health issues, my Mother was not capable of helping. Husband's Mother lived 8 hours away, out-of-state. My Father lived across town, but pretty much kept to himself. My father-in-Law and Stepmother-in-law lived out-of- state, and prefered to be more "hands-off". Of all of the grandparents, the two who enjoyed being with Child the most (Husband's Mother and my Father) would both end up passing away from brain tumors, within a year of one another, all by the time Child would just turn three.

So, Husband and I muttled-through the difficult transition of going from a two-person family, to a three-person family. When it was convenient for the grandparents, we presented their grandaughter to them. As long as either Husband, or I, was present, this was cool; none of them really had any desire to totally immerse themselves in "grandparenting". This was just what our "normal" was, so we accepted it.

As I mentioned earlier, Husband's Mother passed away from a brain tumor when Child was 3. She was originally diagnosed, however, when Child was 2. Because she lived out-of-state, there was an emergency trip planned to be there for her surgery. Knowing that a week of disrupted schedule could be hard for such a young Child, I basically begged my Stepmother-in-Law to stay at our home and watch Child while we all left to deal with the unthinkable that was happening; in a nutshell, I was told "no". Thankfully, Husband's Aunt, who lived in the same city as Husband's Mother, graciously cared for her Great Niece for an entire 5 days while we were dealing with trying to figure out the "next steps" for a 56 year-old woman, just handed a fatal prognosis. We will never forget the kindess that she showed us that week...

As soon as Husband's Mother passed away, my Father was diagnosed with the same terminal brain tumor. He, as well, only lived 9 months after diagnosis. Yet again, our "independently-minded" family of three dealt with all of this stress alone.

Meanwhile, Child was starting in school. She started becoming aware that other kids were spending time with their grandparents. There were stories of adventures shared, and plenty of spoiling. The idea of "material gain" from grandparents never intrigued Child as much as the thought of spending time with another couple of adults who cared about her. What are you supposed to say to a child wanting to know why her grandparents never do anything like that with her?

See, here's the hardest part of not having active and involved grandparents in your child's life; you feel pressure to do it "all". Anyone who is a successful parent knows that the act of parenting is boot camp. You have to set limits. You have to say "no". You have to nudge them to achieve in school. You have to teach them the building blocks for becoming adults of good character. This is a lot of pressure if you want to do it right, folks. This is were grandparents come in; they can provide your child with lots of love and attention, without having to deal with all of those worries! Great for the grandparent, lovely for the child, sanity saver for the parents. When parents are left to "parent in a bubble", everyone loses.

Husband has a brother, who lives less than 90 minutes away with his wife. For awhile, we hoped that maybe they would be able to supply some of that "family feeling". Child is now almost 14 years old, and has never been invited by her Aunt and Uncle to spend any time with them. When she was in Second, or Third Grade, she actually penned a letter, asking for just that; her letter went ignored. For them, being an Aunt and Uncle comes down to sending a birthday card/gift card, and a Christmas card/gift card. Years back, Child figured out that her own Uncle and Aunt really didn't want to make any effort to spend time with her. Recently, Child had a gymnastics meet in their city. When asked if she would like me to invite them, her response was, "They probably won't want to come anyway!" Well, it turns out that she was right; being asked to sit through a 2-hour meet was just too much to handle, according to my sister-in-law (who is capable of "couching it" for 3-hour long football games). Oh, and did I mention that I told them that we would be in their city for part of the afternoon, exploring the campus, buying sweatshirts, and having coffee? If they really would have wanted to spend *some* time with their own Niece, they could have found an hour, or less, to spare at one of *those* activities. When later asked by my Sister-in-Law if I had any pictures of the meet, I replied, "You slack, you lack!" (snarkiness is a great coping method, when used liberally on members of Mensa)

Obviously, our families of origin had some serious shortcomings in being the "village" that we had hoped for. We've managed to get by with a little help from friends, and mostly our own wits. It gets pretty mentally-tiring to be constantly responsible for having to play "both sides of the child-raising net". Because of what we went through with our own family, I can guarantee that when it is our turn to wear the 'grandparent's hat', we'll do better.

Let Out The Leash, or Clip the Wings?

Well, hello all! It's been quite awhile since my last blog. I'll just write that off to general life, and the new job. The new job also requires writing, but does not allow me to fully exercise my "snark muscle", which sends me back here...

