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Why I Should Not Be A Role Model

WARNING: This post contains material some might find offensive.  Some may not know what the heck it means.  Urban Dictionary can tell you (and much more!)  Otherwise, I would not read past this sentence.🙂

I am the co-leader of m daughter’s Girl Scout troop.  I m still not sure how I was allowed to lead a group of girls, but somehow I passed the muster.  Or it could be that they are just super desperate for leaders.  I’m thinking it might be the latter.

Anyway…one of the badges we are working on is the Bookmaking badge.   The other leader and I decided it would be fun to take apart a book, then use the various parts for different projects.  We found some cute ideas on Pinterest we thought most of the girls would enjoy.  All we needed were some old books.

I volunteered to hit Salvation Army and get enough books for the troop to use.  Since we were using the covers for one project, I tried to find hardcovered books with interesting covers.  I found about 7 books in the kids section, but since we have 12 girls, I had to grab a few adults books.  I stayed away from the romance novels and the murder mystery books since I didn’t think the parents would like their kids carrying around a hardcover art tote with a picture of a bare chested man riding a horse or a giant eyeball with a knife stuck in it.  (Little did I know this was the least of my worries.) Overall, I left with 13 hardcover books for under $4.   Total bargain.

After making the art tote from the covers, our next project was to use the pages of the books to make note cards.  Our original plan was to make them so the girls could give them to their moms on Mother’s Day, but since we really suck at staying on any kind of time line, we didn’t get around to it until this week.

So I’d like to to picture the following scene:

There are seven middle school girls sitting around the dining room table with the task of taking a book page, stenciling a drawing on it, then cutting out the picture and pasting it onto a note card.  Very simple. Very innocent.  See how cute these are?

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My fellow leader was cutting cardstock for the kids and the girls were chatting and picking out pages for their projects.  I was doing my typical activity: drinking Dunkins and watching my friend do all the work.🙂

A few girls were checking out what was written on the pages, but most were starting to stencil when my daughter (of course) grabs one of the pages and starts to read out loud….

“Oh nice! This says “regular sex, three-way, pussy eating, anal, anal with dildo….”

My fellow leader and I froze.  It was like one of those scenes in a movie where time slows down and the main character  sees everything in slow motion.  I could feel all the neurons in my brain slowly connecting as I processed what I was hearing.

When what she said finally registered in my brain, I immediately dove across the table and ripped the page from her hands.  Of course, the other girls are now screeching hysterically and begin to frantically dig through the rest of the pages on the table to see if they could find more.    I, on the other hand, was attempting to find any other Xrated pages before the girls got their hands on them.

Really?!  Out of the 400 pages on the table, my kid grabs THAT one.  It must be genetic.

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The other leader is just shaking her head.   She’s known me for years so this is not a shocking situation for her.  Probably quite tame overall.

Leader: What the heck kind of books did you buy?

Me: I certainly didn’t think I bought this type.

Me: This is definitely not a page you want to be putting on a card to your mother.  Unless Girl Scouts has a badge for this?

Leader: Ummm…no.

Girls: Come on Miss Sue!  We know all about that. Let us see the page.

Me: WHAT?!?!?  How the heck do you know what ANY of that means?!  You’re 11!  You shouldn’t know these things.

Daughter: Mom, we’ve all heard about this stuff before.  We know a lot of 7th graders.

Girls: And we read the bathroom walls.

Daughter: yeah, people draw lots of pictures of balls in the stalls.  They are all over the school.

Well, its good to know kids are still learning about sex ed the proper way – though rumors and graffetti.  I’d hate to think the kids today are missing out on the same type of education we got.  I’m not sure if it is sad or pathetic that these kids know a whole hell of a lot more then I ever did at 11.  Of course, we only had older siblings and Benny Hill.  They have social media and YouTube so they definitely have an edge on us.

My daughter could not wait to get home and tell her dad about this.

Daughter: Do you think dad will get mad at me if I tell him what happened?

Me: No.  He will probably think its as hysterical as I do.  Which is why we are still married.

I can’t say that the other seven girls’ dinner conversations about today will go over as well. Most of the parents know me and still continue to send their kids to Girls Scouts every week.  I’m thinking this incident will not be a shocker.  So I have that going for me.   Also, I think I actually did some adult-ing, which is rare.   I mean, I did take the page away at least. (Is it bad, that I kept it?)

Other then getting booted out of Girl Scouts, the bonus of this event is that apparently, I now know that my daughter has way more knowledge about the subject of sex then I was aware of….and I really need to start catching up!

Peace,

Sue

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes I Get It Right

This parenting gig is hard work and most of the time, I feel like I am failing miserably.   Very often, I end up regretting something I said or didn’t say.   My parenting line up is often filled with mistakes and a long list of things I should have done better.

But sometimes, I get it right.

Tonight, my daughter was practicing her piano.  She had been doing quite well with practicing daily and was getting so much better with her new song.  Then we had a hectic week and she kept forgetting to practice.  I forgot to remind her as well.  So when she sat down tonight to play, she had forgotten a lot of song and it was choppy.  After the fifth time of trying to get the last piece down, she burst into tears.

“I’m a failure!  I was doing so good and now I can’t play it.  I keep forgetting to practice and I’m making mistakes.  I’ll never be able to play in the recital.”

