I'm Not Good at Sharing...

My parents tried to teach me and I have tried to teach my kids the art...of sharing!  Share, share, share...don't be greedy...give up your favorite toy to little Bobby who will probably break the darn thing.  It's for your own good!!  I believe the point is to try and teach us to not be self absorbed, to give to our fellow man.   I mean, we really can't be expected to share everything?  Can we?!  If I have a brand new Jaguar...I will give you a ride, but you won't get my keys.  Go get your own!!  I do try to give to charities when I can.  I enjoy giving my time and volunteering.  But when I get a plate full of delicious food...keep your hands off or I'll stab you with my fork!  I'm not always very good at sharing. 

Sharing can be good for the soul but sometimes...its just hard.  I have shared custody of my children with their dad.  This is different from the traditional joint custody.  With shared custody, parents share time with their kids equally.  This means I get my kids 50% of the time...50%!  The thought process behind this is that kids will not be slighted the chance to have both parents in their life, or in other words, we failed at marriage but want to keep you in as traditional a home as possible.  It is impossible to understand what this is like unless you have gone thru it.  I miss half of my kids life...Half!  If someone asks me if my son eats meatloaf...I don't really know.  I mean he doesn't eat it at my house, but maybe he eats it at his dad's.  I don't know, but I should know.  If someone says, "What did your daughter wear to school today?"  I don't know.  I have no idea how she wore her hair...or what color shirt she had on...none.  I don't know, but I should know.  They have another home, their own room, a closet full of clothes, that I know nothing about.  Nothing.  Time doesn't slow down for half...they continue to grow up too fast and I want to savor every minute.  But I can't...for I must share.  I'm not very good at sharing...  

They're Playing My Song

I find it amazing how we see ourselves as opposed to how others see us.  When I look in the mirror, I don't see a middle aged woman.  I just see me.  But I can be talking to someone about their aches and pains and they start saying, "Yeah we're getting up there aren't we?"  Whose we?  What is this we stuff? 

I consider myself fairly confident, I mean I'm in my forties and I have NO cellulite.  Ok well I'm in my forties and my butt is no bigger than when I was 21.  Ok well I have no gray hair.  Ok so let's just say I have learned how to dress to hide flaws and have a great hair stylist.  Are you happy now? 

One thing age has given me is a confidence I didn't have in my younger years.  But along with that confidence comes a few unexpected surprises.  I wonder what it would be like if we had theme music to follow us and play according to our moods.  When I am walking down the street, hair blowing in the wind, looking confidently ahead...everyone could hear, "There she was just a walkin' down the street singing doo wah diddy diddy dum diddy do..."  Then when I get to my destination and I am forced to go up a flight of steps, Vincent Price comes on, "As she walks up the stairs of death.  She is starting to find that she's out of breath.  The sound of her knees as they begin to creak. Peace and comfort is what she must seek."  Now at the top of the stairs I am limping and wheezing to the office door..."Take my breath awayyyyyyyyy...take my breath awayyyyy." 

I'm thinking theme music might not be a good idea.  But wouldn't it be fun for other events?  Like you've had it with your current relationship, "To the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left."  Or when you get cut off in traffic, "Hit me with your best shot!  C'MON, hit me with you best shot."  Or when you finally get that big promotion/proposal/boob job..."Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!"  Theme music would be cool then, huh?

Not So Fast...

Being a parent is not for the faint hearted, it's hard work.  One might ask, what is the hardest part of parenting?  Could it be illness?  I mean let's face it...kids are gross.  Bodily fluids flow out of these little creatures like Niagara Falls!  Although runny noses and surprise throw up sessions are tough, still not the hardest...just yucky.  Maybe its the sassiness...how is it that a 9 year old can make your face turn that many shades of red and a teenager can make you speak in tongues??  No matter how hard we try, we always come down to their level too, don't we?  We start out good, "Young man/lady I will not tolerate..." then end up with "Oh yeah, I know you are but what am I!"  Hey, we try.  Yeah, sassy mouth is difficult, but wouldn't be at the top of the list.  I know!  Homework!!!  Ugh I hate homework!!!  The constant nagging, pleading, and begging for ten months of the year...oh my...I think I feel an ulcer coming on.  Please pass me a Rolaid.  Sigh... 

There are so many challenges to being a parent, I could go on for days.  But the hardest part by far has to be...letting go.  We do it a little at a time and each time it gets a little harder and a little harder.  We let them go to preschool and walk out crying.  First day of kindergarten and a support group forms in the parking lot.  Last day of kindergarten and the support group has their second meeting.  They graduate fifth grade, eighth grade, then off to high school, then its college, moving out, military, marriage... you get the picture.  Walking through the parking lot to the middle school orientation with my son, he reaches over to hold my hand...took everything I had not to let the tears flow like a river.  I did it though, not sure how, but I did.  Then just today he says, "Going to head to the bus stop Mom."  "But you have ten minutes."  I just wanted ten more minutes you see...He looks at me and says, "I love you Mom." hugs me and walks out the door to the bus stop.  Just like that.  That's how it happens it seems...just like that.  No warnings, no cues...we are just left saying to ourselves...but I'm not ready!  Not so fast...not so fast...

Didn't Expect to Say That!!