Many of my past posts have been of the more humorous-type; reflecting on the day-to-day existence in a household with a teenager. This post will, again, deal with 'said' teenager, but rather the challenges of releasing her into the world (in its current state).

Having just celebrated yet another birthday, I'm feeling kind of old. The old part, however, also makes one predisposed to being a bit nostalgic. When I was Child's age, I used to spend many weekend days, with my pals, exploring the local malls, bowling alleys, and fast food eateries- sans parents. I would be shoved (literally, traumatic childhood..) out the door on fine Summer days after lunch, and told not to return with "Trigger" (my faithful mode of transportation, aka my banana-seated 70s bike...) until dinner. There were no cell phones, and no pagers; just a wrist watch and my own wits. Not to sound like too much of an antique, but those were the days!

Now.... humor me, and fast-forward to the present day... Child has a "thing" for shopping. I enjoy shopping just about as much as I enjoy discovering new gray hairs. What could possibly appease her need to spend, and my need to...well...*survive* the HOURS that it takes for her to spend? Well, it takes the company of good folks, that's what!

So, about five days ago, Child and I set out to the local urban mall with one of her best friends from back in the day, her friend's 'lil sis, and her friend's Mom (also one of my good friends... cheers BL! :) ). There had been questionable activity at this mall in the past, but we figured that arriving at ten in the morning would be a pretty safe bet, as the thugs would be most likely sleeping-off the mayhem committed from the previous evening. Child was armed with her cell phone (volume set to ear-rupture..), and Friend's Mom and I had our phones set to a similar frequency. Time to let out the leash a bit on our two, and do a little browsing ourselves. Getting a bit tired of trailing two teens, 'Lil Sis decided to hang with us old ladies.

So...we were leaving Talbot's, and 'Lil Sis piped up, "Mommy, they just made an announcement that all people under 18 need to be with a responsible adult NOW!" Friend's Mom and I checked our trusty cell phones, and noted that it wasn't even quite 1 PM; this directive was usually set into place on weekends, after 3 PM. The three of us proceeded to go to the Guest Services kiosk to inquire further. The nice lady confirmed that this was, indeed, the case. When I questioned why it was in writing on their kiosk that this was to take place after 3, and they were enacting it *now*, I was given no good answer. Because Child had been so responsible with her own behavior (texting her location to "home base" each time she and her friend switched locales), Friend's Mom was quickly able to catch up with the girls to supervise them as I finished making a quick purchase.

As I arrived at the Barnes and Noble where they all were, I noticed quite a bit of police presence in the mall. Shopkeepers were also standing in the entrances of their stores, with stern and concerned faces. I caught up with my little group, and we finished out our pleasant day together. As Child and I walked to our car, I noticed more police activity then would have been expected in the parking lot, and also armed officers waiting at the city bus shelters. Hmmm....

Sooooo...Child and I got home and shared the events of the afternoon with Husband. He and I felt pretty much the same way that it was really *odd* for the mall to change their rules without warning, and how it pretty much sucked that our girls, who were out for nothing more than jump-starting the economy, eating fast food, and gossiping, had lost an opportunity to explore on their own. Of course life started moving at its usual quick pace, and I didn't give the incident any more thought until I read an article in the local paper about how disaster may have been averted that day...

It turns out that a bunch of teenagers had attempted to organize a flash mob at the mall (at the exact time the fateful announcement had been made) "to fight, to loot, and to run the place". Some local urban leaders had gotten wind of what was showing up on the social media, and had alerted not only the mall security, but the local law enforcement, as well. These individuals probably saved a lot of people from being injured, and quite a few businesses from being destroyed that day. Just another day with kids with too much time on their hands, and not enough parental involvement to lead them down the right road...

When I first read the article, I was glad that all five of us were able to have had the good time that we did, without incident. After reflecting a bit more, however, I started to get really (pardon me...) pissed-off. I raised my child to be...well...human! I am happy to say that she has impulse control, and the ability to think/feel from the perspective of others. Because she's mastered these skills, I feel that it should be part of her social/independent-survival learning to be able to go out into the "global classroom", and learn to conduct her own affairs. That's what Friend's Mom and I were trying to do that day; be present in the mall, yet let them have a bit "more slack in the leash". They kept in contact with us by phone, and they respected both the property, and the people, that they encountered in the various retail establishments.

