Out With The Froo Froo And In With The New New

I have always considered myself an old soul.  From my earliest memories I have been fascinated with all things old.  As a child, while others were reading the latest fictional novel containing current, modern day subject matter, I was holed up in my room, laying across my waterbed devouring the Little House On The Prairie series, imagining what it must be like to be half-pint or Ma living out on the prairie like that.  I also wondered if Pa was half as hot as Michael Landon was on the television series?  If so, then I was definitely Ma.

As the years passed, my love for old things progressed and I became downright obsessed!!  My late husband would get so frustrated with me as I brought home old photographs of people we didn't know from Adam, framed them, and displayed them all around the house.  I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked, "Oh, are these your ancestors?"  Only to giggle and respond, "No, I don't know WHO they are!"  Once I even had a friend tell me that the lady in one particular photo looked just like me!  Lol, perhaps that is why I was drawn to that photograph, perhaps she was some long lost relative who died years ago and haunted my subconscious!!  Impossible of course, but it is great fodder for this blog.

Old books, old shoes, old clothes, old tea cups, platters and glassware of all sorts cluttered every nook and cranny of our home.  And who cared about the latest in music and movies?  Give me the old classics any day of the week such as Gone With The Wind and Meet Me In St. Louis to name a few.  And Frank Sinatra, not Tim McGraw, and Doris Day not Beyonce!  The Big Band era songs echoed thru our home, no Christian Rock Bands!  I was at one time so obsessed with English Tea Houses that I transformed our living room and dining room into a regular Tea Room complete with small round table set with delicate dinnerware and antique tea cups and teapots.  I tried my hand at lemon curd, devonshire cream and scones in my very own kitchen as classical music reverberated around me.  I was convinced that I was born to live in a different era.  If there was such thing as reincarnation then I surely hailed from the 1930's or 40's (my favorite era)!

Even when I began to date after the death of Tim I was scouting around for an old guy!  Not like walker, adult diaper old, but rather, slightly seasoned.  You know, the kind of man that has made his fortune and married off all of his children?  A man who totally has the time to fan me with big palm fronds on some tropical island while feeding me grapes and refilling my virgin Pina Colada on a regular basis. THAT"S what I'm talkin' bout!  I had visions of a man with salt and pepper hair..........driving a Jaguar.  Instead, the Lord transformed me into a cougar and gave me a man four years my junior with the prettiest green eyes you have ever seen who drove a Honda!!  Oh well, I guess the Lord knows just what we need!  And I LOVE my juvenile husband and being a cougar aint so bad after all................TO BE CONTINUED

My Grandkids Are Cuter Than Yours

It's true, I have finally entered into the wacky, weirdness of Grandmotherhood!  All reason and logic have gone right down the drain with the birth of Charlotte and Harlow!!  My I-phone is full of their photographs of which I will bore to tears unsuspecting people given the slightest provocation!  My purse is no longer a means by which to carry important articles such as money, identification and Aqua Net, it now, however, houses small toys and gummi fruit smiles.

My daughter Kendra expressed concern that her baby would be ugly.  I assured her that if she were, we wouldn't know it, and I used she and her brother Zack as examples.  For instance, Zack looked like E.T. on a bad day at his birth, and she, Kendra, well, she resembled a hobbit, sprouting patches of hair of differing lengths.  And see?  We thought they were beautiful!  Haley however was by far my prettiest baby, much to her siblings chagrin.  I assured Kendra that she and her brother developed and matured into absolutely gorgeous toddlers and eventually, adults.  If her child was indeed born ugly, then we would all be blissfully unaware of the fact.  To us, her baby would be divinely perfect.

And she was!!  I was there you know.  The last time I viewed Kendra from that position I was powdering her behind, and now, here I was holding one of her legs as her husband, Kris, held the other as we cheered her on and shouted "push! push!"  As my adorable grand daughter entered this world, I was sure that there was no prettier creature on earth, and of course, she looked just like me, when in reality she is an exact replica of her father.  But hey, I'm the grandma!  I'm entitled to be slightly delusional.

