Saturday, April 23, 2011

I'm. Not. Cool.

So, I just read my mom's latest blog post, "Uh...Where Do I Live Again?" about her struggle with getting older, and it got me thinking again about what I was thinking about last night as I was trying to go to bed (deep breath), and that is...

I'm older and not cool at all anymore.

Now, I know this is inevitable and aging is not a choice. I actually don't mind aging, the actual number of years I have been on this earth. My birthdays are never depressing for me. I love my birthday!! Forty is in my near-future and my husband turns 40 this year, but I am pretty okay with it. What I am not okay with is the way my body has changed, how it is harder to get well when I am sick, how my joints hurt, how I can't see when I drive at night, and how my coolness factor has greatly diminished by looney leaps and brainless bounds.

Not cool.

Instead of reading W, Elle or Vogue magazine with the latest runway fashions and "What Your Man Really Thinks About Your Body" sex quizzes, I now curl up in my oversized unsexy sweats to read Family Circle and All You with their coupons for Poise Pads and advertisements for Lane Bryant.

Coolness factor going down.

I saved $20 at the grocery store last week with coupons and I was so happy about it that you would have thought I had achieved world peace.

Not cool.

This morning, I forgot the word for "belt" and last night I had to ask my husband the word for "tongs" because I was trying to tell my son what they were called and I couldn't remember. Two days ago, I almost put coffee in my son's bottle TWICE and I forgot my 2 year old's name for a few seconds last week.

Not cool.

I used to dress very well, had the latest fashions, and I was thin and sort of in shape. Now, I hardly have any clothes left that fit me after having 2 kids, my boobs are like 2 hanging socks with golf balls at the bottom, my stomach is all stretched out from GROWING 2 HUMAN BEINGS, I only might wear a bathing suit if you pay me 2 million dollars, and several times I have left the house and gotten in the car still wearing my house shoes. I am waiting for the day when I forget to put on my pants. I have even forgotten to care about panty lines. Yesterday, I noticed I had terrible panty lines and then realized I hadn't looked at that aspect of my appearance in months. Who knows how many days I had been walking around with 4 butt cheeks instead of two?

Really not cool.

I do wonder sometimes if my best days are behind me. Not just as far as my appearance goes, but also as far as fun goes. My twenties were the bomb. I had some very hard times in my 20's, but I also had so much fun and made a lot of great memories. I was unattached, fairly irresponsible, and I absolutely knew how to have a good time!

I can't really say that about my 30's. My 30's have been tough and, for the most part, not very fun. I wouldn't mind if I forgot most of my thirties. I have had some wonderful life-changing events in my 30's, like getting married and giving birth to my perfect sons (yes, I said PERFECT), but my 30's have also been very challenging and disappointing and I haven't laughed much this decade.

I have spent much of this decade feeling unprepared and stressed and overwhelmed.

In my mother's blog post, she talks about her stress coming out in her dreams, and mine have as well. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I agreed to sing at a charity event and then forgot I agreed to do it, so when the night of the charity event came, I panicked when I realized I was completely unprepared and didn't know the music or the words to the song (which was, ironically, "If I Could Turn Back Time" by Cher...).

Anyway, I can try to get my body back when my kids stop wearing me the hell out, I'm afraid my coolness is gone forever, but I sure hope the fun isn't gone forever, too. My version of fun would be different these days - it used to be wearing a super cute outfit and going out to dinner and drinks and maybe hit a few bars with my friends. Now, my version of fun would be having endless amounts of money at Disneyworld with my family and a full-time nanny in tow.

Not cool. I know.

If I had a housekeeper, well, that would be so much fun that it might push me to the brink of blissful happiness. Forget cute outfits, nights out on the town, and vacations - I will settle for a good push-up bra and someone to clean my boy-ridden toilets. I hate how boys (and I am including grown men in this) can't seem to pee IN the toilet. How big of a target do they need?

Ah, bliss.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I need an interpreter to talk to my husband

Men. Women. Mars. Venus. Made of snails and puppy dog tails. Made of everything nice.


So, the communication breakdown between my husband and I is sometimes...well...maddening.

It can make me want to rip off my skin and go running into the river with a ball and chain tied to my ankles.

Yesterday was no exception.

Yesterday, we had to drive, in separate cars, 45 minutes away to our son's ENT tubes consultation. My husband knew how to get there and I did not.

I asked him to tell me which exit we take off the interstate in case we got separated. He said, "Not sure of the number. Just follow me."

My husband drives long distances for a living, so he is used to flying down the interstate and not waiting for anyone.

Which is exactly what he did when I was supposed to be following him.

He switched lanes to pass an RV that was pulling a trailer at a time when I couldn't switch lanes behind him - there was a line of cars coming too fast toward me in the passing lane. So, I had to wait. And wait. And wait.

By the time I passed the RV, I couldn't even see my husband's car anymore. So, I called him on his cell.

"Where are you??!! I can't even see your car in front of me!"

"What, are you driving backwards or did you just turn around and go home?"

(sarcasm not appreciated)

"I couldn't get around the RV! You switched lanes and didn't pay attention to see if I could follow."

"You could have switched lanes."

"No, I couldn't have."

"How fast are you going?"


