Any Way You Want It. Or, just the way I remember it?

It's not my fault.  When this kind of stuff happens for real, it's just no wonder I get confused.

I fell asleep on the couch last night watching Sherlock and I woke up to see an Asian man with long glossy hair and perfect teeth talking to a camera saying, "I am living a dream.  I did not think this could be possible.  And I love cooking.  Right now I am making some kind of Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese food that is not kimchee and looks delicious."  I made up that last part because he was speaking in a foreign tongue and I wasn't awake enough to read the subtitles. 

It took me about a minute to realize this wasn't Sherlock.  Then the craziest thing happened.  This tiny Asian man started singing Journey.  Had this not happened right on the heels of seeing Lang Lang performing with Metallica, I could have sworn I was in an alternate universe.

Me:  Babe are you in here?

Hubby:  Yup. 

Me:  Who is this Asian guy?  What are we watching?  I was watching Sherlock and I woke up in an alternate universe.

Hubby:  He's some guy that sings Journey better than Journey.  And you are not in an alternate universe.  You are on the couch where you have fallen asleep the last five nights in a row at about 8:15.  I changed the channel when I realized you were asleep.  Again.

Me:  Right.  But who is he?  Is this real?  What are we watching?

Hubby:  Yes.  This is real.  I'm not sure I didn't see the first part of the show - because you were "watching" Sherlock.  We are now watching Independent Lens. 

There's many reasons why I confuse things so frequently in my head (mostly I blame it on the sheer number of things I have to remember at any given point in time).  Part of the reason I am so screwed up in my thinking is that we often stumble upon great shows halfway into the show.  (That's what happens when you still watch TV in real time and you get sleepy a lot.  Apparently.)  So, I blame great shows like Independent Lens that try to teach me something and I also blame hubby (naturally).  (Specifically I blame his degree in trivia with a minor in B.S.) 

We finished watching the show (which was great) and here's what I went to bed knowing (kind of):

1.  I hated Journey in high school.
2.  I still hate Journey although I have great respect for their lead singer (?) who Did Not Stop Believing. 
3. This was some sort of dream realized for him.
4.  Sometimes dreams come true but you probably need a YouTube account for this to happen (this was confirmed for me this morning - as in - you do need a YouTube account for your dreams to come true).
5.  As hubby said first, "He sings Journey better than Journey sings Journey."  (I just think that's a quote worth repeating.  Over and over.)
6.  This guy did not get to sing lead for Journey because someone in the "real" Journey died. Rest easy - no one in Journey has died, right?
7.  Hubby (generally as good as a small Google for trivia) was fairly useless in ascertaining any more information without the aid of his "smart" phone.  He never saw Journey in concert and he didn't really like Journey much either.
8.  The Asian man is Filipino and I think everyone in the Philippines turned out for his homecoming concert in which he sang Journey better than Journey.
9.  When he sang Don't Stop Believing I almost liked it.
10.  Independent Lens can make you love Journey even if you hate it.

So, after we were in bed hubby decided to look up some more trivia about Journey.  I already know some of this trivia is going to come back to haunt me (probably later today).

Hubby:  So, did you know Randy Jackson used to play with Journey?

Me:  Holy CRAP.  I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE SURPRISES TONIGHT.  ARE YOU LOOKING AT THE REAL INTERNET OR A FAKE INTERNET THAT'S TRYING TO MESS WITH ME??? 

Hubby:  No.  I'm looking at the real Internet.

Me:  I cannot believe this!  Was that before or after Pulp Fiction?

Hubby:  No.  Randy Jackson.  You're thinking of Samuel Jackson.

Me:  Oh, right.  Are they brothers because they really look alike?

Hubby:  No.  Samuel Jackson is a movie star.  Randy Jackson sang with Journey and a bunch of other bands and now he's on American Idol.  And he's a spokesperson for Nutrisystems.

Me:  Oh.

Hubby:  I'm just kidding.

