Sunday, August 25, 2013

Snails, puppy dog tails and a snake in the house

When I was pregnant with my son Eli and they told me after the ultrasound that I was having a boy my reaction in my mind was - "a boy!!! I don't know how to raise a boy!" Don't get me wrong I knew that I would love him with all my heart and I was thrilled to know that everything looked good and that by all appearances he was a normal healthy baby. You see I had two girls though and the estrogen factor was all I knew how to deal with. Snails and puppy dog tails was something that I knew nothing about!
He came into this world raring to go and ready to teach me a thing or two about the other side of the fence. From the time that child could crawl he was the definition in Webster Dictionary of "boy". He was into everything and gave a whole new meaning to the word mischievous. If I could paint a picture for you of what I mean I would tell you about the time that he decided he wanted to be the Grinch and proceeded to color himself green with a permanent Sharpie marker starting with (and I don't know why) a certain body part that shall remain nameless, and by that indication I'm sure that you know what I mean. For days I was greeted with that reminder each time I changed his diaper. We ended up at the E.R. one night and imagine my embarrassment when the doctor went to examine him and was about to draw the conclusion that gangrene had set up and he looked at me bewildered as he wanted to ask but couldn't find the words - "just how did this happen?"
That was just the beginning. I could write a book I'm sure on all the adventures that this boy has put me through during his 13 years. From the making sundaes in his sister's hair as she slept, covering the
Chihuahua in Elmer's glue, attempting to chisel a hole in his bedroom wall while in his bedroom for time-out (thank you Shawshank Redemption for giving him that idea) to short circuiting the house by cutting the lamp cord in half - he has been one adventure after the other.
With age comes wisdom? Not so much so. Not in his case anyway. He as a freshman in high school is still as adventurous as ever and with the years the adventure has simply become an art to him. He is all about discovering new ways to peak my curiosity and make me ask the question more than once - "what else can he come up with?"  I have holes in my vinyl siding from air soft wars in my sun room, lids found in the yard from countless water bottles used to make baking soda and vinegar bombs, and enough evidence of burning stuff "for the heck of it" that an amateur fire marshal could have an open and shut case. Now don't get me wrong he's not mean and he doesn't do the things he does in a younger version of Butch Cassidy kind of way. He's just a typical boy. He hates to brush his teeth, has to be reminded that he can't wear his socks two days in a row, and loves to look at himself in the mirror and flex his muscles.
Where as my girls were all about fixing each other's hair at a slumber party he's the "let's take this snake we found in the house and scare my sister" sleepover kind of kid. Did he do that too? Well yes as a matter of fact this past weekend he sure did. Imagine my surprise as I am fixing pancakes for a house full of kids and I hear them say - "we thought it was dead - it must have got out." So the whole day consisted of me threatening to put him on Monday's child if he didn't locate the said snake and remove it from the premises. 11 hours later the snake was captured and he was still allowed to call me Mom.
I have gone through the innocent stages of Thomas the Train, Ninja Turtles and Power Rangers to the fear for your safety if he gets ahold of you WWE and run for your life Wyatt Earp stages. I have threatened him within an inch of his life over his "hold my Dr. Pepper and watch this" antics and just eventually have given in to shaking my head and rolling my eyes as he attempts a new feat from time to time to "one-up himself" from the last go around. Some days I just laugh and some days I thank the Lord that he didn't manage to blow a finger off with a firecracker.
He's a one of a kind that son of mine and to be honest that may be a good thing -because two of him I'm not sure I could handle (because I'm really partial to my new windows). But at the end of the day, no matter what excitement he has brought my way - he always without hesitation tells his mom "I love you" and still hugs my neck as he walks off to go to bed and I say for the 2,456th time - "son don't forget to brush your teeth."
 

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Sometimes Spandex is just not an option