"Can't you go 75 or 80?"

"No, because our infant son is in the backseat!"

My husband speeds. I do not. He hates driving with me.

"I'll just pull over and wait for you."

"You can't just pull over on the interstate! I'll pass you! Just stay on the phone with me and tell me the number of the exit when you find it!"

"You don't think I could catch up to you? I'll just pull over."

"No, just tell me the exit number."

About that time, I passed him. He had pulled over on the shoulder.

"Why did you pull over? I told you not to!"

"This is just easier. This way you can stop panicking. Just follow me."

"Don't lose me this time! Pay attention, please!"

etc. You get the idea. I also have no sense of direction, if you hadn't figured that out.

Anyway, when it was time to leave the ENT's office, I couldn't remember how to get back to the interstate. My husband was going to work and wasn't driving back into town with me.

"How do I get back to the interstate?"

"Just get on this road here and follow it to the highway. Then turn left."

"What road?"

"This road right here! The one I am pointing at."

"I don't see how to get to that road."

"Just back your car out and turn left, then right. The entrance to the road is right here!"

"Where?! I don't see it!"

"Do you see that car? See that car driving down the road? See it? That is the road. It is right in front of us."

"Ooooohhh! I thought you were talking about that road over there over the hill!"

"Amy. Oh my God. That is a walking trail. Geez."

Yeah, that's what I say. Geez.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

That is one serious baby you've got there

So, "That is one serious baby you've got there!" said someone to me at the grocery store. Well, true. He is a pretty serious, sensitive, focused little man. The complete opposite of my older son. Max, my 2 year old, would laugh and smile at anything as a baby, and still does! Anything! He was easily distracted, never cried if we took a toy away from him, and always smiled at strangers.

Harry, on the other hand, will smile after you work at a for a little while, he is incredibly focused and cries if you take a toy away from him. He wants only THAT toy and no other toy will do. He cries when strangers stare at him. And he would love it if I could hold him ALL THE TIME.

Max is a happy-go-lucky Leo and Harry is a contemplative Virgo.

Maybe that is why he always looks like he is serious. He is just in deep, deep, analytical thought.

Of course, I have plenty of pictures of him smiling, too. But, I love his little contemplative face. I wonder what he is thinking about. Probably what an awesome mom he has. Yea, that's probably it.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Calling All Plastic Surgeons


The infant boy cashier at Walmart just asked me if my 7-month old son is my grandchild.

"Is this your grandbaby?"

", my BABY."

"Boy or girl?"

(I thought the outfit might give it away - an army green camo print.)


"How old?"

"7 months"

"Time sure does fly by fast, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes it does." (apparently faster than I thought)

I had a horrid flashback to the time an elderly security guard at the mall asked me if my sister (who is only 19 months younger than me) was my daughter. And this happened before I had kids.

And then, this morning, my husband told me that I dress like a nun.

"You dress like a nun, now. You don't show off your body anymore."

"What am I going to show off? My deflated boobs or my stretched out stomach? I had two kids in a little over 2 years. Give me a break."

"You could show off your legs?"

"Okay. The next time I have the opportunity to wear a mini skirt and go to a Bon Jovi concert, I will. But, until then, I have to be a little more practical."

Men. I don't see him wearing a mini skirt while he bends over to heft up loads of my laundry or while he chases our 2 year old around the backyard.

So, according to the cashier and my husband, I look old enough to play the Mother Abbess in the Sound of Music.

Looks like I'd better start learning the words to "Climb Every Mountain." And soon. Does anyone have the sheet music I can borrow?

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


So, last week, Max went to his first rEcess night!

rEcess is a monthly respite night provided for special-needs children twelve and under. It gives the parents of these children a night out and provides the children with tons of fun!! Each child is assigned an adult "buddy" for the night so that each child gets one-on-one attention.

rEcess was initiated by 99 Balloons, a non-profit organization started by Matt and Ginny Mooney after their son, Eliot, passed away from Trimsomy 18 after 99 days on this earth. They released 99 balloons at his funeral. If you would like to read more about 99 Balloons or rEcess, click here.

Max had a GREAT time!! He is ALWAYS happy to see me when I show up, but when I picked him up from rEcess, he threw his body on the floor and started crying! He cried all the way home in the car, saying, "I want go back! I want go back!" When we got home, he refused to get out of the car. I had to drag him in the house kicking and screaming. He cried in the house and didn't want us to touch him. He didn't calm down until he saw that Blue's Clues was on and then he started to dry his tears and sit on my lap. It is hard to explain to a 2 yr old that he will get to go back, just not for another month.

He was also exhausted when he got home. rEcess lasts from 6-10 pm, and even though I picked him up at 8:30, he was still beyond tired! He had so much fun!!

I am so grateful for this program. Not only does it give my husband and I time to give Harry, or each other, some undivided attention, but it also provides Max with an evening of fun, playing, and socializing. As his parents, we don't have to explain his behavior there. If he is aggressive, overstimulated, hyperactive, or has a meltdown, the volunteers know why and they expect it. It gives us such peace of mind to know that he is in a place where he is completely accepted and understood.

He loved it and the kindness of the volunteers that make this evening possible are the best kind of angels.