Oh the horror of it all!

Note from author: This story was written several months ago. I just want to try to put my stories/etc into one location. They are harder to lose that way.

There is a place where few fear to tread, where unspeakable horrors reign unchecked, and where one must fight to return from alive. That place is of course a certain room in my house most used by my two teenaged daughters. I usually avoid the place, assuming they will keep the terrors inside from creeping out to the rest of the house, but I also know that their idea of cleaning is tossing wet dirty towels into the hamper.

So today I braved the confines of their bathroom, determined to conquer the place. Armed with cleaning supplies and a toilet brush I entered. I began my cleaning frenzy at the sink. First I had to uncover it. The vanity is small and every inch was covered with hair bows, bobby pins, toothbrushes, used q-tips, and styling tools. Once done, I sprayed the surfaces liberally. I started cleaning it, and I swear the thing changed color. The toilet was not littered with girly objects, just horrifically dirty. I stood back as far as I dared as I added cleanser into the bowl. I just didn't want anything reaching out and grabbing me before I was done.

That conquered, I faced the tub. First of all, I do wonder if my daughters understand that when a bottle of shampoo or shaving gel is empty, that it belongs in the trashcan. From the number of empties I threw away, I believe that this simple concept has not sunk in. I then peered into the tub. I saw a ring around the tub. No surprise. Younger daughter holds some kind of record as a marathon bubble bather. However upon closer inspection, I saw that that ring had a ring around it! It took large quantities of cleanser AND scrubbing to render the tub clean. I then quickly cleaned the floor, gathered up all the towels and the rug and beat a hasty retreat, shutting the door firmly behind me, lest the nefarious dirt monsters make a quick return.

Next time they can clean the bathroom. Oh wait, their avoiding that particular chore far too long is what prompted me to brave the task of doing it myself. Sigh. Well on to one more "bathroom". Its user wouldn't clean it herself if her life depended on it. She prefers me doing it. But then you can't expect a cat to clean out their own litter box, now can you? Let's see fresh litter, cleaning supplies to wash box out, gas mask I think I'm good to go.

Missing a piece or two

I can finally stop whining about my womanly body part woes. Why? because on April 30th, I had the cause of the problem removed. That's right Bubbette, Earlene and the place they were squatting are gone forever!! The doctor also fixed a small hernia and did some tacking back into place work on my bladder. I wonder if that means that I can jump up and down again and not need to run and pee? I will find out once I am allowed to jump up and down again. Lifting my own body weight off the ground exceeds my weight lifting limit at present.

It is now 10 days post-op and although I have a little pain and not too much physical energy, I can tell that recovery is going to be difficult in the next few weeks. I get bored really easy, and am not used to allowing others to do the things Im used to doing myself. Like laundry,cleaning, cooking etc. On the plus side, my daughters are getting hands on training for the time in the near future when they have their own places to manage.

I should be able to drive next week. I am starting to get a little cabin fever. However I know that in a few weeks, I will be looking back to this much needed time of leisure, and wishing I could be lazy again. OR maybe I will finally learn the benefits of not trying to burn my candle on both ends with a blow torch. Or will I?

The end of a punctuation mark

I don't know why we call menstruation periods, but we do. We also give them my favorite moniker Aunt Flo. We women experience this "visitor" about once a month. It is an event we anticipate with part delight and dread. Delight, if we don't want to be pregnant, dread when we realize the inconvenience and discomfort this time causes. As we age, we eventually see the last of Aunt Flo. However in some cases Aunt Flo turns on us.

I am having Aunt Flo evicted on April 30. Auntie Flo turned evil about six months ago, and decided to keep her visits longer, and come more frequently with intermittent "phone calls" (cramping, discomfort, spotting, etc) in between. The doc suggested THE PILL at first because, I am after all 45, and could be peri-menopausal. Maybe a bit of extra estrogen will regulate things out. Let's try this for a few months and we'll see how it works. Ok, I'm game, as it was becoming bothersome. Did those 60 buck a pack pills help one bit?? HECK NO!!

SO we did the vaginal sono-gram. For any of you who have had one of those, you know what I mean when I say, I thought the tool looked like something from one of those sex shops, even more so when they put the little condom like cover on it. It was hard to keep a straight face, OR get that image out of my brain...snicker..its still there. Of course the tool was anything less then pleasurable.

Right away, We discovered the squatters. I'll call them Earleane and Bubbatte. Bubbaette is 3 cm, think golf ball sized hail, and growing happily at the top of my uterus, while Eearlene is smaller, near my cervix and is mean tempered.

