Talkin' Bout My Generation
Hmmm. Interesting. Seems that it’s acceptable to have your mid-life crisis in your 20’s. I was under the impression that we had to earn that? A little more roaming around Wikipedia turned up something I found a lot more interesting: Generation X - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia . I had long been confused as to whether I was a Baby Boomer or Gen X’er. As it turns out I could be both as well as being a 13th Generation. The description of a 13th Generation seems pretty broad but also pretty accurate for people in my age bracket. 13th Generation folks are defined by six influences that help make us who we are, they are:
- Readily-accessible birth control
- Legalization of abortion on demand
- Increase in divorce
- Increase in mothers in the work place
- The Zero Population movement
- "Devil-child films"
Scouts Honor?
Of course, the ending to this story is a happy one. He was found, unharmed. Hallelujah! A positive end to our otherwise negative world. But today as read the details of his rescue and interviews with searchers and his family I was left shaking my head…
The headline of the story on my homepage www.charter.net read:
Survivor Scout Didn't Want to Be Camping
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 10:38 AM EDT
The Associated Press
By ESTES THOMPSON
A little puzzled I began to read and to my surprise found out the little boy had wandered off in an effort to make his way back to the main road and hitch-hike home because he didn’t want to be camping. This account from the article:
He said Michael had been reluctant to go on the trip. The boy had asked his dad if he would give him $5 if he didn't have a good time. Auberry said he assured him that if he wasn't happy on the trip, they would do something fun together the next day.
WHAT??? Ok I can see making your children stick with a sport or hobby until the season or term is over, I’m all for that. I can even see the benefits of The Boy Scouts of America, my son was also a member. But making a child attend an activity he clearly didn’t want to participate in? That I don’t understand. Another disturbing admission from the Father went like this:
"He was homesick," said his father, Kent Auberry. "He started walking, and at one point when he was walking he thought maybe he'd walk as far as the road and hitchhike home."
"We're going to have our lectures about hitchhiking again," the father said. "We've had them in the past, but with a special vigor, we'll go over that again with Michael."
WHAT??? It’s 2007 in the United States of America and you as a parent haven’t scared the bejeezus out of your children about hitch-hiking, vigor included?
Yes, in the beginning my heart ached for this boy’s parents, but I didn’t know then that they knew the kid didn’t want to be there. I bet they didn’t sleep 2 hours between them while he was missing, I know I sure wouldn’t have.
In the end the boy is home, safe and sound. I just pray that if there are other parents out there faced with this same situation they might think back to the four sleepless nights the Auberry’s endured.
Your take?
Feels Like The First Time
With the impending arrival of my very first grandchild I’ve been thinking back to how I felt as a first time parent at almost the same exact age my daughter is. I swore some years back that I’d never fall into the trap my parents (and most others) did; becoming a cliché quoting idiot. But I have. It just doesn’t seem possible that it’s been nearly 21 years. I can remember my Daddy saying, “you’ll soon blink your eyes and you’ll be 40” and I don’t think I ever thought of him being more full of crap than I did when he’d say something like that. But he wasn’t even close, it was more like half-of-a-blink-of-an-eye .
I’ve been thinking a lot about my first few months as a new Mother. My husband worked second shift and we only had one car. Me and Jade were left home for most of the afternoon and evening without a vehicle, which wasn’t all that bad since we lived in the same small town all my family did. But it wasn’t the same as having a car at your disposal anytime I wanted. We had only one television. It had a 10 inch screen, and it the picture was black & white. It had been my sister’s when I lived at home, she’d loaned it to us when I moved out. I’ll never forget the look on the cable guy’s face the day he came to hook up our service. Yes, we had a tiny black & white TV and we had cable. The converter box was nearly as big as the set!
My daughter was allergic to every milk known to man, this in and of itself made new motherhood borderline unbearable. When she finally was given a formula she could tolerate it made life a whole lot easier on all of us. We could finally begin to have a routine. When her Father would leave for work we’d busy ourselves about the house. I say ‘we’ because I carried her with me everywhere I went. I’d give her the first bath of the day in the early afternoon and I’d watch General Hospital while she napped…I think watching soap opera’s must be a rite of passage for most new, young mothers. When she woke up I’d usually do some laundry or clean up the kitchen. She watched my every move from her ‘Kanga*Rock*A*Roo: a fancy name for an infant seat that rocked back and forth. One of her favorite pastimes was sitting in the kitchen floor gazing into the open refrigerator. I discovered this strictly by accident. When I realized she was so completely content doing this it became a daily activity. Of course I’d have to bundle her up because of the cold air escaping from the fridge. The images in that appliance would soothe her at times when nothing else would. Funny how we accidentally discover these lifesavers, huh?