The only other child on the planet who is equally as lovely would, of course, be my other grand daughter Charlotte (aka, Peanut)!!  And she, I am most positive, is the most advanced, intelligent two year old ever!  The fact that she has now learned to say "Mimi" and "P-Pa" proves that she is an expert orator.  A few weeks ago she decided to draw all over her uncles flat screen with a pencil.  And NO, she was not being destructive.......she is an artist, simply expressing herself through her drawings.  Any unacceptable behavior by   my little "peanut" can easily be explained away and attributed to her genius.

Tis true, and disgusting, I am a doting grandmother!  They are perfect and can do no wrong.  Their boogers are beautiful and there slobber is sweet.  There poop don't stink and I am no longer an advocate for corporal punishment.  They are both gifted and deserve the finest of everything..........and yes, I am sorry but they are cuter than yours.  And THAT is a fact I will fight you over.

Valentines Day Is For Old People

There was a time when Valentine's Day was really exciting.  You know, when I had more hair on my head than on my chin, and my boobs were where the good Lord intended, and not hovering somewhere around my navel.  I would arise early to carefully curl my solid red locks to perfection, apply my Dr. Pepper lip gloss, my gunnie sack dress and my cork wedgie shoes and wait........wait for the flowers, balloons and heart shaped box of chocolates to arrive.  Once it had arrived, I would proudly stand in front of the fireplace hearth as my mother snapped polaroids of me and my booty, well not MY booty of course, but my Valentine's Day booty!  Once the polaroids had dried and reached their intended color I would race to my room and call the sendee of the Valentines and proclaim my undying love for the lucky fella.  

As time passed, Valentine's Day became less and less exciting.  It became just another day to spend much needed money on overpriced cards, and the candy??  Who needed it?  After three kids my ever expanding waistline certainly didn't need it, and roses were way too expensive for our limited budget and they just wilted and died and ended up in the trash.  My idea of a proper Valentine's Day gift was more along the lines of a new Dooney and Bourke purse or a gift card to a day spa, but who can afford that?  So, Valentine's Day went unrecognized for the most part.  I secretly hated my coworkers and ladies at church who would brag about their WONDERFUL Valentine's Day experiences, describing their gifts of Victoria Secret lingerie, chocolate dipped strawberries, fancy dinners and sparkling cider.  All while I wondered how we were going to afford to pay for braces and Kendra's latest traffic ticket!!  For me, Valentine's Day totally sucked!!

As time went on and my children became teenagers, I found myself in the Valentine's aisle at Wal Mart with my son Zack searching for that perfect stuffed animal and box of chocolates for his latest girlfriend.  And I watched as Kendra waited impatiently for her Valentine's Day goodies to arrive, and I, as my own mother did, forced her to pose as I snapped photos of the digital kind......... death to the polaroid!!  I would pick them up from school on Valentine's Day struggling to get the balloons, oversized teddy bears, cards and candy into the car, anticipating getting home and raiding their Valentine's Day take.  I always jacked their hard candy hearts, my personal fave.  Valentine's Day was no longer about me or my hubby, it was all about the kids.

Zack got married, and then Kendra, so now, how Valentine's Day played out in their lives was all on them.   And Haley???  Well she has proclaimed that she is never getting married and will forever be alone, which scares the doo doo out of me, because to me, that is interpreted, forever at home!!

So, as this Valentine's Day approached and I find myself a two-time Grandma, I pondered what Valentine's Day would mean for me.  I had to listen to Haley bemoan the fact that she is alone and that she and her other unfortunate friends were going to skype their evening away, discussing their joint aloneness and be miserable in general.  I stood in front of the mirror and forlornly examined the large amount of gray in my once lustrous locks and wondered why I look six months pregnant when my ovaries have long since died and given up the ghost.  And what in the world has happened to my rear end??  It's hanging dangerously low, and I always wanted dimples on my cheeks, just not THOSE cheeks and not in the dozens!!!  At forty five years of age, this lady is showing signs of wear and tear........Valentine's Day for me was sure to be totally blah und unsexy.