My last period, and the week I took the last of those over-priced bp pills was the worse I've ever had. And I had horrible ones as a teen, cramping, throwing up, passing out. I almost called the ER because I'd never gone through pads that quick. In fact Always's "have a happy period" pads failed me. I had to go to the store to buy the super-sized, super-thick overnight pads, cheap store brand.

Ok, I need to take a moment for a side rant. I sure would like to strangle the writer of the slogan "have a happy period". A happy period, HA!!!!! Now if he meant have fun using punctuation, I could understand, but not for a sales gimmick for a product we all wish we didn't have to use.

Back on track now...

True to form, I get a ten day break, then HELLO, back again and its even more "fun" this time.

On Wednesday, I can shout (through my drug induced haze) from the operating table "BEGONE! Ye Evil she-devil, and take your ugly cousins with you!"

The Joy of Motherhood

I actually wrote this a few years ago in honor of a sister in law who was pregnant with her first child. It has been published several times, online, including Helium.com and in print. As Mother's Day is fast approaching, I thought I'd post it here as well.

Welcome to the sorority of motherhood. You've done the Lamaze, read all the books; you've gazed wistfully at those tiny pairs of favorite slacks hanging in your closet. You've prepared the baby's room and have the doctor's number on speed dial. You think you are all prepared for what lies ahead. But there are a few areas that no book or class can quite prepare you for. As a friend and sorority sister, I am going to clue you in to those little secrets all mothers learn.

Sleep: Pregnancy prepared you for short sleep times. The baby will need to eat or be changed or both every few hours. If you are nursing, you are it. Dad ain't got the equipment, and besides WWIII isn't going to wake him up at 3 am.

Multi-tasking: When the baby gets older, he will have a scary dream, and you will sleepily let him climb in with you. You will soon learn to sleep with an elbow in your ear, a foot in your rib, and a strangely warm but damp feeling creeping underneath you. This will last till grade school.

You have eyes, ears, a mouth and two arms and two legs. Plan on using all of these simultaneously and all with individual tasks. Here is an example.
You are on the phone with the pediatrician (holding the phone with your shoulder), while looking for your car keys, while listening for the dryer to buzz, while zipping the baby's jacket, while keeping him from eating your earring, while opening the door with one foot while keeping the cat outside with the other. You will get very, very good at this.

Romance: The number one reason there are baby-sitters. Even though romance caused the baby, the baby now has the ability to thwart romance at every turn. GO OUT! Or pray that baby will sleep just 15 more minutes.

Listening Skills: Not only will you be finely tuned to the sounds of your baby's voice, you will also be able to pick his cry out from a room full of crying wee-schoolers. WARNING! All small children seem to say "Mommy" almost exactly alike in certain conditions, like at a playground. Don't be surprised to go answer the Mommy call along with ten other moms. Don't worry, the child will sort out the correct Mommy.

Art Appreciation: Your refrigerator is your child's personal art gallery and bragging corner. This will last for at least 18 years. Decorate around it. Toddlers also delight in the wonders of nature. They are master explorers and discoverers. You must lose your fear and repulsion of frogs, bugs, worms, dirt, and undecipherable lumps. Enjoy their curiosity. Try sharing with them the excitement of their find before they eat it.

Education: Read up on everything you can or leave the TV on the Discovery Channel, 24/7. The "Why" stage is coming. You cannot out-why a 4 year old. Every answer prompts a new why question. "I don't know" prompts a why, "I'll tell you later" prompts a why, "Go ask your father" prompts a why question. That is why God invented kindergarten.

Housecleaning: It will be a long, long time before you see your house totally clean for longer then it takes for your child to take a nap. But that's ok, life is short. Dirt will always be here, children grow up. Leave the vacuum in the closet and go play tag with your child.

Entertainment: Telle-tubbies, Barney, Veggie Tales, Bob the Builder. You will get very, very familiar with these characters. You will get very, very familiar with the songs that go along with these characters. You will sing the theme songs to these programs in your sleep, or Barney's "I love you" will keep you up at night. Thankfully your child will eventually outgrow those shows and prefer programs like "Power Rangers" a slight improvement on the intelligence scale. Very slight.

Humor: Don't ever lose it. Children can drive you bananas sometimes, but right before they send you over the edge, they make you laugh at something they say or do. Enjoy every phase of their life. In a blink they are born, the next blink they are walking, the next playing t-ball, the next driving a car. You will laugh, cry, worry, yell, sing, punish, reward. You will have moments of great disappointment and of great pride. All are part of the great institution of motherhood. It's exhausting, never ever boring, but oh so worth it.