Me:  So, he wasn't with Metallica?  I mean Journey?

Hubby:  No, he was with Journey but he's not a spokesperson for Nutrisystems.  As far as I know.  But, he did lose about 200 pounds.

Me:  You suck for messing with my already messed up mind.  Speaking of music, you know that guy that just died Pete Seeger? 

Hubby:  Yup.

Me:  I'm so sad. 

Hubby:  Before you ask me, he doesn't sing the song you love Night Moves.  That's Bob Seger.

Me:  I knew that.  But Pete was his dad, right?

Hubby:  Um, no.

Me:  I was KIDDING!

Hubby:  Right.

 

Will this still be okay when it's not my birthday?

Yesterday I celebrated not dying for one more year.  And as an optimistic friend reminded me I'm "one more day closer to death."  Thank you, optimistic friend.

To celebrate this day my kids did everything I asked them the first time, completed their chores without complaining, and I didn't have to lift a finger all day.

And I won a hundred million dollars.

(That didn't happen either.)

What did happen is something that reminded me that on your birthday you are entitled to do the things that maybe all year long you try to limit.  Examples:  eat cake for all three meals, drink a martini at 8:00 a.m., shop till all your credit cards are declined, gab on the phone with all your friends who call while all your work emails go unanswered, etc.

I personally have been trying not to use commas excessively, and, also, more importantly to try to maintain a positive attitude, and not complain.

So, I think you can imagine how this card from Girl 3 made my entire day and might win a contest somewhere for................creativity?

To Mom I hope you have a good bich!  (Thank you!  Done and dunner!)

LOVE your hairdresser. But, don't let her get you pregnant.

I started today (my second day of having one extra hour - whatever) with nine things on my to-do list (to-do before 3:00 p.m. when the kids get off the bus and my life spontaneously combusts).  It is roughly 2:00 p.m. and I have accomplished five of them.  Since I promised to blog whenever it was convenient this month I decided to fore go working out and doing laundry and whatever else is on the list - and fulfill my promise to you guys.  You're welcome.

As you might know, after a long and sordid relationship with my last hair dresser - we broke up.  Or, I broke up with him and he might not know it yet.  Whichever, I am currently seeing someone else and I love her.

In our short relationship, here's what she's taught me.

1.  Even though my hair is as straight as a board, I can still benefit from straightening my hair.  This logic is kinda like the logic...oh, wait.  I am trying not to be political on the day before the elections.  So, just know that this logic is not logical.

2.  When you want to attempt that "straight from the hairdresser look" you can do a couple of things after you've had it cut, colored, and styled.  You can not wash your hair for as long as you can stand it, or until your kids start to comment rudely.  Or, you can wash it and try in vain to attain the look you had right before you washed it.  Or, you can just confess to your hairdresser that you don't have the foggiest idea how to style your hair and can she show you.  She showed me.  And she talked slowly.  I can style it better now.

3.  All women can have silky smooth hair that is soft to the touch.  Even old women like me.

4.  Wax isn't just for the bikini line anymore.

5.  And lastly, hubby freaked out a little when he saw these in the cupboard.

He calmed down a little when I said, "RELAX.  They're for my HAIR!"

I don't know much, but I do know the Chupacabra (and he's not the largest rodent in the world).

I will be the first to admit I am not smarter than a fifth grader.  Hell, I am not even smarter than my pre-schooler some days.  Half of this inability to compute can be blamed on my ever shrinking memory.  (Who are you?  Why are you reading my blog?)  The other half can be blamed on the fact that I really suck at all kinds of trivia, science, history, politics, and paparazzi.  And the other half can be blamed on the fact that I confuse things in my head on a regular basis.  (Was Neil Armstrong the first man on the moon, or a famous jazz musician?  Is a doppelganger something evil representing misfortune or is it a show about a harried detective that I like to watch on PBS?  Do I respect philanthropists or philanderers?)

