Motivation ... ?

I love collecting uplifting, motivational, and inspirational quotations.  They really encourage me to get going ... right as I am reading them -  ha!  I have even printed out some to use on the homeschool board.  So far, the most controversial says, "BRAT is not a learning disability".   I've decided to come up with some of my own.  Here's a little sample or two:

"The  more you read, the more you know (if you're doing it right!),
And the more you know, the better you do (Thank you, Maya Angelou!),
The better you do, the better you feel (Fingers crossed!).
The better you feel, the better you are (TAHDAH!)."

... or how about ---

"Mama don't allow no stinking thinking 'round here!"  (is that a song?)

or ---

"Don't Stop Believin'!"  (yep, that one is a song, and a darn good one, too!)

Feeling peppy now.  Think I'll go get something done before I forget about them.  I am all motivated on a Monday!


Go, Ro! Go, Ro! 

No Bouncy Gym for Mama (or any of the rest of these people)

 Last week my sixteen year old daughter asked me what I wanted for Mother’s Day, and in a moment of stinky mean inspiration I told her I wanted the whole family to spend time at an indoor bouncy gymnasium.  Heh.  I don’t even know if there is such a thing, especially one that allows for mamas and daddies and kids over 6 feet tall, but all that matters is that she believed me, turned a little pale, and couldn’t look me in the eye.  She was appalled.  

For a couple of days, I worried (out loud and in her presence) over the perfect bouncy gym outfit. I fretted (and caused her to fret) over what the guys in our family would wear.  I tried to pay one of the boys to play along, tell her they wouldn’t let an over-40 mama in the bouncy gym so they were renting me a bouncy castle, and ask her to come out and help find a nice, flat place to put it.  Her brother laughed and laughed, but he refused. I don’t know why. 

Finally I told her that I knew what to wear, and was going to be part swimsuit, part running shorts, part tight tee with three Labrador retrievers on it, industrial upper body undergarments.  I cried with laughter (I am a terrible actress).  I watched her squirm. I told her that I wanted to hold hands with her and make up a tumbling routine for when we came down the biggest bouncy slide.  I told her we could practice in the neighbors’ hilly yard. I told her her dad and brothers were probably going to wear compression shorts. I asked her (like 500 times) what she was going to wear.  

Then I told her our indoor bouncy gymnasium appointment was at 1:30 on Sunday.  "You made an appointment?" she whimpered.  

When she came down for breakfast this morning, I put on my bouncy gym outfit and some little, white socks, and I practiced my “moves” in the family room while she tried not to watch (or get choked) from the kitchen.  

Finally, I confessed the truth - I was just teasing, and we didn’t have an appointment at the indoor bouncy gymnasium.  She looked at me with disbelief and said, “Huh uh. We were going to have fun ...”  

 And I still feel stinky mean, just a different kind of stinky mean ...  

Happy Mother’s Day! 

Extremely Lax Couponing

Once upon a time a couple of Facebook friends posted about their couponing successes.  Inspired by their savings, I decided to give it a go.  I asked my husband to buy a Sunday paper so I could glean the coupon inserts.  I cut out a few coupons. ***The End.***

Ok, that wasn't exactly the end.  I did conduct a successful hunt for my old coupon organizer.  It still held usable coupons for diaper medicine from when my oldest (now 20) was born and a couple for Charleston Chews and Crunch & Munch from packages of Halloween candy bought in Kentucky in 1991 (just a guess).  This should've been a sign of things to come.  I transferred them to a new and cheerily striped organizer, tucking the newly clipped coupons in there as well.  I do like to be organized!  

My cousin mentioned that she found many of her coupons online, so I joined the Couponing Blondes (or whatever).  I printed out a coupon for Listerine and a Pyrex measuring cup.  I couldn't tell you where that mouthwash coupon ended up, but the measuring cup coupon expired ... last month, I think.  

Unless this family starts using a plethora of name brand products or decides to make freezer room for 5000 cartoons of ice cream or someone starts issuing coupons for produce at the farmer's market,  I don't see my coupon neglecting ways ever getting me to the ranks of "extreme" like those folks I've heard about on tv.  Then maybe I'm just inventing my own type:  Extremely Lax Couponing.   Still, as I have a growing teenage son, I'm not giving up completely. Save those granola coupons for me!