I cannot remember a time when I did not want to be a mother.  I have always wanted children, ALWAYS.  I used to dream of what they would look like, what there personalities would be.  I could imagine sitting on a beautiful porch, me sitting peacefully reading while my children sat and played quietly and pet our well-behaved dog...ok, I had an active imagination.  Point is, I knew I wanted to be a mom, so there.  The days my kids were born were two of the happiest days of my life.  Looking down at those sweet little faces and having so much to look forward to!  What I didn't expect were some of the things that have actually come out of my mouth.  I never expected to say THAT!!!  Things like:

Come here and give me that booger.

Stop a second I need to pick your nose.

Your clothes are inside-out.  (Actually I did say this at a party once)

Underwear does not go on your head. (Wait, I said that at a party too)

Keep your penis in your pants. (Ok I may have said that to my first husband)

Oh my God!!!  My son just peed in his mouth!!!  (He was an infant, don't freak out)

Do you need me to wipe your butt?

Yeah, being a mom certainly has its surprises and interesting moments.  But even with all the nose picking and butt wiping...it's all good...

I Think I'll Write a Book...

I'm thinking I would like to write the great American novel...I mean I AM a great American, right?  I'm thinking that the trick to writing a book is to write about something that is complete fantasy, something so out of your element that you can feel free to get carried away in the moment.  Here are some of my ideas...

I could write about a woman who grows up in a small town and gets married a bunch of times only to find love during her midlife to someone unexpected.  They could get married in the end and...oh wait a minute...

Ok here's one...I could write about a woman who after having two kids is struggling with the size of her own butt.  It could be a sci-fi flick where the butt actually takes over the entire town and the National Guard is called in...you're right that may be too close to home as well.

Maybe a children's book!  I could write about two kids who bicker until their mother has to pull over to the side of the road turn around and wave her finger at them as she yells while her eyes bug out.  Oh, you must have seen me out on the road the other day...sorry...

This is harder than I expected.  It's difficult to not get too personally involved in your fictional story.  I got it!!!!

I will write a book about a super model who has millions of dollars.  Although she has the perfect body; butt is not too big...boobs not too small, she is not required to rely on her beauty for she has the IQ of a genius.  Her children think she is always right and agree with everything she says.  They never bicker but instead compliment each other and help each other with their homework and chores.  She has pets but they never stink.  Their doggy breath smells like mint.  Her husband says he loves her even more when she has PMS.  Hmmmmmmm...kind of boring.  I think I need to add some explosions or an ax murderer or something...

Compliments or Cannibalism

Ever notice how we use some strange phrases to express ourselves!  If you are especially fond of someone, you might say, "I love them to death!!"  Wow...this is a good thing?  Last time someone attempted to love me to death, I became single!  When I see a cute baby I say, "Ooooooooooo...I just want to eat his face!!!"  That's a bit disturbing.  When you enjoy someone's company, you might say, "Oh, I could just eat her up!"  Seriously, I would prefer a sandwich.  Is this flattery or are we just hungry?

Another funny thing that is popular to say in the south is to follow all insults with, "Bless his/her heart" or "God love him/her."  It seems to take the sting out of comments that might otherwise be considered harsh.  It's one thing to say, "Jane's new boyfriend is ugly."  But when you say, "Have you seen Jane's new boyfriend?  God love him he is ugly."  It's almost as though you feel his pain.  "Leroy is dumb" or "Bless Leroy's heart he is a dumb one."  Leroy may not be very smart but darn it I feel for him, don't you?  Southerners have a way of insulting you without you even knowing you have been insulted...God love'em.

Just the other day I was in the grocery where I saw the sweetest baby.  Ooooooooooo...I could have eat her face she was so pretty!  Her three year old brother was so sweet I could have sopped him up with a biscuit!!  But then the parents turned around and God love their hearts, they were not good looking people.  I started a conversation with them, the mother was a sweet young woman but her husband, bless his heart, was dumber than a can worms.  I guess its a good thing they can make pretty babies, God love them.  I'm so glad I have you to tell these things too.  I love you so much...I could just eat you up!!!

That's good...right?

Getting Older Part 1: Things That Suck!

I try to be positive about my age. I try to look at the bright side, the silver lining, the gold at the end of the rainbow...but who the heck believes that crap! Sometimes, getting older just sucks! Here are some things that I have noticed that nobody warned me about...so I'm warning YOU!!

Young people irritate me to no end! Not all of them, just 98.7% of them. The guy walking down the street wearing metal all over his face. Hair dyed black wearing black lipstick...wearing a look of bitterness and hate, obviously wanting attention. Then when you look at him and he says, "What are you lookin' at?" Aargh!! Get over here and let me give you a haircut punk!! Grumble, grumble, grumble...

Why the heck do my hands look like dried up prunes!! I moisturize, I exfoliate, but I could map out the Middle East on the back of my hands! Anybody need directions?

What changed that made getting up from the floor an Olympic event? Gone are the days that I just pop up and go to the kitchen and get a drink. Now it becomes a major event in calisthenics! Roll to all fours...find a support table...pull to my knees...one leg at a time...heck now I need a nap...

AAAACHOOOOO!!! Ooops, peed my pants.  Ha ha ha ha...that was funny!  Ooops, peed my pants.  Stomp my foot.  Ooops, peed my pants.  Run across the street.  Ooops, peed my pants.  Oh!  You startled me!  Ooops, peed my pants.  Let's dance!  Ooops, peed my pants.  Maybe this is where all of the moisture in my hands is going...
 
Consider this your official warning label.  My advice?  Moisturize like there is no tomorrow and do your Kegels!!!