At first, I just let her sit with me and cry.  Hell, when you’re that frustrated, sometimes a good cry can really help.  I tried to remind her that she did have it down at one point and with a little more practice, she would get there again, but when she gets this upset, it is often futile to attempt any type of reasoning.  So I waited.

Luckily, the boy was downstairs doing backflips off the exercise ball onto the new couch and miscalculated.  The screaming from downstairs was enough to snap my daughter out of her misery and focus on her brother’s.  Once it was determined that the boy was not injured badly (scraped knee) and we were all in agreement that he was a bonehead, things seemed back to normal.

My daughter came up to me and said:  Sometimes I just get so nervous when I have to play in front of people.  I can feel myself start to cry and shake and I am so afraid I will screw up.

Me:  Remember that story we just read about the girl who was afraid of making mistakes?  And the old man helping her said if you are uptight and afraid, the music won’t flow?  We all get afraid about making mistakes, especially in front of other people.  But music should be fun.  You should play it because you enjoy it and it makes you feel good.

Daughter:  I do enjoy it.  I mean, I don’t want to do it when I grow up.  I already know what I want to do when I grow up.  I guess I’m lucky because I already know.

Me:  Just because you don’t want to play music professionally, doesn’t mean you can’t do it.  I love art, but I don’t make money doing it.  I do it because it makes me happy.  And you may know what you want to do now, but that could change.   Growing up and knowing what you want to do doesn’t mean just how you want to earn money.  Life is about how you want to make a mark on the world.  Its about finding what you want to do to make a difference in the world while you are here.  I wish I had figured that out earlier.

Daughter:  But you are making a difference in the world.  You’re my mom.

Insert harp music and soft radiant light here.   She really made me take a step back and pause.

Parenting is like performing on a stage.  You are constantly afraid to make a mistake in front of a crowd.  We often feel judged about how we raise our kids.  We are bombarded with people telling us how to parent.  Don’t feed your kids this.  Teach your kids that.  If you don’t do this, your kid will never succeed, get a job, go to college, learn to self regulated, be responsible, (insert whatever other the guilt trip you’ve heard here).  How the hell are you suppose to ever feel good about the job you’re doing with so many voices out there saying you suck?  I do a perfectly good job on my own with the negative talk, thank you very much.  I don’t need a whole backup band adding any more to the melody.

After she went to bed, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice something on the frig.

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She had written down what I had said to her.  Even put my name down as the author.  When I saw that, I did a double take.  I was truly shocked. That one thing I said had meant enough to her that she stopped and wrote it down so she could remember it.  It was one of those Lifetime movie parenting moments you never really think happen in the real world.    Most of the time, my words fall on deaf ears.  I’m constantly wondering how the hell my kids are ever going to be productive adults in this world when most of the time, they can’t find their way out of a paper bag.   Then something like this happens and all the little pieces fall into place.

 

That’s when you finally realize….. I got one right.

Sue

 

 

 

 

Why my kids don’t have traditions

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My kids desperately want traditions… well, at least my daughter does. She will try to make anything into a tradition.  “Remember when we went out for pizza that night it rained really hard?  We should do that every year.”  The boy could care less about traditions.  He just follows along, hoping there is a toy at the end of the journey.

I think traditions are great.  Creating magical memories your kids can remember then pass on down to their kids is such a cool concept to me.   I envy those who flawlessly provide their kids with Kodak moments on a yearly basis.  Honestly, I would really love to have some more creative traditions other than the ones created for me – Christmas, Halloween, etc.  Unfortunately for my children, most traditions involve two things that I lack the necessary skills for – preparation and memory.  Now, its not like we don’t have any traditions, its just that I really suck at following through with them.

In order to have traditions,  you have to remember the traditions…every year.   I barely remember what month I am in, let alone the day so most of the man-made traditions like holidays seem to sneak up on me when I am not looking.  I check the calendar, see I have a few weeks, and then BAM!  Suddenly,  I find myself putting up the Christmas tree so the f&@^$% elf will arrive and I can’t remember where I hid the F@%$#$ elf the year before.  So I’m just about to head to Walmart at 10:45pm to buy a new F%#^$ elf so the kids don’t have to continue therapy into their senior years when I find it wrapped in a dish towel in my sock drawer.  The sock drawer.  WTF?!

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Then there is the preparation involved in traditions.  I hate prep work.  I won’t eat tuna because it involves more then two steps.  The idea of opening the can, draining it, breaking it up, adding mayo THEN making a sandwich is mind numbing to me.  Since most of the time I have forgotten to eat and now I am at mach 10 on the hunger scale, my only option is to eat whatever is within reach and has a shelf life of two years. Preparing for holidays is right up there with tuna making – exhausting and most likely not happening.

My attic is filled with decorations for ever holiday known to man.  I could decorate the entire neighborhood for Halloween, Christmas and Easter with the crap up in my attic.  I keep buying stuff hoping that this year will be the year I will get my act together and actually set the stuff up.   Then I turn around and Halloween is tomorrow so it seems pointless to drag seven plastic totes out of the attic to set up a myriad of spooky skeletons for just 24 hours.  This year, I actually bought pumpkins to carve.  One disintegrated into a pile of mush on the railing while the other is still hanging in there.  I put a santa hat on it so it looks like it was all part of the plan.