This, my friends, is what really disturbs me to my core: what if things would not have turned out the way that they did? What if my daughter, while innocently spending time with an equally-mature friend, would have been physically harmed by the "savage" teens? Why should I have to feel that I need to take away my daughter's freedom, which she has earned through responsible living, because I cannot guarantee what the actions of the more "savage" teens will be? I'm telling you, this certainly is not the world that I grew up in...

I really believe that the whole root of this problem comes down to parents that just don't give a damn. Kids who act like "savages" don't just end up like that overnight; it is the sad result of ineffectual and absentee parenting. Society should not have to suffer diminshed security, and enjoyment, due to these kids. I honestly believe that these parents should be punished right along with their children. If the parents are unable, or unwilling, to provide the structure and the training within their own homes to produce children who will comply to the laws of the society in which we live, the children should be taken from them, and they (the parents) should be forced to pay restitution for the destructive acts. I believe that it shouldn't be an excuse that these "savages" are just "kids"; if a person sets out to be violent and disruptive, he/she doesn't deserve the right to move freely "about the cabin" anymore. Maybe instead of using all of those federal stimulus dollars to fund the repair of our Country's roads, we should expand the number of residential juvie facilities to allow the rest of us to live our lives in peace! It doesn't take a certain annual income , or a certain zip code to be a good parent; what it takes is expecting your child to conduct him/herself in a "human" manner, and not being afraid to set him/her straight when she/he strays from it. I've already told Child that if she chooses to drink or drug, I will turn her over to the local authorities; those activities are illegal- period. She is also aware that our home is not set up to be an alcohol/drug rehab, and if she chooses to partake in those activities, she'll need to find a new place to live.

Husband and I were out for a rare dinner alone the other night. We were seated near a party with two young children, and (in theory) two supervising adults. The youngest boy, probably just shy of 3, was excessively loud, and rude to both adults; both of them (probably under the influence of a couple of margaritas) just "laughed it off", and called him a "terror". Their dinner came to a head when the little $hit decided to escape his table. The (clueless) adult chased this kid from table-to-table, and almost knocked over an extra chair at our table (no apology...of course!). When the kid was finally found hiding under yet *another* table, the woman just got this goofy/helpless look on her face, which basically said, "Oh well, I can't control him. He's just little. We deserve a night out, and dealing with him kind of puts a crimp in ours. Oh, well- kids will be kids!"

Yep...kids will be kids. We adults, however, need to take a stand to do whatever it takes to raise our children to be able to exist in society without (at the very least) being a thorn in the a$$ of it.

The Dance and the Dive...

Unless one has been living under some sort of rock, it was pretty much common knowledge that the Royal Wedding of the century took place yesterday. In Thomasville, we certainly don't live underneath a rock, but that event was not nearly as important as the "local Ball" scheduled for last night; the Middle School (MS) Spring Dance.

Yep, let the Royals have their tradition and pageantry; for the MS-set, it's all about dressing nice and not being viewed as a social leper... Because Child normally goes to gymnastics on Friday nights, a proclamation was made in the kingdom of Thomasville that she would be given the night off from her 'acrobatic duties'. I mean, come on now, what 13 year-old girl wants to go to a dance smelling of her three hour workout, and wearing bits of foam from the resi pit in her hair? I rest my case... Not to mention the fact that simply getting ready for the MS Ball would probably take just as long as that three-hour practice anyway.

Because I'm an organization freak, I had Child choose her outfit the night before. There was much indecision as to whether go the dress route, or the pants route. After much consideration the pants won, and they were set aside with a coordinating shirt. Feeling pretty on top of things, I waited for Child to come to my car after school yesterday so we could return to the kingdom, and commence the process of getting ready. After saying goodbye for the next three hours to her BFFs, Child hurled her backpack, then herself, into my car:

Child : "Mommy, I changed my mind...I want to wear that dress now!"

Me: "Ummm...you are wearing the cami right now that is supposed to go underneath it. you and the cami just ran the mile... pppppuuuuuu.....How about the pants???"

Child: "______ is wearing a skirt, and I really want to. Pllleeeeasse????"

(After careful considertation and calculations of the evening's timetable, I determined that it would be possible if, and only if, Child turned it over immediately upon reaching the laundry room. While this would seem pretty easy, Child l-o-v-e-s to flit around quite a bit upon arrival in Thomasville. Time to see if we had a bargain..)

Me: "You have to give it to me right away!"

Child: "Okay!!! Thanks Mommy!!!"

