The Mirror at Mom's House

I noticed an odd phenomenon about five years after I moved out of my mother's home. Each time I would return for a visit and happen to walk by a mirror, I was always pleased with my reflection. This was odd because I am never pleased with my reflection in any other mirrors - or any photos taken for that matter.

At first I just thought I looked nice that day. Maybe I wore makeup or had on a nice shirt. It took nearly twenty years, two husbands, three children, and ten houses later to realize that it didn't matter. I could have been working in cut-offs in her garden all day; covered in mud and sweaty. No makeup. My hair not fixed. And I still liked what I looked like in mom's mirror.

That was when I realized what I saw when I looked in mom's mirror was the choices I'd made since leaving home. The temptations I'd bypassed. The principles I lived by. How far I'd gone to improve my life and the life of my children. When I looked in mom's mirror I saw the inner me. And, I like me.

I guess when all is said in done, only at our mother's house do we truly feel judged upon what's on the inside.

It's been nearly four years since the last time I looked in the mirror at mom's house. I miss it.

Yesterday, I had an Apple Turnover

I've eaten flavored yogurt all of my adult life. More times than not, the low fat variety. I'll eat them off-and-on for months and then not at all for the next year or so. Then I'd be back on them. They are good for me, low in fat and calories, and cheap and easy (something my husband accuses me of occasionally). What's not to like?

Since my last yogurt feast, my favorite brand, Yoplait, has come up with some great new varieties. For months I've been watching one commercial after another from their Outsmart Temptation ad series. The flavors sounded to good to be true: Apple Turnover, Banana Cream Pie, Boston Cream Pie, Key Lime Pie, Pineapple Upside Down Cake, Raspberry Cheesecake, Red Velvet Cake, White Chocolate Covered Strawberries. The list goes on and on.

So I've been counting calories for the last few weeks and have once again returned to my old friend yogurt. I excitedly loaded my basket with every delicious sounding option my store carried. And each day I eagerly tried a new decadent desert. I've made it through all the flavors and have drawn the following conclusion.

None of the flavors stand out as awesome or amazing. In fact, they taste a lot like the fruit flavors. It tastes like they took Pineapple Yogurt and renamed it Pineapple Upside Down Cake. Banana became Banana Cream Pie, and so on. It makes sense. Who wants to eat something that sounds like a fruit (which you can have on ANY diet) when you can eat something that sounds like desert (which you can NEVER have without guilt).

Overall, it taste pretty much the same.

Oh, I'll keep buying them - as opposed to their appropriately named fruit counterparts. I like the idea of telling someone,

"My diet?
Well, yesterday I had an Apple Turnover."

Mine Enemy: Sleep

I can't remember a time in my life when sleep came easy.

As a child with a bad family life, you were your most vulnerable at night. I'd lay awake listening to every shift of the house, every squeak of the floorboard. Straining hard enough I could hear family members breathing two or three rooms away. Hear the dogs outside scratching. Each car as it slowly drove past.

When the children came, none of them slept well. No eight hour sleep patterns for my babies until they were well over a year old.

As a classic Type A personality, I've always gone for the stressful job. Worked where there was no way my responsibilities could be completed on time. And I asked for more.

But even over the last few years, with no job (per say) and William old enough to sleep most nights, I still don't sleep. I manage, on average, 4-6 hours of sleep in a 24-hour period. Always have. And it's beginning to look like I always will.

I manage to function, but it's not healthy. A lack of sleep cuts down on my natural serotonin levels; making it easier to become blue or depressed. A lack of sleep makes it harder to loose weight, gives you bags under your eyes, and leaves you fatigued all day.

The flip side of my problem is that I fall asleep at the drop of a hat in certain circumstances. Like in a car. Take me for a ride in a car and I'll be asleep in half an hour. If I'm driving, two hours max. When I drove up to see Paul for his birthday recently, I had to stop an hour in and pull over for a few minutes shut eye.

I don't even try to go to sleep until about one in the morning, knowing I'll just lay there if I do. And sometimes I still lay there. I toss all night long, though a little less in my new bed. I change positions constantly. Half the time I'll get back out of bed during the night. I'm usually up by six (by alarm when Will goes to school), or by seven thirty when left on my own.

I use to take pills to help me sleep but stopped when I was expecting Will. I've never gotten back on them because Will still needs me some nights. I also can't hear everything that goes on in the house if I take pills.

