My filtered mouth

I'm not sure quite when it happened, but along the way I affixed a permanent filter to my mouth. It comes in handy most of the time, but on those rare occasions when I'm seething with irritation I just want to tear it off and let 'em have it-- the "em" is usually a boss, co-worker, relative or most recently ANYONE!

I am sure, had this filter not been affixed to my mouth, I would have most definitely severed many a relationship through the years leaving  the adversary crying in a heap on the floor, in a corner- Just ask my husband, for him- my dear sweet love, there is no filter. Poor boy, I mean man, man-boy.. . .

To my delight, I have found through the years that my fingers have no filter, and no I am not talking about flipping the bird- even that is reserved for my husband- what I am talking about is writing! I can grab a pen,pencil,crayon or in this matter a computer and let it out. It is most satisfying to tell someone your feelings with written communication and for this my friends, the filter is off!

Most recently I have found my mouth filter to really be a bother. My oldest daughter, Abigayle, has followed in the genetic code of me, my mother, my grandmother and so on, with regards to her height- she is  becoming quite the statuesque girl at 5'2" in her 10 years of age, and I have found that as physical features go, height is one that seems to be open for comment by anyone, unlike many and most other physical features.

We will be out and about and run into people we haven't seen for a while and they will say "Holey cow is she ever TALL!!!" And this is where I wish I could tear my mouth filter off.

First, I will point out that being tall is nothing to be ashamed of, it is- as my beautiful grandma always said, something that all the queens and princesses are " tall and smart!" However, when someone points it out, in a tone reserved for comments like HUGE, FAT, UGLY it doesn't come across as a compliment or a mere observation. When I hear this comment, my filtered mouth quivers, about to unleash a turrets like gush of physical attributes that are obvious in the commenter or the commenter's child- but my filtered mouth says "Just like her mom and dad! - after all I am 5'9" and her dad is 6'2."

 But. . . . .if that filter were off, a different rebuttal would emerge:

 "Really?? I hadn't noticed! Good gosh, thanks for pointing that out- hey, you think we should take her to a growth specialist maybe she has elephantiasis of the limbs and they are growing our of control or maybe she is a real-life GIANT??? Unlike your child of course who, by the way has  HUGE man-boobs! And look at the size of those ears- Dumbo himself would be jealous! What a PORTLY little things he/she has turned into!!!!"

But alas, I would never say that. I keep comments like that reserved for myself, in my mind where only I can enjoy them- Thank you to my well fitted filter-

Linguistic heirlooms

So, I was enjoying my weekly dose of nerd radio when I  heard the most exciting commentary - a lengthy discussion of " linguistic heirlooms". You know, words and phrases from a time not so long ago- words and phrases that are rarely used any more and when they are leave the receptor scratching their noodle.

The discussion brought up words like "dope" which was said instead of  a coca-cola, and "poke", instead of a bag or tote bag.

Listening to this radio show made me think of words that my Grandma used frequently and I decided to see if I could confuse the masses, and by masses I mean Abigayle and Amelia.

Me: "Abigayle and Amelia! Go to the front room and get your stuff off the davenport!"

And just as I suspected the girls looked baffled.

"Uhhh. . . What do you mean Front Room, mom??? And, what the heck is a davenport??"

It worked! I had in my vocabulary Linguistic Heirlooms! I felt so powerful! What fun these little morsels of history are going to bring. . . If only I could remember them all!

Next I might send them on a wild goose chase to listen to some 8 tracks or clean out the basin so they can take a bath!

 I also  remember my Grandma and Grandpa never ate dinner- it was supper. In all my parenting years I've never made the kids "supper" , so I asked Amelia "what's for supper?" and she pondered for a moment "hmmm, tacos?"

SHE KNEW!!

"How do you know what that means?"

"Uhhh, in the olden days ,mom, everyone ate SUPPER!!!, duh!!!!"



Click here to see for yourself- a fascinating listen!

The night life!

