Here's Looking At You Kid

Apparently my ability to dress myself is questionable.

This morning I chose to wear a filmy, peach colored, cotton top with lace accents and short sleeves with jeans. Cute and work appropriate for casual Friday.

Despite my ability to fully fill any cup size, I also have some cute bras. This morning I selected a white one with a lavender ribbon trim on the top of each side. A safe choice, I thought.

I looked in the mirror before I left for work. It was early and the room was kinda dark-ish. I didn't see any errant dryer sheets or random sock attached to me by static so I thought it safe to declare myself suitable to leave for work.

Later this morning as I was washing my hands in front of the mirror in the restroom, I looked up and  my eyes I saw this-

Hello, lavender trim.

My brain however saw this-

Hello boobs with brows!

For the first time ever I was extremely glad that very little jiggling was going on in there because waggling brows over my boobs could have traumatized me for life.

I spent the rest of the day sweating in my long sleeve cardigan sweater. Pulled tightly closed every time I left my desk.

Note to self: Stop dressing in the dark! Oh, and buy more nude bras.

Mirrors

I think I'm glad that I didn't give birth to any girls. It's easier to hide a not so great body image from boys. I would feel terribly guilty if I caused a daughter to have a less than amazing body image because of the way I see myself.

When I look in the mirror, all I see is what I wish desperately that I could change.

Clear skin where there isn't any. A peaches and cream complexion that was never mine.

Rolls where there should be curves. Baby weight that is 14 plus years old. I'm beginning to think maybe it's not baby weight after all.

Appropriate curves that I've been waiting to develop since I was about 12 years old. I'm pretty sure it's too late to think the boob fairy will be visiting me now.

I could go on and on.

I bought a bikini the other day. It took more than a little prodding from my sweetie. I was looking for a bathing suit that covered as much as possible with enough spandex  to securely fasten EVERYTHING in place. I tried his choice on and he liked it so I bought it.

What I really want is to see in the mirror the image that my sweetie sees when he looks at me. I'm really glad that love is blind because he keeps me from running to the closest plastic surgeon and mortgaging my house to make the me that he sees.

Boys

When I gave birth to my oldest son all I could think was please let me remember to feed him. I had a hamster and several fish that didn't fare so well on my ability to remember that they needed to eat.

When he was 6 years old I figured I was getting pretty good at keeping him alive I should have another one. After all I only had to feed them for 18 years. Little did I know, feeding them would be the easy part. And I don' t have any idea why I was delusional enough to think that at 18 years old someone flips a magic switch and they no longer need to eat.

I'm not patting myself on the back just yet but it's worth noting that neither of them starved to death (despite my inability to boil water or cook anything outside of the microwave).

Today I went to yet another parent/teacher conference for Nick. As he and I wound our way through a jungle of teenagers to the safety of the guidance office we passed a boy with his tongue so far down a girls throat that he must have been trying to lick her liver. I wanted to pull them apart and demand their parents phone numbers so that I could enlighten them on the self, sex education class that was going at the bottom of the stairs after school.  Except that could have been my kid.

A few years ago I had a friend who's son graduated from high school and moved into a college dorm. Her biggest concern was that he would fall asleep with his contacts in and she wouldn't be there to wake him up and remind him to take them out before he went to bed. That seemed silly. Except now Chris is looking at apartments with friends and all I can think is who's going to check on him while he's sleeping and make sure he is still breathing. I spent a lot of years making sure I kept him alive and now he could just stop breathing and I wouldn't know it!

I don't expect anyone to understand why I check on my 14 and 20 year old sons every night (sometimes several times) to see if they're breathing, but any time I wake up at night I do. I'd say that being a mother takes away all rationale but I think it's just me.

Raising kids is HARD!

Much harder than keeping goldfish or hamsters alive.

Wanna Watch TV At My House?

I have a TV. A really nice BIG SCREEN in HD. It's great for episodes of Glee in all it's glory and occasionally a marathon of Toddlers and Tiaras. I have a DVR to catch every important episode of all my TLC channel favorites (I hardly ever miss an episode of 19 Kids and Counting, I have priorities people). Except that the screen is BLACK. Oh, and it doesn't have any sound. Pretty much, it won't turn on. But it looks really nice sitting on our semi-dusty, especially for that size TV, table with the couches strategically place for optimum viewing.

Good news! We bought the extended warranty.

Except that the part that we might need (they haven't actually sent anyone out to look at it) is on back order. For how long, we asked. The minion that works for God knows what company tells us "we're not really sure". It's been ordered but the company can't send it because it's on back order. Straight from the script that is sitting in front of her (probably in some third world country). Okay, not really she was in some call center in South Dakota where all her scripts are carefully slid into plastic sleeves for easy reference. Dead end.

We bought the TV at Target so in a futile attempt to keep my head from spinning around like the scene from The Exorcist my sweetie calls them. I know they wouldn't be able to offer any more assistance but I wanted him to call someone else. ANY ONE ELSE WHO DIDN'T HAVE A SCRIPT IN FRONT OF THEM! He's a smart man. When my eyes are flashing from green to black he doesn't generally question my craziness.

