Good Bye Aunt Harriett

Today I said good-bye to my aunt Harriett. She lived a long, healthy, happy live. I would love to have half the adventures she had. She had  the most wonderful marriage to the love of her life,  and lived each day to the fullest. She was 92-years-old. It's only been the last few months that she hasn't felt well. She actually wore high heels up until she broke her hip five years ago. She didn't break her hip wearing heals, she broke it taking a picture of the flowers she got on her birthday. Harriett loved to talk. She would talk and talk, then cover her mouth and say, "Oh my, I'm talking too much", but then continue on talking. Her and her husband, Johnny, truly adored each other. Maybe it was because she talked so much, or because she said anything that popped into her head, but she always had knew what to say. When I lost babies, she told me, "It is the most horrible thing in the world. You'll never get over it." Then went on to tell me about the times she lost her newborn babies.It wasn't the politically correct thing to say. It really isn't something I would tell a grieving mother, but it did make me feel better. I realized it could have been worse (even though saying "it could be worse," really is the worst thing you can say), and I'll probably never get over it, but like her I can go on to live a happy live. When my mom died she said, "It's unfair that you are too young. It'll take a long time until it gets better, if ever." At the time I thought 'wow- thanks Harriett', but she was right. You just learn to live on. She was a living example of how you can't let tragedy define you. Nothing slowed her down. A few weeks before she died, she told me she was hoping to go to my cousin's wedding. I think it was a hint that she wanted me to take her. Harriett had something to say about everything, and could to relate to anything you are talking about. She worked at Hornbacher's for years in the meat department, usually handing out samples, and telling people what kind of meat and how much to serve for guests. That is actually kind-of funny, because Harriett always made the same amount of food whether she's cooking for three, or twenty. I bet there were a lot of hungry guests in Moorhead back in the day. When I started working at Hornbacher's, she was thrilled I was at her old stomping grounds, and I knew a lot of the same people. One of the people she knew was 'Alice'. Alice was a sweet, little old lady who gave out meat samples and always washed her dishes in the deli, where I worked. Actually, she didn't wash the dishes, one of us working did it for her as she talked to us. We all thought she was this sweet, tiny lady who couldn't even reach into the bottom of the sink. We loved when Alice came because she would tell us college kids how proud our parents must be and how wonderful we are. One Thanksgiving, Harriett asked me if I knew Alice. I got all excited because I loved Alice, I said, "Yes! She is so sweet!" Harriett replied in her normal tone, "Oh how I hate that woman." It was hilarious. I didn't think Harriett could hate anyone, and it was funny how calmly she said it. Turns out this woman would "steal" all of the good shifts from Harriett, and she would tell the person making the schedule that Harriett wanted her to. When I told Harriett Scott and I were going on a cruise for our honeymoon, she said, "Well I hope that lady doesn't crawl in bed with your guys like she did with Johnny and me." As if there is a lady living on the ship who goes around slipping into bed with people. I have many wonderful memories of her. In the past year, I've lost two uncles, a grandma and Harriett. I cried the night my grandma died, just because things should have been different my whole life with her- it was more out of anger. I cried a little at her funeral, because it reminded me so much of mom's funeral. At my uncles' I was sad. But Harriett's death has hit me the hardest. Of everyone who died, she was the closest. I'll miss her stories, her compliments, her nurturing, her funny ways, and her engaging personality. As she would say, "It'll take a long time to get over it."

