A Musing Mother 6

This has absolutely nothing to do with Halloween.

My husband was miserable. He had been suffering terribly for such a long time. It started with a stuffy nose and sore throat which quickly escalated to a sinus infection. His doctor prescribed an antibiotic. His sore throat became raw and incredibly painful. Eating became a chore. The burning sensation spread to the inside of his mouth, particularly his tongue. Being the ever helpful and dutiful wife, I went to the best of the best self-diagnosing sites on the internet. After plugging in the affected areas of his body, I got a definitive answer. He's going through menopause. Surprisingly, he didn't take me at my word. He called his doctor who asked about antibiotics and indicated that the medication had killed the good bacteria and here's a prescription. It cleared up. Go figure. Just in case you didn't know, Web MD often gets things right on the dollar, as seen here and here . They are quite a pair; one with his bags packed and ready to fly off to the leprosy

So I've been seeking more Zen in my life via organization. I've made some observations and come to some conclusions. These are largely hypothetical and in no way, shape, or form reflect my own life nor anybody I know. Just cold ideas without inspiration nor insight. The Organized Woman: . . . believes that everything has its place. The Chaotic Woman: . . . knows it's in this pile right here. The Organized Woman: . . . makes out a menu every week and shops accordingly. The Chaotic Woman: . . . is in the middle of cooking dinner when she realizes she doesn't have a key ingredient. Calls husband to pick it up at the store on his way home but he's already in the garage. Or offers cold cereal or a casserole from Costco. The Organized Woman: . . . cleans by method. Monday is wash day, Tuesday is vacuuming, Wednesday she cleans her bathrooms, etc. The Chaotic Woman: . . . pulls off her clothes to get in the shower and notices the toilet is dirty, squirts toilet cleane

She sat across from me with the green formica spanning the distance. She was a mother nearing fifty, dressed in casual clothes like the hundreds of mothers I'd talked to since school started but something intangible told me to pay attention. I was going to learn something. She told me the story of how her daughter chose an alternative path thus at an alternative high school but primarily at a private school. She did not speak with shame or remorse but with sadness and determination. The target of ugly gossip was her ruin. I recalled out loud of being ruined by gossip and coming out the other end of the experience angry, bitter, and pessimistic. "In the end all was made whole - plus some," I shared, "except my heart." I heard myself say the last part as if I was a casual observer rather than the first person. I carried the conversation as I drove home, "except my heart," ringing in my ears. If all had been made whole, why was my heart resisting? It w

Twelve years ago today I was fat. Twelve years ago tomorrow I put on my husband's red polo shirt, struggled into my blue, stretchy pants and waited. I had carefully scheduled my pitocin drip and induction and some crazy fat girls had bumped me because they had actually gone into labor. Spoiled brats. I'd been walking around dilated to 6 cm. and 80% effaced for over three weeks. Did they not understand that once I started labor, I'd be dropping that baby in the car? By early afternoon I was anxious and bored. I announced to my husband and two and a half year old daughter that I was going to buy a baby book. I drove to a small town store (the small town where I now live but is no longer small) and perused. My pager went off. It was my obstetrician. "Excuse me," I calmly said to the clerk in the red and white checkered shirt, "May I borrow your phone? I think I'm going to have my baby now." Her pleasant features paled and she frantically started

I wonder if my friends are the best or my personal hygiene and care is slipping. My husband grabbed my pants by the belt loop and mentioned I missed one. Again. My female colleague announced my fly was down. A friend told me I needed a tissue because I had something white…and pantomimed wiping her nose. Back to my husband. He often wipes flour or whatever I’ve spilled off the front of my shirt. Quite often I can’t see anything on the front of my shirt which makes his actions suspect. But then I can hardly blame him for checking. During my last pregnancy I refused to buy maternity clothes and simply hijacked his polo shirts. I returned all of them when I was finished but he couldn’t use them. They all had stains in all three spots where I stuck out. I don’t recall him wiping flour or other foodstuff from shirts I was wearing at the time even though there is plenty of evidence I was wearing foodstuffs often. If I were a clever girl, I would purposely pat flour on myself before he co

Once upon a time the smoke alarm went off while I was cooking and the children cried, screamed and freaked out. I'd have to bundle them up and take them outside and wait it out. Today the boys meandered to check if I'd burned something then returned to playing Legos. The teenager waited a full minute and a half to wander upstairs to double check. The 11 year old didn't even make an appearance. It goes off about twice a month when I'm cooking. Is this a bad sign?