When you have four kids who ask you everything under the freakin' sun all day long, and who during the summer are home 24/7 this can be a little problematic.

During the last six weeks here is an incomplete list of things I have been asked and that I have attempted (feebly) to explain (know that my kids now *might* be misguided):

• What color is blood before it squirts out of your body?
• What makes something radioactive?
• What does "being paroled" mean?
• What happens after the policeman arrests you for speeding?
• Why are there magnets?
• What's photosynthesis?
• What's the tallest mountain in the world?
• Why are no two fingerprints alike?
• Who invented money?  Why can't we just make more at our house? 
• Is Cinderella the one with the wicked step mother or is it Snow White?
• What is Pixar from Disney Pixar?  What does it mean?
• Which presidents are still alive?
• Are there four Ice Age movies or three?
• Is there more than one "f" word?
• What's puberty?

Luckily my husband can explain most things (and if he can't, he just makes fairly believable sh*t up).  So, my usual answer goes something like this, "Photosynthesis is when some rare gases mix with the sun's rays and form tequila.  We use the tequila to make a common drink called a margarita.  There are many recipes for them and we usually put salt on the rim of the glass.  I think.  But, I am sure dad knows more, so when he gets home let's ask him.  And then mom will drink a margarita."  Or sometimes I just say, "That sounds like a great question for Google.  Go look it up and prepare a five page report on what you find."

Here's a short list of things I do not/did not know (just pulled randomly from this past month) mainly because I did not remember the facts as they were presented to me or I just plain don't know/don't care:

Many of these have to do with whether or not people are dead or alive and if they are dead, how they died.  You can analyze that at your leisure and decide whether or not I am obsessed and have a problem.  Or, I can save you the analysis and tell you:  Yes, I am.  I have many problems.

1.  I did not know Flo-Jo was dead. 
2.  I did not know Anne Frank died in the end (prematurely, I should say since we all die in the end).
3.  I did not know who Arlo Guthrie was.  Although, the 100th anniversary of Woody Guthrie's death has been commemorated on par with the death of Ronald Reagan (whose funeral might still be in progress).
4.  I am not sure what the largest sea animal is.
5.  I do not know which is bigger:  an elephant or a whale.
6.  I do not know the tallest mountain in the world.
7.  I am not sure why there are magnets.
8.  I do not know how many Disney princesses there are.

All of this is to give you an idea of my frame of mind a few weeks ago when hubby brought home this:

For some reason, Girl 1 was distrustful of the facts as they appeared on the box and felt the need to pose questions to all of us every morning.

(This was a joy to me as I have already explained to you how I excel at these things.)  And, did I mention my Keurig is broken???

Here's how pre-coffee breakfast conversations have gone:

Girl 1:  Mom, is the saguaro really the tallest cactus in America?
Me:  I don't know.  I think so.
Girl 1:  Mom, is the White Sturgeon really the largest freshwater fish?
Me:  Hmm.  I'm not sure.  Is a whale a fish?
Girl 1:  Mom, is Mount Washington really the Windiest Place?
Me:  That's a good question.  How would they even know what the windiest place was?  What do they use to measure it?  Their licked fingers???

I was a little irritated that after making such painstaking attempts to be accurate in my answers, it wasn't until a few days into this game that Girl 1 told me these "Superlatives" were limited to America.  After I found that out, I would just respond with, "Oh, I'm not sure what this is in America.  I know how it is in the whole world, but to know about just America, you'll have to Google it." 

(I am sure this made me appear much smarter to my kids.)

Finally, Girl 1 asked a question I knew a lot about.

She said, "Mom, I FOUND A MISTAKE ON THIS BOX!  I KNOW the largest rodent is NOT the American Beaver!"

I said, "You are absolutely right.  It's not."

Because, this is trivia I actually know!  I hate rodents more than I hate raccoons and so naturally I know that the capybara is the largest rodent in the world.  (Forget the fact that I knew the box would have listed the largest rodent in America.  Which probably is, in fact, the American beaver.)  There is even a capybara at our local zoo that we visit frequently, so I have seen one in person.