Some days passed like years, others like minutes. Much like our own lives. There were times when I didn’t think she’d ever be independent and not so needy and now she’s about to accept that same parental responsibility for herself. When we talk about these times I sometimes stop, mid-sentence, and laugh to myself expecting any minute for me to break into the story of how many miles I had to walk to school when I was a kid, barefoot.
I simply cannot wait for Bailey to be here. My eyes fill with tears when I think about the adventure my baby is about to embark upon. I’ve made a promise to myself as of late, I am trying not to focus on how quickly the time goes by because I know she sees me as being as full of crap as I did with my own parents, but rather to enjoy each and every minute of the journey. It does no good to try and explain to her how quickly it will be over, she’d never believe me. I plan on relishing every second I have with this child, perhaps this is what makes being a grandparent so special!
Sunday
It is a glorious day here in East Tennessee. Well it’s gloriously beautiful, not nearly as warm as I’d like it to be, but sunshine galore! I hope it’s as beautiful where you are.
I just put a coconut cake in the oven for the hubby. First attempt with this recipe but will attest that the batter is the best tasting stuff…EVER! I should aspire to be more like Rosie and post pics of my creations, but wait, that would mean I’d need a digital camera, lol. No. I still haven’t bought one.
When I was making the cake I had to rummage through the cupboards to find my favorite Pyrex mixing bowl. I don’t make cakes or frostings in anything else. Blocking my way was the most useless piece of Tupperware known to man. It’s this ‘huge as Asia’ plastic mixing bowl. What the hell would you mix in a 48 cup bowl? I mean really. I got this bowl when I sold Tupperware many moons ago and outside of being great for holding popcorn the thing does nothing but takes up space. Forget about putting it in the dishwasher, unless of course that’s the only thing you have going on the bottom rack! I did use it once for a pot-luck dinner, I’d made a double batch of banana pudding. I really thought the bowl would be the perfect size, but even with double the ingredients the vessel was barely half full.
I’ve had horrid nightmares for the last two nights, thanks to the medication I take for my Restless Leg Syndrome. It really makes all my dreams very vivid. The one last night had a man-eating Irish setter in it (kind of fitting for a late St. Patrick’s Day dream, huh). He had human-esque teeth and he would growl and flash them at me. Then he tried to get inside my car. I was happy this Cujo theme didn’t carry on all night long!
Cake Update: The timer just sounded. It’s not even close to being done in the middle yet the rest of it looks almost overdone. *sigh* I really dislike getting my hopes up with a new recipe. Maybe it will taste ok? Guess I shouldn’t get in any hurry to get that digital cam, huh?
Memory Lane, Take Four!
Milk of Magnesia Overdose 02.16.05 (12:07 pm) [edit]
Strange title for a post huh? Well as I sat here thinking about my sick children at home, a funny(ok maybe not so funny) memory came to me. After I had my daughter I went home before she did because of hospital remodeling and there was a shortage of beds. She had jaundice and required 'light therapy' to bring down her bilirubin levels. I was 21 and scared to death. But after much reassurance from the staff I left her and went to my Mother's house. I was told that I would have to have a bowel movement before I could be released, but in all the hustle of the discharging process nobody ever made sure I did that. I didn't.The afternoon I got home a nurse from the hosptial called and said she'd been reviewing my discharge orders and saw that I had in fact not had a documented bowel movement. Busted! I really didn't see what the big deal was, I mean I figured it was only a matter of time. I couldn't have been more wrong. Each morning and afternoon my Mother and I would make the trek to the hospital to feed Jade. Three days after I'd come home I was really becoming 'uncomfortable'. I'll spare you all the gory details, but the internal plumbing hadn't been working in well over a week. My Mother called the Obstetrician and his nurse suggested a mild laxative like Milk of Magnesia.
I went to the drug store and bought my intestinal Drain-O. The directions said to take 4 to 8 pills initally. My logic was that most people had not been 'stopped up' as long as I had and since the directions did say not to take more than 12 per day, I went ahead and took 14. Hey the box says it's gentle and effective, I just wanted to speed the process up a bit. That afternoon we were on our way to feed the baby. Halfway there a jolting pain in my abdomen occured. Within minutes my brow was covered in a cold sweat! 3 miles from the hosptial I was crying and clenching my fists. My Mother kept saying, "Oh you're gonna make it don't worry!" All the while I knew in my heart I had overdosed on a laxative and this was my body's way of saving it'self. Finally at the hospital, I bolted out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. I shudder to think of how I must have looked trying to run, remember I'd had a baby less than a week before.I did make it to the restroom, and upon entering the stall promptly cleared it of all living things. It was an agonizing 20 minutes. I apologized to every woman that came in, through my tears of shame I told of my little girl here in the hosptial and my bowel dilemma. I just wanted to crawl off and die somewhere. From that day on everything concerning the plumbing was fine. I never took another Milk of Magnesia tablet!