Anyone remember that book, If You Give A Moose a Muffin? Well, now that the dress was going to be worn, sandals would need to be worn, as well. If sandals were to be worn, then some attention needed to be given to the unpolished toe nails. If the toe nails were going to look spiffy, then the finger nails (chipped from gymnastics grips) would also need touching-up... So much for my anal-retentive schedule:

Me: "Ooookay, the minute we walk in the door, after giving me that cami, you need to sit down for polish!"

Child: "Okay"

Anyone who knows me pretty well knows that I'm not into the whole makeup thing. I am so happy to report that I applied two coats of a most psychedlic purple polish to both finger, and toenails. For good measure, I even set the polish with a hair dryer on low heat. Just the act of this probably earned me boku "Mother's Day points."

So... after a nice shower, blowdry, hairstyling, it was time to put on the dress. Like her 'ol Mother, Child is pretty much a jeans-and-T kind of gal. Moving around in a dress adds, shall we say, a few challenges:

Child: (approaches ottoman to sit down and throws self down- per usual routine) "How do I look?"

Me: (not sure whether to laugh or cry, as time to learn dress decorum was of the essence) "Ummm... when you sit in a skirt, you need to gather it under your bottom, then sit slowly down. Also, you need to keep your knees together, or cross your legs."

Child: (a bit puzzled by that...) "Why?"

Father: (usually pretty quiet, but always ready to deliver a good gem when necessary) "You don't want the kids at the Dance to be getting a good view of your underwear, and then laughing about it at school on Monday."

Child: (ever the sassy and precocious) "Well, I'm not sitting....It's called a DANCE!"

(Husband and I just shook our heads and hoped for the best. I am happy to report that after a few dry runs in our driveway before leaving for the Ball, Child learned how to daintly get in and out of a vehicle)

Anywhoo.... we left the lovely kingdom of Thomasville, and picked up one of Child's Besties. "Bestie" was dressed a lot more casually than Child, but definitely appropriate. None of us were prepared for what the scene would be when we pulled up in front of the MS...

Apparently, there must have been some kind of meeting-of-the-minds that Bestie and Child were not privy to; every. darn. 7th. grade. girl. seemed. to. be. sporting. short. shorts. When I say short shorts, people, I am talking about ones that have an inseam of about -1 (if you want to read more of my rantings about this, check out previous blogs...). Niiiiiiiiiice... Oh well, at least our girls looked dance-appropriate. After making sure that the two teen-brain possessing girls safely crossed the street, Husband and I headed out for a quick dinner before we returned to pick up the girls. This would be where the "dive" comes in....

Because of the 90 minute window to arrive/sit/order/wait/eat/pay/leave/drive to MS, we decided that we would be best served staying close by. After mulling over some options, neither one of us was too enthusiastic. Husband then had a great brain fart- why didn't we go try Mama Mia's again?

Having grown up in the area, Mama Mia's was a local institution (you'll see the humor in this little bit of word play in a bit..stay with me...). They served "I"talian food that any corn-fed midwesterner would die for: salad drowning in dressing, garlic bread drowning in butter, and your average no-frills pizza. I had many family dinners there, starting at about the age of 5. Our little family hadn't been there in awhile, so Husband and I thought that it was worth another try.

Being the pessimist that I am, I told Husband tales of yore about how the restaurant would open at 5, and the parking lot would already be full. I warned him that if the wait was bad, we'd have to just pick up and go, as the teenage carriage turned into a pumpkin at sharply 8:30. As we pulled into the parking lot, there were a-l-o-t of empty parking spaces- on a rockin' Saturday night (sign #1). We took our pick of spots in the crumbling asphalt lot, and headed in.

When I say that a restaurant is "I"talian, what smell do you think should hit you as you enter? Red sauce? Pizza? Seafood, perhaps? Well, the first aroma that husband and I smelled was undiluted clorox bleach (sign #2). Being hungry, and short on time, we decided to overlook that little issue, and be seated. After a brief look at the menu, we decided on a salad to share, and a pizza. Now that the "hard work" of selecting the grub was completed, I was looking forward to sitting back and chatting for a bit with my man. Strangely enough, I could see my husband's mouth forming words, but the sound seemed to escape me. Was it simply that I am Middle-aged? Did I need a belltone hearing aid? Nope, not the case at all; turned out that all of my hearing problems could be attributed to "Thing 1" and "Thing 2".

