We all get dressed one pant leg at a time and fasten the button with relief when those pants in the back of the closet still fit.

We try to match our socks, or at least choose them in the same color family.  Unless we have on boots, then anything goes.

We brush our hair and teeth to get presentable and not offend anyone with a static afro or last night’s hamburger morning breath.

We check the schnoz to make sure there isn’t a green flag flying with every breath.

For those of us who wear make up, we put the Lancome and Maybelline mask on and hope that everything stays where you want it and doesn’t add to the dark circles of motherhood under your eyes.

We all have our routine.  What is not part of my regular routine is plucking my eyebrows.  Every once in a while a little hair will go rogue and I yank it out with a jerk but in general, they are not a problem area for me.

Until 2016.  This was the year that little rogue bastard turned gray.  I was washing my face the other day and looked in the mirror to survey the damage – you know, check to see if anything needed to be squeezed, scratched, trimmed or popped.  I have a magnifying mirror that makes my pores look like saucer-size pot holes of ugliness. It reveals this horrible world of spots and splotches that I didn’t even know existed before… I love it!

Everything checked out alright but then I noticed this thick gray hair coming out of my eyebrow.  How long has it been there?  Where did it even come from?  I’m not ready for gray eyebrows!

I have had grays in my hair for years, I’m fine with those.  I earned every gray hair on my head and have no intention of coloring them.  But grays in the eyebrow just seems like a low blow, like Elsa convinced Mother Nature to take her gloves off and ice my face.

I plucked it out, root and all, and could not believe how thick it was.  Why are gray hairs so much thicker than the others?  The whole thing just seems unfair.  I’m still somewhere in my 20’s on the inside.  A 20 year old should not have crazy grays growing out of her face.

Sincerely,

The Disgruntled Gray-Haired Lady

#CrazyGrays

#BeProudOfYourGrays

#MagnifyingMirrorsArentForSissies

 

 

Oh Lordy, y’all.  The fun continues in the world of being me…

I was strolling around the children’s section of Barnes & Noble tonight with the kids.  I probably should have gotten them home earlier to get ready for bed, but they were completely content and reading to themselves.  I have to admit, I got a little smug standing there in a store full of kids who were screaming about the toy mom and dad wouldn’t buy them.

I’m truly not judging, but when did it become so taboo to say “no” to our precious little cherubs?  We are days away from Christmas – all my children hear at this point is no (with the added “maybe Santa will bring it”, but that is no guarantee).  The relentless commercials for toys and games are working their magic and making them want the latest and greatest do-dad and wally-bob.  I get the whines and pleading, just like any other parent, but no.  And they know at this point that any type of fit turns that no to a never.

But I digress.

So I’m loving my little angels and feeling a proud parent moment when I get a text.  My hands are full so I shift and reshift to get to my phone.  It’s in the Mary Poppins bag I call a purse, so I have to bend my arm in a completely unnatural way to feel around the bottom.  I’m struggling with everything in my arms, but do I put it all down like a reasonable person?  Nope.  Do I ask one of the children for help?  Of course not.  Do I appreciate that I can actually wait to read the text?  That’s crazy talk.

So I slush through the bag with my arm bent in too many awkward angles until I strike gold and find the phone.  I was so grateful to find it that I pulled my hand out a little too quickly, knocking a few things out of my purse which forced me to put everything in my arms down on the table like I should have done in the first place.

Here’s the part that makes it fun… and my payback for being smug…

Earlier today I purchased some pads to donate to the health room of the kid’s school.  I don’t know if it’s the hormones in the milk or the estrogen in the air, but girls are joining the glorious ranks of womanhood earlier and earlier these days.  The school system is fairly particular about what they distribute, and unfortunately they have chosen the California king of sanitary napkins to give to these poor girls.  Nevertheless, it’s better than nothing and the school was running low so I purchased the closest match I could find at Target.

And that pack of scented mini mattresses is what flew out of my purse, rolled about 6 feet away and landed by the shoe of a very attractive, very embarrassed, man who was buying his nephew a book for Christmas.  He picked up the pack with a forced smile and, bless him, he tried to be casual, but both of our faces were too red to pull casual off.

I said thank you when he handed it to me, but I hadn’t quite gotten a hold of it (and he wanted not to hold it) so it fell to the floor once again.  “I’ll just let you get it this time.” was all he said as he left the section with no book for nephew.

I’m willing to bet the crazy pad lady is a story told over several beers for several weeks.  What a claim to fame.

#PaddedConversation

#APackOfPadsCanRollSurprisinglyFar

#ItsAlwaysNiceToMeetNewPeople

 

 

Hanging mistletoe in my house is like buying a scratch off lottery ticket… I know it’s a waste of time but I like to hope it will bring in the jackpot . 

#Mistletoe

#ComeOnBigMoney

#IMayLeaveTheMistletoeUpAllYear

The kids are at their dad’s this weekend so the house is unusually quiet.  No laughing, no screaming, no taddling, no cheering. Just quiet.

