Our Night at the ER...(Happy 14th, NaNa!)

The day started out great!
NaNa was 14 on the 14th---Bastille Day! Viva la France! Viva la NaNa!
(my 3 kids have all been born on holidays....Bastille Day, Pearl Harbor Day, and Leap Year, but, I digress.)
We finished our Day Camps, picked up Mia and Mimi D and headed to the Mall to do some birthday shopping and eat dinner...simple, yet festive!
We shopped a bit, and then went to enjoy a meal at Max and Erma's...everyone was excited for the special gourmet cupcakes waiting for us at Mimi's house later!
Our meal was good, the kids got along, everything was great.
Mimi went to the ladies room while we waited for the check...20 minutes went by...no Mimi.
I went to go check on her, jokingly saying,'I'll go make sure she hasn't passed out or something'...telling the 3 kids to wait at the table.
Holy COW!
She was ill in the bathroom...and I mean, ILL....and dizzy and about to pass out!
(for a brief second I imagined myself a psychic.)
Over the next 45 minutes, things got worse.
I got the kids out strolling--trolling---the Mall, so I could help my mom.
Have you ever been in that weird place...wondering if you should call 911? I was there.
I got Mall Security, and we decided to call in the paramedics...mom was mortified---and I knew she would kill me later....but for now, she needed more help than I could give her.
I am sure the customers wondered 'what the heck' when the gurney came rolling in all jangling with equipment, paramedics, oxygen tanks....good Lord!
(and no, no hottie EMS guys....but the man and woman were pleasant enough.)
By this point my mom was so dizzy, and kinda out of it, so she was 'non-combative'...(I only say this because later, CJ---the girl EMT---told us the call before that she had had to duck for cover and restrain a patient.)
This moment may be one of the only ones in which I am glad my teenager has a cell phone....we were calling and texting each other the whole time with updates...
So, they wheel mom out of the back of the restaurant, and I go find my kids...they were on the verge of a little tiny freak out...but this 'is going to be an exciting adventure...and we get to follow an ambulance---COOL! Right?'
Yeah!
The Mall Security guy---who was 7 feet tall, and had on a Hello Kitty' bandaid---was really nice...(and he was a Tarheel fan.)He waited with us while the ambulance got started up. Hey! And a guy on one of those 2 wheeled things---a la Paul Blart Mall Cop---whizzed by...the kids were thrilled.
NaNa was texting up a storm,and the kids in the back were 'maintaining'.
We finally arrive at the NGeneral Hospital Emergency Room.
I had to park in a sketchy ER parking lot...telling my kids 'move quickly and stick close to me---and DON'T touch anything!'
Ohhhhh. The joys of an ER waiting room...with 3 kids. I told them they better NOT have to pee because they were NOT using this restroom! Thank God for the vending machines as I broke all the rules and let them have 'brown sodas' and Doritos...
Mom had been checked in to a room in the back....triage I guess.
It was around 9pm.
I sat with my kids for a bit...assuring the kids 'MiMi has a bad tummy ache, but she will be ok...' I snuck a few Doritos and pillaged the Dr. Peppers...again, breaking my own food rules.
There were police officers everywhere.
I was not scared...really---but my vivid imagination was contemplating a drive by shooter or two women breaking in to a knife fight over a man...and then there was the guy looking at dirty pics on his cell phone with the oozing wound on his hand...now THAT scared me.
I called my friend Mary after I got my wits back together. I needed someone to be with my kids so I could go back and check on mom. ('Oozing Wound Guy' was freaking me out.)
It was dark out now...and the 'unusuals' were emerging.
My kids eyes were like saucers watching a cussing, drunk, homeless lady being rolled out on to the street...then there was the charming 'lady' who was asking around,'hey...you got a cigarette?' in her low gravelly voice...