I stumbled out of bed on Valentine's Day with one thought racing through my foggy brain, coffee, coffee, coffee!!  I walked down the steps toward the kitchen and there, at the foot of the steps waiting for me with open arms was my sweet husband of less than a year.  He engulfed me in a hug the kind that only he can give and suddenly, coffee was no longer on the brain.  As he led me into the kitchen, there, in a lovely vase stood a dozen red roses, a card addressed to me rested at the base of the vase.  Paul told me to relax as he poured me a cup of coffee, just the way I like it.  He instructed me to have the table set for that evening's meal with candles.  He then slipped upstairs and when he returned he held something behind his back.  As he strode to the refrigerator and opened the door he revealed a bottle of sparkling cider.  My knees went weak and my heart did aerobics as he winked at me and sensuously kissed the bottle before placing it in the refrigerator.  And then with one last kiss, and leaving me utterly breathless, my man was off to work.

That night we held hands as we ate our spaghetti dinner that he himself had cooked, the candlelight flickering off of our wine glasses filled with sparkling cider.  Haley was there, yammering about her lack of a valentine but my hubby and I only had eyes for each other.  It was a PERFECT Valentine's Day and I was in bed by 9:00!!  So yes, Valentine's Day IS for old people too!!  Wink, wink.

Embracing My Oldness

As my forty fifth birthday approaches I realize that I am officially old.  Oh yeah, the old gray mare she aint what she used to be.  Nope, she's sway backed, knock kneed, long in the tooth and in dire need of a new pair of shoes.  If you were raised around horses you were most likely warned to not venture too close to a horses backside for fear of being kicked..........well, I would advise you not to venture too close to mine either, and for a whole different set of possible circumstances.

My body is officially breaking down!  I am WAY past my child bearing years.  That's right.  My uteris has shriveled to the size of a deflated balloon and my ovaries look like two forlorn, dried up raisins.  Every once in a while my hubby and I will look at each other and say, "We're fixed!  We can't have babies!  Yay!"  At that point we high five each other and celebrate.  NO MORE BABIES!  Been there, done that...............and didn't entirely enjoy it.  No sirree, I love it that I am old! I love it that I find men in plaid golf shorts, black sandals and white knee sock attractive, and that I enjoy going fifty in the fast lane, and that my children are no longer children anymore!  I want them to succeed in life and make a boatload of money so that they can keep me in depends and dentures!!  Oh yes, Im gonna live the high life while I'm old!

All except for the hot flashes of course.  At odd  times I will commence ripping off every stitch of clothing on my body, run around the house opening up all the windows, flapping my arms wildly in an attempt to generate some air.  I usually end up in my bedroom, standing in front of a fan and guzzling iced tea.  Once the hot flash passes I find myself shivering, stepping into a hot shower, only to don my warm fuzzy jammies and wait for it to happen all over again.  This is called MENOPAUSE!

Menopause.  What a word.  It is something that women everywhere fear daily.  I however, embrace it.  It has it's downsides though.  I mean, is it normal for me to actually WANT to wear moo moos and Birkenstocks with white socks?  Or to imagine my family stranded on a desert island while I run naked on the beach, the wind gently blowing my hair with a virgin strawberry daiquiri in my hand?  Or that I envision spiking their drinks with a concoction of Benadryl and ground up Tylenol P.M. to render them helpless while I go to the mall?  Or that I sometimes dream of seeing their faces on milk cartons with a message that reads "Have you seen me?" and awake with a smile on my face?  Oh good Lord that is awful!!  But, I blame the menopause, and this too shall pass.

The effects to my body however shall not pass.  My skin looks like something akin to mini blinds, only not nearly as firm.  And I have no idea what my toes look like.........I can't SEE them.  It stinks to look five months pregnant, when in reality, you are only carrying an In-N-Out double double with cheese, animal fries and a chocolate shake.  I mean, I can just LOOK at a french fry and grow a dress size!  What is up with that?  And speaking of my toes, the last time I saw them, I lifted my flab six inches up, and a hard four inches to the right and gasped at what I saw.  My toenails were turning a lovely shade of YELLOW!!  What is happening?  Me, the one who enjoys a lovely french pedicure from time to time has yellow toenails!  God forbid!  And this means that I cannot possibly do a french anymore!  Who wants to sport yellow toenails with a white stripe?  This calls for a nice, solid shade of pearl white on the tootsies.  My Pastor would fall out in an apoplectic fit if he knew I wanted to paint my toenails white!  But Pastor Keyes, It's for the good of the innocent onlookers.  Anyone who sees my toenails will surely want to gauge out their eyes with sticks!!  It is my civic duty to spare them.  And my hair!!  Oh, don't EVEN go there!  My hair, my best feature is turning funny colors and turning loose too...........oh my.

