I am stuck on bandaids....

Holy Monday Batman! I wish I was a superhero. You know, the golden Wonder Woman bangles that could deflect bullets and bullshit. Or maybe a femme fatale like Poison Ivy....kiss me and die you fool. Ha, I could be a Power Puff Girl with baby dyke snarkiness worn like a shield. Bite me big boy. :::sigh::: Nah, I'm just Mom. Not Wonder Mom or Bat Mom, not even Super Mom. Just mom. Although most of you know this, in case a stranger wanders in unawares, I have 1 biological daughter, and 2 sons-by-acquisition. 3 kids. Once upon a time, when I was 18 and still relatively naive, I wanted 5 kids. Bahahahahahaha, Thank God for unanswered prayers. Part of being just mom, is doling out bandaids and Magic Mommy Kisses. Now bandaids are the stuff of magic, putting one on can instantly cure even a compound fracture for a 4 or 5 year old. They are truly magical, and they stay on even in hurricane conditions! Sometimes, the bandaid design is a measure not only of the severity of the injury, but the potency of super healing power contained within it's magic wrapper. Add to this the magic mommy kisses and healing is almost instantaneous! Woohoo!

Every Christmas, Santa Claus is wise enough to include a package of bandaids in every stocking hung with care here. He's brought camoflauge designs for when AJ & Jordan were still small enough to venture outside on wheels of some sort to play; neon colors to clash or accessorize the myriad of bumps, bruises and blisters that Kathryn might suffer. Hello Kitty bandaids have appeared for those fashionable and flirty booboos. Plain old beige bandaids appear when times are tough, but they have the same magic mommy medicine within their adhesive and gauze. The really cool thing about bandaids is that we never outgrow them, not really. We may not have direct access to the mommy kisses as we grow, but we know, in our hearts that mommy kisses are included in every bandaid we ever apply.

I think Fridays and Saturdays are the workweek bandaids. Mondays are like the small papercut or torn cuticle we might suffer, you know, not really life threatening but annoying as hell and oh that sting! So we get our paper cut on Monday and we work through the week until we get our magic bandaid on Friday and Saturday; apply mommy kiss magic on Sunday and start all over Monday. Not a bad way to cycle through a 40 hour work week.

Some people I know use Budweiser, Patron, or Wild Turkey as their bandaid design. Others use herbal themes, like cannabis. Others still, Nap Time Themes; sun, surf and sand themes; big honking trucks; Call of Duty, World of Warcraft, Wii, xBox, PSP, name your video console. Add a bandaid, mommy magic kisses and voila, you are healed.

What is your bandaid of choice? Do you have a design you prefer? Does mommy magic come into play? Inquiring minds want to know!

I am stuck on bandaid, cuz bandaid's stuck on me. :o)

My body is 47 years 5 months and a few days old, as of today. I suppose that isn't really all that old. Having said that, the joints in my fingers are a bit stiff and painful most mornings now, my feet ache, and they cramp a lot, my knees have their own library of ringtones, and every sprain, twist, and fracture is letting me know where it is so that I can remember how it got there. Aging gracefully is not really a challenge, it's sort of a learned skill. I'm trying to learn.

I had a serious injury to my right wrist and hand almost 12 years ago that led to developing a rather bothersome nerve disorder called RSD or CRPS. While trying to recover use of my right hand, following surgery, I was treated with a long list of drugs including short stints on lithium, elavil, and a long time association with very high doses of something called Neurontin. This last drug turned out to be a Godsend. I was on it for almost 5 years, and then lack of money made continuing the regimen impossible. By that time, thank God, I had developed close to 50% function in my right hand. The surgeon initially told me I would be lucky to get 10 - 20% function back. Anyway, this RSD is a fickle and painful mistress. My family had to live with the ups and downs of my chronic, sometimes debilitating pain, and they did so with great patience and love. I've had several years of something resembling remission and count each of those days as a miracle. Recently, as my 47 year old body begins to settle and give in to gravity, RSD has reared its ugly head, or hand. Things that have been bearable for years are once again becoming difficult. This is creating a HUGE psychological dilemma for me. I'm not very good at focusing on me. I have a spouse who is wrapped to the knee in a fiberglass cast. She's on crutches from now til who knows when. I have a child / young adult in college, working hard at making the transition from high school to college under sometimes difficult family circumstances. I have a teenage son who struggles daily in the academic world. Things that come so easy to so many are sometimes a monumental task for him, and yet he perseveres. My 22 yr old son has just paid off his vehicle and, after losing a very good job, has relocated to McDonald's and made it look easy. My children make me very proud, and sometimes very frustrated. They have so many needs and wants, and I don't have time to slow down and deal with any kind of chronic pain. Their success should be my focus, and yet this pain thing seems to want to get in the way. I don't have time for this. I've fought this fight before, and I was able to get past round 1. This round needs to not even start.