In my imaginary perfect life. . . . .I have three beautiful daughters  (this statement is true of my REAL life as well). In my imaginary perfect life  my three daughters all nestle in cozy at night, at a reasonable bed time, in their own beds. . . . in real life, all three fight bedtime as if it is an overgrown hairy monster trying to eat them alive.

* Image portrays actors, not my real family!- However, this is THE CASTLE!

When they finally do go to bed, it's never in their own rooms. Right now, as  we speak, I have a hot pink and purple vinyl princess castle set up in all its glory next to  my side of the bed. At the foot of the bed is a pack and play, stocked full of fuzzy  stuffed animals and soft snugly blankies- and right next to that is a "nest". A "nest" made of pillows and blankets hmm.. let's see. . . .what else did Abigayle find in the linen closet to add to this "nest"--oh,  a tablecloth, a beach towel, a pillow case and a cloth diaper.  This, folks, is my bedroom- you know the place where mom and dad are suppose to be able to find refuge from the everyday- hunker down at night,cuddle and fall off to blissful sleep with all the chitlins tucked away in their own beds. Not happening in my home!

 Every night as Amelia crawls into her "castle" she flips and flops, she rubs her little get away sticks together which all creates a very loud crinkling of vinyl- I seriously am thinking about having this child professionally checked for restless leg syndrome. Abigayle has her own peculiarities- she jabs her toes into Amelia's castle "on accident" for what seems to be hours- provoking Amelia to say "stop it sissy". . . . .2 minutes later- "stop it sissy". . .. . .  1 minute later-"stop it sissy". . .. . .and on and on.

Then the grunting starts. .. its a nervous condition, I'm sure- Abigayle  starts it  around 5 minutes after bedtime and continues until she falls asleep. . .this provokes me to say "enough with the unh unh Abigayle". . . 2 minutes later-"ENOUGH with the unh unh Abigayle!". . . . .and on and on.

This is all taking place while I'm patiently trying to nurse AnnaBella off to sleep. . . .who, has become quite adept at playing possum. Just as I slowly lower her into her pack and play at the foot of the bed she springs to life and starts bouncing around. . . "dadadadada. . . .. dadadadadada"- Sorry boo bear it's bedtime and then the crying-"WANNNNGGGG"

So, as you see, my imaginary perfect world is no where close to my real life- but I guess I am okay with that.

One day when I am old and grey and the kids have long left home- I know I will look back and think "It sure would be nice to have a hot pink and purple castle next to my bed right now with my little Amelia in it- or to hear Abigayle grunting away or have AnnaBella snuggled up in my bosom"- so for now, even though there are those days, I mean nights, when I feel like I am going insane I need to calm my mind and enjoy every second of it:)

Oh,  did I mention during this whole ordeal- SOMEONE is rolled over curled up and snoring away without a care in the world. . .hmmmmm I wonder who????

In Cahoots!

I think enough time has passed that I may safely write this blog without fear of being prosecuted.

 It was one of those nights when I just didn't feel like cooking- if you ask my husband that would be every night, but that is beside the point. I was also missing my mommy, Abigayle and Amelia time- something that brings nostalgia from a time not so long ago.

 So the three of us were off to Olive Garden* for our yearly dose of garlic and carbohydrates. As usual, when we were being seated the two of them started arguing "you sat with mommy last time!" "no, sissy YOU DID!!"  Then the pushing started.  "Get out of the booth sissy, I AM SITTING THERE!!!!"

 If you've ever met my children, you know just how loud they can be and believe me they were not holding back for sake of their public surroundings.  As I hissed for them to both just get in the dang booth with me I looked up to see a coworker "Oh hello, how are you? Yes these are my two wild beasts that I occasionally bring out of the basements cages. . .what's that? Oh no, they just haven't had their daily electric shock therapy never mind us! Carry on!"

As we sat packed like sardines in the booth we decided on our dinners and then the inevitable " I have to pee." Really? We just left home where I know I said "Make sure you go the bathroom" at least 10 times.