I waited for Girl 1 to give me the right answer and she loudly proclaimed,

"A CHUPACABRA is the largest rodent!"

Before I could laugh hysterically, or astound her with the fact that I knew the right answer she said,

"Wait.  That's not right.  A CAPYBARA IS THE LARGEST RODENT IN THE WORLD!"

I am deeply disturbed that at age nine, Girl 1 seems to be following directly in my footsteps.

Never underestimate the dangers of exercise.

If it's wrong to laugh at people when they fall, I don't do it.  But, here is a mostly true conversation between me and Girl 2 from a few weeks ago:

We had been talking about some kids who were doing something to another kid (I can't exactly remember the details) and I said something like, "Hmm.  Well, that just doesn't sound very kind.  It's not really bullying or being mean, but that might make you feel bad if someone did that to you.  So, it's probably a good idea for us not to do that."  Girl 2 then said back to me, "Yeah.  I get it.  Like when we fall and you laugh at us?  Like that, mom?"

Ouch!  Stinging.  Cringe.  Shameful.

I don't remember what I did after she said that.  I think I mumbled something like, "Yeah.  Kind of like that," and slinked out of the room.  Like a snake.

I try not to laugh when people (mostly my kids) fall, but I just think it's funny.  And I try to always make sure they are not hurt (seriously) before I start laughing.

So keeping all of this in mind, it should be no surprise to me that the tables turned on me yesterday morning.

I was out on my morning run and I was deep in thought composing a depressing blog post for you guys.  In fact, I was so deep in thought that tears had welled up in my eyes (turns out I have a talent for multi-tasking - or not).

(And in a short digression, when discussing talent our family possesses the other night - it was a short discussion - Boy Child told Girl 1, "You have a great talent for making yourself cry for no good reason or any reason, because you do it all the time."  And he was serious.  After thinking about it a little too much, I have concluded that I have that talent as well.  Especially once a month.)

Now, if I had to blame something for why I found myself smack dab on the grass ready to go into a forward tumble, I would say it was because I had tears in my eyes and I couldn't see clearly.  But, that would be a lie.  It was because I am clumsy.  And my bones are getting brittle from becoming old apparently.

Anyway.  I tripped over something (possibly air), tried desperately to find my footing, lost my battle with that, and had a quick thought that landing on the grass next to the sidewalk would be preferable to landing on the sidewalk.  So, I veered (gracefully) toward the direction of the grass and in about two seconds propelled myself onto my arms (onto the grass) with a force and speed *kind of* resembling Carl Lewis (at least that's who came to my mind as I found myself flying through the air) and I almost did a forward tumble like baseball players do sometimes when they are sliding into base (except I was not wearing tight white pants highlighting my nice a$$ - nor do I have a nice a$$ - and I was not trying not to swallow my tobacco - because I do not chew tobacco when I run usually).  When I didn't naturally do a forward tumble I thought about making myself do it just so that if anyone was watching they would be like, "OOO.  Oh no!  Ouch.  Clutz!  Cool!"

This fall was quite a shock and I am sure I looked quite shocked when I finally stopped moving and kind of just lay there on the grass next to the sidewalk in some unsuspecting (and I am sure nervous) person's front yard. 

Right then I immediately did what every adult person who falls does, I quickly scanned the area to see if anyone had seen me fall.

Now, I am going to digress again to tell you another one of my faults (It's been kind of like confession here on my blog lately, eh?  Except that usually when I play confession, I am the priest.).  When I am running in my neighborhood I can be smug.  (Shocking, I know.)  I often encounter neighbors "running" and I put them all in "classes."  There are the Marathoners who I tell myself are taking years off their lives by running so much and so seriously.  Then there are the New Year's Resolutioners who I tell myself won't be around past February.  Then there are the people who I kind of group in a class with myself who I like to "race" (totally in my head).  So, there's this one guy who I see almost everyday and he's fit and kind (evidenced by the fact that he nods to me when he passes me - most likely saying a silent prayer for my safety when I invariably lose my footing and do a face plant), but he walks up almost all of the hills.  So, I take a teensy bit of pride in the fact that I can run up the hills at my age and he walks up them (knowing full and well that he probably has a high school injury that prevents him from running up hills or he has fake knees and is overachieving just to be walking).