As for the rest of things, well aging and gravity have a way of making my body look its age (I hope no older), and with that comes hard work at minimizing the impact. I don't think I'm terribly vain, but I do try to at least look nice most days. Apparently as time passes I am becoming less feminine. I'm not sure exactly what is meant by that but I've been giving it a great deal of thought. I still wear makeup, hopefully it doesn't settle in my facial lines and crevices making me look like Maxine or something. I've altered the way I wear eye makeup, and I think I've made age appropriate adjustments. I'm no longer wearing short skirts and high heels, (thank goodness!). I do wear some dressier clothes to work, with sensible, professional pumps, but no fuck me pumps for these feet anymore. I've sold most of my gold jewelry so I'm left with a few pieces of silver that are fairly simple in design. I hope I don't look like Maxine. I hope I don't look like Grandma Moses either. I hope I look 47 years 5 months and a few days. I can handle that. In the next few weeks I'll be returning to the South Beach Regimen to reset my insulin metabolism, and hopefully shed the 6 pounds I've reacquired in the past year. I don't want to be a toothpick, I just want to lose those few pounds and lose the snack cravings that seem to have returned.

Days like these past few make me miss my Mom. I miss my biggest cheerleader. I could have come out of my room with black raccoon eyes, holes in my pants, hair standing on end and my mom would have had a big smile for me, and she would have said oh you look so pretty. She would have seen the inside Pearl. The soul, although it's an old one, would have felt like a kid again. She would have known without asking, that my RSD was back. She might not have said anything, but she would have given me great reassurance, and soothed my increasing anxiety about it. Don't misunderstand me, Laurie is aware, she has seen the signs and the anxiety, she has been there to offer comfort and support. She's working hard to calm my fear. She's been here before, and she understands all too well what this flare means. I'm very lucky for that. My ex- wasn't as understanding the first time, I'd bet he'd be oblivious to this flare now, and resent me for its return when he found out. That explains a lot of the ex- part there.

So this is my maudlin blog for the week. The holidays are approaching, my daughter is growing up and needs me less and less, and I miss my mom. Life happens. This is mine. I wouldn't trade any of it for any reason.

Thursday is Ladies Day

WooHoo! Ladies Day. Truth be told, you don't really have to be a "lady", just a female. Who knew that gun ranges offered free ladies days? I didn't. I never thought I'd have to. I am gun phobic. I was victimized in a rather cruel and unusual way many years ago, and since then the mere touch of gun metal makes me break out in a sweat. I've gotten used to it, and because I'm a caregiver by nature, the need to know how to shoot things was never an issue, until now. We have a stalker. He's really more of a punk ass, but he's dangerous, has a violent history, and he has been nice enough to add my entire family to his dance card. Woohoo, I'm a lucky girl. I've become rather well acquainted with our local police dept. Yay. After having been a law enforcement wife for 10 + years, I am REALLY excited about this. But...I digress. This evening a very nice Sargeant with our local PD arrived at our chateau. After banging loudly on the door, and wading through the barking dogapalooza that is my house, I met him on the walkway. We had a lovely chat and he then asked me if I can shoot. Shoot? Pool? Heroin? Hoops? Hmmm, no, he meant a gun. Weapon, sidearm, revolver, piece. No. Laurie, of course, is an expert marksman. He said unless she weighs 8 pounds and I want to carry her everywhere with me, that wouldn't be sufficient. He said it again ~ learn to shoot, get a gun, use it. Holy shit. This is the third time in less than a month that I've had someone say that to me. Use it. Point it and pull the trigger. Make it count. My dad actually then added the sage advice to find a good therapist to assist me with the PTSD that would certainly be the result of point and shoot. Use it. Make it count. This morning, as Laurie and I exited the garage and walked to the car to go to work we found a note on the hood of our car. It was in a ziplock bag, and it was a threat from our friendly neighborhood stalker, Wesley. It was full of the same bullshit rhetoric we've heard before, but this time the motherfucker FOUND MY HOUSE. Learn to shoot, get a gun, use it, make it count. Sweet mother of God, make it count? After years and years of praying, treating, caring for, worrying about, fearing and fighting guns.....I need to get one. Wow, has my life changed? And here I thought coming out of the closet was the biggest change I'd face. :::sigh::: What a crazy, mixed up world this is. I know that somewhere in all of this chaos and fear and anger there is a valuable lesson to be learned. I'm paying attention. In fact I'm on hyper-alert. I'm in pissed off mama-bear mode. My world has changed. My attention has shifted, my priorities are altered. I heard the nice officer. The policeman, who is my friend. He told me... learn to shoot, get a gun, use it, make it count. I'm going to, I will, I hope I can, I hope it does. The word of the day is strength. Yeah, I've got that.