The dogs must sense I’m lonely because my darling Duke lovingly sat right next to me with his little head on my leg.  Dottie, the not-so-darling one, decided now would be a good time to pee under the Christmas tree. 

If you get a present from me, wash your hands after you open it.

#GiftDisclaimer

#WhatWasIThinkingGettingTwoDogs

#TheGirlJustWantsToHaveFun

I am doing something completely unheard of for me tomorrow.  For the first time in at least three years, I am taking the day off just for me.  I have a massage scheduled first thing in the morning, but the rest of the day is free.  I don’t have a plan. I don’t have an appointment.  I have a day, a whole day, to do nothing or everything.  It’s my choice.

After I dropped the kids off at their dad’s tonight, I went to the grocery store.  I’m not used to being there without the children so I kind of wondered, lost in thought.  I just needed a couple of little things… one thing… I needed one thing.  I was out of wine and just wanted to sit in silence with a glass of white wine and a Christmas tree full of lights in a dark room.

There is something therapeutic about Christmas trees for me.  It’s like holding a sleeping baby on your chest or listening to the waves with a full moon shining over the ocean.  They work better than any pill or therapy session.

So I was making my purchase and grateful to be one step closer to Relaxtown, USA when a little hand pulled on my pant leg.  A child, maybe 4 or 5 years old, was crying.  I knelt down and she hugged my neck so tightly, it broke my heart.  Through the big crocodile tears she told me she had lost her mom somewhere in the cold part of the store.

We had an announcement made and within seconds a wild-eyed woman came around the corner at mach 10 yelling her baby’s name.  The two hugged for a minute, said I love you at least 20 times and then pulled me in for a group hug.

Mom asked the little girl where she went, and the little angel said with a proud smile that when she turned around and didn’t see mom anymore she walked to the front and saw this lady (that would be me) who looked like …

wait for it… wait for it…

Grammy.

Are you kidding me kid?!  The child thought I looked like her grandmother?!

I smiled politely, wished them both well and then may or may not have whispered under my breath that there is no Santa as I snagged my bottle on the way out the door.

Ironically, “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” was playing on the speakers as I left.

Let’s see how long I have to sit in front of this tree before my face fades from that image.

#AndTheGrammyGoesTo

#KidsSayTheDarndestThingsButUsuallyItsTheTruth

#GoingToNeedToDyeTheGrays

I had an exceptional day yesterday!  I spent the day making children smile, boosting their confidence, and awarding them for using their imaginations away from electronics.  I started this program at the kid’s school 4 years ago, and it is truly one of my favorite days of the year.  I  always leave smiling ear to ear, and already thinking up ways to make the next year bigger and better!

I am the master of ceremonies (although that sounds a little too important for my role in the day), so I tried to spiff up a bit before it began but the set up took priority.  When I welcomed everyone to the event, I hadn’t seen a mirror in several hours. I normally wouldn’t care, but standing in front of hundreds of people will make you wonder what they are seeing.

Is the spinach quiche I ate earlier still hanging out in my teeth?

Is this shirt tight in all the wrong areas?

Is the milk my child spilled on my leg earlier starting to smell?

Reasonable questions.  All good answers. But it’s me, so it can’t be that easy.

In my blissful state of ignorance, I’m feeling good.  I’m at the microphone talking to a room full of friends (it’s what I tell myself to cut the nerves), and made it through the program with no major, or even minor, mishaps.

Set up alone took 6 hours, so when it was over I was very ready to go home and plop down on the couch for quality time with my fat pants and fuzzy slippers.  The kids and I walked in the door to smell the most amazing smell.  My mother (the saint) surprised me with a crock pot of deliciousness ready to serve whenever we were ready to eat.

I was on cloud nine.  A great day, a great dinner and a great couch to watch whatever movie my great kids wanted to watch while I rested my eyes for a minute.

I went to my room to change my clothes and that’s when I saw it.  My zipper.  All the way down.  Open for anyone’s viewing pleasure.  I can’t be sure how long it was down, but I’m going to wager that the room full of friends knows me better now.

No one ran away screaming or pointing, so that’s a bonus, but I’m wondering how many “Bless her heart” comments I got on their way home.

My inner circle is now tasked with Fly Duty any time I speak in front of people.

Actually, if you’re reading this, you just got assigned as well.  Welcome aboard the crazy train!

#FlyDuty

#NowIKnowWhyMomAlwaysSaidWearCleanUnderwear

#NotEvenCloseToMyMostEmbarrassingMoment

#IHopeYouAllEnjoyedTheShow

 

​38 boxes, 12 trips up and down to the attic, 9 bags, 6 trees, 3 poinsettias and sweat… lots of sweat.

This is a tiny house…

There is a chance I have a problem.

#ChristmasAddiction

#BigJobForLittleOldMe

#ILoveFallingAsleepToTheChristmasTreeGlow

#IAlreadyHavePineNeedlesEverywhere