I told my kids to 'stay small and quiet...' Mia piped in,'like a mouse, momma?'...(YES!).
Somehow I can never get her to sing her 'Jesus Song' from Bible School when I ask, but she decided now was a good time...and she was really 'giving it her all'.
So then my giggles started.
I hate it! Whenever I get super stressed, I start giggling...I get the giggles at 'inappropriate' times...after a car wreck, injury, church, funerals, court...I can't stop.It was handy now though, because then my kids started to laugh---wondering why---but still we were all 'cheery'...if anything, we looked like we were waiting for the 'special van' from the asylum to come get us...
Mary arrived---thank you Jesus---and I got to go back to see mom.
(oh, but not before a charming picture badge was made for me, and THEN the nice policeman---wearing rubber gloves--- let me through the locked door...I wondered if I could have some rubber gloves...or a jumpsuit?)
Poor mom was in bad shape.
She was hooked up to an IV...nausea meds dripping in. She was shivering and I got her more blankets. I took off her jewelry for her, and found a nifty ziplock Specimen bag to stow it all in...
Gee, and lucky for us, 'Big Brother' was blaring on the tv...and no one could find the remote---or reach the off button. Seriously?
(I was amazed at how 'blasse' the ER nurses were. I know they are over worked and underpaid, but this was my mom...ok? I was glad I was there to be a 'patient advocate' for her....but I digress.)
My daughter was texting me from the waiting room...'I am tired....when can we go'....etc., etc....Mary was an angel and took my kids back to her house---she has 3kids also...probably had nothing else to do but to bring 3 more home...ha!
It was 10pm.
Mom's blood work FINALLY came back---everything normal. 'Gastroenteritis...'
I had this affliction a month before my first wedding....was hospitalized for 3 days...it ain't pretty.(although it is a great way to lose 10 lbs in 3 days.)
Well, I thought, at least they will keep her over night to hydrate her, and watch her.
No.
(WHAT?)
No...the nurse said they'd 'release her in a few hours'...
(again, WHAT?)
Mom could not even sit up without getting ill...and I was going to be driving her 30 minutes back to her house at the Beach...and how the heck was I going to get her in to the house, up stairs...she was so weak! Mom did suggest bringing lots of beach towels and garbage bags...lovely.
(Maybe Mia would sing me the 'Jesus Song'.)
CJ ,the EMT, came and checked on mom...she was really sweet.
There was a ruckus in the hall and lots of police and detective looking guys...I pulled the privacy curtain...one of the policemen said, 'One more arrest this week and I get a toaster oven'...I saw dirty feet roll by on a gurney.
Mary brought the kids back to me at the ER...and thankfully waited and watched us load up in to my truck.
(Turns out, there had been a stabbing in that very parking lot an hour before....wonder if it was over a man? See! I was not far off, huh?)
It was 11pm.
...and we headed back to mom's. I was going to 'get the kids settled'--ha!---and turn around and go get mom from the ER. (My 14 year old would be in charge of holding down the fort.)The kids were jacked up on Doritos and Dr. Pepper...and all were thrilled to be up past bedtime.
1130-ish, I got everyone in bed---not asleep---but 'in' bed.
I was so tired I could not even form sentences correctly...and I was calling my kids by each other's names, pets names, 'you---boychild', etc.!
Then the phone rang---it was Mom!
She said the Doc was keeping her over night because she was so dizzy...and I did not have to drive back (the 30 minutes)to Norfolk and get her....
(pipe in Mormon Tabernacle Chior singing,'Aaaaalllleeeelllluuuuuuuu-YAAH!')
Holy COW!
Wow...I finally got to exhale...then everything was replaying in my head...as I hosed myself down with antibacterial gel.
Mom came home the next morning---thanks to her friend Lou for driving, and stocking the freezer with Jell-o, Ginger Ale and Pediasure popsicles!
I took Mia to my Altered Books Camp with me, and my kids went on to Day Camps...

