Loaded

No matter how many pep talks I give myself I can never quite shake the sense of doom that descends upon me about a week before school starts.  I always tell myself that this year I won't get all flustered and life won't be all frantic because I'll stay organized and on top of things.  And then, on the evening of the first day, I start getting a tick above my right eye and I end up staying up way too late signing more forms than one should ever have to sign at any given time.  Because I have stayed up too late I have trouble getting up in the morning.  Because I have trouble getting up in the morning I invariably run late. Whenever I'm running late (usually from August until June), I tend to get grouchy.  Along with grouchiness comes grogginess, and grumpiness (the modern day dwarfs who befriend Sleepless Not-So-Beauty).

I keep telling myself that since my kids are older, this year will be a lot easier on me.  And then, on the evening of the first day of school, my throat tightens up in an attempt to keep certain words from spilling out...words that parents should simply keep in their heads while they smile and nod.  All of a sudden my kids' loads at school are getting heavier; their responsibilities and activities are increasing.  As a result my parental load becomes oversized.  I can't help but to feel weak when I know I must be strong.  I want to lessen their load but I know it is only through these heavy trials that true character is developed.  My prayer is that we can all yoke together and carry one another's load in an effort to balance each other out.    May all of you who are experiencing heavy burdens find the strength to bear them and eventually release them.  Hopefully the loads we all carry are filled with the blessings and opportunities needed to help us become the best of who we were designed to be.

The Nuts and Bolts of Shopping

Okay!  I get it!  Now I officially know how painful it is for men to go shopping with women.  The other day I tagged along on a trip to town and ended up walking into what can only be described as a "Man Mall."  As soon as the sliding doors opened I was met with a whoosh of scented air.  Only this time the scent was not Chanel...it was....hmmm....I'm not really sure.  I do know that it was repulsive and I found myself trying desperately not to inhale.  It had a hint of rubber with a top note of gasoline.  This tool warehouse had everything a handyman could ever want.  And get this...it was a discount store!  I guess that's where the similarity lies between men and women and the whole shopping experience:  we all love a good bargain.  There were aisles and aisles of compressors, ratchets, drill presses, and pliers.  No matter where I turned I was met with hardware.  There was not a soft item to be found.  I couldn't breathe.  I had to get out of there.  I actually did what a lot of men do when shopping with women:  I sat down in one of the display chairs.  It was a nice folding lawn chair that came with it's own drink holder and folding table attached.  It was beneath a canvas canopy.  It afforded me a nice view of the socket sets and metal ramps.  So, needless to say, I learned my lesson: always, always, always go shopping alone...or else bring along your best girlfriends and frolic in the makeup and clothing departments knowing there isn't a chainsaw blade or wheelbarrow tire in sight.

Bitter No More

Sometimes we can't help but to feel a bit sour.  Sometimes our outlook is pretty grim.  Sometimes all we need to cure our mood is a large dose of friendship.  I had the pleasure of spending almost the entire day with a dear friend.  As soon as I arrived at her house she confessed that she had such a miserable night she had considered uninviting me.  After an hour or so of our visit she told me that she was glad that I had come. Her outlook had changed and her mood had lifted.  We all have our moments of weakness and self-doubt.  But we should never ever forget that there are people who are in our corner...no matter what.  I actually enjoyed being able to simply sit and listen.  I had prayed earlier in the day to be able to offer whatever was needed and I felt that listening was best.  Sure I had plenty to say...but today was not about me.  I love having friends...friends who love me no matter what...and friends whom I love no matter what.  Life can be full of bitter lemons...but it's our friends along the way who help turn the bitterness into sweetness.

The Sarong should be called the "So Wrong"

I don't get it.  It's hard enough for women to fit into clothes--especially when they keep trying to squeeze into "their size" even though "their size" is no longer their size.  I speak from experience on this one.  I have not been happy with the way I've been looking in my clothes.  It seems that "nothing is working for me."  Finally, I had a meeting with myself and decided to go ahead and try "the next size up."  When that size didn't fit I went up another size....and this time it fit...but it was snug.  When I blocked out the number on the tag I realized how comfortable I was and how good the shorts fit.  Apparently the only way to feel skinny (not 'look skinny'...FEEL) is to buy clothing in the size you  never dreamed  you would ever ever wear (the size you never even fit into when pregnant!) and whallah!  Then, just when I had accepted the fact that the battle between me and my metabolism had not only been fought, but won....(only not by me)...I had to slip into a bathing suit (actually "slip" is not the best descriptor here...."squeeze/suck/squint" would be more appropriate).  Despite the fact that I am no longer in my 20s...okay...no longer in my 30s...I still managed to pull off a bikini.  I found that the one-piece suits actually "rounded me out" too much considering the fact that not only do I have a pronounced sway-back...but I also have a pronounced back-side.  Well...just the other day...when I knew I would be in a suit IN PUBLIC...I opted for a one-piece...but it was in "slimming black."  The label on the tag told me I was trying on a "sarong."  In truth it fit and it did pretty much what it was designed to do...swallow my pride.  But the problem I have with suits that are purchased to "hide," "disguise," "cover up," our "supple" skin on our tummies and thighs and buttocks is the fact that the suit covers up our top half.  Don't most women have "areas of concern" in their lower half?  If it were up to me I'd wear a suit that started at the ankles and ended at the top of the belly button!!  But even that is just SO WRONG!  Come on winter!!  The season where only faces and hands are exposed!!!