Oh well, what can one do about getting old?  Not a thing, so you may as well enjoy it.  I look forward to the day that my hubby and I travel around in a motor home, stopping at Wal Mart along the way, eating at buffets and playing bingo in local High School gyms.  And me, yeah you'll find me cruising down the highway in my easy chair in the back of the motor home, most likely naked, sipping on ensure, snacking on some apple sauce............but you can bet your boots I will have the most lovely blue hair and sparkly white toenails you have ever seen.

Childbirth And Other Things

My babygirl is going to have a babygirl!!  How is that possible I ask you?  No, don't say it, I KNOW how, but really, how could that be???  It seems just yesterday that I held a screaming, blotchy, scrawny little girl in my arms who had really corny looking hair..............and we named her "Kendra."

But alas, tis true........my little girl, Kendra, is going to be a mother.  What does that say for her?  That she is a lovely young woman coming of age..........what does it say of me?..........THAT I'M STINKING OLD!  There!  I said it!  I'm old and I don't care, that's right.  I have accepted the fact that my thighs rub together, I have grown somewhat of a beard, and that certain parts that the good Lord put in certain places have........shall we say......shifted slightly.

The other day while Kendra and I chatted on the phone she began to ask me certain things about my labor and childbirth experiences with she and her two siblings.  As Dorothy, caught up in a Tornado, my mind was transported to 1983 when Zachary, my firstborn, came into this world.........and no, I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

It was June, 1983.  I lay in a skinny bed in a labor room at Memorial North Hospital, Modesto California.  My husband, Tim, stood watching the monitor which printed, on paper, the peaks and dips of each contraction.  Dressed in blue paper scrubs with a white mask covering his mouth and nose, he coached from the sidelines.  At one point after a particularly strong contraction, he patted me on the shoulder and said, "That one wasn't bad at all."  I wanted to scream at him that HE should try pushing something akin to a canned ham through the neck of a Pepsi bottle and then and only then could he judge when it was bad and when it wasn't!"  I wisely kept my counsel to myself.

And then, the pains were coming one on top of another and it was time to push.  I distinctly recall my head coming up off the pillow as I attempted to concentrate and do my breathing.  There, at the foot of my bed were my husband, my mother in law and my mom.....huddled together, looking at me, all of them doing my breathing along with me.  Heads bobbing with the rhythem, they looked like something from a Three Stooges movie.  Had both of my knees not been firmly planted on my shoulders, I would have pulled a "Moe" and slapped them ALL up the side of the head.

And then, finally, I held my beloved firstborn, a son, in my arms.  He had the most perfect cone head that I had ever seen.  His position while lying is my womb was one that caused his cone of a head to rest ever so lightly upon his left shoulder.  The doctors told us that the muscles and ligaments on the left side of his neck were shorter than those on the right, but that with time they would stretch and he would be fine.  I had nightmares of him viewing the world from an angle for the rest of his life........receiving his diploma, head on his shoulder, posing for family portraits with him placed strategically to capture his "better side," images of him repeating his wedding vows, head on shoulder.........on and on the nightmarish images went, but, alas, all was well and his head now rests upright.

"Did you breast feed?"  Kendra asks.  "Are you kidding?!"  I all but scream my answer.  "After hours of having my nether regions stretched to the four corners of the room and snapped back abruptly there was no way I was going to allow a very short, bald person to nom nom on my tata's!"  No way, not me!  God made those rubber nipples for a purpose!  To save mine!  Kendra then went on to ask if I had anything to help with the pain of labor.  At this, I had a vision of myself standing atop a majestic cliff, naked, my wild, fiery red hair blowing in the wind.  I raise my hands above my head, and my chin to the sky as I yell, "I am woman!!"  at the top of my lungs, for NO, I had three children with not one epidural.  And for that, pride burns in my chest.