Never a dull moment, yall. Ever.

How To 'Shop' Rodeo Drive

You may think I am crazy---but this is how my friend and I 'shopped' Rodeo Drive, had a blast---and we did not, in the least, feel intimidated.
About 12 years ago I was out in Hollywood visiting my actress girlfriend who is 'in the business'. Her temporary digs were right behind the Mann's Chinese Theatre. Her husband is a 'camera guy' in major motion pictures, and TV as well...(he also stands on his head to get rid of a cold---but that is another story.)
Nina and I had a blast doing all the touristy things around 'the Wood'...some people even recognized her on the street.
Remember 'Dawson's Creek'? She played Katie Holmes' big sister in that show!...(I met Katie---she was really beautiful and sweet...and blew me away when she asked Nina for a cigarette...again, another story.)
After spending a few days hiking past Madonna's house, going up to the Observatory, checking out hand prints outside of Mann's, riding bikes at the beach,walking Hollywood Blvd looking for hookers, we decided to go in to Beverly Hills.
Wow. I mean really...wow.
As a designer I was salivating over the store windows....and over the amazingly plastified women walking down the street. Nina and I played the 'guess what kinda work she's had done' game...aka: 'Fake or Real'.
Now, here is how we survived the 'intimadators' aka: sales people---
Being that both Nina and I are good actors, we assumed the roles of bored wealthy housewives....and dove in. Gucci, Prada, Harry Winston, Hermes,Givenchy, Chanel,etc.etc.etc!
I watched the sales people cringe and look around when we walked through the doors...(I was wondering if they were secretly calling security.)
We were not dressed like bums or anything, but we were not 'to the 9's' as the 'ladies' we passed on the street.
As we perused the racks, or cases, we maintained a dialogue about such things as my 'husband's' estate in Monaco', and how 'he hated the new Jaguar he bought and tried to give it to me, but I did not want it because it was silver and did not impress me', and how 'our new Belgian nanny was NOT working out', and how 'I thought she was having an affair with my stable boy'...and how Nina 'really needed to come by some weekend because the guest house is always open for her'---and we 'had just renovated the pool'....
We were subtle about it...mainly just quiet conversation amongst friends...but it was hilarious to watch the sales people...they became more interested in 'helping' us as we went on....
I remember picking up an amazingly gorgeous Hermes bag---a '5 mortgage payments' one...and saying to Nina,'I like this...but I already have one similar that I got in Cannes.'
I don't know if the sales people really believed us...but it was fun to play act...and neither the looney bin van, nor a police car, ever pulled up the street to take us away.
I mean, really. Everything out there is fake, made up, or an illusion in some sort of way....right?
We had a great time...'shopping Rodeo'...and laughing our heads off!

Wave Rider Turned 'Equestrian'...

