Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Many hats....

I find myself slowly becoming more like a parent than a child to my parent.

It's strange....however it's a duty I don't take lightly.

(Probably exactly how he felt when he gained the responsibility of a child)

At least with a child you can hit em... (oh my gawd, I'm only kidding) and tell them to shut up (wink)

I found myself trying to help my dad's green beans taste better with my words..."eat them, they are good for you"...

And trying to talk him into wearing clothes that are not his usual duds... "you will just L-O-V-E sweat pants, they feel just like pajamas..."

"but I don't wear, or  even like pajamas" he counters

"but you would if you tried them".... (pretty pretty pleeeze try on the sweatpants) I coax

(put the damn pants on before I paddle your ass)

"Don't tip your drink like that or it is going to spill on your front"...

"and then you'll be wet and cold"

I move his orange juice to the side so he doesn't tip it over with his arm.

"Here, let me sit you up a bit, you don't look comfortable"

I feel his forehead and his arms, he feels a bit cool.

"are you warm enough? do you want some more blankets...?"

He's trying to be patient with me... but I can see I'm beginning to aggravate him.

I'm sad to leave him and I worry about him through my mostly sleepless night.

I called and checked on him around midnight..

"who shall I say called?" the nurse asks

"just tell him Mother Hen called" I answer.

(ps...to those reading who may worry or wonder... my pops had an operation to help with an issue he's been suffering from for a long time, he is doing well and we expect a full recovery....a recovery which will more than likely bring about a big azz kicking...HIM kicking MINE for trying to push him around and tell him what to do when he was down...)

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Stepping up is hard to do....

The step dad of one of The Sweet Prince Buttercup's best friends dropped dead last week, the fourth death of a person I know in the last two weeks

Another victim of a heart attack.

He was 49 years old.

I weaseled out of going to the funeral home... just like I've weaseled out of calling my step-sister who lost her husband of 9 days to a heart attack just a week or so ago....

I'm a weasel.

I've been doing some heavy duty soul searching to try and figure out my weasel-y behavior.

I know the importance of support during grieving.

I remember every single person who walked through the funeral home door when my brother died.

I can still feel their hugs, hear their words of comfort.

And yet, I don't move to offer that support to my sister or to acquaintances/friends who've recently lost loved ones.

Marmie has urged "send a card, pick up the phone" and she really is one to talk, she is a one woman support group.

She runs into the hurricane that is grief.. runs at it, faces it, offers comfort, and cards and love, love, love to sufferers.

I so want to be like her.

I want to have that strength.

Grief scares me...simple as that.

My own, after my brother's death was something I don't dare revisit.

My heart can't hurt that bad again.

I know that is part of my reluctance in getting on the ball and delivering sympathies and love to people I KNOW need it.

I make myself sick thinking about how sick I make myself.

Lame, lame chicken shit that I am.

These husbands that that have died much too early are much too close to my Daddio's age...

And I can't can't can't go there.

I'm trying so hard to be the person I need to be.

And so far, I'm not doing that great of a job.

Thanks for listening....

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

"Suuuuuuuuu-zen has done gone missin....

Susan my sister, (you may know her as the one who would rather read a Pop Tart ingredient list backwards (twice) than read this blog... yeah, that Susan)

anyway, Susan is missing, she's AWOL... absent w/o letting her sister know exactly when it was that she was flying (in her car) south seeking warm temperatures and her mother in law's fine cooking...

I've called her house looking for her..

about four times per hour..

I'm used to her not answering.... (this right here is how she normally "does me"....)

I'm grown accustomed to leaving message after message and getting nothing but a furrowed brow and frown lines...

Normally I'd stalk her through her kid, like most teenagers The Princess of Quite A Lot and her phone are tight... she doesn't ignore miss calls, this time though, I don't want to bother her to bother Susan.

Susan is in nursing school, and believe me, she tries to use that, and the fact that she has two relatively young children AND a job (or 3) and a few health problems as an excuse as to why she is too busy, too tired, too uninterested to gab on the phone,

I don't get it...