Sitting immediately south of Husband and I was a booth filled with four chicks. They were pretty darn loud, at best. One of them, whom I shall affectionately refer to as "Thing 1" was quite obviously leashed to a cellphone. that. rang. constantly. Nevermind, her dining partners (or poor Husband and me), she proceeded to answer each and every call. Did I mention that the decibel level of Thing 1 on her cell phone was about equivalent to my Kitchen Aid Mixer on level 8???? This was not, however, the best part. Ever heard of a "drunk dial" (for you innocents out there, that is when an inebriated person gets on their cell and says a whole buch of dumb stuff he/she will never remember/admit to when sober)? Well, not only did Thing 1's caller appear to be drunk-dialing, she was also quite toasted, herself. So, basically, you've got a drunk moron on one end of the line who can't find his car keys(and is having a fit), and a drunk moronette on the other end of the line who is so plowed herself that she can't intellectually/emotionally deal with the situation- niiiiiiiiice, huh? I shot my best "death glare" in Thing 1's general direction; to no avail. Fun....

If Thing 1 wasn't disruptive enough, there was Thing 2 to deal with. Thing 2 was sitting at a booth with several dining partners about two booths south of Thing 1. I cannot give you any juicy details about what Thing 2 looked like as I never actually *saw* him....

Periodically, Thing 1 would stop yammering into her cell phone, and there would be a rare period of silence. As soon as Husband and I let out a collective sigh, there would be a loud, tourettish sounds coming from beyond Thing 1's booth. The first time it was audible, not only did Husband and I look around in abject horror, but a table full of senior citizens (on an evening trip out of the local assisted living) also stopped eating and looked around for the source of the disturbance. Like deer, Husband and I and the old folks sensed the danger had passed, and returned to eating the sub-par food; that is, until it happened again, and again, and again. Having not the greatest patience with fools, I was beginning to get a bit perturbed:

Me: (rolling eyes)"Is that Dude having a break with reality? Is he crazy?"

Husband: (being patient, and most perceptive) "________, he's just drunk!"

I've been in many situations over the years where people have had a bit too much, but this was just about as weird as it could possibly get. Fearing for our safety, I told Husband that we should probably get the check "pronto", in order to not be sharing the roads with Things 1 and 2. So, we paid our overpriced food bill, and hightailed it back to the MS.

When Child and Bestie emerged, they had happy tales to tell about their evening; I shared with them the "horror" story of our dinner. Bestie found it kind of funny, but not quite as funny as an expletive I shouted at a Ball particiapnt who jumped into the road in front of my vehicle...sigh...

All's well that ends well in Thomasville and beyond: Child and Bestie had a blast at their Ball, Prince William and Catherine( of whatever???) have been wed and me, well, I got more material for my blog. The End.

Oh So Lucky 13....

It's been an exciting week in Thomasville, as Child has become a teen. Such a momentous ocassion cannot possibly be celebrated once....or twice..... more like three times. So.. here is a recounting of her multiple initations to teen-hood:

ACT 1: Screamy Girl Party!!!!!

If one girl turning 13 isn't err....exciting.... enough, what about two of them???? Child's on-again-off-again bestie, by sheer dumb luck, shares the exact same B-Day. Both girls thought it would be a cool idea to have a joint party. Hmmm...all of their communal friends in one spot, at one time- check! All expenses being shared by two families,rather than just one- check! Yep, this was definitely the way to go, and a "meeting" to plan the event was set...

At the local cool coffee place, Child, Bestie, Bestie's parents, and I met to plan the details for the little soiree. We touched on the basics like food, decor, etc. When it was time to discuss entertainment, however, things got a bit weird. In addition to suggesting a rousing game of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" (turning 13, not 3, people!!!!), Bestie's Medical degree-holding 'rents also suggested such timeless amusements as (indoor) blindman's bluff (ummmm....smashing into walls= not fun, luckily the 'rents are anesthesiologists..), and Scrabble (exercising one's brains at a party is just sooooo not cool, folks!?!) Trying to avoid having the girls being viewed as social misfits, I coyly suggested that they, instead, just bring their Wii; Mother saves the day, yet again!

One of the highlights of the Screamy Girl Party was to be a three-tiered B-Day cake, made entirely from scratch by Bestie, her Mom, and Child. Two days before the party, Child had plans to go over to Bestie's house to help decorate... Well, she did, until IT happened....