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No

No No No No

Ok, well maybe, if it's what you all want. It's fine with me. I don't really have a preference. I'll leave it up to you. Will it make you happy? Is that what you want? It doesn't matter to me. I'm okay with whatever you decide.

Have any of you heard this before? Said any of this before? I've said them all. Usually with an "I'm sorry" on one side or the other. I am, of course, single-handedly responsible for world hunger, so my frequent apologies should come as no surprise. I blame it on cold cream corn and a 6 year old appetite for vegetables, but it was my cream corn, so yes, it's my fault.

Having said that, I am a people pleaser. I like to make, and keep people happy. I'll gladly change my mind about almost anything, if it will make Laurie, or Kathryn, or anyone happy. I'll change my choice of take out for dinner, my choice of TV show, my time to take a shower or bath. Yep, that waffle person is me. I suck.

My ex-husband was a long-term beneficiary of this flaw. We always vacationed in one of two climates ~ beach or snow. Nowhere else. Since he hated cruising (which I love) it took 8 years for me to persuade him to take a cruise. I wanted to go places like Niagra Falls, Yellowstone, Las Vegas. No beach. No go. I wanted a "traditional mattress" so of course we had a water bed for 6 years. I like prime rib and steak so we ate at seafood restaurants several times a month.

After 26 years of living with my mom, she came to live with us/me for the next 20 years. I wanted to go away to college, and in fact was accepted to Tennessee Technical University, but my mom and grandmother were so distressed by my leaving, that I stayed home and went to community college.

Now I find myself in a place where I want to scream from the rafters but don't know how. No no no no. It should be so easy. It isn't. We have a young lady and her infant daughter living with us. Back in February she was pushed by her then boyfriend, and had no where to go. Since Kathryn had known her since 6th grade, she asked if she could stay here. Laurie and I had a big long conversation about this. We aren't equipped to care for an infant. We both work, we have 1 car, we have 2 teenagers in school. We agreed that this was a safe, and viable temporary solution. It's hard enough raising our own kids. Now we have a 19 year old who is neither mine or Laurie's, and her daughter. So, how exactly do the mom's house mom's rules settle with her? She's 19. Her mom works for the same City we do. But she's out of the picture for the most part. It's a convoluted situation, but we have a reputation for taking in strays and falling into this web.

The confusion, and frustration now comes with the "former" boyfriend and his loudmouth, punk ass threats. He continues to threaten my whole family, and his former girlfriend and baby. The police have been to my office, and my home several times in the past few weeks. It's like living in a minefield. It's the same place you've always been, but you know that one wrong turn could blow you out of the water. We have worked so very hard to keep our own kids away from the system, and having been married to law enforcement officers, we'd like to avoid the police all together.

So that's my dilemma. I recently read that a good guest is one who makes you feel at home in your house. Man, I haven't had one of those in years. I don't have a solution. I feel like we got played a little by our kids, just like we did once before with a houseguest from hell. They conspired to make this happen, and it has. Now what? See...no no no no. It should be so easy.

Pearls before H1N1

Our news media, be it TV, newspaper, magazine...all outlets relaying alleged "news" should be ashamed of themselves. This media-induced H1N1 panic is ridiculous. 10s of thousands of people, in the United States alone, die from influenza every year. 10s of thousands people!. 1 person, who was brought across the border for treatment of H1N1 has died. 1. People are wearing masks, bathing in GermX, staying out of crowds, cancelling travel plans, and basically acting like the sky is falling. All of a sudden people are washing their hands, covering their mouths when they sneeze or cough, and staying home from work if they have a fever or cough. Wow. If people took these basic precautions ALL the time, we'd have fewer outbreaks of the traditional flu. I've told my co-workers I'm more concerned about getting Tuberculosis from the person behind me at Publix than I am of H1N1. :::sigh:::

The county I live in has distinction of having the "first confirmed case of H1N1" in the whole state. Yep. An elementary school student is the first case. The school is closed all next week, and those students with symptoms, or at risk due to other medical conditions, are receiving TamiFlu as a preventive measure. Smart stuff this plan. Break the cycle of exposure, treat proactively, and go on with life. It's the flu folks. It's a nasty flu, but it really is just the flu.

