Monday, August 26, 2013

.... Just "Mom"



 

 Today, as I sent my "baby" (youngest of four) off to her first day of middle school and was told there would be "no more kisses in front of friends" and that she didn't "need" me anymore to take her to the bus stop, My broken heart came to the stark realization that...

 My once innocent world of Disney princesses, arts & crafts and bedtime stories has now been replaced with boys, name brand clothes, hair coloring and belly button piercings. I have no "first day of school" pictures to post on Facebook because I am no longer "allowed" to take those kinds of pictures because its "gay, stupid and dumb". Where I was once begged to go on field trips, I am now forbidden to show my face within a 20 mile radius of the school.  I no longer pack lunches with Smiley face I love you notes", I put money into their "lunch account". I will have no more homemade Mother's Day gifts, stick figure pictures on the fridge or hand picked dandelions withering from the clench of small, sweaty hands. And probably the most hardest one of all to swallow.....I am no longer "Mommy", I am now just "Mom".

 As my other kids passed this milestone, I was sad, but it didn't bother me as much because I was excited for them to take that next step and I still had others that were little, so I still had all of those things to look forward to. 
But this time it's different. This time its truly a Game Changer.


 This year will be the first year that no one in my house believes in Santa.  As much as I have longed for this day of not having to shop in secret, hide everything I buy, try to guess exactly which Pokemon cards we "don't" already have (because Santa would know those things), wrap presents at 2 am, or frantically search on line and pay $450,000 for overnight shipping on a Cinderella Castle Playset because someone told Santa 3 days before Christmas that was the ONLY thing she really wanted, I will miss the magic that goes along with having believers. I will miss making reindeer food, taking bites out of cookies and drinking half glasses of milk left for Santa. I will miss reading sweet notes to Santa promising him that they have been good and the excitement of the anticipation of his arrival.  I will miss the 5 am tap of little fingers on my forehead to wake me up because "SANTA WAS HERE!"


 When my kids were "little", people always told me "Oh, enjoy it while it lasts...." I would look at them with my blood shot, no sleep eyes, mashed cookie in my hair,  snot all over my worn for 2 days shirt and think "Are you F-ing kidding me?" At the time, I DID realize what they were saying but I didn't really "GET IT" until now. 

 Looking back at pictures I see those sweet cherub faces that have now grown long and thin, I see those tiny chicklet teeth that now need braces, I see those cute rounded bodies that have now grown tall and muscular and I see those dear little chubby hands that used to reach up to hold mine to cross the street that now have enough dexterity to text 5,800 texts/per month. 

 Don't get me wrong, I am so proud of the beautiful, caring, smart, wonderful people my children are growing into, but man, what I wouldn't give to have one of my babies with that "fresh out of the tub" smell, tucked in their footy PJ's, crawl into my lap with her favorite book, put her sweet little hands on either side of my face, look me directly in my eyes and say "Mommy, I lubb you to the uniberse and back!" one more time. 


 So, to all of my friends with little ones who are reading this now with your bloodshot, no sleep eyes, mashed cookies in your hair, and snot all over your worn for 2 days shirt, listen to me when I say...."Oh, enjoy it while it lasts...!" Because someday soon the magic will be gone and you will be just..."Mom".

Friday, April 26, 2013

The "C" Word....One Year Later......