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I would love to give some traditions to my kids that they could pass on to their kids.  Something that bring backs those warm fuzzy feelings of their childhood.  As of now, the most I can give them is a pain in the ass elf who, more often then not, forgets to move, rotten pumpkins in santa hats, and a cache of nerf guns to use for an epic post Christmas day nerf war.   Maybe it will be enough for them.  Who knows.  Or maybe one day, when they are grown, they will realize just how exhausting creating magical memories (and making tuna) can really be. And they too will say “Screw it!”

Happy Holidays

Sue

 

 

 

Missing the “Girl” Gene

I really SUCK at being a “girl”.

Somewhere along the line, I missed receiving the “style” gene in my family.  Both my sisters got it, but not me. Therefore, I am very fashion challenged.  My closet is filled with hoodies and baseball hats.  The clothes I do have that are dressy and stylish were most likely bought by my personal shopper -my sister, Caryn.  It is pretty much guaranteed that if an outfit I am wearing matches from head to toe, then either my sister bought it, I bought it off a mannequin, or it was a total fluke on my part.  My friends know which outfits are “Caryn approved” and which are not. Every outfit I own for any occasion has been bought by my sister….even my wedding dress.  True story.

I really don’t have the time or patience to shop and honestly, I have no clue what goes with what.  I just want to be comfortable.  The problem with dressing up, especially dresses, is the limitations that come with it.  You have to be careful about what you eat, how you bend over to pick up a napkin, how you sit, whether a big gust of wind or a hasty trip to the bathroom will cause an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction….and any desire to do a spontaneous cartwheel or be part of a human pyramid is completely out of the question.  Another true story.

The same holds true with hair and make up.  Other then my brief mullet stage during the 80’s, I have mainly kept my hair short.  There is little to no maintenance involved with short hair.  Drying time is minimal and you never have to worry about accidentally eating you hair during a meal.  Over the past two years though, I have successfully grown out my hair to all one length.  To me, this is equivalent to Congress balancing the budget – next to impossible.  But I did it.  Maybe there’s hope for Congress.  Although I have long hair, I have no idea how to style it. I know two hairstyles – the ponytail and the baseball hat.  If I am feeling sassy then sometimes I’ll go with the baseball hat and a ponytail, but that is my extent of hairstyle knowledge.

This was cool back then?

This was cool back then?

So you can imagine my dismay when I found out we had a wedding to go to and I would therefore, be required to dress up.

Now, the easiest thing to do in this situation would have been to call my sister, inform her I needed an outfit and voila – my problem would be solved.    Of course, doing the easiest thing is not always my forte.   Honestly, in my head, I kept telling myself to call my sister, but something always prevented me from actually calling.  She was at work, or the kids were fighting, or I was in line at Dunkins.

Slowly, the weeks ticked away until the wedding was 3 days away and I had zero plan.  So I did what any sane person would do….I panicked.  I rummaged through my closet, through every past outfit my sister had every bought and came up with a turquoise sun dress that I wore to a wedding in Jamaica.  The wedding was before the boy was even an idea so the dress had to be over 7 years old, but everything comes back into style, right?  I no longer had the shoes so of course, I waited until the day before the wedding to tackle that problem.

FRIDAY BEFORE WEDDING

We loaded up the family and headed out to look for shoes.  I ran into Payless, found a $10 pair of white sandals (white goes with everything, I think) and a flowery head band that matched the dress.  Accessorized for 15 bucks!  Well, it actually cost me $34 because the boy insisted he needed a new pair of basketball shoes, even though I just bought him new sneakers.  “But those aren’t basketball shoes, mom!”  Sigh.

Since my husband is the same way as me, we had to run into Kohl’s to find him a shirt and tie.  Amazingly, he found a shirt that matched my dress color and a snazzy tie right off the bat, so I took this as a sign the fashion gods were in our favor.  While I was keeping the kids busy in the toy section, my husband had to jump on a call so he checked out without us.  I had a 30% coupon I wanted to use.

30%!   

A 30% coupon at Kohl’s is like hitting the lottery!   So I had to go back in and return everything and rebuy it with the 30% off.  (You’d do it too)

Outfits complete!  On to hair!

I got a quick appointment with my hair dresser to get my hair trimmed and my unibrow waxed back to two defined eyebrows.  While discussing the upcoming wedding, I mentioned it would be nice to have a little wave in my hair, but I lacked the skills to do it.  She said it was easy and began to explain how I could do it.

Instructions: separate your hair into sections. First the sides and clip them up, then the back – one section, clip, second section, clip, third section, clip.  Take one inch section of hair and begin…..zzzzzzzzzzzz.

OMG!  How many steps?  You lost me at the second section.

FRIDAY NIGHT

I figured I would spend Friday night practicing on my hair and, because I was still high from our sweet shopping finds (at 30% off), I decided to give myself a pedicure too.

I really tried to follow all the steps my hairdresser explained to me.  I tried to section my hair into 4 sections, but I couldn’t seem to keep the hair together long enough to put the clip in.  Eventually, I had one massive glob of hair on the top of my head, with 7 clips sticking out and hair was still popping out in all directions.