So, naturally I fell right in front of Walk Up The Hills Man's house.  There were no cars in his driveway, and I did not see anyone looking out the window.

And, there is a God in Heaven because I was out of the view of the high schoolers that congregate at the corner to wait for the bus.  If they had seen me, I would probably be shopping for a new house right now instead of blogging.

After I did a quick scan to see if anyone had seen me I just sat there for a few minutes.  And that's when it hit me.  I couldn't help myself.  I started to laugh like a ca-razy woman.  I mean I was laughing so hard I couldn't even get up off the ground or attempt to clean all the dirt and grime off my knees and hands.  Then I became even more worried that someone would see me on the ground, with dirt all over my hands and knees, laughing like a woman who has lost all her marbles, and unable to talk or lift myself off the ground.  This thought, of course, only made me laugh harder.  I had a thought that Walk Up The Hills Man would come out of his house and ask me if I was okay, and could he call someone for me.  But, I would not be able to say anything because I was laughing so hard.  Then, invariably he would start laughing at me because who doesn't think falling is funny?  And we would both be laughing hysterically until the person whose yard I was now fully sitting in laughing my a$$ off would come out and ask me if I was okay.  She would say that she had seen me fall and it was hilarious.  The three of us would just be there laughing hysterically until the moment passed.

This went on (in my mind) for a good five minutes until I was finally able to pull myself together and stop laughing and get up.

Shamelessly I waved (?) just in case anyone was watching.  From their window.  And I think I even shouted to no one and everyone, "I'm okay!  It's all good!"

I am trying not to let this incidence of clumsiness and extreme embarrassment get me down.  I ran today (you know, in the spirit of - if you fall off the horse - get right back on it?).  Just in case, I took Girl 3 in the stroller for extra cardio (and for safety).  Surely no one would laugh if I fell and dragged the baby down with me.  Right?  (Except me, of course.)

My brain may have just figured out It's January.

So, I am usually mildly depressed in January.  Call it Seasonal Depression, Post-Christmas Blues, Whacked Out Mom-of-Four Syndrome, whatever.  But, it's usually the case that in January I like to sit around in my jammies and think about everything sad.  I know that's weird since January is such a fabulously jazzy month what with:  post-Christmas finances, dreary disgusting weather, MLK Jr.'s march that we can never attend because someone is always napping and it's raining, my BIRTHDAY when my greatest fear (aging) is realized, and the days that end at 5:30 p.m. when all the kids are still WIDE AWAKE???  Surprising, but true.  In the past, you might have known (not that you in any way should care) that I am in Mild Depression because I won't post or if I do it will all be about Death and Dying (yes, like Kubler-Ross). 

This year I was sure I had kicked that nasty habit to the curb.  I had my Happy Gal groove on.....for the first 13 days.  Then it hit me.  IT'S JANUARY.  I am supposed to be in a Super Funk where I don't cook, clean, brush my teeth, or shower.  What the heck am I doing wandering around like a normal functioning woman?

As soon as that "cat was out of the bag" it's like my brain said, "Shut down.  Eat like a bear that's going into hibernation, refuse to talk to the children, and stay in your room."  And, with a few exceptions (I am talking to the children - occasionally and upon emergency), that's where I've been for a few days.

That brings me to today.  I decided it's time to take this bull by the horns and kick this thing.  What better way to do that than to concentrate on what makes January great?  So, here it goes.  (If this works, this could be my meal ticket, and I *could* be a millionaire - as it seems there are few side effects to making list.)

