Posts from the ‘Miscellaneous Ramblings’ Category

My “Forever Teenager”

Lego-Darth-Vader vs. Aragorn

After a little hiatus on the whole blogging thing, I’m baaaacckkk! A lousy computer and a fall filled with tragedies and illness somewhat subdued my funny bone for a short period of time.   But, alas, you can’t keep a loud mouth restrained for too long and my need to vent overcomes all obstacles! 

I’ve dedicated this blog to my Forever Teenager.  Got one? Well, I do, as does every woman with a significant male other in her life. Yes, a Forever Teenager that we seem to have adopted along the way in the guise of partner, spouse or boyfriend.  If there is one thing I have learned in my short (or long, depending on the day) 42 years it is that men never really grow up.  Oh, you women know what I’m talking about. 

I added fuel to the fire by marrying a man 7 years my junior.  Yes, he was 24 and sporting a Ricky Martin “do” when we met.  While I like to think that I accept people as they are and for who they are…..that hair do just had to go!  Really, what self-respecting 31-year-old would date a man with black hair and blond streaks? In hindsight, it was a foreshadowing of the child in the man that would slowly exert itself over the course of our relationship. 

But it all starts off as quite endearing, doesn’t it?  They draw us in with that boyish charm.  Somehow we love the childishness in them and thinking back, I can’t for the life of me figure out why.  Somehow they are just so darned cute! in that boyishly mischievous way.  However, after a couple of years of morning breath and flatulence that charming boyishness seems so much less…charming.  

Oh, I knew that my future  husband loved all things Star Wars when we met.  What I didn’t realize was that eventually we would have a room dedicated strictly to housing his Stars Wars and Lord of the Rings memorabilia.

How many of you still have spouses that gather together in groups of 3 or 4 every now and then to pull out their role-playing games or Playstations? (check)

Or still have to find ways of “encouraging” the men in your life to participate in the daily rituals of house cleaning or child rearing? (check)

Or still have to wipe them up off the floor after the annual sports gathering activities? (check, check) – okay, okay, he wiped me up off the floor after my office Christmas party so I guess it’s only fair I do the same for him on ocassion.

I really believe, for men, the draw to having children is the excuse to revert back into their former, true selves and immerse themselves again and without consequence into the world ever lasting childhood.   I admit, there is nothing better than watching my husband rough house on the ground with our children and listen to the ensuing laughter.  There is no better sound on Earth.

I guess there is some consolation in that, when the children grow up and leave the nest,  I will never ever really be giving up all my children to the big bad world.  I will always have my Forever Teenager.


A Little Reflection Maybe

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Well, seeing as I am all about the whole keeping it real thing, I decided I just had to go back to my original entry “Aw C’mon People It’s All In Good Fun” and revamp a few things.   

After a little retrospection and discussions with a friend of mine, who is uniquely equipped in his ability to not allow circumstances to influence how he is going to feel in any given moment of any given day, I have come to the conclusion that I just may not be the positive person that I thought I was. Depending on your definition of positivity that is. Maybe optimistic would be a better word to describe me.  I believe in the goodness of the human spirit, in Karma and see the world as a generally wonderous place.  However, on a day-to-day basis? Sometimes life just sucks.  Not usually, but sometimes it really just does and I don’t understand the hesitation in the admittance of that fact. Is the effort required to be positive (as in never admitting to having a bad day or expressing that you are having a bad day) really sustainable?  To me, it’s not. You see, I have children.  I lack the time and frankly thanks to my physical and mental exhaustion, the ability and inclination for the self-indulgence required for that level of insight.  Three other little people who lack any control over their own emotions  depend on me entirely for their own happiness.  So my days are taken up managing other people’s emotions and there is little time left over for managing my own.   