Did you read that Egypt has called for ALL pigs in the country to be killed? Egypt has no confirmed, or even suspected cases of N1H1, and muslims don't eat pork....why do they even have pigs? People who stopped eating chicken and turkey after Bird Flu, and beef after mad cow are now adding pork to their list. They'll all be vegan before too much longer. My daughter has said "what's next? The monarch butterfly flu?"

Actually it will be Eastern Equine Encephalitis. Or maybe Venezuelan Equine Encephalitis ~ especially since the Federal Gov't is missing 3 vials from one of our allegedly secure infectious disease labs. Read this: http://http//www.cnn.com/2009/US/04/22/missing.virus.sample/

So, maybe we should add horses to the list of soon-to-be endangered animals. It's almost encephalitis season....you watch and see.

Yes, our news media has much to be proud of. They've created a state of fear where none existed. They have people afraid of leaving the house for fear of contracting or transmitting this fatal flu. In this economy, and after 8 years of a Bush State of Fear, this is wrong. At least Washington isn't supporting the frenzy. (Okay, so Joe Biden might have been a little more tactful when telling his family not to take the train, lol) So far, Congress is still in session, sporting events are still scheduled, work is still work. Some things, at least, seem to have risen above the fray. Now, if any of those Washington people begin to oink, or their curly tails show, we may need to revisit the congress thing...but politicians have been swine for years. ;o)

So, to wrap things up, here's the mantra for the next few weeks: "wash your hands, try not to touch your face, don't let anyone use your phone." Just repeat it, and follow it, and you should be fine.

And for your reading pleasure, while your home hiding from H1N1, read Michael Crichton's State of Fear. It's one of the most frightening books I've ever read.

The word of the day is: hysteria

The dog ate my soy nuts

He did. Well, I'm sure they did, but none the less, the soy nuts are gone. I asked them if they felt more hormonally balanced, and while there was no immediate response, somewhere in the middle of the night Toby regurgitated the entire box of undigested, no longer honey roasted coated soy beans. After removing the entire mess, I decided that my co-worker was correct, I did feel much better....and I laughed my ass off. So yes, soy beans did, after I cleaned up the mess, make me feel much less irritable. :o) Bahahahaha. We've had another busy weekend here. I can't really recall the last time we had a weekend to lounge around in our jammies, go nowhere, see no one. I sort of had the misconception that once children were old enough to drive that they wouldn't be home on the weekends. Then I remembered that our house is the cool house. Dammit, not only do our kids hang here, but they bring reinforcements. Oy! It's ok if I don't have to be in 5 places and on the move all damn day. What happened to nap time? We've moved dog school from Thursday night to Friday. Laurie & I have been taking Caeser & Toby to dog school for a month now. They are both learning the basics of good dog manners & hopefully we will no longer have to worry about Caeser running away or Toby snarling at people & other dogs. This round of school is 6 weeks. We may add another 6 after this as well. The young lady who runs the school is one of the kindest people I've ever met. She truly is a lover of all fur babies. She has learned what makes them "tick" and works with their strengths to overcome their weakness. Toby has become much more relaxed and less reactive in the short time we've been going. Caeser is the suck up teacher's pet and he plays on that like his life depends on it. Toby is the class clown. Dog school is fun and exhausting for Laurie & I, but we wouldn't miss it. We are still working on being able to take our motorcycles to work. My bike runs well, but does need some minor work, like new plugs and a serious de-greasing. We both need new front tires too. Mine has a slow leak, Laurie's leaks overnight. Details. :::sigh::: Last night we were finally able to find the time to take a ride. We both gear up, big fans of All The Gear, All The Time, or ATGATT. Off we go and then, about a mile later Laurie's bike has to have an attitude problem. Actually, it seemed like her front brake locked up, and when she tried to accelerate from an intersection it looked as if the bike was trying to buck her off. Damn. We were about a mile and a half from the house. That's a long way when you're trying to push a locked up bike that outweighs you by 3 or 4 times. Thank goodness for cell phones. Laurie called the boys, and then the guy she bought the bike from, and his son came by and he and our boys got the bike into the back of his truck, and then home again. Yep, a fun ride. Woohoo! We're both looking forward to being able to take a ride in the evening after work, or on the weekends. It's shouldn't be long now. :o) We have a child suffering from a very serious case of senioritis. Graduation is a tad over a month away. The symptoms vary, but include wide grins, a distinct lack of interest in homework, and a constant countdown to graduation. Yay! A job well done if I do say so myself. :o) To show you just what I'm talking about, let me share with you some of Kathryn's senior pictures.

I'm so proud of her that I could burst. Not to mention, as a totally unbiased mom, I think she's incredibly beautiful ~ in spirit and looks.