Being a "Home Maker" is Hard

You know those women who "have it all"? They have perfect, clean children who wear matching clothes, a blissful marriage, an immaculate house, they plan, cook, and serve delicious meals every day, teach Sunday School, and workout, have perfect teeth, all while weighing 105 pounds, and dressing like a model. Why can't I do that? I must say, I do have perfect children, although they aren't always clean, and their clothes rarely match. My house is never clean, and I am far from 105 pounds. I think I took the advice I heard when I was pregnant with Noah too seriously, "You can be the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect teacher, or the perfect house keeper/cook. Pick one and let the rest take care of itself." Or "Don't clean your house while your kids are little, it's like shoveling when it's still snowing." Or "When you are on your deathbed, you'll never say you wished you spent more time working (well it was either working, or working out- I took it as working out)." The piece of advice I could have taken too seriously could have been, "Make sure you take time to do something for yourself every day." Or "If you can't answer the question,'what do you do for fun daily?' something is terribly wrong." The last two came from my therapist. But now I get bitch-be-gone pills, so I shouldn't have to have fun, or time to myself to be happy. Cooking, cleaning, working out, getting braces and a whitening procedure should by all means make me ecstatic. The last piece of wisdom I got wasn't exactly advice, but a keen observation, "Sara. You are a terrible cook." It was always OK with me to not be the "woman who has it all", and be happy to ignore my imperfections. However, as I look around, EVERYONE is the woman who "has it all" except me. I'm just a frumpy, old, fat, boring, bad housewife with crocked, yellow teeth with a cavity. I used to think, they just APPEAR to be the woman who "has it all", and there is some aspect of their life that is not perfect. Nope. Now I know, they really are perfect, and I am damn jealous. So this week I decided to fake being perfect and the woman who has it all. On Monday I worked all day, making money- that's a good thing. Tuesday I stripped wallpaper until my arm was about to fall off. Wednesday I decided to organize all of my recipes, make a monthly menu of delicious and nutritious meals for supper. The menu includes two brand new recipes each week, no take-outs, and ALL meals including preparation and at least seven ingredients. On Wednesday I also went to the store to get a brace for my sore wrist, got home, realized I bought it for my RIGHT hand and I needed it for my LEFT, so I had to take it back. The cashier was a dumb-$hit. He wasn't going to let me have an even exchange, but after a ten minute discussion with the store manager he finally did, but refused to give me a receipt. I was perfect woman who has it all during that time because I wore make-up to the store, something I didn't think I needed before, but have been told maybe I should start wearing more last week. I matched, and I didn't have one mean or impatient thought. I went to two different grocery stores looking for the "Sunmart broccoli cashew salad" because it WAS on the Wednesday menu, so I better find it or make it. On Thursday I literally cleaned all damn day long. On Friday I spent the day shopping for the month's worth of recipes, as well as cooking to freeze meals to pop in the oven once school starts. I also made appointments, registered the kids for school, bought some school supplies, got an estimate for a new fence, and looked into finding three places to call about siding on Monday. I still have to finish the wallpaper, paint the entryway, the big wall in the upstairs living room, paint both bathrooms, the entire downstairs entertainment area, hallway, and my bedroom. School starts in 17 days. I can't "have it all" now, what will I do when school starts? I haven't even started laundry yet. I've been in the kitchen making all of these nutritious and delicious meals, so I spend at least an hour a day cleaning the kitchen. Speaking of the wonderful meals, I literally sat at the table tonight getting more and more mad with tears in my eyes because I made roasted garlic potatoes (I had to learn how to press garlic in order to get "fresh minced"), corn on the cob, and baked chicken that I marinated for half of the day. No one mentioned how delicious my meal was. I had to sit on my hands to avoid throwing the damn chicken across the room. I think just to make me more mad, the grown-up child even had the nerve to mention my need to lose weight.
This week I have not gone into the pool once, read my book, or watched any TV- even at night because the grown-up child at my house refuses to watch anything that remotely interests me, so I work on the dumb wall. I go to bed exhausted, and get up at 7:00, because the same grown-up thinks the dogs should be locked in the kitchen so they can bark and bark and bark and bark because he's awake.  Did I "have it all" this week? Defiantly more than any other week. Ethan wasn't always clean, but I can only nag him for so long. I didn't work-out, or weigh 105 pounds. I still have snaggly, yellow teeth with a cavity, and a crappy wardrobe, but I totally did the "house-wife" stuff. Why can't I do it? Seriously? Everyone else has their act together. I find it really hard. Cooking isn't worth the taste of the food, and it certainly isn't worth having to spend so much time cleaning up. I spent the whole day cleaning on Thursday, by Friday morning it needed it again. My house is NEVER clean and I have to keep it up by myself. I don't want to teach Sunday School. I teach Monday- Friday, why would I want to do it for free on Sunday too? Would the mailman deliver the mail for free on Sundays? No, and I would never expect him to. I secretly thinks he doesn't deliver it on Saturday either, and he just takes the it home until Monday. I don't want to work out, first of all, when would I have time? I literally only sit down when I eat my damn cooking. Also, working out isn't fun. And I'm tired. There goes the 105 pound dream, and the "non- frumpy" clothing. I can't afford braces. I'll be lucky to get my cavity filled before I go broke buying those little flossing picks to pick the stupid food out of my teeth. Food was never a big part of my life- but being the "woman with it all"- it is a major theme and I don't like it. Everyone else who "has it all" is blissfully happy. Why is it so hard, and makes me so sad? Am I just lazy? All I think of is, "Maybe tomorrow I can go in the pool, or read, or nap." But I know I can't. I have to do laundry, finish the DAMN WALL, and of course COOK, and clean. I swear, there must be some "mess up and dirty the house fairy" that stops by each night. My mom was a happy home-maker. Sure, I made supper every night (maybe the reason I hate cooking) from the age of 11 until I moved out, but she made two other big meals a day, plus baked a cake, bars and two batches of cookies each week for the 3:00 meal. I vacuumed, cleaned the bathrooms, did laundry and took out the garbage every Saturday while looking for the blue handled scissors, but she kept the house clean during the week. Her house was so clean you could eat off the floors. Today as I unpacked the dishwasher I realized my plates aren't even clean enough to eat off of.  So, if any of you know how I can "have it all" and be happy, please let me know. I need to be let in on the secret. During the week, I also spent a lot of time thinking about what it meant to "have it all" when I was little. Louise Jefferson from the "Jefferson's" had it all. She didn't work outside the house. She had Florence doing all of the cleaning, cooking, ironing and shopping. She was far from 105 pounds, but George loved her just the way she was. She probably wore dentures, and was drunk most of the time, but it didn't matter because she wore sparkly dresses. Back in the 80's we felt bad for the mom's (Alice and One Day at a Time) who had to work outside the home. We never expected them to cook, let alone clean, have perfect children, and a perfect body. When will society go back to the good ol' days of thinkin' ? Maybe I was just born in the wrong generation.