The Great Things About January (don't worry, I could only think of 10 - and that was a stretch)

1.  We are that much closer to Spring Break.
2.  We will not face the pressures of the Christmas season for another 11 months.
3.  The Golden Globe Awards are in January and we can make a list of movies that are supposedly good so that we might watch them sometime int he next 20 years.
4.  There are lots of season premieres and it can feel almost like September.
5.  There is the hope that shows like Whitney will be cancelled so that we won't have to accidentally stumble upon them and then be compelled to watch like a bad car crash.
6.  There isn't a lot of pressure to shop for new clothes since it will be rainy, cold, and dreary for a good two months.
7.  Even though I am faced with the fact of aging when my birthday rolls around, I do have a nice chance to score birthday booty (the accessory kind, not the other kind).
8.  The kids are fairly content playing with their Christmas loot and less inclined to fight with each other.
9.  January puts this irrational hope in the minds of my kids that it will snow (here in South Texas - where it's snowed a handful of times...ever), they will be able to make a snowman, ice skate, and have a snow day.  This irrational hope keep them excited and eager well into the fourth week of the month.

And probably the best thing about January:
10.  We are already halfway through and just 15 days away from FEBRUARY.

Well, that was worthless.  It turns out January does suck.  (I won't quit the day job.)  Try to keep your happy face on and if you can't do that, at least wash your jammies and hunker down.  We only have 15 more days to get through!!!

Age like Jagger.

In case you missed it:

A few weeks ago hubby showed this to me and asked me to guess who it was.  If you saw it, keep your mouth closed.  If you didn't - take a guess.

I'll tell you my guesses (all wrong).
1.  A burn victim from war.
2.  A pedophile with a mic.
3.  ZZ Top (take your pick).

All No's.  Granted I was looking from the kitchen on to his laptop screen squinting to see, but seriously???  It is Axel Rose.  Yeah.  It is.  Axel Rose from...Guns N' Roses.  So, this just begs the question:  WHAT THE HELL?  So, it was Rio...and it was raining.  But, seriously?  And I LIKE Axel.  In fact, years ago I may have loved him.  I have pinned him for God's sake (a MUCH more flattering version of him). 

So.  What I said to Axel then and what I say to him now is this:  Axel, take a lesson from the professional ager below.

We all know who this is.

Hawttie.  That is not only an older man than Axel rockin' some skinny jeans, a green shirt AND a green Hugh Hefner jacket, that is one hot man with some moves like butta'. 

I have added to my daily prayers.  Dear God:  Please let me age like Jagger and not Rose.  Amen.

Dead or Alive? I have no idea.

I had a completely different post for today about the discipline mistakes mothers make (and by "mothers" I mean "me"), but in case you haven't heard:  BOB HOPE'S WIFE DIED.  R.I.P.  So, I will have to post this instead.

Yesterday I told you how I have a poor memory for details.  Well, this makes it really hard to remember who is dead and who is alive.  I am not talking about people I know personally (I'd like to think I have a handle on that - just don't sit still for too long.) or people who died notorious deaths (for example - Michael Jackson).  I am talking about people who are more elusive like say - - Paul Newman and some politicians.  I'll give you a couple examples so that you will know where I am coming from.

Recently I attended a birthday party for my brother and someone had Paul Newman salad dressing.  Some party goers were wondering who could be making the dressing now that Paul Newman had died.  I said something like, "HOLD THE PHONE.  He's not DEAD!"  There was a little polite laughter ("polite" as in "she's clearly nuts") and then some commenting about how yes, he was indeed dead and had in fact died quite some time ago.

Now, I think I have already told you hubby is like Google.  He is the knower of All Facts That No One Really Cares About.  So, naturally I:
1.  Never play trivial pursuit with him, and
2.  Consult him on all facts that I do not know (which covers basically:  All Facts). 

So, here is what I texted him immediately from the party:

My text:  paul newman.  dead or alive?