I fear that until Will is old enough to defend himself, I'll just have to live with mine enemy - sleep.

The Morning in Hell

If you've been keeping up with my blog this year, you know I'm not real pleased with Will's school. They are disorganized, don't involve parents in what they should, and send home fund-raising items several times a month - just to name a few of my pet peaves.

First, I was sick all night. Probably didn't sleep more than two hours. It was hard to wake up and since I had to be at Will's school by 8:00, I couldn't go back to sleep. Ready in plenty of time, I went to pick up my camera in the computer room and it wasn't there. I spent way to long looking for it and couldn't find it. Stopping at Walmart for a throw-away camera put me at school just in time to see Will's group walk out of the building and into the fenced in area.

I had to park right by the fence as I was late. Then I had to walk almost two blocks to the main office to get a visitor badge. While there were only three people in line in front of me, it took thirteen minutes to get through - yes, I counted them.

Then I walked two blocks to get back to where I started - just the opposite side of the fence. I was suprised to see an information booth set up for parents. I stopped by to see if they could help me locate where Will's class was - there were literally thousands of children on the field. They couldn't. They didn't even know what they had on the table; some sort of print out. But they didn't know what it was and if it was theirs or to be handed out. I was told to look for a group of small children in -- "What color was your son wearing today? Oh, green. Yeah, just look for a group of small children in green."

As it turned out they were at the furtherest corner you could find; about two blocks through sweaty bodies, 90 degree tempertures, and no shade.

When I finally reached him I was impressed with the smooth operation of the events. The coach was in charge and they were at drawn lanes doing several events. There are six classes of pre-k children and each class was in it's own lane. The first event I watched was hurdles. The coach would signal about every 30 seconds and the next batch would run off and jump the hurdles. It was cute.

The next race was the chicken throw. The coach had a bucket of plucked colored chickens that were about twelve inches long. Each child was suppose to throw their chicken as far as possible, run up to it, and throw it again until they passed the end. This didn't work quite as well with the 30 second batch thing as some children took four or five minutes to complete the course. You had children getting hit by flying chickens all over the place. It was funny.

When that was completed, and it only took about twenty minutes, things went to hell in a handbasket.

They walked us all over to the opposite side of the field only to realize we were early, so then we walked all the way to near my car and allowed the kids to play at the playscape. When it was time, we went back across the field to the pitching events. Only, there was no coach and no one to organize it. None of the teachers even had an idea of what the events were suppose to be.

Eventually they lined all the kids up in 12 lines and just gave them whatever assorted balls were laying around; crocket, backetball, football, baseball. But no one took charge of the event and timing. So you had children throwing balls (some very hard) constantly and others running in the middle of the meyham to retrieve their throws. Every parent on the sideline was wincing and complaining.

Fifteen minutes later we take the kids to their classrooms for a snack. I helped those at the table with Will open their packages and drinks. After the break, we were lead all the way through the school and out the opposite side to the bouncy houses. The teachers instructed the children to remove their shoes, leave on their socks, and then climb in. Of corse, they had to walk through about twenty-five feet of burs and stickers to get there. They were only allowed to bounce about three minutes when someone realized there was a mix up on the schedule and we weren't supose to be there. I helped pull stickers and burs off of four different pairs of socks and put shoes on small sweaty feet. Then we walked through the entire school and back out the other side to play on the playground again.

We were told due to the mixup the children would play on the playground for an hour, then participate in a tug-of-way. At this point, it's 97 outside. There is still no shade and I've had it. I tell Will bye, and head out.

As I walked through the school, and back to my car, I checked how many photos I'd taken to see if I should drop off the camera on the way home. I took nine. And if I remember correctly, one of those was an accidental photo of the hot cracked ground.

I'm a 65

It's official, I'm in love with my sleep number bed.

Steve and I paid almost $2,000 five years ago for a special mattress set that was going to last a while. We both have back issues and trouble sleeping, so it seemed like a sound investment. From the DAY it was delivered it was a nightmare. Since it was purchased at a furniture store and not at a mattress store, they would not take it back. We were stuck.

Five days ago Steve picked up a king size sleep number bed and brought it home. It has two separate mattresses so we can each set our own comfort level. (He's a 100.) It also comes with a zipped in pillow top that is about four inches thick.