How do people manage to do anything to the back of their heads without any visual guidance?  I was trying to get 1 inch sections just from feeling around my head.  I ended up either pulling hair out of my hair clip contraption or, if I was lucky enough to get a section, I’d end up burning my fingers trying to get the curling iron around the hair piece (and yes, I was wearing the little protective glove that comes with the iron).  Finally, frustration won out and I just started grabbing chunks of hair and curling it.  In the end, I looked like Medusa, with crimped pieces of half curled hair sticking out every which way.  I tried brushing it out which just made it worse.  My last saving grace was to try on the head band to see if it would tame the mess.  It was then I realized that the head band made me look like an overaged mermaid, having really bad hair day.

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F%#$k the hair.

I decided to move on to the pedicure.  If anything, the water might relieve the stinging sensation in my burnt fingertips.

Normally, whenever I tried to paint my nails, they end up looking like a drunk toddler got loose with the nail polish.  After the hair fiasco, I was almost resigned to the fact that I would be going to the wedding with unpainted toes and a baseball hat on.

I am still not sure what happened, but somehow I managed to stay inside the lines and my toes came out pretty nice.  Definitely not professional grade, but I only had to get through the day and as long as no one was crawling around by my feet, it would pass as acceptable.

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I went to bed feeling somewhat optimistic.

SATURDAY (WEDDING DAY)

Time to get serious.

During the night, my hair disaster had flattened down so I thought I’d give the head band another try.  Still looked like sh@$#t.  Really, I do have a baseball hat that matches my dress….

After getting everyone fed, dressed, packed for aunties, and medicated, I thought “hey, maybe I should paint my finger nails too.”  Freaking idiot.  I didn’t do a bad job.  I just kept forgetting that I couldn’t touch anything for a while.  After the fourth touch up, I decided I’d just keep my hands in my lap or talk really animated so no one would actually see my nails for more then 30 seconds at a time.

It was then my husband asked if we had a card.  SH@#$T!

Off to Walmart I go.  Got a lovely wedding card, picked up a sweater in case the AC was blasting during the reception, picked up a few more hair accessories (still have no idea what I’m doing) and grabbed some lip gloss.  Did I mention I never wear makeup?  Any makeup I have is from my wedding – 14 years ago.  According to my friends, I should not be using this makeup for fear of getting some bacterial infection that could make my eyes look like I’ve been in a really bad bar fight.  I decided to take my chances.

So I rushed home, got cleaned up, dusted off my special occasion only thong, put my straight hair in a somewhat side pony, threw on my 14 year old makeup, my new sweater and…….CRAP!  I look like a dowdy librarian for a low budget porn film.  My husband thought I looked hot (due to the thong and the porn reference).

I have to admit, we both cleaned up nicely.  We received a lot of compliments about our matching outfits, which we told everyone was due to the Garanimal matching system.  No one noticed my hacked up finger nails.  My eyes didn’t swell from a raging bacterial infection.  There were no wardrobe malfunctions and I managed to refrain from any cartwheeling.

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The wedding was beautiful and I am so happy for the bride and groom, but the best part of the day was going home and getting back in my hoodie.

Some things never change.

Sue

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My Peri-Menopausal Self

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I turn 47 today which means I am officially sliding down the old age hill towards the half century mark.  On one hand I am one year closer to the 10% senior discount at Dunkins.  On the other, my body isn’t exactly being a team player any more.

Like an old car whose warranty had just expired, when I hit my 40’s, everything seemed to start to fall apart.  You silently pray that old Bessy will keep kicking for just a few more years until you can trade her in.  Unfortunately, there is no trade ins when it comes to life.  You are stuck with the body you took off the lot.  All sales final.

There are a lot of things no one warns you about as you get older. Similar to childbirth, most people are reluctant to tell you the gory details for fear of causing you to gouge your eyes out and run screaming from the room or curl in a sobbing ball in the corner of the room.

Fortunately, I am not one of those people.  I will tell you straight out some of the suckass things that happen to you as you climb the hill of old age towards “the Change”.  Hey, misery loves company

HAIR:

Say goodbye to your luscious locks.  Your hair will slowly begin to convert into straw.  Sorry ladies, but no amount of highlights are going to hide those steel like grey hairs that keep popping up on your head.  You will also be blessed with your hair starting to fall out.  I don’t mean an occasionally stray hair.  We are talking shedding like a sheep dog in winter.  I cannot tell you how much hair I find at the bottom of the shower drain after each washing.  I could probably knit a 3 piece suit out of the sh*t.

While your hair is shedding from your head, mysterious hairs will begin to pop out in places you never knew could grow hair and those suckers will be industrial strength.   I have one hair – just one- that keeps growing underneath my chin. I have affectionately named it “splinter” ever since my son commented that poor mommy has a “splinter” in her chin.  In order to get “splinter” to vacate my chin area, I must position myself with a firm grip on my tweezers as I brace my feet against the vanity and pull with all my might.  I believe the feeling is close to having your fingernails ripped off and it brings tears to your eyes.