No difference, Abigayle had to pee- So out of the booth we shuffled and the two of them were off. About 15 minutes later they returned, ALL giggles. " Shhhh sissy, don't tell HER!" "Tell HER what, Amelia?" - as if HER was not the obvious ME!-

"Nuffin! Nobody is sayin' nuffin about anything!"

Really? I was quite confident that between these two I would eventually find out.

And then Amelia " Sissy. . . .gurgle,gurgle ahahahahahah!!! Followed by Abigayle giggling which turned into Abigayle belly laughing, which turned into Abigayle not being able to breath as she slapped her hand on the table repeatedly.

 "What are you little minions laughing about?" I demanded.

 "We told you, NUFFIN! Right sissy? We aren't going to say anything about your underwear!"

 Aha! A clue! I knew these two were up to no good. So let's see- gurgle, gurgle plus underwear. . . Hmmmmmm "Say, Amelia. . . Did Abigayle flush her underwear down the toilet in the bathroom?"

 The looks I got from both of them were as if they were looking at the great Houdini, as if I had just become "Marsha, The Great Mind-reader".

 "Uh. . .no mommy, no I uh, she , uh, no mommy." And both of their heads went down and didn't come back up to even meet my eyes for the rest of the dinner. Although, every 2 seconds one of them would start giggling and then the other would follow with "gurgle".

The next morning, as I was waking them up for school I announced that the night before, after they went to bed, I got a phone call- "From who mommy?" "Oh, the manager at Olive Garden."

The look on their faces was priceless. "What did he want" "You're lying!" "No, he got my name and number from my debit card and wanted to talk to me about the bathroom."

They both turned white as ghosts. . . "So my little sweet innocent bambinos, anything you care to share?"

This was followed by "Abigayle made me do it!!!!!!!"

I won't share what they did, but I am sure you can guess. I would like to point out though- this whole incident really did impress me as the two of them kept a secret from me, together- creating a temporary bond that resulted in NO arguing or fighting for the remainder of that night- until the next morning when Amelia was way to quick to say "Abigayle made me do it!!" ahhhhh, famous last words!


*name may have been changed to protect all parties involved- lol!

My sisters- and the awful day!

+

My sisters are my best friends; I don't know what I would do without them. In the past year, I have  had  a brief glimpse of what it would be like without one of them. My older sister  Marci, in a sheer act of selfishness, packed up and moved herself to Arizona -- imagine the nerve! Not once getting permission from me, my sister Marie or our mom, Millie-- the great and powerful Millie!

I miss her everyday and look forward to her brief visits. Thank God the "rest of them" ( Marie and Millie) haven't had  any bright ideas. . . I must say though, if I didn't have school aged children you would see a mass exodus, with Marci being our Moses, parting the way to sunny, warm Arizona.

I think often about my relationships with my sisters, each uniquely it's own. In fact, the other day I was reminded of the uniqueness of these relationships when I had an awful day at work and called Marie as soon as I left.

I told her how I was in an unexpectedly long meeting where I forgot to bring a drink or a snack- why would these be of such importance? Remember people, I am lactating and this process burns through the calories like a fire through dry brush! Any way. . as the meeting progressed so did my stomachs cries for food "grrrrrrGGGGRRRR,rrrrrrrrrrr" "

"so, sorry, just a little hungry"

And then it began, my ears started ringing, my mouth got dry, cold sweat started forming ALL over. I could feel my blood sugar drop, drop, drop. . . and then it was over- the meeting that is.

I darted out and shot to my office where I tore through 6 mini Twix's like a beaver going through a chord of lumber, downed 12 ounces of mountain dew like a college kid shot gunning a beer and then as quickly as it started, it stopped. . .and I realized I had to pee.

I shuffled off to the restroom, feeling a little light headed and shaky, but much better then the prior  15 minutes. I entered the stall- and this should come as no surprise to those who know me- grabbed the can of disinfectant and with my right foot pushed the flush handle as I began to spray the germs away.