About two weeks before child turned 13, I was saying out loud (big mistake) that she was being so reasonable about everything as of late. Within days of this great proclamation, little lies about schoolwork started popping up here-and-there. The most treasured iTouch was taken away for a few days, and all was well again in the kingdom (or so I believed...). Turned out that the lesson was not learned, and like weeds in a fertile spring garden, new lies began popping-up everywhere. Child, although not quite 13 yet, had her first serious grounding. Unfortunately, one of the privileges lost was going to Bestie's house to decorate that cake...ouch!
Being the cunning one, Bestie actually approached me, and tried to get me to change my mind on that one- yeah...r-i-g-h-t!!!

Anywhoooo... by the time the eight teens arrived in Thomasville to celebrate with Child and Bestie, all of the stress of the 1st teenage grounding was only a bad memory. As loud and screamy as the girls were that evening, there was a wonderful abscence of 'teen-girl drama', and a great time was had by all- Hurrah!

Act 2: Actual B-Day

There is no greater buzz-kill in the life of a new teen than having to go to school on her actual birthday. Fortunately, a plate of choc. chip pancakes, lovingly made by Mother, can help to soften the blow a bit...

Another awesome way to make the situation better is with some. pretty. darn. good. gifts. When you're 13, darn good gifts are generally clothes....Which involves shopping for Mother, at the local teen store, no less...aaaahhhhh..

With my daughter's happiness in the forefront of my mind, I hit dEliA's. As most of you dear readers know, I can't stand shopping. So, I decided to make the process simpler by soliciting whatever help I could get from the employees there:

dEliA's Dude (DD): "Hi-yeee, how can I help you today?"

Me: (trying to find the right words to describe desired teenage look of the moment) "My daughter wants these shirts that are supposed to be see-through, and that you wear camis underneath?"

DD: "Ooohhhh... you want burnout shirts!" ( obviously more hip than a clueless middle-aged woman, DD smuggly starts moving through the store, eloquently pointing out the many, many options)

Me: (starting to sweat, looking at all of the possible options) "Thanks!"

After finding quite a few burnouts, it was off to find the elusive boatneck shirt. After hunting for awhile, I found a great one- on the mannequin. Yoo hoo, dEliA's dude.... help is needed!

Me: "I really like this shirt on the mannequin. What size is it? There are none left on the floor."

DD: (begins to look nervously at the floor) "I am not allowed to sell clothing off of the mannequin."

Me: "(Look of W-T-F????? We are in a recession, and I am standing here with $$$, that I am actually willing to spend, and you won't sell me a darn shirt??? Hell-OOOOOOO??????)"

DD: (accurately interpreting my cold stare...) "Ok, I guess I can do this. Ummm...it's an XS."

Me: "Cool!!! Strip down the mannequin, I'll take it!"

Now if dealing with me wasn't stressful enough, another Mother and her teen daughter walked in as DD was disrobing the mannequin. They looked over at the shirt, and also began lusting after it...

Other Mother: "Where do you have more of those shirts that you're taking off of the mannequin?"

DD: (looking pretty scared, as there were now two salivating Mothers within grabbing distance of both him AND the most-desired frock..) "Umm... this is the last one." (preparing to run for his life, if necessary...)

Other Mother was not too thrilled to hear this, and watched intently as the boatneck shirt was stripped from the mannequin, and placed in my hot little hand. Fearing for his safety, poor DD tried to ameliorate the "situation":

DD: "Maybe we could call another store for you?"

Other Mother: (looking at me with great annoyance) "We are from out of town, and don't have time to drive to another store"

No dice, Lady! I got there first, and. the. darn. boatneck. shirt. ripped. from. the. mannequin. was mine, mine,... MINE! I hadn't had that much fun shopping (err... messing with another person...)in..well... EVER!

So, on her B-Day morning, not only did Child l-o-v-e her most awesome shirt, she was also amused by the story that went along with it, as to how it had been 'scored' by Mother....

Act 3: Friend!

Because Child's party was of the "Screamy Girl" variety, it wasn't really a scene that Friend (refer to past blogs) would be comfortable in. So, bring on celebration #3!

Child decided that with Friend, the celebration would be bowling and Rocky's for pizza with Husband and I. Not one to be able to keep a secret, Friend texted Child that he had gotten her a gift card to one of her favorite stores for her B-Day. P-e-r-f-e-c-t..... Rocky's is located in the Mall, which also houses the clothing store.... The two of them could go to the store and cash-in the card, without ME! Woo hoo!!!!