His text:  dead.  where will we get our dressing?

I couldn't text him back because I was so shocked.  I hate it when I am dealt a death blow right before the salad course. 

This phenomena of Not Knowing Who Is Dead and Who Is Alive often happens to me with politicians as well.  I can never remember if they are dead or alive.  AND THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL COMMENTARY.  I HATE POLITICS OF ALL KIND.  THIS IS STRICTLY TO ILLUSTRATE HOW BAD MY MEMORY IS.

George Washington - Haha!  Dead....................Right?

JFK - dead.  I can remember that.  Although, the how? and when? are still a little sketchy and possibly conspiratorial in my mind.

Ronald Reagan - dead.  I can remember it because it seemed he died and then two weeks later I turned on the TV and he was still dying.

Richard Nixon's wife?  Hmm.  Now, there's a toss up.  Dead?  Possibly.  Alive?  Possibly.  I'm thinking - dead, but could be like 114???  This would definitely be a "consult hubby" and also a sarcastic comment from hubby in reply.  Such as:  You have a master's degree????

To keep me on my toes hubby will sometimes play a game with me that we call Dead or Alive.  Totally irreverent for some (if you are one of those "some" then "sorry").  He throws out a name and I have to say "dead" or "alive."  He may do this to chastise me for not knowing any facts or he may do this to see how bad my Bad Memory is progressing.  It doesn't matter because I usually fail miserably on both counts.

Now, all this about politicians and Paul Newman is just a little history for you so that you would understand what happened this morning when hubby greeted me with the news that Bob Hope's wife had died.

Hubby:  Hey babe.  I see here (as he had the newspaper spread out in front of him) that Bob Hope's wife died.

Me:  Bob Hope's?

Hubby:  Yes.  She was 102.

Me:  Wow.  I thought she was dead.  I'm sure Bob will be sad.  And, how old does that make him?

Hubby:  You're kidding, right?

Me:  Huh?

To sum up:  Bob Hope and his wife are now dead, friends.  They were both really old when they died.  Try to remember that.  I was greeted with this sad news before my morning coffee.  No worries, though because thankfully I have had time to recover from the news of "no more salads for me" since I am not sure who is now making the Paul Newman salad dressing.  Here's to memory and a mostly happy Tuesday!

What? Where? And, remind me - WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

It's Monday.  So, since it's already a tough day, can we talk about aging for a minute?  It sucks.  I have decided to share a few tidbits from another list that I have been working on for about three years now.  I call it: 

Aging Sucks.  Don't Let Anyone Tell You Any Different

Side note:  It's baby's third birthday today.  Now, when I'm dead and baby (hopefully she will go by her given name by then) reads my blog lovingly over and over trying to remember what a witty and wise mom she had I do not want her to think that I was only thinking about myself on HER third birthday.  So, this is for you, baby, when you are old and known by your real name, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!  I LOVE YOU AND I AM SO HAPPY YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE!"

Okay.  On with what I'm thinking about today.  If you are Where I Am let this be a refresher list for you.  If you are not Where I Am, let this be a warning.  If you are past Where I Am - God bless ya, be glad you are still alive, grab your bi-focals, and have a good laugh at how you used to be.  By the way - Where I Am is somewhere between 30 and 50........WITH A THREE YEAR OLD.