Of course, hindsight is twenty twenty, and I instruct Kendra.............TAKE THE EPIDURAL!!

How else do I instruct my precious daughter in the ways of motherhood?  It is all trial and error, pride and joy, and yes, at times, heartache and disappointment.  But all in all, I wouldn't trade my babies with their corny hair, cone and lopsided heads for all the money in the world!  So you go girl!  Have that baby and let her Mimi revel in the knowledge that I get to love and spoil her minus the contractions, stretching, bags and sags, and I get to return her to her parents while I lay snug as a bug in a rug anticipating the next time I get to sniff her lotiony head.  :)

People Ask The Dumbest Questions!

I have worked as an Events Specialist at Wal Mart for over six months now.  Overall, I enjoy my job.  One of the benefits of standing behind a cart all day is the opportunity to "people watch."  People wear the funniest things, walk funny, act funny, and they can ask the funniest questions.

One observation that I have made is that my hispanic customers are extremely kind and polite, as well as their children.  On the other hand, a LOT of my caucasian customers are just straight up rude, and I might add, downright dumb!

For instance, one particular day I was marketing contact solution.  My cart was covered with signage as well as a display of the solution and pamphlets to further inform the customers as to the benefits of using this particular product.  As I had no actual samples of the contact solution to handout, my company instructed me to hand out samples of Andes mints to people as I promoted the contact solution.  I kid you not, a man walked up to the cart and I handed him one of the chocolates.  He took the chocolate, looked at the signs and the product on my cart, pointed to the chocolate and asked "what is this?"  I answered, "It's a piece of chocolate."  He said, "Is it for your eyes?"  I said, "No, it's just a sample of chocolate."  He said, "Oh, if I eat it is it good for my eyes?"  As he asked this he held an Andes mint up to his eye, I kid you not.  In shock I responded, "No sir, it's just chocolate and it's not good for your eyes.  In fact, it is not good for you at all."  Confused, he walked away.

For several weeks I grilled steaks to promote a new grade of beef that Wal Mart is carrying.  My company provided me with a George Foreman type grill which came with a small container to sit next to the grill to catch the grease and drippings from the steaks.  I gave one particular man a sample of steak.  He took it, pointed to the grease catcher and asked "Is that salsa?"  Another man took his half inch square bite of steak and asked if I had any salt and pepper.

This past weekend was particularly interesting, must have been a full moon.  On Friday I baked a spiral sliced ham and gave out delicious morsels all day long.  An elderly man came rolling buy in his motorized scooter and sat watching me as I served the customers.  A man came up and asked for a piece of ham which I happily gave him.  The old guy in the scooter says to the man, "I wouldn't eat that if I were you.  God told us not to eat pork, it's unclean."  To my surprise, the man eating his ham replied, "No, He told the Jews not to eat pork, and I'm a mexican!"  Hahahahaha!!  I wanted to fall out laughing!

On Saturday, It was my job to serve Starbuck's coffee, a new flavor of International Delight coffee creamer, as well as slices of Wal Mart bakery cakes.  I had a woman walk up to my cart, read all of the signs, look at the coffee creamer that I had displayed on my cart, and then, she sees the cake that I am slicing and she appears as though a light bulb had just lit up in her head.  She pointed to the cake and asks, "Oh, so that cake was made with this?"  and she points at the coffee creamer.  "No, that's coffee creamer" I answer.  Confused, she walks away.  Apparently the "lightbulb" had been somewhat dim.  On that same day I have a woman walk up to my cart and ask, "Excuse me.  Do you work in this store?"  I looked at her, totally confused and said, "Pardon me?"  She repeated, "Do you work in THIS store?"  I looked around me very slowly, taking in my surroundings, looked at my cart, and then looked down at myself, my orange apron with Wal Mart inscribed upon it and my name tag, looked back at her and said "Yes ma'am, it would appear as though I do in fact work in this store."