So, after bowling a couple of games, we all headed over to the Mall. Because we arrived at 5, it was maximum-security lockdown time; aka parent supervision required... After passing through not one, but two security checkpoints with stern-faced Mall Cops, we arrived at Aeropostale:

Me: "Alright you two, have fun cashing in the gift card. Husband and I will be waiting at Barnes and Noble. Call us before you head over, and we'll meet you down stairs"

Friend: (A bit nervous. Was it because he had an inkling of how s-l-o-w-l-y Child shops, or was he afraid of being snatched-up by Mall Cops?) "Is doing this okay?"

Me: (smirking) "It'll be fine. Just don't run screaming through the store, overturning displays, and dissing the employees. Just call us if you need anything."

Friend and Child: "(Is Mother Kidding? Wait... WHAT?!?!)"



So, Husband and I headed off for some good browsing, and Child and Friend headed off to redeem the gift card. Inside, I was laughing, wondering how Friend would survive the adventure waiting for him....

About twenty minutes later, my cell phone rang, with Child having a question about her size. Five minutes later, my cell phone rang again with Child announcing that they were on their way. Holy Crumb! Whenever *I* shop with Child, *I* never get out of a store in twenty minutes... Oh well, I was happy for Friend...

When the two of them arrived, I asked to see what they got. Child had selected a style of dress that she liked, and Friend had picked the color. I was floored; they had done great, and they both were still smiling... Perhaps I can retire now from shopping in teen stores????

After enjoying pizza at two different tables (but close enough for Child and Friend to signal us in case of encroaching Mall Cops), it was back to Thomasville for B-Day cake #2, and video games. When Friend's Stepdad came to pick him up, he brought a great surprise: a B-day card for Child that was about as loud as an overtired toddler (oh, and he also brought along a real toddler, too :) ). Yep, it was a great third 13th B-day Celebration!

Rumor has it that next year, Child's 14th B-day will be on an actual Friday the 13th!!! Hmmm...better start planning that now if it's going to outshine turning 13!

Shake, Rattle, and.... BOWL!

Ahhhh.... Winter! Ahhhhh.... Wisconsin! When you put the two of those guys together, you don't always get the most hospitable situation in the out-of-doors. Hunkering down in the 'ol homestead is cool for awhile, but eventually it gets a bit old. Whatever to do for fun in the lovely Midwest? Why bowling, of course!

Originally, we planned to venture out for some bowling fun about three weeks ago; Mother Nature, however, had other plans for us. With near blizzard conditions, we thought it more clever to stay hunkered-down with a Scrabble board instead. Yesterday, however, things looked a bit more promising...

Because Child is an "only" (well, if you don't count her Siamese sibling who gets carsick..), we thought she might enjoy bringing along one of her contemporaries to join us. So, Husband, Child, Gal Pal, and I set out for a fun afternoon at the "lanes".

If you have any experience with bowling alleys, you probably have (not so fond) memories of wafting food, smoke, and foot odors. Shockingly enough, we discovered a local bowling alley that actually has (gasp) none of the aforementioned. Moreover, unlike most other alleys, there are actual windows, and the place is flooded with natural light. The establishment is most definitely not a place where the cast (read:vampires) of "Twilight" would congregate...

Because of the popularity of this particular establishment, they have limited "Open Bowling" times. After allowing Child and Gal Pal to scream/chortle loudly around the 'ol homestead, the four of us headed out to the alley. Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea. "Holy no room at the Inn, Batman"! Well, when the Lord closes one door, he always opens another (this did happen on a Sunday, after all ); halleluyah, they had pool tables! Gal Pal and Child grabbed a couple of cues, and went about getting their game on. Not much to report on that front, except for the fact that almost everytime that it was Child's turn, I happened to be behind her and almost got taken out by the backwards motion of her cue. Each. And. Every. Time. After about 10 minutes of pool sharking, one of the owners approached our table:

Bowling Dude: "Hi, we've got Lane 3 set to go for you."

Me: "Cool, thanks!"

BD: (assessing the four of us) " What size shoes does everyone need?"

Husband: "10 and 1/2"

Child: "6"

Gal Pal: "6"

Me: "6"

(the wheels in my head started to turn.... I found a b-i-g funny!)