I got a bee in my bonnet or perhaps on my buttocks and decided it was time to organize every needful thing. Guess what? I have a house of non-needful things! I went to a class on Friday with a professional organizer. She encouraged us to start with ourselves. Building on that concept, I decided to turn off the computer and look at my responsibilities and simplify. Let's recap, shall we? Before we do so, let's also re-establish my most basic personality flaw. I'm obsessive. When I get a bee in my bonnet, it reproduces. Cleaned off the junk corner in the kitchen. You know the one. It's where all the mail goes along with every other piece of paper that I might use someday. All gone. There is now a telephone, a container of pens and a container of pencils. Please don't mix them up. Five folders sitting upright in a folder organizer; to do, pending, bills to pay, file, and scouts. Scouts doesn't belong there, but neither does the "file" folder. The

Boy: Mom, was I big when I was born? Mom: No, you were very, very small. Boy: Was I in you? Mom: Yes. Boy: When I came out, you didn't die? Mom: No. You were in a sac of fluid. It broke and your head went to the hole to come out. Boy: What hole? Mom: My girl parts Boy: Your bottom? Mom: Uh-huh. Boy: Was I covered in slurp? Mom: Slurp? Boy: How did the doctor get it off me? Mom: Ummm. He wiped you off with a blanket then wrapped you up and handed you to Dad. Boy: {After long pause} I want to have a baby brother. Mom: Yeah, well, my uterus is broken. Boy: {Another long pause} I think when I grow up, I'm going to have a baby brother grow in my belly. Mom: Boys don't have babies. ******************************************* Later the same day. . . Boy: Dad, when I get big I'm going to marry Mom and she's going to have a baby brother! Dad: Okay, Oedipus.

In order to bring balance back into your life, when insulting someone behind their back, always follow up with "bless their heart." This makes everything fair game. I've known this rule for a couple of years. My best friend from college, Heidi, and I found ourselves divulging to one another about everything and everyone. We felt like we were gossiping. Turns out, with this rule, it's all good. Fortunately, we don't run in the same circles so our heart blessings are about strangers to one another. If we actually knew these people, it may be construed as gossip. I forget that others don't know or follow this rule. Last night I was at the elementary school for my children's SEPs. I ran into a couple from my church congregation who were at their very first SEP for their oldest son. They are about my age but started a little older with the adoption of a biracial child 5 years ago. About 2 and half years later they decided to adopt another child of dark

There must be invisible magnetic fields we create by our focus. Otherwise, the following can not be explained: After sweeping the crud into a pile on the kitchen floor, I turn to pick up the dustpan. When I return my eyes to the pile, it is smeared across a couple of children, their clothes, feet, and blankets. My cat and anything I am reading. She sits right on it. Grape juice and white clothing. Especially 1) favorite clothing or 2) dry clean only. Children and coxsackievirus infection. A freshly cleaned room and children/toys Bisselled (real word. I made it up myself) carpet and a cat's throw up hairball Grilled meat and the cat. I am really ticked at the cat. Is it obvious? Any sock left on the floor and the dog. Why is the dog in the house? The dog and the man. 'Nuff said. When you turn one magnet around, the opposite affect occurs. They repel one another. Once again, another law of physics ignored: My second oldest child and her homework. My oldest son and cle

History fascinates me. I know, I'm a total nerd. I'll let you beat me up at recess. Family history is addicting. Scandal? Intrigue? Blood and gore? Ghost stories, tragedy, and things of lore? All in the family history. Here is my great, great, grandfather, Samuel Alonzo Whitney: It is clear where I get my good looks. Here's what I knew about him: He lost an arm in his youth, was a Pony Express Rider, spoke Shoshone fluently, was an Indian interpreter, and he lost his leg later in life. He was called "Peg Leg." So how did he lose his arm and his leg? I hunted down a very distant cousin and sent her an email. By the way, the best way to find out about your ancestors is to find that one aunt or distant cousin who is absorbed in family history. They have all the good stories. My life's goal is to become that little old lady with the dowager hump, leaning over a microfiche machine. Can you see the pink sweater and sensible, orthopedic shoes, too? Yeah.

Walgreen 's advertising agency is diabolically genius. I had $3 in Register Rewards burning a hole in my purse. As I considered returning to the Walgreen's near my house I felt vomit in my mouth. Just a little bit. And so I went to the one closest to work. It was on the way. Kind of. Okay, maybe 6 miles out of my way. At the most 10. Gina in "Coz" (short for cosmetics, she informed me) helped me find everything they had in stock AND helped me maximize my savings. She didn't mind that I bought multiples of anything in a single day. Not only that, she called over a young man named Logan and found that the Gillette Fusion razors would be coming in the next day (yesterday). She offered to hold one for me. Logan overheard, commented Gina had the day off, and then watched diligently all the next day until the shipment came in then called me. This morning I had Register Rewards again (from my transactions with my new BFF, Gina) and came out with what I wanted