Today as my poor kids run back and forth to the restroom I certainly can sympathize with them!
STicky Situation
- Women who pee all over the toilet seat and leave it!
- Folks who blow their noses in the middle of the restaurant instead of excusing themselves to the restroom!
- Spitters!
I’m sure that last one raised a few eyebrows. No, I’m not talking about that kind of a spitter, I’m talking about men (and I’m not being biased but I’ve yet to actually see a woman do it, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen) who spit wherever they see fit.
I’m acutely aware of this disgusting habit because I live with two very disgusting teenagers. I see men of every age, color, and economic background spit. In parking lots, on the city walking track, at the city park, just about everywhere. I’m left wondering if the male mouth can only accommodate a certain amount of saliva? Is this the reason the male species finds it perfectly acceptable to ‘hock a loogie’ anywhere their hearts desire?
Nothing infuriates me more than getting out of my car at the mall and taking two steps right into the middle of a fresh pile of phlegm…well, maybe, stepping into a giant wad of bubble gum. It’s just downright nasty, and it’s unsanitary. Granted I’ve had few occasions to actually lick the parking lot but just the mere act is unsanitary.
Are there any men that could possibly shed some light on this for me? I’ve asked my sons and husband why they do it and the typical response is a shrug of their shoulders and a primal grunt of some sort.
So I’ve come to you, the blogging community…
Crappy Day
I am just so frickin frustrated.
I love my job. I hate my job.
My faith is being tested by the second. Feels like things are just spinning out of control. Why can't you reason with some people?
It's just a tad maddening--is that spelled right? I don't even have the energy to look it up.
Sprung!
The wind here is gusting constantly at about 25 mph. You can feel ‘Spring’ smack you in the face every time you walk outside. The sky is a beautiful azure with just a sprinkling of feathery white clouds. A glorious day.
But not a day to care about your appearance, well namely, your hair. I spent the late morning and early afternoon doing some errands. Each time I got out of the car was like stepping directly into a wind tunnel. By the time I looked like a very well worn ‘troll doll’- possibly worse!
The trees are budding and the daffodils are in full glory. Mother Nature is in the process of waking her children and I couldn’t be happier. So go ahead Mr. March, just roar your way right on in here, we’re ready for ya.
To my neighbors North of here who are still battling the evil winter, I hope you get to feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair very soon.
Memory Lane Take III
Here we go again. This post made me laugh so I thought I'd throw it in for good measure, i.e. I'm REALLY busy at work and home and just haven't had time to sit down and be creative.
If I Were...
Rich...I'd never shave my legs again. I'm not sure if I'd have them waxed--that looks really painful--or electrolysis, but I'd do something. If I were really rich I'd hire someone to shave them for me!
Taller...I'd be almost 100% happy with my appearance.
Blonde...I'd be the smartest one EVER, or atleast pretend to be.
25 again...I'd plan more for the future.
30 again...I'd love every minute of it!
Male...I'd NEVER pee in the floor, or on the shower, or all over the toilet...
Famous...I'd wear designer clothes all the time...even to the market.
A Telemarketer...I would suck at my job. I used to be nice and let them finish their little speech, now, I just hang up as soon as I know it's solicitation.
Realist...I'd refrain from using my work time to blog and avoid that end of the week rush to get things done, heh!
Yesterday morning I was listening to my fav DJ's on the way to work here One of the dj's absolutely despises NASCAR (much like I do) and was cracking on the 'sport'--a local had called in with a few ideas of how NASCAR would be more appealing. Here's what I can remember of the list:
- Every 100 miles each driver must stop, turn around and drive in the opposite direction.
- Stoplights
- Instead of having pit stops, when you blow a tire you must stop exactly where you are and change the tire, much like you'd have to do in the real world.
- Every 15th lap a new competitor joins the race, the new entrant would be an 83 year old man driving a Buick LeSabre.
- Instead of the very modified versions of race cars that are used today, each driver would have to drive a Ford or Chevy right off the lot!