My Trip to the Doctor

I went to the doctor the other day because I got hives while visiting my brother in Nebraska. Not a big fan of Nebraska, my brother, Paul, told me I was allergic to Nebraska, or their water. My hives were way worse after a shower, so maybe Paul had a point. I also had terrible heartburn. I've only had heartburn once and that was while suffering a bad hang-over from poisoned beer and a night of eating deep-fried pickles. Apparently I rolled the dice with my digestive track and lost. While leaving Nebraska I was sure I'd get better. I didn't. If anything it was worse. When I got home I made an appointment to see my doctor-  which was set for a week and a day later. I assured the receptionist I was going crazy and she put me on the "cancellation list" as well as ordered a psych eval. I learned not to tell people in the medical profession that "I am going crazy and it is an insanely short trip". So I waited my week and a day and went to the doctor. Unfortunately, my hives were gone. Even after a hot shower. I went in with the nurse. I was weighed, had my blood pressure and temperature taken. Then she asked, "Have you gained weight in the last 6 months?" I'm thinking, 'You have my records in front of you smart-ass.'  "Do you take your medication regularly?" 'Duh. I didn't run out the door crying when you weighed me, or yelled when you rubbed it in by asking if I gained weight. I kept my mean thoughts in my head now.'  "Do you feel safe in your home?" 'Why? Is there a bugler? a gas leak? a tiger? An evil step mother?' I expected her to ask again if I take my medication. "Do you menstruate?" REALLY?? 'I am in my 30's. Do I look THAT old?' "Do you know what caused your hives?" 'No. I was hoping you would. If I knew, I'd stop using it.'  Turns out it was something I ate. The hives stay in your system for 14 days and I probably had hives in my throat causing heartburn. Or it's all old age. My left wrist and right shoulder hurt, but I wanted to tackle one problem at a time. Stay tuned for my next blog called, "You know those women who have it all? The perfect marriage, perfect kids, cook nutritional delicious meals three times a day, has an immaculate house, several friends, and a full-time job, all while weighing 105 pounds? Well, I wish I could get some of them to do stuff for me."