BOOBS:

Ah, those lovely breasts.  Remember how cute and perky they used to be?  You could throw them in a lacy little number and they would stand up at attention.  Two plump melons peeking out of your shirt.  Now, thanks to breastfeeding two kids and gravity, mine look like two dried out tangerines hanging in a panty hose.  Rather than peeking out from the top of the shirt, my cleavage is more in the vicinity of my belt buckle.  Bras are no longer for looks, they are for support so I can give the appearance that my boobs are still up near my chest, not part of my waistline.  Somewhat horrifying is I now wear the same bra that my mother wears because I need the full coverage or those puppies escape out the front when I lean over.   My mom tells me their underwear is super comfy too.  Aaah thanks, but I draw the line at bras.  Im not ready for granny panties…yet.

BODY:

My “temple” is becoming more like an ancient ruin.   What was once a strong, solid column, providing support and protection, now has begun to show wear and barely keeps me upright some days..  Things have begun to shift and settle.  Where there was once smoothness, now has wrinkles.  Parts of me are spreading outward, mainly my a$$.  Other parts are drooping downward.  Things jiggle when I wave and often creak or snap when I move.

Now, I never really expected for my body to not change as aged, I just thought I would be able to keep it in check a little better.  How stupid was I? Especially after having two kids.  Right there was cause enough for my midriff to go to pot.  Add too many iced coffees and my love of french fries and I’m lucky I’m not confined to a Lark.  These days,my midsection looks more like the Pillsbury doughboy, soft and pasty.  Only difference is, if you poke me in the stomach, I will not giggle.  I’ll punch you in the f@*^%ing face.🙂

PEE:

While this subject could fit well under the last section, I felt it need a whole section on its own.  Yeah, its that important.  When my doctor told me after having my second child “Things will never be right down there again”, he was not joking.  I no longer have any control over that area of my body.  It’s like after the second kid, they snipped the important nerve that signals your brain as to how your muscles work.  I can no longer sneeze, laugh, or do a frigging jumping jack, without having to pee.   Even if I just went.  And forget holding it.  That’s freaking torture.  As soon as I see a toilet, my muscles start to fail and I am jumping around like a stripper with a wardrobe malfunction trying to get my zipper down.   I used to make fun of my mother for having to use the bathroom every 5 minutes.  Now we are racing each other to the first open stall.  First the bras, now the bladder.  I am not sure what to expect next.

NIGHT SWEATS:

I go to bed freezing my ass off but peel off the layers as I sweat out of my clothing during the night. My side of the bed is soaking wet and gross, so I scootch over to the husband’s side. This only irritates him with my clamminess, so I end up back in the waterbed area, although we clearly only bought a regular mattress. Now I wake up an hour later and I’m shivering because I am freaking freezing again. Don’t worry – this cycle will repeat itself after I find something else dry and warm to put on

PERIOD? NO PERIOD?:

So remember when you were first waiting for your period and you had to be prepared at all times because you just never knew when it could possibly just arrive? This is just what peri-menopause is like. Some months, I have my period 3 weeks out of the month. Some months go by and nothing happens at all. Tracking? This is a waste of time. It just shows up whenever it decides to, stays on a while, maybe goes away and comes back next week. It’s like seasonal coffees at D&D… you never know when they are coming and/or going away.

Moral is: don’t leave home without your supplies.

Or in white pants.

I can’t be too upset though.  My body may have some wear, but it still manages to get up everyday and get me to Dunkins.  As long as I have some caffeine and a boatload of Depends, I guess I’ll hang on to the old girl.  We’ve been through so much.  And if the other side of 50 is as much fun as the hills of 40, then I pretty sure I am in for a wild ride.

I just hope the ride doesn’t involve a Lark…or do I?🙂

Sue

PS  I must give a shout out to my dear pal, Cindy, who helped me with late night editing and her funny addition about night sweats and periods.  I swear we share the same brain…which explains a lot.  I love you and your saggy uterus with all my heart.🙂

Five Reasons Everyone Should have an ADHD Friend

1958452_10204703030489229_5528013608169813191_nWe all have a circle of friends that we rely on.  Your support group.  The friends you hang out with and laugh till you cry.  The friends you vent to or seek out when you’re having a bad day.   I call these friends “the A list”.     The list is usually short, but although small in quantity, it is rich in quality.

I am sure just as your group of friends is rich in quality, it is probably also rich in diversity.  While most friends have similar personalities and things in common that draw them into that friendship, it is our differences that add the spark to the relationship.  That is why every circle of friends need at least one ADHDer in their group.  Let me tell you why.

 1. We are very entertaining

One of the best qualities of an ADHDer is our sense of humor.  We love to laugh – at ourselves, at the world, at life in general.  We love to make people laugh and love it when people make us laugh.  If you have a party, an ADHD friend should be first on the list.  We will talk to anyone who will listen. We’ll talk even if no one is listening.  We make great ice breakers.  Cousin Joe in from town and knows nobody?   We’ll make him feel right at home.   We are the ones at the party with the bucket on our head and the first in line for the Conga.  We love to feel happy and we want everyone around us to feel happy too.  We will make it our personal mission that you have a good time in whatever situation you are in with us.