Ok, I've rambled enough. I still feel like I have nothing worthy of writing, but will continue to do so. At some point, if my life ever returns to boring, sedate, tranquil, then maybe I'll be able to blog on the endless philosophical questions that run through my mind. For now, all I want to know is when someone will load the dishwasher and take out the pizza boxes. :::sigh:::

Enjoy the journey kids, life is too short but the journey is awesome.

The word of the day is: quixotic.

Watch for falling ears

Am I having a mid-life crisis? Anything's possible. Statistically speaking, I am at the "mid-life" point. That's a sobering thought, mid-life, apparently half way between cradle and grave. They say the uphill part is much more difficult than the downhill slide, but at least going uphill, parts don't usually break, or fall off, or squeak too loudly. I can't tattoo my ass to read "honk if parts fall off", because Laurie and my doctor are the only ones to regularly see my ass. If I lost a part and they weren't nearby, no one would know to honk and I could end up losing something forever. And you just know it would be an important part, like an ear or something. Oy. Anyway, the topic of mid-life crises came up during a conversation I had with my boss the other day. My boss is a biker, and he frequently rides his Harley in to work. He's been very encouraging to me during my recent motorcycle safety class and buying my '87 Honda Rebel. Now, some people I work with (and possibly one I live with) may think I'm having a crisis. If you read the soy nut story you know that some just think I'm getting old and parts are soon to be falling out or off or something. Bah humbug! In all honesty, while I've thought about riding a motorcycle for some time, the only reason I've done it all now is because Kathryn will need the car to get back and forth to college in the fall. So, sooner rather than later, I have a motorcycle and the endorsement to go with it. Of course, I'm still too fearful to drive it 7 miles each way to work. I'm hoping to be able to pass that hurdle in the next 2 weeks. So, I'm taking the motorcycle out of the "crisis" column. Last summer when mom was diagnosed with cancer, Laurie and I shaved our heads. We did this because mom's biggest concern at the time was losing her hair and people staring at her. So, we shaved ours and made it a non-issue. Having no hair is quite liberating. It was quite a learning experience. People stared, my head got tan, the stubble was prickly, and getting showered was a 2 minute process. Now that my hair has grown back, in all its graying glory, people are asking when I'm going to color it. So...this coming weekend my friend Neil will lighten my hair. I haven't been blonde since I was 13, so I don't want to do that. I'm thinking maybe some bold chunky highlights. Since Neil is the expert I'll follow his advice but my thought is "hair today...blonde tomorrow." Heeeee. Ok, I'll leave this in the "crisis" column. In the past 2 years I've joined the online gaming crowd. For a while I played daily and found myself caught up in the virtual world where my characters roamed. I find this past time to be very relaxing, and somewhat cathartic. It's a good way to let stress fall by the wayside. Since almost everyone in my household played the same game, and we frequently met up in this world and worked on quests and missions together, I don't consider this a crisis, as much as a modern twist on family game night. Gaming comes out of the "crisis" column. Since I can't afford to be a slave to fashion, and I weigh a wee bit more than my petite daughter, I haven't been going around wearing her clothes or shoes. Therefore, I'd like to believe I've been dressing in a manner that is age appropriate. So, wardrobe can come out of the "crisis" column. Tattoos and piercings? Hmmmm, well I have lots of tattoos, but I started getting them slightly before the "mid-life" mark, so they aren't crisis material. Piercings? Well I've had my ears done since I was 5, my belly button since I was 38 (I think), and I just had my conch pierced. Since I did that on the spur of the moment, in weird support of a great co-worker, I won't count it as "crisis" driven. More a moment of what the hell was I thinking? , even though I really like it. :o) (By the way, should I ever get my hoohaw pierced, that would DEFINITELY fall into the crisis column. Eeeeew.) After adding up the ins and outs, I am left with only 1 crisis item. Hair. Damn, I can't even have a mid-life crisis! I think what I'm having is a mid-life. Life. Yep, I'm living it. Wild, crazy, responsible, stressful, twisted, sad, loving, amazing and BLESSED. In my living up the hill to mid-life I've gained some wonderful friends, added to my version of family, learned some painful and valuable lessons, lost some very special people, learned that I am stronger than I ever thought possible, and grown closer to God. If everyone could have a mid-life like this one, I think society might be a little more laid back. Ok, maybe not, but a girl can dream. So, until next time, ponder your own life crisis. Where are you on the climb or the slide? How's the view? I hope for all of you that it's amazing. Enjoy the journey, and if you see any parts fall off, please honk. The word of the day is: wend