Over the course of the past couple of days I have spent entirely too much time out in public. I’m used to my 8 hours of being secluded away from the rest of the world with my job and don’t have much interaction with the outside world unless it’s election time or I have to go to a place where there is a bigger percentage of people. It’s not that I am not a social butterfly – it’s just that when you work a job that is just you and another person all day your interaction skills aren’t what they used to be.
During my time of being with the public I have made several observations and have come to a conclusion about something. Women just don’t take pride in themselves like they used to. Women today (not all but A LOT of them) really could care less what they look like when they go out of the house. It’s really quite embarrassing to the female race to see so many women not caring about their appearance and how they present themselves.
Have you ever just took a seat at your local Wal-Mart and observed some of the women that come in there? I can’t believe that a woman can actually leave the security and privacy of her home and go shopping in Sponge Bob pajama pants, camouflage flip flops and a Dale Earnhardt T-shirt from one his first races – and not feel bad about it. Now I realize that not every woman can afford to go to Belk or Macy’s to do their shopping; in fact I can’t. But is it too much to ask of yourself to at least match when you walk outside to greet the outside world? I admit that sometimes I go to the store with my hair whipped up in an attempt of a messy bun and at times during the summer I even brave it and go without make-up. But there is just no excuse for a woman these days to look like some of these women do. And don’t even let me get started on the women that “should be wearing” something from the plus side of the women’s section but instead they are making a feeble attempt to squeeze into a pair of short shorts that require a search warrant to find where they begin and end.
 I have tried through the years to emphasize to my girls how important it is to “pretty yourself up” – sometimes they listen and sometimes they don’t. I don’t want to ever encourage them that looks are what is important – but rather the image that you present.
I am a single mom as I have established several times. I don’t have a lot of extra money for maintenance on myself, but I at least improvise. I do for the most part color my own hair. Sometimes this works out and I get compliments and praise – other times not so much – then it’s a ball cap or staying inside until the legal time limit is over (according to the box of hair color on sale that week) and I’m allowed to attempt it again. I’ve had maroon hair, yellow hair, orange and even a hint of green in it before. I make several attempts to wax the places that didn’t have hair before menopause and sometimes my chin and more cheek looks a little red like I’ve just been in a fight and suffered some blows to face. I even attempted the Listerine/Vinegar soak to make my feet look better which resulted in a slight discoloration of the skin for a while. The point is that it just takes a little effort to look presentable. I may not look ravishing when I go out in public, but I at least don’t want to have a look that would make a freight train take a dirt road.
I wish that we still had women like Jackie Kennedy that made women want to take pride in the way that they looked by the way that she presented herself. Even if it was in a pair of Capri's on the beach, she still had class and made you take notice of her. I hate to say it, but now the only women that there are for other females to follow their suit are women that have had so much Botox and liposuction that you don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.
Now I’m not trying to pick on the female population and leave the men totally out of this equation; because let me tell you I could write a chapter or two on some of the men I see too. But that’s for another day and another blog.
Let’s just do the female race a favor and try to encourage the women in our lives to strive to live up to what a lady should be and how she should present herself. Granted I know you can’t convince some women that there is more to life than a banana clip and spandex (that is entirely too small) but sometimes it just takes a little nudge and someone saying – “you really shouldn’t go out in public like that.”

Friday, August 9, 2013

When did my babies grow up?

This morning was the first day of school for my son Eli and my daughter Kailee. She is a senior and he is a freshman. I got them up and they got ready for their first big day. When it was time for them to leave they hopped in the car together and off they went.
I had bragged all summer that there would be no more driving the kids to school for this mom; that now that Eli was in high school his big sister could take him. A few days ago I asked him “well how is it going to feel that your mom doesn’t have to take you to school?” He replies [I think in an attempt to make me feel better] that I can still take him if I want. At this point however, I am thinking that I was glad to have reached that point in my life that I can finally have that much deserved and earned extra 15 minutes of sleep time on school mornings and it seemed to sound pretty good to me; so I replied with “it’s okay son – don’t want to embarrass you.”
But something unexpected happened this morning. In the midst of relishing those few extra times of hitting the snooze button it dawned on me that for the last 18 years my job has always been to cart 1, 2, 3 or more kids to school. In fact, at one time in an effort to help out a friend I was picking up two extra kids and delivering 5 of them to 3 different schools. It has been 18 years of hurrying in the morning trying to get everyone delivered on time, rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off and breathing a sigh of relief when I got them all to their perspective places in record time – feeling accomplished like I had just scored a position in what should be an Olympic event designed for only parents.
Suddenly in my revelation of the end of an era I just wanted to cry. It seems like only a few weeks ago that I was walking them into Kindergarten, holding their hand and wiping tears from my eyes as they were finding their place in the world of independence as they walked in like a big girl or boy and found their seat. In those few moments of curling back underneath my blankets this morning I was overwhelmed with flashbacks of the past school years. I thought about the pictures that they would bring home to hang on the fridge, the funny things they would write in their journals, and the stories of what exciting things happened on the playground. Suddenly my kids growing up and being independent didn’t seem so glamorous - in fact it was rather depressing. That thought of not feeling needed anymore seemed to replace the joy of me not having to experience the hustle and bustle of school day mornings.
I moped around the house, dragged my feet getting ready and tried to find anything to think about other than how life with my kids has passed by so fast. I tried to think about school years past and the days when they depended on me to get them to school; the times when I got to slip another “I love you – have a good day” in as they got out of the car. I tried to convince myself that I still have more school functions to go to, more parent/teacher conferences, and more ballgames. Feeling rather unsuccessful in accomplishing my goal of still feeling needed my phone chimes with a text. It’s from Kailee - “I forgot my volleyball bag”. Ah, that sweet kind of text that reminds a mom that she is still needed. I smiled and shrugged off that feeling sorry for myself attitude and realized that no matter how old they get they still are going to need me – even if it’s just for a volleyball bag.