I guess I now struggle with the meaning of being positive.  I do like to find the humour in everything that I can.  Humour in the trials and tribulations we as parents experience every day.  I also like to complain about it.  For me, in doing so, I am facing my emotions head on and can then leave them in the old garbage heap spent and powerless over me.  Emotions open doors for us, provide us with insight and wisdom, draw out our insecurities for reflection and can provide us with hours of entertainment.  By allowing our emotions the leeway to be experienced and expressed we are freeing ourselves from their control over us and breaking the confines of restraint.   Happiness is fleeting.  It comes and goes a hundred times a day.  True and sustained happiness is unattainable but contentment, now THAT is a worthwhile accomplishment for even in the toughest of times you can maintain contentment and it will bring you a peace and harmony that no amount of happiness could.  Not that I’m not up for a little happiness and don’t strive to have it in my life but maintaining it is a real bugger!  Nope, I’ll take contentment any time over happiness.  Simply put, it’s just more realistic and honestly, much more satisfying.  

I take a risk when I write these blogs.  You are all seeing my inner most self and many are going to judge, disagree with or ridicule.  But that’s okay maybe I will learn a little more about myself (as in the shocking revelation that I am not the positive person I thought I was), maybe you will learn a little more about yourself.  In the end, it is a journey (as corny as that may sound).  I’ll take my lumps and my grumps as part of this tremendous experience I call life.  If we are lucky, we have that one person in our life who we trust implicitly. We know without doubt that no matter what we say or do we will always be accepted by them.  We could expose our deepest darkest selves, insecurities and fears to them and know that they would stay by our side without judgement… know who you are out there…I see you and I’m grateful for you.  

So, I continue to opt for reality.  That way when I get hit over the head with a shovel, I’ll understand its just a shovel, not a dump truck.  And I’ll take a little banter now and then, a good debate,  and a whole lot of passion. 

Arachnophobia – Alive and Well in My World

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WHAT? Viagra? Whose little Brainstorm was THAT?

viagra is a commercial produced medicine conta...

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Just when we women thought we had a little something to look forward to in our old age (namely, impudence) some scientist had to ruin it all and come up with a little pill called Viagra. On top of that they keep coming up with other products to stimulate the whole romp in the bed thing. Did anybody ever think to ask US whether or not we wanted some drug to put our men back on the prowl? We women really don’t need any more encouragement for our men, thank you very much.

Really, we were doing just fine before that little brainstorm. Why couldn’t they have come up with something a little more useful? I would have much preferred the invention of an automatic laundry folder.

Nothing personal here guys but really after we’ve popped out the kids and are now relegated to spending our days cleaning up somebody else’s bodily functions on little to no sleep, sex is the furthest thing from our minds. Look, the deed is done and the mission is accomplished so we can shut down the factory and clamp up the pipes!

It’s just another something somebody wants from us, another mess to clean up after and another obstacle in our pursuit of an early night. You just KNOW it wasn’t a woman who invented this little product.

Let’s implore these scientists to start working towards something a little more in line with what we women want. If we have to stimulate anything, can we stimulate the use of laundry baskets? Maybe we can develop a drug that would encourage cleaning???? Or, a little something we can slip in their evening beer that would “de-stimulate”.

Really, where were we women in the thought process of this product? Oh yeah, we were cooking, cleaning, changing diapers, breaking up fights, doing laundry, making lunches, helping with homework, chauffuering to various events, volunteering at school and out of school activities, making Dr. and dentist appointments, scheduling haircuts and cleaning up dog poo. Whew! I feel like a little activity in the love den now…..NOT!

A Finger Full of Poo!

... is going to sting a little when he's bring...

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Anybody who has  children knows what I ‘m talking about…a quick check in the diaper and EWWWWW….a FINGER FULL of POO!  Yep.  Stick your finger in anybody else’s business and your likely to get a finger full of poo!  Maybe not as stinky but maybe a whole lot more sticky! But, the question remains. When DO you stick your finger down someone else’s backside? It may not be appropriate but I admit I’d take a peek down Brad Pitt’s back-end any time!  And, when do you just maybe hand them a wet wipe or two? 

What if someone is trying to get into YOUR back-end?? …”hee, hee, Mom, really, I can take care of my own back plumbing” or hang a “Do Not Enter” sign?     

I guess there is the chance that your finger could emerge victoriously clean but there’s always that risk isn’t there? For a finger full of poo.     

It really just boils down to this, if you aren’t prepared to get a finger full a poo, keep your fingers to yourself.    

Awww, C’mon People, its all in Good Fun!