Old People

I ran into a mean old lady at the grocery store today. Actually she ran into me- literally. I was at the check-out, using my patience, because the "new guy" can't find the UPC codes as quickly as the veterans and this old lady came down the checker aisle at me and ran into me HARD with her cart. I thought, 'oh, old people can't judge distance- she didn't mean to', so I half smiled at her. She gave me a dirty look and said, "What the hell are you smilin' at? Pay for your damn groceries and get the hell out of my way!" Seriously? If it were a kid talking like that I'd say, "Do you kiss your grandma with that dirty mouth?" But this WAS grandma! I have old aunts, I had an old grandma, they would NEVER do that. Now I'll probably have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder like I do when I go to Target. One time when I was at Target pregnant with Ethan and had Noah in the cart I said, "Excuse me" to a crazy lady who left her cart parked in the middle of the laundry soap aisle, and she yelled, "You're RUDE!" Everyone stared at me and my poor child and my pregnant belly and thought 'great- rude people SHOULD pro-create.' Since then I never say "excuse me" (especially in Target) if someone is in the way. I just sit and wait for them to move. Now I'll have to bring body armor for the left side of my body when I go to CashWise. I understand if she's just generally crabby. She probably has aches and pains, can't see well, hear well, get around well, and is hot. But I didn't order the weather! Why take it out on me? I have hives, heartburn, itchy foot, sprained wrist, sore shoulder, and I'm hot, but I didn't yell at her. Mean old lady. I bet she was a mean lady before she was old. She needs a cat. Old ladies who collect cats are not mean at all. Crazy? Maybe. Never mean.  

Thoughts I think:  If trees could scream, would we be so careless about cutting them down? I think we might,  especially if they screamed all the time without a good reason. 

Commercials

Since I'm home for the the summer I've been watching more TV.  I've found some disturbing commercials. The worst is the one for Vagisil. The woman in the commercial says, "Who knew your period and sex can change the pH balance in your vagina?" She goes on to tell the viewers they can use Vagisil for their itchy vagina. Really? REALLY. I don't want my 9-year-old thinking about periods, sex or vaginas. That is exactly why I canceled Showtime. Every time that commercial comes I stare straight ahead as in deep thought, or more likely, pretend to be sleeping because I can feel Ethan staring at me wondering what a period has to do with itching, sex and vaginas. I dodged the bullet for a month, but finally today I didn't bring on my fake narcolepsy quickly enough and I got a "Mom, I don't get that commercial." I just shrugged and muttered "Me either." They should change the commercial to a woman sitting on a bench squirming, reaching into her purse for some Vagisil, then sitting comfortably on the bench. Does the general public need to know their pH balance causes itchiness? No. Also, if you don't know why she's squirming on the bench, you either don't have a vagina, or you don't need Vagisil. 

The second worse is a couple sitting naked in a bathtub in the woods for Viagra. "There comes a time in all men's lives where they need a little extra help. Get some Viagra" and apparently get it on in a bathtub in the woods. Which, by the way would make the woman need some Vagisil.  It also shows inappropriate public displays of affection with his partner. Really? I'd be like, "Just because you took a pill, you can't all of a sudden get all handy because it suits you all of a sudden." Once again, I feel Ethan staring at me wondering 'What do men need help with? Carrying the bathtub back to the bathroom?' Both of these commercials are on the Animal Planet station! That's a kids station. What's next? Condom commercials on the Disney Channel? 

My third least favorite is the one for Pillow Pets that light up. It shows toddlers and preschoolers running to their rooms to sleep. Seriously? It's totally lying to parents, especially sleep deprived parents who are more eager to fall for their brain-washing. The commercial shows the kids in bed with the light up Pillow Pet that shines stars and a big face of the pet on the wall. Ethan said he wouldn't fall asleep because he'd want to stay awake to look at the stars. I said I wouldn't go to sleep because if I did, the ladybug on the wall will eat me. Why don't they show the REAL scenario from behind the scenes when shooting the commercial. The toddler yells, "MOMMMY! The lion will eat me." Mom removes the lion. Toddler wants a drink, then to go to the bathroom, then another story, then to be tucked in again, then ONE more hug, then the dumb stuffed animal which doubles as a pillow. Mom brings it back. "MoMMMy! I don't like the lions mane. It's itchy." Mom brings in some Vagisil... See the glow-in-the-dark pillow pet just add to the madness of bedtime. 

Thoughts that I Think"

I have proof drinking beer is much more fun than exercising. No one at the gym has ever been told at the end of the night, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." 