I have always loved horses.
I started riding when I was about 5...on and off for years.
I was never the obsessed girl who could only think of her horse, and collected the plastic ponies...but I loved horses, and riding.
My mom and I used to go up to Camp Carysbrook, when I was about 5, with the Cumisky family....they had 6 kids and ran the camp in the summers. I wore my riding hat from the time I got up in the morning, until I was forced to take it off to sleep.
It was a good look with my cutoff shorts, 'peace' tshirt, and tennis shoes. It made my head sweat, but I did not care...I was cool. Everyone knew I rode---because I wore the hat...all the time. Yeah.
When I was 12, I was lucky enough to go to Camp Alleghany...and I got to ride---for real! I remember having to leave during the Blue/Grey Team 'sing off'...and hike up the hill to the stables for class.
There was a creepy part, on that path through the woods, just after you passed the Dining Hall, and before you could see the Stables---and we used to run through there like bats outta hell.
My ensemble' was a bit different this go 'round...
We had to wear jeans,riding boots...and the famous riding hat. My black velvet riding hat was more like a huge mixing bowl with a strap to hold it on to my huge head.(we all have big heads in my family...it's a curse.)
My rubber riding boots came up to my knees...offered no real protection to my feet, and were hot as heck! Plus, after class, I had to get someone to help me get them off because they were much like a 'chinese finger torture' when removed alone. (Thank you counselor Trudy for letting me use your butt to get them off!)
I weighed all of 90 lbs that summer, and they gave me the biggest horse: Tonic Water, aka: 'TW'...he was HUGE...and stubborn...and lazy.I always had to use the steps to get up on him...I think the Counselors had pity on me the first day when I had to repeatedly hoist my leg up, like a Rockette, to reach the stirrup.
TW and I had a love/hate relationship.
One day, after a good ride, while I was giving him his water, he casually stepped on to my foot....and leaned. I could NOT get him off my foot! and thanks to the chinese torture/no protection boots, my foot was being crushed. I put my whole 90 lb. self in to trying to get him off...he never even raised his head...instead, he eyeballed me from the side and kept slurping his water. (I think he was smiling...really. I do.)
I imagine, to the observer, this had to have been hilarious to see...like a cricket trying to move a sleeping dog.
I have never been a 'girl-girl' and I was not going to cry...but wow, did my foot hurt! Finally a friend came and practically body slammed him from the side and he moved his hoof over 6 inches like, 'oh, sorry, was I standing on you?'
Then the ultimate insult, TW raises his head out of the water...big spitty horse water dripping off his face...and sneezed on me.Horse snot. Nice.
I still loved my horse.
I learned how to groom him, braid his mane and tail, and muck his stall. I could saddle and bridle him by myself...I was in Heaven.
At the Camp Horse Show I got 1st place---and a fat blue ribbon---in Showmanship. TW was gorgeous! However, I think I got first place because I actually got him to trot while I ran next to him....everyone was laughing and cheering when I got his lazy ass to trot...I was practically sprinting next to him because his stride was 4 times mine! I loved my horse.
Another day, I volunteered to go to the lower pasture and bridle up the horses and bring them all the way--- through camp---back to the stable. No saddles, just a bridle.I was proud that the riding teachers thought I could do this...next stop, the Kentucky Derby?
I got in to the field with TW...lazily chewing on his grass...and he did that sideways look at me. He would NOT raise his head so I could get his bridle on.I had the bridle over my shoulder, struggling to get his big fat head up and get the bit in his mouth before he went back to his snacking. TW had a bad habit of thrusting his bit forward, with his tongue, so it was not placed properly---it would end up on the top gums of his front teeth, not back behind his back teeth. He was good at faking me out....(this will come in to play momentarily.)
My Counselor flung me up on his back---he was still eating...and I jerked his head up, got him under my control...and we were all off. We had about 6 or 7 horses...some on leads, others being ridden. We started through the Camp...getting close to the tennis courts. A 'cease fire' was called for all tennis balls as to not spook any of the horses. I felt super cool because none of my friends from home rode, and there I was, bare back, like I was riding in the Rose Parade...waving. Yeah.
Then...somebody (idiot!) yelled at another girl on a horse...the horse she was leading got loose, and started to take off.
Suddenly, TW, Mr. Lazy Ass, decided he was at Church Hill Downs and the gates had just opened...Oh crap! I thought. No saddle, no stirrups...just the reins.
(This was one of those moments you 'never forget'.)
I was pulling back on TW's reins...to no avail...he took off at a full hand gallop after the loose horse...who luckily was headed up the path to the stables.
I was holding on for dear life as tree branches were smacking me in the head.(Thank goodness I had my black velvet mixing bowl on my head!)
I assumed the 'jockey position' and put my head down next to TW's neck. Still trying to rein in my idiot 'thinks he's a derby contender' horse.
I can still hear Cooper Dawson---who ran the camp---yelling 'SLOW DOWN!
All I was thinking was 'please don't trip on the rocks TW!'...then for a brief---and I mean brief---second, I felt like Liz Taylor in 'International Velvet'.
When we reached the stables, TW came to a dead stop almost throwing me over his head. I slid off his head and hit the ground on my feet.
And I did, I am sorry to say, cry...and I punched him in the neck out of frustration and adrenaline overload! (which, coming from a 90 pounder, did not faze him as he walked over to get water.)
I know my instructors were freaking out as they rode up...
Turns out, TW had thrust his bit out...so as I was pulling him back, I was pulling on his front teeth and gums...and that had to be uncomfortable...then I felt bad.
I finally calmed down...enough to stand with TW while he got some water...yup. He was looking sideways at me...I moved my foot away from him. He continued to slurp his water---(a sound I love!)and when he raised his head, he did not drop spit all over me, or sneeze.
I led him to his stall, closed the gate, and hung up his bridle in the tack room.
I went back to see him before I walked back down the hill. He came over and put his head up so I could reach him. I scratched him between his eyes and rubbed the top of his velvety nose. He sighed...and did that horse 'coo'...not a neigh, but like a human would say 'ahhhh.'
We were friends again...and I loved my horse.