Great Ball of Fire!

Okay!  Enough with the heat already!  I used to think those movies that had people incinerating on the spot were exaggerating....but that sort of thing almost happened to me the other day when I snuck outside pre dawn to let the chickens out of their coop.  I figured that I would be safe considering the fact that it was 6:30 a.m. and the temps were only in the mid 90s.  Well they were!...almost.  The air simply burns.  So what if there is a breeze....it does not help because the “breeze” feels like the whoosh of heat you get when you open the oven door.  Because of all of the sweating that’s going on I’m having to wash a lot of clothing that I would otherwise merely “recycle.”  I have to refill the birdbath daily because a)the birds have declared it the best watering hole in the county, and b)the sun sucks up whatever is left at the end of the day.  On more than one occasion I have actually, physically been stuck to my car’s seat. ‘Tis the season of less clothing, but unfortunately, ‘tis also the season to either wear SPF 100 (yes, there is a 100...I know...I own it), or stay indoors.  So go jump in the lake you winey woman ... I would...if there was any water left to jump in.  Right now I am reminded of the Bugs Bunny cartoon...the one where he jumps up and then dives straight down into what should be an oasis of beautifully cool and refreshing water....only he ends up eating sand.  Ehhhhh.....what’s up with this heat, Doc?!

TTYL

I've got to hand it to all of you parents out there (mine included) who watched their child get into a car for their first official independent driving experience BEFORE  CELL PHONES HAD BEEN INVENTED!  I think that I was all cool and calm and "that's the nature of things"... but that's because I knew I would have at least the thinnest thread of contact with my son at the beginning, middle, and end of this whole "Nurture Your Child and Keep Him From Harm Only To Throw Him To The Wolves" thing called growing up (for him and me!).

Me:  "Text me AS SOON as you get there."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But not while you're driving."
Him:  "I know."
Me:  "Text me if you have to go ANYWHERE else."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But I don't want you going anywhere else."
Him:  "Okay."
Me:  "Be sure and text me AS SOON as you leave."
Him:  "I will."
Me:  "But not while you're driving."
Him:  "I won't."
Me:  "I love you."
Him:  "I love you too."
Him:  "I'm here."
Me:  (sigh of relief)  "Thanks for texting me.  Have a great day at work."
Me:  (Calling) "Why haven't you texted me yet?"
Him:  "Because I haven't left yet."
Me:  "When are you leaving?"
Him:  "In a little while.  I'll text you."
Him:  "I'm heading home."
Me:  "Thanks for texting.  Be careful."
Him:  (Walking in the door) "I'm home."
Me:    (Exhaling a prayer of gratitude)

VS:

Me: "Bye!"
My Mom:  "Bye"

H2OMG!

It has suddenly dawned on me that I have "crossed over."  I am now in the category of women who actually get into the water to cool off.  I don't give a hoot about a tan, and I jog in place with the hopes that when I towel off my thighs will not only be taut, but about as big around as the curling iron I no longer use because who uses those things anymore?  It's all about the flat iron now.  Flat, flat, flat.  I do not like that word anymore.  In fact, it has become a four-letter word to me.  "Flat" is a bad tire!  

I now own a bathing suit that has a built-in skirt.  I consider it "dressing up" to go swimming.  I no longer get goosebumps or "test the water" before getting in.  I don't worry about mascara running because makeup has become "one more thing" that I have to take off at night.  I'm sick of layers, whether it be in clothing or in my hair.  I no longer "suck in" because it doesn't look any different when I don't.  I'm past the sticker shock of the size on the tag...I just want something that is bigger than I am so I feel comfortable.  I used to pay $30 for a 2 tiny pieces of material...now I pay $12 for one large piece.  The fact that we are in the middle of one of the worst droughts on record has done nothing for my broken internal thermostat.  Back when there was water and I owned a bikini, I was always too cold to jump in.  Now...it's hotter than hell and I feel like creating some waves!