I'm Not Doing Anything Today

This morning, I was at the grocery store at nine. I came home, did two loads of laundry, cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed the stairs, then made lunch.  My husband came wandering into the kitchen (Saturday is his day off) and asked me if I wanted to do anything today?  I don't. 

Why Can't Hither Be Closer To Yon?

I spend about four and a half hours in the car each week driving my kids from hither to yon.  If you aren't familiar with hither or yon then you either (a) don't have children, or (b) have a very good public transit system. Hith and Yo, as I like to call them (we're friendly, but by no means friends) are easily recognizable, Hith never has a gas station, and Yo is in the No Starbucks Zone.  It is impossible to be on-time to anyplace in Hither  There's a creepy time warpy thing that goes on when you enter there that throws you back twenty minutes and whips your gas gauge to E.  But, once you throw your kids out of the car, you can coast down the hill and wait for AAA at the Starbucks.  Yon, on the other hand has plenty of gas stations, and time to kill.  I usually spend my time there sitting in my car reading and waiting on someone to finish some activity or another....I do enjoy some quiet time and reading is one of my favorite activities, but it sure would be nice to have a coffee.  I've suggested coffee delivery as a service but AAA hasn't gotten back to me yet.

Really?

A guy stopped me in the mall right outside the bookstore entrance wearing an A & F polo, jeans fashionably holey and pinging on his iphone and asked me for fifty cents-- I assumed he meant money as I rarely carry rap artists around in my purse.  I looked at him for a minute, I never know what to say in these situations and I could hardly pretend I didn't hear him when I was nearly close enough to read his text message. All I could think was, fifty cents?  Was the guy in that need of a handful of Runts or a bouncy ball?  The guy was dressed better than I was and standing in a mall! In the end I told him I was sorry but I was saving up for an iphone.  I think he felt sorry for me. 

I've thought a lot about this...

And if I'm ever stranded on a deserted island and a genie pops out of nowhere and grants me one wish, I'm wishing for Nutella.

I Think I'm Forty-Something

I say think because, really, I could just as well be thirty-something, thirty and eleven, or twenty-something, twenty and twenty-one.  I mean technically I could, couldn't I?  I'm not diggin forty-something at all.  Forty-something means that I might be half way done--if you get my meaning.  It's also the number of calories I can now consume in a day without exploding. It's the number of minutes I spend cleaning each day, up sharply from thirteen just a year ago, and, I'm sure, a sign of impending senility.  It's how fast I sometimes find myself driving, both on the highway and through school zones.  It's roughly what I spend each month on herbal remedies for the diseases I only think I have and let's not go into how close it comes to the number of times I must call myself each month to find my cell phone. Of course, forty-something isn't all bad.  Sure I've had to give up the pretense that my gray is just "highlights", but I can remember when Jon Bon Jovi was young, when MTV played music videos and when Johnny Depp was on 21 Jump Street.

2010, I Know It Was Here, It Had To Be... Right?

 I vaguely remember a summer vacation and several hundred orthodontic appointments.  Seems like I paid my taxes.  I have a new dog and my son is now twelve feet tall. There was a road trip in there somewhere starting in California and going all the way to La Push, baby, La Push (I also have a daughter). I know that because I have the fridge magnets to prove it. But 2010, where did it go?

Hospitals Are Not For Sick People and I Missed Christmas!

I got an appendectomy for Christmas.  It took place the morning after Christmas to be honest, but it was a total surprise.  Wasn't expecting it at all.  So after literally suffering through all the preparations for Christmas Eve and Christmas, I missed all of the fun parts. And while the white Christmas everyone was oohing and ahhing over barely registered in my miserable brain, I learned about a whole new side of life called The Hospital.