Smile 12 a

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Don’t you think that everybody takes things a little too seriously?  Can’t someone be entitled to a bad day without somebody else saying “hey, it could be better”.  Of course it could be better but when you are in the throes of a bad day the last thing you need is someone trying to diminish or invalidate your feelings.   

Why are we so against expressing ourselves?  I’m all for positivity. Anybody who knows me knows that I am generally a very positive person.  My last boss of 7 years said he’d never seen me have a bad day.  I am a happy person with a good outlook on life.  I like almost everybody…hmmm…come to think of it I can’t off-hand think of anybody that I really, truly dislike (unless I’ve forgotten him….um, I mean them).  But, let’s admit it here, life is life and turd occurs! I have a sarcastic sense of humour and really don’t shy away from conflict.  I believe in spiritual advancement, self-improvement, peace and all that lovey dovey crap.  Really I do! I love Elisabeth Lesser, want to attend a spiritual retreat and hope to someday master the art of meditation.  But, if someone tells me they never have a bad day…well…Bull@#$@!.  And if I’m having a bad day and you tell me to think of those little children in Africa with the flies in their eyes I won’t say it but you can bet I’m thinking of something with an “….  Off” at the end of it. I truly believe that I’m a positive person BECAUSE of my ability to express myself and find humour in my experiences. Nothing stays harboured in this miniscule chest of mine (there just isn’t enough room in there).  I get it out and I’m done with it.  It’s really quite freeing – you should try it.  Starting right here, right now in my comment box!  

I just want to be clear here, I do not mean putting down, criticising or judging others.  I am referring only to my own life, making fun of or complaining about MY experiences.  

So I complain, yep I said it, I complain and I LIKE it!  It’s great to express yourself and c’mon people it’s all in good fun. So relax everybody, enjoy the ride.  Have a glass of wine, or sparkling water and enjoy a little bitchiness now and then.  You’ll walk away feeling like you’ve released those bottled up emotions, connected with someone who understands how you feel and don’t need to feel ashamed because *GASP* you are human with human emotions.  Let the emotions wash over you and then you can be done with them, plant a smile on your face and walk away.  

Why Didn’t Somebody Tell Me?

Confused or disgusted?

Image by San Diego Shooter via Flickr

I have a beef! *Gasp* me? have a beef? Who’da thunk?

Yes, yes I do have a few beefs.  One of them is Why Didn’t Somebody Tell Me?  That’s a very broad beef actually because there are a lot of things I wish somebody would have told me starting from the ripe old age of 12 or so. Oh, we were told the basics. Starting with how that cranky old Mother Nature would be cursing us every month.  Nobody told us though just how annoying over the years she would become and how in later years what a blessing her little monthly gift would be…but that’s for another post… so tune back in for THAT little conversation.  And, we were well-informed as to the basics in the whole sex education thing.  For years though I heard speculations of the big mighty “O” (and I don’t mean Oprah).  “What the heck is that?” I remember thinking and “How do I get one?”  Took me YEARS to figure out what the fuss was all about and then one day WHOA!! And I thought to myself “Why Didn’t Somebody Tell Me??!!”

You grow up in ignorant bliss with the idea that life will turn out to be this wonderous fairytale.  Happy marriage, happy kids, happy life.  Nobody tells you that life is full of curveballs and no matter how hard you plan or organize your life it will likely end up entirely different from what you ever anticipated.  Ah, but I digress.

I remember being pregnant with my daughter and thinking “Why didn’t Somebody tell me?” when I started growing body hair in strange places and had uncontrollable flatulence that no amount bum squeezing could hold off.

Never in a million years did I think my life would entail wiping somebody else’s ass, picking somebody else’s nose and cleaning out somebody’s else’s earwax.  Really, I should have known but it just never really crossed my mind.

Why didn’t somebody tell me that by the time I turned 40 if they stripped me down naked and left me in the woods I could have easily been mistaken for Mrs. Sasquatch? What’s with this hair?

Why didn’t somebody tell me that the little black whiskers on Aunt Edith’s chin (not her real name) weren’t always there? That someday they just might be appearing on my own chiny chin chin?


If there are any more “little surprises” coming my way I really hope that somebody tells me.

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