I mean who doesn't have time to spend listening to her sister's problems (real and imagined)...?

Who wouldn't be totally "into" (in to...?) hearing all about her sister's most recent disgust that Sears doesn't offer free shipping on over sized items (even though they advertise "Free Shipping")...

I'm getting the feeling that Susan (you know, that Susan) might be feeling a bit fed up with smoothing my ruffled feathers over things like that...

So if anyone has seen my sister Susan (the one who never reads this blog) tell her that she is in deep shit, no call to the Sister-Mom (the motherly sister who stood right beside Marmie trying to raise her into a decent and con-sid-er-ate member of society)  before she flew the coop...

Not a single call to say "don't bother calling me twenty one times a day for the next several days...I'm outta here"


Now, I should dig deeper and say my true feelings...

SUSAN...you freakin idiot bimbo dumb yellow headed person.... you FORGOT our agreement,

 I am beyond devastated...

So...when you think about calling me to tell me that you forgot to call me to tell me that you and your family were preparing to leave/leaving for the holiday... forget it, don't bother, I'll be fine, I'll get through the next several hundred hours of your absence just great... sigh

( I hope your kid is reading this to you and that you are beginning to feel massive amounts of guilt... if so, my job here is done)...

Hope you have a great today... (you, the readers, not that sister of mine that would rather try and decipher Hebrew than read this blog.. PS... Princess, don't read that last part to your mom, I don't want her to get mad at me and not call me to tell me that she is sorry that she forgot to call her sister-mom and say à tout à l'heure  or even Auvoiur Simone...the bad girl...)

And furthermore dear niece your mother's  phone manners (and her piss-poor 50 year old cob-webbed memory) stink (really bad) and we may have to revisit and revamp her upbringing... just sayin.

(Princess, don't read that part aloud either, k..? Aunt Beth loves you and I assure you that if I'm ever to leave town I would certainly call your mother (even though I am quite positive that she would forget to call me) so that she would know where to find me in case of an emergency, even one as simple as Sears' cheezzzzzeeeey free shipping policy.

PSS...One last thing, I hope that if your mother took that misbehaving little dog with her on her car trip that she does something like this on the way home...

If so, let me know ASAP, I'm in the mood for a good ol hysterical belly laugh)

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

"It" comes in threes....

I hate that frickin statement.

I especially hated it coming out of Googie's mouth yesterday.

I'm superstitious, but when my kid is too I can't help but wonder what kind of stupid crap I put into their heads..( and no, it never occurs to me that they can become "some way" or start to think "differently" on their own, I am to blame for it all... sigh)

Over the last two days I've learned of three deaths... and each one of them has me so freakin angry I want to shake my fist at God...

and ask him "why?" ...

"why now?"


Joyce (my oldest and dearest pal) was phone tagging me all over the last several days (very unusual for her)... I finally managed to catch up with her Sunday.

"I've got some bad news" she said,

"Aunt Dottie died" 

Aunt Dottie was her dad's sister...

more importantly, Aunt Dot was her mother Marie's trusty and faithful sidekick.

For maybe 60 years (and it could be longer even).

And since Joyce's dad has been very ill lately, her mother has really needed her sidekick more than ever.

When I was a kid I was somewhat obsessed with Aunt Dottie ... she was a pint sized beauty with an unusual asset... she had two different colored eyes... one the brightest of blue, the other a soft, suede brown.

I spent hours staring at those eyes...

Joyce's mom (and the rest of the family) is really gonna miss the petite grand dame, and so will I.


My son, The Sweet Prince Buttercup was a high school basketball star. For many years Daddio and I spent the better part of our lives sitting on bleachers in the high school gym cheering he and his team to victory.

Another fixture at each and every game was Buttercup's coach's dad Mr Mangin.

I don't know if Daddio has spoken more than a few sentences to Mr Mangin over the years, but I do know that they shared something...