The Target lady says they have 3 or 4 days (REALLY, WHICH IS IT??) to determine when the part will be available. In his genius, he says, or what? She says or to get us a new TV. I had him remind her that we missed the Super Bowl (not really, we didn't watch it and we have other TV's). Also that Glee is on tonight, which is much more important than the Super Bowl and that I am being force to watch it on a 32 inch TV. Which is today's equivalent of a 12 inch black and white of 20 years ago! I gotta say she almost mustered up some sympathy. Maybe she is a Gleek too.

So, I guess for the next few days I'll live like a caveman and watch my other TV. But if nothing happens by the time Glee is on again, HEADS WILL ROLL!

His Mom

Nine years ago today heaven gained an angel.

Her husband called her Doe. My sweetie called her mom.

I waited too long to tell her thank you for raising the man that completes me.

She loved her children fiercely. When she learned that my sweetie and I planned to get married only 10 months after we met she wasn't crazy about the idea. After all, I had two young sons. She knew he would accept my boys as his own and help me raise them because that is the kind of man that she raised him to be. I know not long after we got married and maybe to some degree before, my boys and I became part of her family. She only wanted her son to be happy and I think she knew he was.

She had some quirks. She grew up in a large family and tended to hold on to the values that she was raised with. Her freezer may have held food that was more than a little past it's prime. Her living room furniture may have been encased in plastic to save them from wear (except that no one ever sat on them). She scrimped and saved and made due with what she had. Generally buying only what was needed. Except for her beautiful rings which her granddaughters now wear and keep close to their hearts.

She married her soul mate and he adored her. He lived less fully after she lost her battle with breast cancer. Her children are the best parts of her. Not only did I gain my own soul mate but also have friends and family in his siblings and their spouses. How do you thank someone for that? She gave me priceless gifts and didn't even know it.

Thanks Mom. So loved and so missed!

IV's Suck

No, really they do! 5 vials of blood came out of that tiny tube! But not before Nurse Jennifer tried twice to get the IV started in my other arm. I thanked her profusely for not fishing around for a vein. She kindly found another nurse who said "Oh, here's a good vein. In your right HAND!" It didn't really hurt unless I moved my hand or wrist. Did I mention I'm right-handed? So, yeah, it hurt.

I only visit the Emergency Room about every 10 years or so. Last time I went for chest pain and shortness of breath. Luckily it turned out that it was a panic attack and I was discharged after only a few hours. Scared me to death though.

Since then, I've had too many panic attacks to count. I know what they feel like and I know how to calm myself down and avoid any unneeded hospital visits.

About half way to work this morning at 7:00 or so my heart started to pound and I couldn't catch my breath. My left arm went numb and I debated whether to turn around and go home, pull over and call 911 or drive to the hospital around the corner from work. I chose the hospital. I found my way into the Emergency Room and managed to fill out most of their paperwork (which was no small feat since I was shaking and couldn't remember my own zip code). I called my sweetie and was whisked back to a room.

After my arms became pin cushions I had an EKG. I didn't mind practically exposing my boobs to have the electrodes attached but then they had to put them on each of my calves (calfs? not cows, legs). I may not have shaved my legs in a week two or three weeks. The poor tech almost had to part the hair to put on the electrodes. EMBARRASSING!

Every cell in those 5 vials of blood screamed NORMAL. EKG screamed NORMAL. Chest xray? Also normal. The final diagnosis was "STRESS REACTION". Which translates to there is nothing wrong with you, you hypochondriac or Panic Attack. The doctor mumbled something about not ignoring these kinds of symptoms since they could be something significant "as we age". She didn't mean WE, she meant ME. I wanted to slap her (with the hand that didn't have the IV in it).

I would appreciate if my panic attacks could be a little more consistent with the symptoms because my arm going numb was NOT expected.

My sweetie soothed my pin cushioned arms and panic-y brain by taking me shopping. Yeah for retail therapy! I bought these:

Anti-bacterial!!

Nothing soothes a hypochondriac like 5 bottles of antibacterial soap!

Going Shopping

This *may* have been witnessed by a friend of a friend. Or it *may* have been witnessed by me.

If you're my mom it was definately a friend of a friend, or a neighbors friend but DEFINATELY was NOT me.

For the sake of saving some people from embarassement please read "grocery store" as grocery store. For everyone else read ''grocery store" as adult store. K?

Two people, who may have been me and my sweetie were strolling through the adult store grocery store. Perusing the canned goods and such.

Oh, and for the sake of this story, this particular store had the produce section in the back behind closed doors. AND people had to pay to spend time choosing their produce.

Anyway, out of the produce department came this 30-ish year old guy, looking more than a little disheveled. He began to complain to the cashier that he didn't get  his full amount of time that he paid for to carefully hand select his produce. Apparently he was shorted 10 seconds of time. 10 SECONDS! His voice was unnaturally high as he explained to the less than caring cashier that he was only seconds from choosing the perfect melons and the produce employee told him his time was up and he had to move on. His language got a little more colorful and he was adamant that he NEEDED that last 10 seconds.

I'm not exactly sure how the produce department works at this particular grocery store but 10 seconds doesn't sound like a big deal. Unless, the perfectly hand selected fruit is only 9 seconds from your grasp.

I was completely grossed out and I got a case of the giggles right there in the store. Giggling in the grocery store with other shoppers around is frowned upon so we quickly made our exit.

I hope I never see that guy in the local Walmart!