Me: (smirking) "Hey, Dude, looks like we have a 6-6-6...oh, and also a 10 and 1/2" (smiling widely, showing both upper and lower braces shamelessly)

BD: (while facial expression started out in 'neutral', the proverbial light did, indeed, come on) "Ohh, like in the Devil. That's kind of funny!"

After the girls and Husband sunk the rest of the pool balls, we donned our bowling couture (much-loved shoes), and headed over to Lane 3. Having just completing their turns, the previous bowlers were behind us, at the "breakfast bar" area, finishing up their libations. Apparently, one of them had consumed a bit too much of said refreshment, and knocked the glass off of the bar, and onto our couch below. Let's all say it together now: "A-W-K-W-A-R-D"!!!!! Heck, at least he was 'with it' enough to pick up a rag and clean up after himself.... After that *pre-show*, we all set about picking the perfect balls, and away we rolled!

In my opinion, you can learn a lot about a person while bowling with them. People really let their true colors show in both the comments that they make about themselves, and their non-verbal bowling language. Here is my rundown of our 'cast of characters':

Husband: Pretty level headed- gives himself constructive feedback about what to improve for the next go-around. After release of ball, stays in one spot and watches to see what happens, for better or worse.

Gal Pal: Initially when asked if she would prefer bumpers or not, Gal Pal told us that she was pretty good, and could go either way; not in a conceited way by any means, but very matter of fact. She ended up getting more strikes than the rest of us and a tricky split spare. Translation: she kicked all of our butts. When she released the ball, it was always with a perky little hop-step (GP used to Irish Dance...).

Child: Very deliberate in wanting to get her turn over with as quickly as possible. So quickly, matter of fact, that she consistently released the ball way in advance of the line at the beginning of the alley. Very conspicuous scowl on face. As soon as the ball was released, she pretty much 'turned tail and ran' (no backwards 'looksies').

Me: Hyperconscious (read: neurotic) about placement of wrist, as to direct the ball in just the 'perfect' direction. Soothing self talk administered after each turn. After release of ball, watched the action, craning neck, and subtly moving body, in the desired direction of travel for the ball.

In addition, to the personalities of the people who share your lane, you also have the personalities (read: quirks) of the people who border you. Because the alley was so busy, we were lucky enough (*sarcasm*) to have co-bowlers on both sides.

To our left, we had a motley crew consisting of what looked like...well.... members of Motley Crue! Despite the fact that they were rocking their hard rock Ts, and ponytails, these guys were pretty 'hard core'. Their most prominent member, who could have been AJ Hawk's twin brother, ever so c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y wiped off his ball. before. each. and. every. turn. More interesting, though, was the common "Team Crue" element of lofting the ball about 6 inches into the air after releasing it. As bizarre as it looked, however, AJ was scoring stikes on almost every turn. After the first couple of minutes, all of us became accustomed to their loud, "Thunks!", and we no longer jumped out of our skins. Yep, "Team Crue" really rocked it!

On our right,... well,... let's refer to them as "Team Vodka" (Help me out here; read between the lines so I don't have to get too politically incorrect ). There were about eight of them, spilling out everywhere. While we were waiting for our turns, they were in our faces. When we were actually in the act of bowling...oh, mama! It is pretty well known in "bowling ettiquette" that, like crossing the street, one should glance to the left and right, and not go at the same time as one of your neighbors; aiming a ball takes strict concentration after all, and shouldn't be messed with. Apparently, that memo never reached Planet Vodka (Motherland). Everytime one of us approached the lane, one of them would literally come flying down the lane, ball in hand, out of seemingly nowhere. Apparently, they also never learned not to touch what wasn't theirs, and kept bogarting Husband's ball. The final guffaw was when they (f-i-n-a-l-l-y) finished bowling (or so we thought), only to have one of the dudes return in his street shoes (kiss of death in bowling etiquette) to bowl a few more frames for 'free'. Yep, quite an experience in US/ Planet Vodka diplomatic relations...

Deciding that since Gal Pal, Child, and I all had stuck three of our 'favoritest' fingers inside of the same hot pink ball, we chicas headed off to the restroom to scrub up. When we returned, I asked Husband how much our two games set us back. Shockingly, it was about 50% less than the *other* bowling alley located in Forks (shameless Twilight reference..)! That type of news was cause for celebration, so Child, Husband, and I headed out not only for a rare restaurant dinner, but a 31 flavors "chaser", as well. Suffice to say, the good times did, truly, roll!