Leave A Message!

I never answer my home phone.
That is why I have an 'answering' machine....'Please leave a message...BEEEEEEP.'
(Note: One acception to my rule is if I hear my kids voices...THEN I answer.)
I quit answering my phone when I was going through my divorce---almost 8 years ago---mainly because the phone calls were NEVER good ones. (That, and the fact my X's voice gives me hives.)
I also feel like my home is my sanctuary---if I don't want to talk, I don't have to.
Some other family members of mine, feel quite differently.
It actually pisses them off that I do not answer the phone!
They truly believe, like Pavlov's dogs hearing the bell, that the phone must be answered---no matter what you are doing....
Changing a diaper, making dinner, in the bathroom, throwing up, sleeping, watching a movie, playing with your kids,your hair is on fire, etc. NOT an excuse to ignore the phone. ('What is WRONG with you? You never answer the phone!!!!')
These same people will stop dead in their tracks, in the middle of a face to face conversation, to go scurry off and answer their cell phone, as well.
Wonder if they ever think about what it says to the person with whom you are within actual breathing distance of, that that tingaling-ing, or groovy melody, coming from their purse could be more important than the 'right here, right now'.
Seriously.
I mean, I understand if you are on a transplant waiting list, and they will call you when the new heart arrives---but I think they give out beepers for that...
We have become a society of common courtesy morons controlled by that damn ringer/beeper/vibrating phone!
When I see a mom picking up her kids from school, and she is talking on her cell the whole time, I seriously have the urge to grab the phone out of her hands, break it in half, and stomp it to bits.
....what is she saying to her kid?
'Sorry honey, mommy has to talk to Bipsy about our tennis match tomorrow....'
(Again, my apologies if she were discussing the heart transplant.)
So, I usually do not answer my cell either---but it has caller ID...my home phone does not.
So all yall that get pissed off because I don't answer my phone? I am not ignoring, or shunning you...no, I am not 'mad'...I am busy.
Leave a message...I'll get back to you when I finish what I am doing 'here and now'.

A Typical Summer Day 1978....