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2.  We are good in a crisis

A crisis is all about spontaneity, adeline rush, and chaos.  Everything we ADHDers thrive on.  When the chips are down, we are at our best.  It does not have to be a big crisis.  Any crisis will do.  Car breaks down and you need a ride? You have to bring 450 cupcakes to a fundraiser by tomorrow at 8am?  We’ve got your back.  We aren’t wishing for anything bad to happen, but when it does, your ADHD friend will be the first one there to help. We think outside the box and come up with a plan most would never consider. You can rest easy when we are on the job.  It will all fall into place.

3.  We love a good project

Routines are boring.  Most daily living activities are boring so if you have a project you need help on, we ADHD friends are where to look.  We welcome anything that will distract us from doing the boring things in life – cleaning, food shopping, laundry…we will take any excuse to avoid the mundane.  Need your living room painted the day before Thanksgiving?  We’ll help.  Moving furniture or digging a ditch for a new swimming pool?  Totally into that!  Projects are thrilling and exciting. Our super hyper focus abilities means we will not stop until the project is complete.  Projects let us work with our hands and be around people we love.  What more can you ask for?

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4.  We rarely sleep

Up at 3am and need someone to talk to?  Want company on Black Friday or standing in line all night for concert tickets?  We are the people to call.  We hardly ever sleep and when we do, it’s for small periods of time so chances are we are up and looking for something to do.  We are great listeners and we hardly ever gossip since we usually forget the conversation once you are out of sight.  We will keep you company at night when your kid is up all night with the croup.  We are the ones to call at 5am when your sitter bailed and you need someone to get your kids to school so you won’t be late for work.  Give us a chaotic situation and we will be happier then a swine in sh@$t”.  (That’s a Nana quote)

5.  We are game for anything

Going on an adventure?  Please take us along!  We love adventures.  No idea is too crazy for us ADHDers.   We love all things novel and shiny and bright so excursions are a world of excitement and wonder for us.  Whether you are taking a random road trip to NYC to see a play or stalking your favorite celebrity outside his hotel dressing room, you can bet we will be right there by your side.  Be careful though.  We do have a tendency to go too far so make sure you can rein us in or at least have bail money for us.

After reading this, I am sure you are just itching to go out and find yourself an ADHD friend.  In all fairness, I must point out the fine print that comes along with an ADHD friend.  We’re not known for having a very good filter and we have some impulse issues so we often say or do things that can hurt another person.  When we go to far with a joke or we stick our foot in our mouths, please don’t think we meant to hurt you.  We didn’t.   Our brains are moving so fast that things come flying out before our brains can figure out what we said was wrong.  Believe me, we do figure it out.  When we do, we will be crushed at causing you pain.  We are very sorry so please forgive our momentary lap in judgement.

Our compassion, loyalty, and generosity run incredible deep.  We are prone to gigantic highs and crushing lows.   We can run through more emotions in 20 seconds then most people feel in a week.  We feel all emotions so deeply which is why (I believe) we can have such deep empathy for all people.  So don’t take our mood swings personally.  Most of the time our moods have nothing to do with you.  The good thing is our moods are like New England weather, they change every 15 minutes.  If you wait a moment, we will probably come back around.

We are obnoxious, loud and exhausting, but we are also fiercely loyal, tremendously generous with our time and our love, and we can always find the sun through the clouds.

So you are probably wondering how you find an ADHD friend.  It is really not that hard.  Just look for the adult who is rolling down the hill with the kids or throwing herself down the inflatable slide at the Fun Zone.  There’s a pretty good chance that’s one of us. If you jump on the slide and ask to race us, you will be taken into our fold with a booming hello.  Then just hold on and enjoy the ride!

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Sue

The Only Thing I’m Really Good At Cleaning Is A Colon

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I haven’t written in quite a while.  The reasons behind that are long and I won’t bore you.

In short, I haven’t written anything because I’ve been up to my elbows in sh@$!%t – literally

If you have read any of my past posts (My House Smells Like Ass, Kicked Out Of Poop Camp) then you are familiar with my professional career as a potty trainer.  If not, then let me just say that for the last 3 plus years, I have been potty training my son and we seemed to have come back full circle to the beginning.

If someone had said that one day, I would know everything there is to know about human excrement, I would have poo poo’d them (no pun intended).

But here I am, currently back on poop patrol, doody duty, sh@#!$t stakeout – trying desperately to end this seemingly endless cycle of potty training.

Let me tell you, I have read every book, internet article, watched every youtube video, and seen every pediatric GI doctor on the East coast in an effort to help my son gain control over his bowels.  At this point, I should have earned a doctorate in poop.

Tell me your bodyweight and I can tell you the exact ratio of Mirlax to Gatorade you need to drink to clean out your colon.  Want to use Ex-Lax or Ducolax?  I can give you those doses too.  I can tell you how many hours after your “poop” cocktail that your first poop will arrive and all the stages that little bugger will go through till you’re regular again.  Show me a picture of poop and I can tell you what type it is according to the Bristol Stool Chart.  Want to know the inner working of the colon?  Know that too.  I know when a colon is stretched too much, it loses it’s ability to sense a poop.   You can sh$@!t your pants and truly not know it was happening.  I can tell you the difference between true diarrhea and just leakage.  Let me feel your belly and I’ll tell you if you’re constipated.  Do you know the difference between a “skiddy” and a “shart”?  I do.