It’s hard to believe it’s been 1 year since my Mom’s cancer diagnosis. It seems like yesterday, yet seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes it’s hard to wrap your brain around the concept of time when you are so busy with life, so many things you take for granted, so much time wasted on stupid, menial things and before you know it, it’s a year later.  So much has happened in this past year, but the day of the diagnosis sticks in your head like a bad song you can’t shake off and remains there, poking it’s head out every now and then to remind you it’s there, to remind you that NOTHING is promised in this life. The funny thing is… LIFE DOES GO ON, without promises and regardless of anything….life goes on.
When something tragic happens, everyone slows down for a bit and it feels like the world has stopped, but it hasn’t, life continues on around it. The day of the Sandy Hook shootings and for weeks after, it felt like the world stopped, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I cried, I was angry, I was glued to the television, I empathized with every one of those parents, I grieved with those parents. I pictured myself being one of those parents, what would I be thinking at that moment? Would I sit in my child’s room and cling to anything that smelled like them and sob and sob and sob? Would I be suicidal? Would I just not care about anything or anyone anymore and just want to die , myself? Did they have to see their children in the morgue? How could they let them go? Ugh, I tortured myself to tears daily. The day of the Boston Marathon bombings, I did the same. I watched them take down the remaining suspect and I cheered that they caught him. I wanted them to destroy him for what he did to those innocent people. But life didn’t stand still for any of the surviving victims/families of those tragedies.  Those Sandy Hook parents still had to take care of their other children, eat, sleep, go back to work. The injured Boston Marathon victims still have a long road ahead, to heal, to learn to live life in a totally different way, mentally and physically. And the families of those killed have to suffer a loss like no other.  In the weeks and months after a tragedy like this happens, the world eventually stops talking about it, but the victims don’t stop thinking about it, they never will. It will keep poking itself in their thoughts, reminding them that nothing is promised in this life.  
I am what is called an “absorber”, always have been, which I have come to learn is a bad thing. I absorb the problems of others as if they were my own and it affects me very deeply. I guess in some ways it’s a good thing, because I do believe it has taught me compassion and empathy which are two very important qualities to have as a nurse. However, it deeply affects my emotions and at times leaves me paralyzed, finding it very difficult to continue on with daily activities. My grandmother (who I got my “worrying” genes from) once told me when I was terribly saddened by something that happened to someone else, “Steffi, it’s not your cross to bear, you will have your own crosses, save your energy for your own crosses”. Her words are right, but it’s a hard trait to shake.
My Mom’s cancer has been one of my crosses to bear. Not only because I love her and I don’t want to lose her, but because I feel so badly for her to have to go through all she has with this diagnosis. Cancer is mean. It robs your looks, your health, your emotions and your general enjoyment of life, if you survive it. Even if you beat it, it always lingers in the corner of your thoughts taunting you that it could come back and that it will always be a part of your life. I HATE CANCER! I hate it like I hate the shooter at Sandy hook, like I hate the Boston Marathon bombers, like I hate anyone or anything that robs someone of something and gives them no choice but to think about it every single day of their lives. I HATE IT!!
I could dwell on my hated of cancer forever, but it would eat me alive and I refuse to let it do that. I will try and look at things through my Mom’s eyes, who even  after multiple surgeries, infections, medications (some requiring bone scans and blood work to even be able to take) and more “procedures” than I can even remember, still always sees the glass half full, not half empty like me. I am trying to focus on the positive things that have come out of this year. Like the amazing friends and family we have that came out of the woodwork to support my Mom in this journey to fight this bastard. We walked in the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk last October as Team Jody’s Jugs with the most wonderful group of family and friends anyone could ever ask for supporting us. We raised $4,667.68, which was 16th place out of 347 teams. It’s actually an incredible amount considering the only teams that raised more than us were large organizations. So, in light of the amazing generosity and support I have seen from the wonderful people in my life, I will try and focus not on my hatred of cancer but on continuing to support my Mom in her FIGHT AGAINST cancer.  I will be proud of both of us because this 1 year anniversary also marks the 1 year anniversary of us quitting smoking (with the exception of a drunken slip up here and there with my favorite Hooka’s). Anyone who knows me knows THAT is an accomplishment of a lifetime for me. And I will also try to stop being an “absorber”, unless it’s to absorb some of my Mom’s positive outlook on life. I will try and look at all of this in a positive manner, be grateful for the closer friendships I have formed from it and I will try and learn something from it because life will continue to go on, without promises and regardless of anything. As my Mom said to my gasping reaction to her when she was looking at revealing bathing suits to show off her new Boobies, “ I am using this experience as a chance to reinvent myself”.  Go Mama Go!!


Thursday, January 24, 2013

True Love



What is True Love? When asked that question most people envision a young vibrant couple walking hand in hand through a park with their whole lives ahead of them, unable to keep their hands off of each other, planning a future together, with smiles and excitement, with an electrical physical attraction. You can almost see the love bubbles popping in the air. But I have come to realize, during a very sad time, through the eyes of my grandparents, it is so, so much more. It is about a bond that is formed when sharing this journey of life with someone. It is about all the experiences, good and bad, that you march through, together, hand in hand.  It’s not about physical attraction, sex, money, materialistic gifts or romance. It is about the most pure, unconditional, deepest feelings about another human being that generates from the depths of your soul.

This week I watched as my feeble (sometimes confused) 95 year old grandfather approached my gravely ill grandmother’s hospital bed. Their eyes met and no words needed to be spoken. There was a stronger communication there then words could ever accomplish. I watched as he gently took her hand in his.  I looked at those hands, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece and thought of all the things those hands have experienced together. Those hands first met and held each other almost 70 years ago when my grandfather came home from the war and had to break the news to my grandmother that her fiancé (my grandfather’s brother) had been killed in WWII. At that time, those hands held each other through comfort and mutual grieving. From that moment forward, those hands went on to hold each other through a first date, walks in the park, sharing a soda at the church dance, marriage vows, building their own house together brick by brick, sickness, happiness, financial woes, the death of their parents and siblings and the birth of their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Those hands held each other through excitement and sadness, through trials and tribulations, through grieving and loss and through happiness for 70 years. No wonder they fit together like a perfect puzzle piece, they have been molded together by true love.

We tend to lose sight of what is truly valuable in life. We are caught up in this busy world of technology and media brainwash of what your life “should be” and what you “need” to be happy and what a “happy marriage” consists of. For Christ sake, there are books, magazines and psychologists that get paid money to tell you these things. But none of those things matter, really. What really matters is having someone in your life to share your experiences with. Someone to stand by you regardless of what your hair looks like or how much weight you’ve gained, just that one person who has experienced it all with you to be there to hold your hand when you need it.