The Summer of 1978...I was 13.
Our house was in the North End of Virginia Beach...the 'real' beach...one block from the ocean.
The only other homes around us were huge old beach cottages---family owned for generations, little bungalow houses with screened in porches...nothing more than 2 stories high...
every driveway was either compacted sand and oyster shells or gravel.
We never wore shoes...the soles of our feet were like leather.
We had one window unit for air conditioning in the dining room/kitchen---no one had central air then...and your floor fan was your friend.
I used to sleep with my window open...late at night I could hear the ocean, after the traffic died down on Atlantic Avenue.
The birds and I usually woke up around 9am...watched a bit of happy Days and Leave It To Beaver re-runs...eating my bowl of Special K (with whole milk), drinking my OJ, and having a cake donut.
The back door was open, and the cat hung out on the screened porch.
Our loud next door neighbors began a chorus of yelling back and forth---you always knew what they were doing...like it or not.
Mom was a teacher and had the summers off...she always slept in.
My job was to get my summer math and reading comprehension workbook pages done, and checked, and then I could go to the beach.(I went to a private school...the homework was never 'done'.)
I called the surf report every morning. Then I'd call my friends...
Getting ready to go to the beach was as easy as putting on my bikini---we all wore them---a huge tshirt as a cover up, flip flops (the kind you got at the drugstore), grabbing my towel off the line outside, fetching my Morey Boogie Board 360 B.E.(leaning against the outdoor shower)...and I was off.
I'd get to the beach,throw down my board, towel, and put on sunscreen---there were only 2 kinds...Sundowner is the one I remember bc it was the first waterproof one. If you put it on after you got wet, it made these white 'snot balls' all over you....you got Desitin on your nose and cheeks if they started to burn.
None of us were allowed to go in to the ocean until a 'grown up' showed up---and I can tell you, on the days that the waves were killer, it was just the glimpse of the top of my mom's head coming over the dune that sent me sprinting in to the water.
My girlfriends usually showed up shortly after...my best friend rode a bright yellow mo-ped all the way from Bay Colony...we were all jealous that she had a 'ped'. My other galpals would show up eventually...we were a hot little crew!
We did not care about boys---at least I did not...especially if Pete Smith's surf shop had reported the waves as 'head high, glassy and definitely ride-able'...we all rode together...chicks and dudes.
The street next to ours always had a better break, so we would all inadvertantly 'drift' over there....
Our moms would get up out of their low slung beach chairs and wave us back over like the guys at the airport tarmac.
Begrudgingly, we would ride a wave in and walk back down the beach.
If we were really lucky, at low tide, there'd be a sand bar= better waves...and the chance to paddle out farther than our mom's voices could yell for us to come in.
If there were jellies in the water, we'd put Vaseline on our legs and arms...which would make your board slippery...so, you'd have to dig down and get some sand to put on your board as to not slide off when you dropped in on a wave.
The coolest thing that ever happened to me:
One day my friend Margaret and I both took the same wave...as we both stood up on our boards, a dolphin(porpoise) surfaced between us!
This big black shiny sea creature was riding with us...I will never forget the look on M's face! I was (am) a 'goofy foot'=right foot forward, and she surfed 'normal', so we were facing each other on the wave---we both screamed in awe!
'WHOOOA! DUDE! DID YOU SEE THAT???!!!!'
It was very cool.
After about 4 hours of endless rides, we would all go up to my house for PBJ's, onion dip and Pringles, Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls, Tea...and some Hot Tamales candy to carry on the walk back over the dune. Calories meant nothing---we ate whatever we felt like---nothing was safe!
(When you stay in the water 8+ hours a day, you burn it all off.)
Back then, we had to stay out of the water for 1/2 hour after we ate lunch---bc we 'would cramp up in the water and drown'...I think it was so the mom's could relax a little longer.
During that 'rest time' we'd put on some Hawaiian Tropic Deep Tanning oil---brown bottle...spf 0...I can still smell the coconuts!
When we were given the 'all clear'---after constant nagging---we'd be back in the water...
By the afternoon, most days, we'd all be wearing our Tshirts in the water bc of the rib/stomach rash our boards had given us---putting sand on the board, though practical, eventually rips you up! (Wish we'd had 'rash guards' then!)
By around 4pm, we'd all be wearing down.
When we breathed in really deep, our chests hurt from slamming over waves. Our lips were all shriveled from the salt water...not to mention the dried salt in our hair and eyebrows...stings. The inside of our mouths tasted like sushi---yuck!
We were 'done'.
The hardest part of the day was trudging back over the dune...boards and towels in tow. The one block walk home was an eternity. The sun would be starting to go down, so it beamed you one last time in the face.
Finally arriving home, I'd hose down my board, lean it against the wall, and take my own outdoor shower(in my swimsuit bc we did not have an enclosure)...with cold water. When friends were there, mom made me take my shower second so my guest would get the warmer water...
(We did not get hot water outside until I was like 16.)
Grabbing a towel off the line and wrapping myself up, I'd then do an act, only to be rivaled by Houdini himself. The bikini was off and slung on the line so the lawn mower guys would not run over it...
Dressed in my Pete Smith's Surf shop shirt, and my OP shorts...my day was done....
I miss those days.
Going to the beach now---with 3 kids and all their stuff---equates itself to strategic war planning.
(And now I wear a 'tankini', ginormous hat, and spf 1000.)
However, you will catch me out in the water...teaching my kids to ride...
...and waving them back in!