Strapped For Cash? Try Cat Whispering

During the past week, I have been stripping wallpaper. It turns out it isn't as exotic and fun as it sounds. I even tried to make it into a little game by rewarding myself with a beer after each two foot strip removed. It worked for two days, then I realized I could drink beer whenever I wanted and I wouldn't have the sore wrist and shoulder. As I was stripping the wallpaper I thought, "I need a summer hobby. Perhaps becoming a cat whisperer." I've been watching this show on TV called Dogs in the City which is about a guy in New York who counsels people about what to do with their out of control dogs. I was thinking about the show when I came up with the best idea ever. What if I did Cats in the City- the city being the metropolis of Fargo-Moorhead. I toyed with the idea of being a pet psychic for years, but that would imply I'd be willing to work with any pet, which would be untrue. I don't like birds, they are evil flying rats. Obviously I don't like mice or rats. Or any type or rodent actually. They are rodents. They want to gnaw on things and climb. I'd have to tell the owners, "Your rat is worried he will become snake food. Or have to wear mascara in his eyes." I also don't like ferrets which are really weasels. They smell bad and are sneaky. Don't even get me started on snakes. I wouldn't even come within 500 yards of them. So basically, the only pets I'd work with are cats, dogs, fish, (pet fish-not lake fish) and rabbits. Therefore, I came up with my idea of cat whispering. All you'd have to do is tell the owners what they want to hear, or what is painfully obvious. Costumer- "Boots cries when I leave." I'd tell them, "Boots tells me she misses you terribly during the day. Is there any way you can work from home, or buy her a cat sill so she can look outside?" Costumer- "Fluffy hisses at my new boyfriend.." I would say, "Fluffy doesn't like to share your attention," or if I wanted to mess with them I'd say, "Fluffy is very perceptive and knows this guy is not for you." Costumer- "Tabby doesn't like the new baby, kitten, dog, etc..." I would say, "Tabby tells me she wanted to be an only child." Costumer- "Sassy keeps hiding." Me- "Sassy hides because that is not his real name, and TOM doesn't like when you dress him up in pink baby sleepers." I would even let people communicate with their dead cats, "I'm getting the felling Muffin is with us now. Muffin tells me he is in a better place. It's the cat lady's house down the block. He eats liver and tuna for every meal. Muffin also wants you to know it wasn't him who kept peeing in the laundry basket- it was the dog. Oh and he wants you to give me a big tip." See I would totally be a natural! 

Thoughts that I think: People who go camping must like to pretend they are homeless.  

My Pets

Well I took all three dogs to the vet. Actually Sam got to go by himself two weeks before the other two because he had an ear infection. Abby was not a fan of this plan. She pouted and punished us by hiding for three days for not bringing her along. Sam was very well behaved, and our estimated "16 pound dog" (so says the liquor store dog peddler) is really 48 pounds. I have a student who weighs less than him. He had his check-up, shots and other than the ear infection, he's perfectly healthy. He was scared of the kitten peeking around the corner and he had to hide behind me though. Who would have thought the free-liquor-store dog would be the best behaved, and most healthy? I brought Max and Abby to the vet last week. Abby was not a good puppy. She whined, peed on the floor, and carried on. She is a whopping 17.5 pounds. Since she is suppose to be closer to 12 pounds, she's quite over-weight. Her teeth are awful. She has to be knocked out to get them cleaned, x-rayed and some pulled. She also has cataracts. Not to self- Before buying a dog that costs more than the house and car payment added together, you should really do your homework and find out the parent's health. But hey- we don't even know WHAT Sam's parents were and he's healthy as a horse! Abby-is sicker than a...well- dog. So poor Abby has to go on a diet, and get her teeth cleaned. Max was pretty well behaved. He just wanted to hide under my chair and wouldn't take the treat from the vet, "My mama says don't take treats from strangers" says Maxie. He's over-weight too. He is 21.3 pounds and he should be 16. Poor Maxie. He also has to be knocked out and have his teeth cleaned too, but not pulled thank goodness. So, for three days I had the dogs on a diet. They got three cups of food, and given 15 minutes to eat in the morning and 15 to eat for supper. Usually they get four cups of food to graze on all day. The food rationing was NOT a good idea. Apparently you shouldn't put dogs who can catch their own food on a diet. Sam caught a bird. By the time we realized it, only feet and head were left. Now I have to treat them all for worms. I should have known better. When Sammy was less than a year old, he caught a squirrel and brought it into the house and dropped it at my feet- then ran to hide when I screamed bloody murder. That same summer he caught a bird and carried it around the back-yard as if it were some great prize.

 "I thought you were done with that pizza. "

"I too drunk to exercise mama"

"Pick me! Pick ME!"

This morning Maxie peed IN my school bag. I wonder if it's his way of telling me he hates the sight of that bag- it means he'll be locked up and lonely for 8 hours, or he was sick of me paying too much attention to the books in it and not enough attention to him.

Thoughts I think: "This is the most flattering, comfortable bra." Said no woman. Ever.