1.  At some point you will have to wear bi-focals.  Let me tell you why these are a raw deal.  First a short history in opthamology:  When you were born you had excellent vision.  You could see through walls.  As you aged you may have gone the route of glasses or contacts.  Or you may have been one of the lucky ones who skipped through Life Under 40 with nothing but your naked eyes.  BUT, you will know you are close to 40 or 40 because one day you will wake up and not be able to see the directions on the medicine you are either taking or dispensing.  It's a little disturbing at first.  You will go to the eye doctor and he will do an irritating test where he says, "Is it 1 or 2?  A or B?  C or D?  3 or 4?"  Until you think you have failed the SAT.  Then he will tell you, "You need bi-focals.  It happens when you get old."  This will make you want to say, "Thanks, eye doctor.  Now, go suck an egg."  At first your bi-focals will be fun and cute (like a new puppy).  But, then you will lose them, have to purchase like 10 pairs to keep all over, and you will forget what "prescription" you need when you are at the actual store where they SELL bifocals (You will stand before the racks of bifocals saying to yourself, "Is it negative 3 or 4, 4 or 5, 6 or 7????").  It's all terribly annoying.  AND, forget about texting.  Don't feel bad about not being able to read the text because there is no way you will be able to text back.  Squint and figure out who is texting and then pick up your home phone (Remember those?  You're gonna need one again.) and call them.  Hopefully they are a reader of this blog, so they will know what the hell is going on.

2.  Your hearing will gradually go.  At first this will be a grand excuse to ignore your kids, hubby, and friends (like when they are reminding you you owe them money).  But, then you will find you actually need your hearing and not having it can, frankly, be embarrassing.  Here are a few examples: 

• The school (where your kids go) calls and tells you, "Blahblahwhooblah, blah is in the nurse's office.  It seems blahwhoohasoma."  You say, "WHO?  WHAT HAPPENED?"  The nurse patiently repeats what she said the first time and makes a note in your kid's file, "Mom is deaf."
• You go through the bank drive through and ask for your balance.  The teller speaks through that tunnel that I think is connected to Australia and says, "Two thhunonefour."  You scream back, "EXCUSE ME???"  She patiently screams back at you and then everyone in the drive through line knows that you are overdrawn and have been for about two weeks.
• You constantly tell friends, relatives (and sometimes strangers) that your cell phone is "breaking up," simply because you cannot hear a $%*# word they are saying.

3.  Around 40 it takes eight hours of exercise to equal one taco, donut, candy bar, or anything else you might desperately want to eat, but that is not on your Healthy Eating Diet.  Frankly, it's exhausting.  There is one up side to this.  Some days you will honestly be so tired and sore from working out that you will not be able to find the energy to lift a fork to your mouth.  You will be limited to only food (or liquid) that can be somehow taken directly into your mouth (like water - or beer - through a straw).  If this "no-hands diet" lasts more than one day you might lose weight.

4.  Menopause kicks in if you are a woman.  If you are a man reading my blog:  sorry, but if you know any women approaching 40 you might want to read #4 just by way of self preservation.  Now, let me just say menopause is a strange creature.  The more I know it, the more I want to say, "Remember when you were a teenager and your emotions could flip on a dime, you sometimes had this raging appetite (no funny business here) where you wanted to eat like a live horse, you sometimes slept until your mom woke you up and told you a week had passed, and you sometimes felt like the most minor of all occurrences could literally RUIN YOUR LIFE???????"  Well, that's menopause in a nutshell.  Add some extreme bloating, night sweats, migraines, and bad cramping and you've got it.  Does it sound like a church picnic on a beautiful sunny day?  No, I don't think so either.

5.  Your memory will fail you.  Now, I've never had a mind for details so my mind fails me in much broader ways.  For example (and take note - this is just an example it hasn't actually happened):  I would never forget my fourth born's date of birth because I never was able to remember that in the first place.  But, I might forget the fourth born.  It's shocking and embarrassing at first, but if you carry your phone (and your bifocals) around with you most of the time you can always try to remember to slip away and google what you need to know.

I have tried to hit the most important aspects of aging with this short list.  There are many more, but you will just have to muddle through those on your own.  After all you didn't get this far simply by reading my blog!  Now, lest I end this post all gloom and doom - take heart!  Remember you will be much wiser and able to laugh at the foolishness of young people.  Just know you will doing it with your glasses on, they will have to be loudly foolish and you will have to remember who the hell they are and why you give a flip.  At any rate - Happy Monday, my friends!  Enjoy your day, and remember this is your LAST DAY being exactly as old as you are!