It scares me when he says he's 'straightening up'...

I went out of town for 4 days this past week, and my husband was left alone to bask in the glory of an empty house.
The only, ONLY, thing I asked him to 'please do', was to mow the grass...watch ESPN, hang out, burp, scratch yerself, fart out loud, whatever...but please mow the lawn.
I called each day to check in...as all good wives do.
The day before I came home we were 'chatting' and he said,'yeah...I fixed Mia's chair (the one he broke to get her out of when she got stuck)...and I have been straightening up...'
Ohhhhh crap.
My husbands idea of 'straightening up' is to get a garbage bag, and anything HE thinks is non-essential, he throws away...
(I almost hurled.)
Yes, when I got home, the house was amazingly 'straightened up'...scarily so.
Being the wise woman that I am, I decided to check the huge trash can outside---I am glad I did.
Amongst the garbage, here are a few of the items I found/retrieved:
--my Book of Common Prayer that I got when I was confirmed...the one with the program from when I went and saw Desmond Tutu speak...yes, it is tattered because it has been used!
--the rock, that sits on my dresser, from my father's grave site...(!!!!)
--ALL, and I mean ALL, of Mia's stickers...sticker books as well...
--one of Roxy's favorite chew toys...
--my antivirus software, and update software, for my computer...
---the flower box from Mia's doll house...
--my Target reciepts for things for my big kids...
--an empty box of checks...including the 'please check to see if this information is correct' note with all the account numbers, his full name and address...(hello? ID theft?)
--an application to one of my craft shows...
--various books, etc.
...yeeeaaaaahhhh.
No. I did not flip out and go all high pitched bitch on him.
I remained quite calm actually.
I think NOW, he understands that 'thou shalt NOT throw my stuff away'...
I am currently working on training him to clean toilets, mop floors, wipe down countertops, learning the power of bleach/Windex...as well as how to scrub out a fishy pan he cooked in and left on the stove for 3 days...(oh, that funky funky smell!)
I have given up on the dishwasher training....
....and, no, the grass did NOT get mowed.
Men...gotta love em! 'Bless his heart', he meant well.

Oprah and Sex...

Titillating title, eh?
But seriously.
O has had a coupla shows on lately regarding sex, 'the talk', 'sexting',the 'M' word---('your daughters should learn to pleasure themselves...')
OMG!
I have a 14 yr. old and a 4 yr.old daughter...and an 11 year old son.
It was hard enough when I got pregnant with the 4 yr.old to 'explain', as the then 10 yr. old asked,'How did the baby get in there?'...she was so grossed out, and I was kinda embarrassed....but we got through it. I did not use technical terms...I talked about his 'deal', mommas 'chacha'...eggs, those things called sperm...and 'we LOVE each other and THAT is the ONLY reason to connect the deal and the chacha!'...
I know! I totally blew it...but, now I am faced with a gorgeous 14 yr old being pursued by boys...and she is going to High School next year with boys who are 4 years older...and wiser.
I hope she will make smart choices...and I guess the only thing I can do is maintain an open, non-judgemental, communication hub for her. I think I am more scared than she is...but all it takes is for me to hear about 'The Blow Job Club'...and run screaming from the room!
When I was 14, I was a total brace-faced nerd! All we wanted to do was skateboard, surf...and MAYBE play ghost in the graveyard at night at a sleepover...now they have cell phones (with cameras), texting, sexting, and all that!
'If ya like it then ya better put a ring on it'....
Would it be illegal if I crushed up birth control pills in her cereal each morning? Better yet, as soon as I know she has a 'BF' I am giving her those Pills so 'her skin will be clear.'
I am so not ready for this! But I shall remain cool...and calm! (HA.)