My whole household revolves around poop.  While most people hang pictures of their kids’ artwork on the frig, mine is covered with poop charts, reminders to poop, and X-rays of colons.   Dinner conversations are not about “how was your day?” or “what did you do?”, it’s more like “did you have an accident today?” or “do you have a poop stuck?”.  My phone has more pictures of poop on it than any one person should have.  I have downloaded more poop tracking apps then I have mindless games.  We own enough Mirlax and Ex-lax to keep a small country regular for the next two years. We share our poop escapades with others like most share summer camp stories.  We are actually quite proud of our poop and will cheer on anyone who is pooping regularly as well as sympathize with those who are not.  We compare our poops to see who as the healthiest poop and we show our friends what their poops should look like.

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I consider myself the Professor of Poop, the Logger of Logs, The Doctor of Dumps.   Our motto is “a good poop in the morning makes for a great day!”   Achieving regularity is the ultimate goal of our house.   They say no one has ever gone to college in a diaper, but some days it feels like we might just win that prestigious award.   At least by then, my son will be seen as a hero at his frat house for never having to lose his place in the keg line to go use the bathroom.  Right now, kids are not so forgiving and so I am determined to help my son through this.   To see him achieve success this time.  It could take up to a year for his colon to get back to knowing it’s proper job, but we cannot give up.  We are in it for the long haul.  We’ve lost 3 couches, 4 rugs, and countless pairs of undies to poop.  I’ve had poop on my hands, on my clothes, and on my floors and I’m fully prepared for more of the same.  As my husband often says, “sh!@$t wipes off”.  So I will continue to log the logs and mix up poop cocktails until we can one day look back at this all and say….”we nailed that sh!@#!t!

Peace and Poops

Sue

Bookends of Crazy

The other day I posted a video of my children in the morning.  If you happened to miss it, you can check it out on Facebook : www.facebook.com/MostlySaneMamas.

BTW – This is a good day in my house.  I had written this post a few days before so it seemed fitting to send it out into the world now.  Maybe it will give a little more context to the video.

The plus side of having a houseful of people who have a lack of focus and an overabundance of energy is there is hardly any boredom.  Sure we have days where things go smoothly and not much happens, but most days are anything but dull.

Often my day starts and ends with crazy.  Not just chaotic crazy, but bat sh&@t, off the wall crazy.  Like two manic bookends holding in the calm that unfortunately, someone else gets the pleasure of witnessing, mainly my kids’ teachers.

 

 

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The roughest times, understandably, are in the morning before meds kick in and in the evening when the meds wear off.  Basically, the bulk of the time I have my children.

Nights are usually filled with more meltdowns because my kids are usually exhausted from holding it together all day.  Mornings are more prone to involve activities with lots of energy and chaos, like skateboarding in the kitchen or a rousing session of gymnastics on the couch.

The other night, I asked the boy to get on his pjs, like I do every night shortly after dinner.

His response?

Throw himself on the floor, screaming “why won’t you ever just let me relax?!”

He proceeded to repeat this cry over and over and over for the next 20 minutes as he got himself ready for bed.

My daughter and I found this quite amusing.  The boy – not so much.

My morning can start at any time, be it 3am, 4am or 7am (although that is rarity and usually means someone was up from midnight to 4).  After 10 years of this, I have become well versed in recognizing how far up the crazy scale each morning will be.  Sometimes, its barely a blip on the radar and we all go smoothly into our day.  Other times, someone pulls the pin from the hand grenade and the explosion is intense.

Today was a fine example of a sh&($t storm in the brewing.  When I got up, my daughter was already on the couch with her head in her laptop.  Who knows how long she has been up.  My son, on the other hand, followed me downstairs at 5:45am and grabbed his iPad.

Electronics are banned in our house during the mornings.  We have plenty of other distractions each morning, there is no need to add something as mind sucking as electronics.  I’ve even banned myself (not very successfully) since I am just as guilty of losing track of time and having to rush to make the bus.

Me: Shut it down. No electronics before school.

YaYa: I was just looking up something quick.

Me: Uh huh.  How long have you been up?

Yaya:  I don’t know.  4 something, 5 something.  I don’t remember.

Me: You need to get ready and you still have homework to finish.

Yaya: SIGH!  Fine!

Me: You too, little man.  Time to get ready.

The boy:  Where are my clothes?  Did you bring them down?

Me: Nope.  Thats your job.  You didn’t do it last night so you have to run up and get them now.

The boy slowly slides down the couch onto the floor and proceeds to cry and kick and scream.

I know, its a shock to have to stop what you are doing an get dressed.  Its not like it happens…oh… EVERY. MORNING.   We even have a flipping chart on how to do it!  But every morning, its a surprise.

The boy rallies and gets dressed fairly quickly.  He decided to dress all in camouflage today “so no one will be able to see me.”  Awesome.  If I knew it was that easy to disappear, I would have completely changed my wardrobe years ago.

Everyone gets fed and the boy is ready to go so I let him have his iPad.  My daughter on the other hand, it still not dressed, homework is still undone and she is now under a blanket, reading a book.  It’s 7:05am.  Medicine alarms rings at 7:30 and Bus alarm is at 7:45.  Not looking good.