 First, just let me say that these hospital worker people were some of the nicest I've ever met anywhere.  As I shuffled into the ER in my pajamas, red clogs, and a Canadian sherpa hoodie, no one even raised an eyebrow at my attire.  In fact, I was even complimented on my speaking voice.  I guess they are trained to look for something good in everyone that waddles up to that desk.   I didn't even have to wait but a couple of minutes to be questioned, examined, and given the privilege of an IV, offered morphine, and a CAT scan.  At the mention of CAT scan I had them bring in my husband from the waiting room.  I told him I was ready to go home.  The nice doctor convinced me to stay, which was a good thing as the scan soon proved what she suspected:  the appendix was "rotten" (her word not mine, though I agree), and it had to go.

I was admitted into a room to await this "emergency" appendectomy . . . which took place some 12 hours later.  No wonder they kept pushing the morphine.  But it was a holiday, then a Sunday, and there was snow.  I appreciate every single one of those people who cared enough to slide into work on a snowy Sunday to take out that rotten appendix.  I should buy them all a gift certificate or something nice like a scarf ... except I am not even sure how many there were ..?

Except for finally being released from that institution, the actual surgery was my favorite part.  I don't remember a bit of it.  And I woke up smiling. I smiled as they pushed me and my oxygen down the halls to my room. I smiled. I was ready to go home.  Still smiling :))

After a "fever spike" prevented them from letting me go home the next day like I'd imagined, I cried.  I cried almost the whole third night in that place.  Then I decided that I'd show those people, and I tried to wash my hair in the sink ... alone.  It made me feel a little rebellious, a little fresher, and a whole lot tired.  Sadly, the IV prevented me from drying and styling my hair well, so I was looking somewhat deranged until my sister came and helped me the next day so I didn't have to come home like that.

I made some observations while in the hospital. I would like to share them.

a)  There are all manner of beeping things in that joint.  Beep. Beep. Beep.  This beeps and that beeps.  The IV commenced beeping every time I moved my right arm.  It was like the whole world was a french fry cooker.

b)  Hospital workers aren't even a little embarrassed when they bring you a breakfast tray with coffee and a popsicle.  What the heck kind of breakfast is that?

c)  Nurses are especially chatty at the nurses' station on holidays.  I recommend earplugs if your room is within a mile of the nurses' station.  Also, if your husband snores at home he will also snore in the chair by your hospital bed.  You may have to send him home eventually.

d)  Every person will ask you, the suffering and pitiful person, your name and birthdate and if you are allergic to anything.  Over and over.  They make you wear that bracelet, but I don't think they like to read it.

e)  Nurses offer you morphine like it's the real reason you came to the hospital.  They really, really want you to have it and served with an intravenous side order of some anti-nausea drug they speak of in hushed and reverent tones.   Neither of them work.  Well, maybe that nausea one works, but I'm not going back to find out.

f)  Those hospital people throw a lot of jargon at you. I didn't know what any of it meant.  I'm still not sure, but again,  I am not going back to find out.  "Lappy appy" was one of the confusing titles.  It means laparoscopic appendectomy NOT Labrador Retriever and Lhasa Apso mix.

g)  80% of the time they're coming at you with a cup it's not a good thing.  The other 20% of the time they're bringing cubes of jello.

h) 100% of the time they're coming at you some sort tube it's not a good thing.  They like to stick them places.

i)  If they apologize in advance, you can bet someone's going to be sorry at some point during that procedure.

j) Harvest Gold and Mauve are alive and well and working as throw up receptacles at area healthcare facilities.

k)  Nurse assistant dudes who play the Geico little pig commercial on their cell phones while wheeling you to the CAT scan room are special ... even if it hurts to laugh.

l ) Nurses wearing reindeer antlers are gentle on Christmas night.

Today I am finishing the last of two industrial strength antibiotics.  There isn't a bacteria left in my body. I feel like it's a fresh start to collect new and improved bacteria, and I think I'd like to begin my new collection with the kind of beneficial bacteria delivered by strawberry yogurt.   If I find out that the "fever spike" causing the extra night's stay and ultra-antibiotics was, as I suspect, brought on by being under a blanket in an 85 degree room on a rubber bed during a hormonal night sweat, I am going to be mad.

So, I missed Christmas, but it's a new year.  I'm starting it with a clean gut and no pain. Things are looking up :))  And I'm home!

Happy New Year!!