Members of the good dad club.

Solid as rock, dependable as the stars at night.

Good men, great dads, fixtures of love and never ever ending support for their kids.

Mr Mangin's son (Buttercup's coach) asked for prayers for his dad after he suffered a heart attack...

"like him, is all I ever wanted to be.. I am all that I am because of him (and my mom) please pray for my dad, he is a special man and I will be lost without him"...


Nine days ago after a nine year relationship my step sister Brandy married her sweetheart Ron.

Marmie said the wedding was one of the nicest she'd ever attended.

Beautiful vows, details, frills, family and friends...

Beautiful to witness such love and happiness.

On Sunday Ron suffered a massive heart attack and died.

How can we not be angry with God... how can he leave the world filled with child molesters, murderers and thieves and take people so needed and loved..?

My heartfelt prayers and condolences and the peace and comfort of beautiful memories go to Marie (and the family) and Coach Mangin (and the family) and to the beautiful blushing young bride who just nine days ago took her man's hand and promised to love him until the end of time, to her especially, I say "hang on sweetheart, hang on. Ron will live as long as you all remember and love him and when there are none of you left to love and remember him, you will all be together again"...

Becoming Mr and Mrs Ron Alvey

Monday, November 14, 2011

24 ... I just love that number

My darling dear of a daughter turns 24 @ exactly 8:05 am this morning.

The prior dreariness of each and every single November disappeared with her birth.

I've never loved a month more.

Yesterday I made her spaghetti and a birthday cake and wondered aloud if I could climb in her window tomorrow morning and wake her with heart shaped pancakes...?

Or a kiss on her turned up nose.

She was a bit upset and voiced her concern that she was now in her middle twenties....

this took me back to the Hallmark store and the birthday card I bought her.

The card said my feelings exactly... it said how much I missed her being a little girl, then it said if by some miracle I could turn back time and make her into the little girl she once was that I wouldn't... I wouldn't because as much as I would love to have her back as that little girl, I would miss the woman so much more.

I am head over heels in love with this girl of mine.

You would be too if she happened to you.

Happy 24th dear darling heart of my heart.

(PS... 24 will be an amazing year)

Friday, November 11, 2011

A universal about face....

I am so happy to report on this very special day 11-11-11 that life has settled into a somewhat normal (minus Bear) routine.

There are days I can say I actually like coming into a just like I left it empty house....

Days when worrying about just the Daddi-o and I is kinda nice...

and man oh man has my grocery bill gone down.

I save about seven bucks a week on toilet paper alone.

Walking past Bear's empty bedroom can sometimes feel like a kick to my gut... however, lately I appreciate that the door is open and I can see floor.

Yes, I am incredibly happy to report that I am adjusting to Bear's absence in my everyday life.

I've come to the conclusion that try as I might I can't micromanage him on the phone from this many miles away...

and I'm adjusting.


childless mother that I am....now,

is happy to have the remote in her hand, is thrilled to eat the last Oreo, is giddily happy to iron in her bra and porkies...

Bear is home this weekend and I've taken full advantage.

I've mauled him (slightly)

and lovingly placed all his dirty clothes in my washer (one load at a time of course)

I've handed him pizza on a silver platter and bought him his favorite pop to go with it.

Bear dropped a bombshell.

He is planning to come home next semester.

Live at our home and attend a university that he can commute to.

Wow... Bear is coming home.

He says he's tired of being broke.

And while he's happy to have had the away from home college experience he is over it.

He wants to be back where the toilet paper rolls are never ending, good food abounds, and the maid service is top notch.

Is this some kind of cruel joke....?

(PS...Bear if you are reading this I am beyond thrilled that you are coming home, I've missed you more than I've learned to enjoy the empty nest...much, much more. xoxo)

Thursday, November 10, 2011

It's Ters-day....

If you say "gullible" slowly it sounds like "oranges"... try it.

May your cat not pee on your covers, may you not get into a car accident and total your very favorite car, may your intestines not hurt and may you have a very wonderful Ters-day.