I put it up the next morning and we have slept in it for four nights now. It took me a few days to settle on a number, but I knew the first night it was going to work out. I just needed to tweak it.

We kept our old bed on hand until we were sure we were keeping the sleep number bed. We're sure. The old bed was hauled to San Marcos and donated to Tori.

I know a lot of people are either totally for or against a sleep number bed. I love the ability to have different settings per person. It's cut down on how often I roll over or reposition myself at night. Made a significant difference in how loud and often Steve snores (and probably myself as well). And, I no longer wake up with aching joints.

I really have only noticed two cons; 1) it sits really low to the floor, and 2) if your numbers are significantly different you need to keep rigorous activity to one side only - don't ask.

Open Marriages

Steve and I were watching House this evening and the episode revolved around two different married couples who had open marriages. It disturbed me so much that I could hardly watch the show. In both marriages shown, one person wanted to play the field and their spouse agreed because they loved them and didn't want to loose them. When one wife decided she couldn't do it, her husband lied to her about it and continued to carry on his affair.

I just don't get it. How can you possibly have the trust and respect necessary to create a strong relationship in an open marriage? When I was searching for a photo to accompany this blog I was shocked at how many couples online are admitting to open marriages. I did find one site that came closer to helping me understand the concept. Basically they said there are two different type of people. (A)Those who go into a marriage with the concept it is until death and is a bond that shouldn't be broken - those who would never consider an open marriage. (B) Those that enter a marriage as a business transaction to gain security, ranking, or releave loneliness.

Consider me an A.

As we watched the show this evening, I couldn't help but wonder how the original conversation progressed when having an open marriage was brought up. Do you pick days that you can screw around? Should you notify each other first? If you have kids, do you swap out weekends when Mommy or Daddy get to go out alone? What's the procedure when you return from a romp? Do you head directly to the shower? Do you shower before you come home and act like nothing happened? Do you hop in bed with your spouse and go for round 2 (or 3)?

As a tie in to this issue, I've been searching for a group nearby that I can join to meet new people. Some place where I can alleviate some of the loneliness that has haunted me for the last five years. I'm also thinking of volunteering, but that comes with it's own issues. Mainly time constraints and Will.

When I did a search for lonely mothers in Austin in Yahoo Groups. I found at least ten groups for lonely mothers to hook up with men on the side. When I searched for lonely married people in Austin I found just as many groups for spouse swaps. Each group had hundreds, if not thousands, of members. I did find 3 groups for women who found being at home very lonely and isolated - just what I was looking for. All of them were inactive and had been for years.

It's a sad statement on today's society that a lonely married woman can find places to commit adultery, but no companionship.

Oddly, if you search for companionship you get a bunch of pet groups.

Go figure.

You Get What You Pay For

Will has hard to manage hair. There are three hard to control cow licks. Two towards the back which mandate the hair on top of his head remain long. And one toward the front that won't allow things to lay flat. Add to the fact his hair is baby fine and straight as a board and it's all kinds of fun finding someone to cut his hair.

I've tried doing it myself. I've tried barbers. I even tried the cheap walk-in places. I finally found one place that consistently does a good job, for $13.95. Not bad really. But as I cut Steve's hair myself, and my hair only gets cut twice a year, paying to get Will's hair cut every 6 weeks seems obscene. So I put it off each time as long as possible.

Apparently, I put it off to long.

Steve made some comment about Will's hair being to long last night and I was like, "Yeah. I need to get it cut." After I put Will in bed for the night, Steve asks for some scissors. I give him my heavy duty sewing scissors. Then, a man who has NEVER cut hair, took those bulky scissors, a sleepy 5-year old, and went into the bathroom to trim the hair out of his eyes.

As you can see from the photo above he did achieve his goal, there is no hair in Will's eyes. Nor, will there be for 2-3 months. I'm hoping it grows back out to normal before he starts his new school next fall. LOL

It's not that it's a bad haircut, and let me tell you it is much worse than the photo shows - he cut half the hair of both sideburns as well. It's that as I child I had those same bangs all through elementary. We even had a name for them; Norma Bangs. Named after an eighty year old woman that wore her bangs about an inch long.

I told Steve that he was not allowed near my son with a pair of scissors ever again.

I've had this same talk with all of my children in the past . . . just never one of my husbands.

No. No. Bad Daddy!