Welcome to the club sister.

A bump on the Corner

Yesterday my youngest was at the corner of a local street waiting on a light to change. It turned green, and her side of the traffic started to move. As she was making right hand turn she began that process only to get hit by someone who had run a red light. Thankfully she's just a bit sore from the seat belt, but her little 98 Plymouth Neon didn't fare so well. It lost its entire front bumper assembly. The other driver's insurance should pay the repairs or just total the car.

What gets me is that in the two years we have lived here, my family has been involved in FIVE accidents, none of them our fault. We've witnessed several others. I was nearly t-boned by an SUV who clearly ran another stoplight. He missed me by inches. When I lived in the NC mountains we had two fender benders over an 18 year period. Since we moved to a more metro area the quality of drivers we encounter has plummeted.

I suspect that people are too big in a hurry, too distracted, too rude, and don't remember how to drive defensively. Or they are wannabe crash-em-up derby racers and are practicing. As I am still relatively new to city driving, I am having a hard time adjusting to other people's driving methods. Of course I doubt they could as easily navigate the mountain tracts I used to have to. Narrow curved roads are a whole other beast to conquer, and conquer well.

I wonder if I can bubble wrap our cars? That may keep our cars out of our favorite body repair shop. They are very nice, but I would rather not have to be sending my crashed up vehicles to them.

Finally! an insurance rant

Ok, a little background. A few months ago I switched jobs. Because of the change I had to undergo a waiting period to become eligible for the new benefit package my new employer offers. That should have occurred at the beginning of last month. Naturally I hit a snag.

The first problem reared its frustrating little head when I found it impossible to log into the supplied website as it kept asking for a password I had yet to possess. When I went through the process on-line to ask for a password, I'd get a message that one would be emailed to my work email account. That of course never happened. So then I tried several times to contact a representative through their toll free hot-line. If one is looking for a sure fire way to get me to nearly lose my temper, or to put me in a really bad mood, then calling that hot-line is the way to go.

First, you get an sweet, throaty sounding automated voice asking for some basic information, then you get the "please enter your password" Well, the entire reason I'm calling this number is THAT I HAVE NO PASSWORD. There is no option other then, "use your keypad to enter your password, say I need help with this option, or I don't know my password" Of course I couldn't do the first one, the help choice was a "how to use your phone as a keypad" tutorial, and the I don't know choice said, "we will email you a new password". That's it. No, please press zero for assistance. Believe me I tried pressing zero several times. All that got me was a repeat of the password options. About that time, I strongly consider using the phone to bash in my own head with.

Finally, I hit upon the idea of not doing anything and seeing what happens. Lo and behold after about five minutes, the automated voice, says "I'm sorry, I cannot understand, let me transfer you to a representative." SUCCESS! Or so I think.

I get the person on the phone, let them know of my password problem. and ask, when should I be getting information on signing up for my benefits. "Oh, I'm emailing you your password right now." The answers on my benefits ranged from "you are eligible now, you are only eligible for part-time benefits, to you won't be eligible till next month." Yes, by now I have realized that head with the phone is not helping, I'm now banging it on my desk.

Of course the password NEVER hits my inbox. I repeated this process four times over a several week period. Finally yesterday I found a rep. who knew how to help my password problem. We bypassed the whole "we'll email your password to anyone but you" scenario, and just did it over the phone. And then today, I confirmed what I knew all along, I should be getting benefits. In fact I've been eligible for a month!

Now if only they can snail mail my my sign up package to the address they keep asking me to repeat every time they talk to me. Hey! A girl can dream can't she?

A little growing angel.

she's growing up so quickly. Just not big enough to fit into Daddy's hat.

It is amazing how much a small baby changes in just a few weeks. She can almost roll over, and will once she figure out how to get her one shoulder out of the way. She recognizes people and smiles frequently, well until you get out the camera. Then she gets all solemn on you.

Being a grandparent is amazing. I get to love on my grandchild, play with her hold her, feed her, bathe her, much of what I did as a parent. I don't, thankfully have to stay up nights with her, make sure I either breastfeed or pump every four hours, and all the other things new parents have to do. I gladly leave that to her mommy and daddy.

I consider each day I get to spend with this precious child a blessed gift. I know that soon she and her mommy will move away with daddy, once they finish college, and I won't get my daily dose of baby kisses. So many grandparents don't get to spend that time with their grown children or their grandchildren. I just can't take that for granted.