Me: Last time, you need to get dressed and finish you homework.  If you are not ready, you will miss the bus and get an incomplete.

Nothing.  Silence.  Not even a glance to know she got it.

Me: Hey!  We on the same page?

Yaya:  I got it!  Geez!

Oh how I love my tween!

Finally, my daughter drags herself off the couch completely wrapped in a blanket and sits at the table to do homework.

Yaya:  I can’t do this.  its too hard.

Me:  How can you tell?  You have a blanket over your head.

Nothing.  I’m just staring at a blue blob sitting motionlessly at my kitchen table

Me:  Would you like me to help you?

Crickets…..

I reach for the paper so I can read the instructions…the blanket speaks,

“I was reading that!”

I push the paper back over and wait.  My daughter proceeds to slowly bang her head against the table.

It’s 7:15am.  I walk away.

She finally emerges halfway from the blanket and with a little cheerful prodding, she is able to complete her homework relatively quickly and with no injury to herself or others.

But she’s still not dressed.

Me:  Ok.  You need to get dressed.  I’m running up stairs to get my clothes on.  Then we will do medicine.

She pulls the blanket over her head, slowly slides off the chair and proceeds to slither her way into the living room.  She is going in the right direction so I dash off to get dressed.  That’s when I hear the boy say “hey, I want a blanket too!”  I cringe.  Go back down and break up what is sure to turn into a disaster or continue on to get dressed and hope to make it back before chaos erupts?  I choose to get dressed.

I can hear lots of laughter and its getting louder and more intense.  Never a good sign.  I am moving as fast as I can.  The phone rings.  I’m sure its my husband.  My daughter yells she’s got the phone.

I hear “Hi Daddy!”   This is followed by more crazy laughter with some banging and thumping.  Then it happens.  There is a loud crash and the boy starts crying.

I make my way back downstairs and turn the corner into the living room.

The phone is in the middle of the floor and I can hear my husband on speakerphone yelling, “Hello? Hello?”.  The TV tray table is knocked over, there is a blue blanket blob on the floor and my son is crying and holding his face while wrapped in a brown fleece blanket.

The boy: “I hit my face on the table!”

Me: What did you think was going to happen?”

YaYa:  I didn’t do anything!  He did it to himself!

I pick up the phone to save my husband.

Me: Hey.

Hubby: What the hell is happening?

Me:  They are doing that blanket thing.

Hubby:  Ah.  That explains the screaming.

Me: Yep.

Hubby:  So the morning’s going great I see.

Me: Fabulous!

It’s 7:25am and I’m exhausted.  My only ray of hope is that big yellow bus coming at 8am to take my children away and leave me in silence.  That is, if my daughter ever gets dressed.

Womb For Sale

UnknownMy hubby and I were watching the news over the weekend and a story came on about a woman who was born without a womb. She wanted to have a child so she had a womb transplant and was able to give birth to a baby boy. Isn’t science flipping amazing?!

Anyway, I got me thinking so I turned to my husband and said..

Me: Do you think I could sell my womb? I don’t need it anymore. I wonder what the going rate if for a womb?

Him: I don’t see why not. Its not like you’re going to use it again. And then maybe we can go to Aruba.

Me: Do you think if we were younger when we had our kids, we would have had more?

He looked at me with that face, like I had just told him there was a purple elephant in the backyard.

Him: Yeah right. Because three is such a great number. Someone is always left out. If you’re going have three, you might as well have four. Two is just fine.

Me: Yeah, and it goes against my rule: never let the children outnumber the parents.

Him: Exactly. Might as well get another husband and wife.

Me: So basically, you’re saying the best number for kids is two.

Him: Right

Then we both looked at each other and smirked, then said…    “or none.”

Then we both started laughing hysterically.

We often joke about what we would do if we didn’t choose to have kids. Going out to dinner or the movies without having to coordinate babysitters; taking trips to exotic places where we can lounge around and people wait on us for a change; more disposable income; less clutter. But we both know that life would be extremely dull and uneventful without our two, off the wall, crazy, challenging, amazing kids.

Beside, imagine how unbelievably boring my Facebook statuses would be?

-Sue

Oh, and if you know of anyone in the market for a slightly used, “vintage” womb, I know someone who might be selling….

‘Twas the night before school

‘Twas the night before school
And all through my place
Roamed two grumpy children
Not one happy face

School starts tomorrow
And it fills them with dread
Making it twenty times harder
To get them to bed

Summer is gone
A flash in the pan
No more days in the sun
Say goodbye to the tan

Fun days filled with swimming
Seeing friends every day
Many late nights to bed
They wish summer would stay

So few rules, no routines
Having ice cream for dinner
I have to admit
Summer’s a winner

But all good things must end
Its time to move on
I am totally ready
For these kids to be gone

They complain they are bored
They bicker and fight
Send them off to school
Get them out of my sight

Leave me be with my coffee
I can finally drink hot
Hit the stores unencumbered
Try on clothes on the spot

Eat my lunch undisturbed
Catch up on the news
Take a nap if I want to
Do whatever I choose

Yes, the start of school
May bring little ones fear
But I’m sure moms all over
Will let out a big cheer

And Mine will be gone
From 8 until 3
After 10 grueling years
I am finally free!

Have a great school year!

Sue