Now, this isn't just any toilet, it's an Al-Bundy super flusher-- a mans toilet! You know, the ones that flush with such force you worry that if you sat while flushing you'd wind up with a hickey on your nether side the size of a saucer. As this super powered toilet was flushing and I was spraying, the lid flew off the can and was immediately sucked down into the toilet hole causing a vacuum effect,  which in turn forced the toilet water that should have been going down to spew back out of the toilet with great force, right into- you guessed it- my face.

I got into my car shortly after that and called my sister:

Me: I had a shi-crappy day at work

Marie: why?

Me: I had a long meeting, got overly hungry and. . .( insert above story here)

Marie: So. . What your telling me is you gave yourself a swirly?

Me: Uh, I suppose

Marie: In your own face?

Me: Something like that

Marie: With toilet water?

Me: Yesss, I just told you what happened!

Marie: So, let me get this straight. . .you gave yourself a swirly, in the face, with toilet water. . . . at work??

Me: (silence)

What followed can only be compared to a hyena ,make that a pack of hyenas. . . laughing and chortling and then gasps for air as my sister taunted me like I was some side show freak.

"you, hahaha, you. . you...got toilet water in your mouth!!"

"no, I didn't"

"you did,!!!you got hahaha. . .pee water in your. . ahahaha mouth!"

"NO, I DID NOT!"

"Pee water drinker, heeeeeheeee you're a pee water drinker!!! BAHAHA!!

"GOODBYE MARIE!!"

Me, the Hoarder

I have a confession, I am a hoarder. . . A hoarder of memories- just ask my kids- on any given day they are guaranteed to hear "you know, when I was little Blah. . Blah. . Blah", ramblings of my life that I feel the need to share, again and again, over and over like a broken record. 

Amazingly, the kids love it. In fact, they ask to have these memories of mine repeated and I do not disappoint! I relive the time my dog ate my Easter candy (see post below), I talk about eating sand to impress my older sisters friends. I share stories of digging a hole all the way to China and knocking when I got there (I leave out the fact  that I actually dug a hole in the backyard down to the top of the septic tank and only thought I was knocking on "China's Door" until my dad wandered out into the backyard and asked why I was knocking on the sewer tank-- ahem, sewer whaaattt????) I relive the hours spent with my grandma and the fights I had with my sisters, I tell them about riding our big silver propane tank like it was my horse named Horse( see the imagination at work?)--  and the kids, like little sponges, suck it all in.

There are days now when I stop and say to myself  "take a picture with your brain, don't ever forget this, remember how you feel, remember what you are smelling, remember what you hear, and lock it away."

I pray to God all the time that old age, dementia or Alzheimer's will never rob me of my memories-- they are little treasures, in fact, they have become gifts that I share with my daughters-- my hoarded memories:)

If it only happened once, is it really a "tradition"?

Heart Shaped toast. . . .I made it once on Valentine's day, ONCE people. . .and now I hear "It's Valentine's day, where's the heart shaped toast?, you allllwwwwwayyyysss make heart shaped toast!!!!!"

Um, no, that was "working mom", she made heart shaped toast and she made it one Valentine's day because she felt guilty because she had to work 9 hours and miss your Valentine's day party. This new mom,  "stay at home mom", well, she has all the time in the world to make heart shaped toast so you see,  it's not so special anymore.  Hold on!!! That didn't sound so nice- and honestly I didn't say that, I only thought it. But as I thought it I really began to ponder the question of when does a tradition become a tradition??

We have many traditions in our family, we have the "Love Bugs" who come every year the week before Valentine's day, we try to catch a leprechaun every St. Patricks day, we have breakfast in bed on birthday's and yes, those breakfasts do come with heart shaped toast. . . so at what point do you repeat something and make it part of your family? I would have to say, when it feels good, when it brings joy to your children's faces, that would be a good time to start a tradition.

So, I guess "stay at home mom" is starting a new tradition tomorrow morning- heart shaped toast on the morning after Valentine's day :)