(Confidential to Marmie... no, I did not get into a car accident and total my favorite car, my stomach is doing pretty all right..However, the cat is peeing on the bed and seeing as she is 19 years old I'm figuring she has gone totally senile and her time here on this Earth is short... I'm worried about the cat's ma, please send me some of your best mothering advice.. thanks, love ya xoxoxo)

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Sunrise, sunset...

and another shift of the sands of time...

and my loveable load of loveables is growing by the boy...

boys boys boys and a few more boys.

This mix could be one of the oddest yet.

Cocky.... immature braggarts.

Last week I was in a van with one who reeked of "boy"... (if you have a brother or a son, you know exactly the "reek" I am referring to)... he chattered incessantly about the proper way to "jump railroad tracks"... and about the self-done (quite infected) "Bomb" tattoo that covers most of his hand....

"It's not really all that important" he says.

"The tattoo, or the health and future of your hand?" I ask...

and roll my eyes and grit my teeth

some days I really do not like these children...

I chalk my crabbiness up to a mancold that I've been valiantly battling for almost 10 days...

(the mancold has so been so fierce that it forced me to wake (at 3am) a very, very sleepy Daddio for a ride to the ER a couple of nights ago... there, they made me a Priority Two... in other words, a lack of oxygen is really, truly no big deal... next time, I swear I vow to plunge a screwdriver directly into my nasal cavity and hopefully... oh never mind, I'm just being dramatic...)

I can proudly say that I only missed one day of work...

But I should have stayed home yesterday too....

No one likes to be nicknamed Typhoid Mary...

xoxo...cough cough sniffle sniffle

Friday, November 4, 2011


The young female loveable that I wrote about a couple of posts ago came to school yesterday with her long chestnut brown hair hanging, she usually wears it up.. so I took note, and complimented her.

At lunch, when she turned sideways to grab something I noticed marks on her neck.

Hickeys, g-d hickeys...

Well, the boyfriend's back and obviously he currently finds her good enough...


stupid stupid stupid...

When I lean in to take a closer peek at her neck she demurely tucks her chin to her chest so that her hair covers the marks.

"Wow... looks like you got bit..? Halloween mishap...? Clearly there must be some truth in that vampire literature all you chicklets like to read...?"

She refuses to be pulled into my nonsense.

And her look of shame makes me feel the same for teasing her.

Later, she and I are alone in the kitchen washing some things... always a good time to talk with a teen, face to face creeps them out.

"Soooo, is your boyfriend back...?" I ask, careful not to judge with my tone.

She nods yes.

(You may remember him as the idiot that has a small son that he has dumped on my young loveable and her family, the one that is out sowing his wild oats as others take care of his responsibility... you can read about that foolish fool no good for nuthin here )

Before I can say more she says...

"I have a friend who has a boyfriend that treats her like crap.  He goes out on her, tells her she's fat, just a real douchebag. I tell her all the time that he's not good enough for her and she needs to see other people...  from the outside I see how bad he is to her, she seems like it doesn't matter though, as long as she sometimes has him..."

she bowed her head and continued...

"I get it Beth, I do"....

My heart just about broke in half...

Damn it all to freakin hell...

How can it be so clear....
and yet so unclear...?

She is sooooo worth "saving" from her own worst ememy... but why do I feel so alone in that sentiment?


Wednesday, November 2, 2011


Today would have been my baby brother's 48th birthday...

48... geeze that's nearly a crusty old man...

If there is an upside to an early untimely death it certainly would be that one is forever young.

Forever handsome and strong.

Forever loved.

Forever missed.

Until we meet again I'm sure he'll be busy thinking of some kind of special warm welcome "home" kind of like the one posted below....

Happy birthday to the biggest practical joker I ever met... xoxoxoxo

(PS... sorry that you had to be redirected to Youtube, it seems in order to "borrow" one of their videos you must endure their advertising..that really stinks (to high heaven).