From time to time I fantasize about running down the aisles of my friendly Wal Mart, ripping off my clothes in a hysterical, insane frenzy, screaming at the top of my lungs, "I'm surrounded by idiots!"  But alas, I do not give in to that fantasy, if only for the mental health and well being of onlookers.  I try to remind myself that I, yes, even I have asked some pretty stupid questions in my day.  For instance, when I was a young child I asked my mother what my forehead was for?  She looked at me, exasperated, and answered, "To hold your brain in Shawnacee."  I am ever so grateful to actually have a brain for my forehead to hold intact...........unlike some Wal Mart shoppers.  ;)

Since When Are The Children Making Choices?

In my incredibly, high powered, prestigious job as a sample lady at Wal Mart, it is my duty to provide products to customers for sampling.  I stand there looking quite lovely in orange, smiling, pretending to be Vana White, enticing people to approach my cart.  Of course, the choice is totally there's as to whether or not they will sample.  I had one grown man last week stand at my cart taking sample after sample, stuffing his face.  "Dude!  This is a sample cart not a buffet!"  I wanted to shout at him as his hand reached for yet ANOTHER power bar. If I had been able to set my Holy Ghost aside, climb over that cart in an even remotely ladylike manner and pinch this guys head off I would have.  Fortunately, for all involved, my Holy Ghost stayed firmly in tact.  It is incumbent upon my customers to make their own CHOICE as to whether or not they want what I am offering on any given day.

This leads me to my current "rant and rave."  I have encountered a new phenomenon in our movement.  There are Holy Ghost filled, tongue talking believers out there who are giving there children the choice of whether or not to attend church with them!  You may be thinking to yourself, "Shawnacee, you must be speaking of children over the age of eighteen, or young adults who are still living at home?  Right"  WRONG!!  No, I am speaking of elementary aged children and very young teens!!  Several individuals who adhere to this newfangled way of raising their children are very faithful to the house of God themselves, yet their children are given a choice as to whether they would like to attend church with their parents that day or evening.  And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess what decision these children are going to make.  Of course they are going to want to sleep in and play instead of going to church!  Their kids for crying out loud, they do not have the wisdom or the life experiences to make wise choices, that's why they have been given parents.  Too often here of late I see families where the children act as the adults and the parents as the children.  As my children's father use to say, "the inmates are running the asylum!"

I am breathing heavily with anger and frustration over this.  I have one question mom and dad.  When your children are driving cars and sneaking out of windows to meet up with the opposite sex, or sneaking behind the gym at school to do drugs and smoke will you still be giving them a choice regarding church?  Let me clue you in on something.........if they don't wanna go now, they sure as heck (is that a cuss word?)  won't want to go then!

I don't claim to be the mother of the decade, I have, do and will make mistakes in the raising of my children just as all parents do from time to time, but this is beyond the pale!  If the government or evil forces limited  who could attend church from our home, with only one person allowed to go it would be my daughter Haley.  I would sacrifice my own soul for hers, it is absolutely VITAL that she be saved!  I don't get it.

Oh don't worry, my children had choices........they chose whether or not to go to church willingly or under threat of death.  Also, they chose what they wore........they could wear modest, holy, conservative, or, if they didn't like that, they could sport a very fashionable hand print on their bare backsides.......pick one.  They also had a choice in who they dated......christians from our church, or, a christian from a neighboring church of like faith.  But when it came to their salvation..........until they became legally emancipated at the age of eighteen, I AND THEIR FATHER made that decision for them.  The choice was Heaven or hell and Heaven won out every time.

I can honestly say that when I stand before God's holy throne on judgement day that I will be guiltless when it comes to the way that I raised our three precious children.  They were taught to be faithful to the house of God, reverence Him, have complete and utter faith in Him and that His word is infallible!  If they choose as adults to to reject those teachings, they are free to do so.  They KNOW the correct path.

PLEASE!  PLEASE!  PLEASE!  Mom or dad, I beg you, GET A CLUE before your precious little ones are clued in to the enticing, destructive, pleasures of sin for a season.  For surely, there will be a day when they cannot make a choice regarding their eternities.  Let them choose the flavor of ice cream they want, but please, not their souls!

And now, as I try to catch my breath and calm my nerves after having practically beaten this keyboard into fragments, I think I will go take a Benadryl or something and try to relax.