We have always given my grandfather a hard time because he’s not the most romantic guy in the world. He never splurged on lavish gifts for my grandmother or romantic dinners; he has always been very practical. His Idea of a gift is putting new handles on the pots and pans and shining them up to make it easier for her to cook. But while we gave him a hard time, we were missing the fact that he really has given her the most romantic gift of all…. True, unconditional, devotional love. My grandparents have never been apart more than 1 night 1 time in almost 70 years and that one night he called her all night telling her how much he missed her and their family. Everything in their lives, they have done together. They share everything together and there is nothing they hide from each other (well, except the occasional $20 she slips in a grandchild’s hand on the down low).  :)

As I watch them both near the end of their lives I can’t help but be in awe of this true love I see before me. This true love that no hospital tubes and wires could ever come between, This true love that doesn’t need to be spoken through words or gifts, This true love that just “IS”. I hope that my grandmother recovers and that they can spend more days and nights together in their home that they built together with those beautiful hands and be able to use those hands together to help another great Grandchild reach for the cookie jar.  But no matter what, I am so happy to have been able to be a part of this life with them and to see the magic of what true love really is. I can almost see the love bubbles popping in the air……

Monday, January 21, 2013

Yoga Pants and Hair-Dos!


 
 
 
Joe and I went out for some sushi yesterday. There was a group of six young women  who walked into the restaurant at different times to meet each other for lunch. The first one walked in and she was wearing a short sweater, yoga pants and boots to her knee. The second one walked in and she was wearing a short sweater, yoga pants and boots to her knees, the third one walked in and she had decided to change it up a bit by sporting a pair of Uggs. Fourth one comes in; short colorful top (not a sweater) a pair of yoga pants and boots to her knee, Fifth and sixth to enter shorty thereafter… exact same thing, sweater, yoga pants, boots  except one of the last two to enter got the memo from her other friend to TRY and be a little different and join her in wearing her Uggs!

 Now I don’t have  a problem with the look.  I think it’s great, but if I were to walk into a restaurant to meet 6 of my friends and I was above the age of 10 (when we all went through that phase with your BFF where you wore the same things, yeah, ugh, I would like to forget that phase)   and we all had on the exact same outfit, I would feel like a fool!

 I have noticed with the young women of today that they have very little variety of style. Not much thought or creativity when putting an outfit together. I know when I was a young woman   I wore all kinds of stuff and if you wore the same thing I would get upset and have to get something else or change mine somehow. We ripped things, we bleached things we all shopped at different stores or put our own spin on the more common things.   It was a proud moment when a friend said, wow, you look great, cool outfit, because nobody else had it!

 As women we tend to have more options today as far as style in clothing. We also have more money than our younger counterparts, paired with the Internet, so we can really get different looks. I still like the younger styles and I love the high boot trend right now. I love that I can wear a different look every day. Today I have thin corduroys  on with a super bright poncho. Yesterday I wore jeans with a skull shirt ( which had some bedazzling going on) and shiny Doc Marten type boots. The day before, mini skirt, high boots and a sweater ( I can’t wear yoga pants cuz….BIG ASS)! You get my point, I have a variety of styles I change up.

 As women in our late thirties early forties, we fall into the yoga pant, sweater, high boot scenario with our HAIR!   I went to get my hair done Saturday, which is what I think started all of this examining of today’s looks.  I wanted something different. I thought of LA and all the beautiful styles in clothing, glasses, sunglasses, shoes and hair that men and women have out there. When I went to visit my son the fashion was the first thing I noticed and loved (we are very conservative here in Delaware and that’s being generous). I have that same look 90% of us have, the worn out Jennifer Aniston look. I have it longer (well I went shorter not too long ago, but it is getting longer again) with some highlights and that long, sometimes a bit shorter, hanging bang thing swooped to one side over one eye. Hell, I put less mascara on that right eye sometimes because half the time it is covered with my super swoop bang! We all dress a bit differently  when we go out but we trade the yoga pants for hair! The only real difference in our hair style  is shades of color and which side you have it hanging towards!

I wasn’t very brave in my quest for change. I did not get a cut because of the letting it grow out thing, but I did change up the highlights/color. I Went from a medium brown with gold highlights to a deep auburn shade with some lighter auburn highlights. I was afraid to go too drastic and figured each visit I will work my way up to a new and dramatic shade, but I was disappointed in myself for lacking the courage to just go for it, like I would have when I was younger.
 
I guess we all conform to some degree, but it is a shame because we are able to really wear anything we want. We have access to everything and anything, all different eras of clothing from all over the world. It is all out there and when you think of the possibilities we have and don’t take advantage of, we are nuts!
 
 I almost forgot about this blog until I started ranting, and my ranting became too long for my status update so I decided to open this Blog thing back up for a day!
 
AllieMac'Gina
 

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The "C" word......


And no, I’m not talking about THAT word. The word you think I am referring to can have lots of meanings; female genitalia; the idiot that cut you off on the highway;  your ex wife/ex  girlfriend etc., etc.  That word has never bothered me, it’s just a slang word that is used to be hurtful or raunchy. The word I’m talking about is the most powerful word in the English language and has one meaning and one meaning only. And when spoken out of the mouth of a doctor directed at you or someone you love has the power to literally change your life in a matter of seconds, forever. Your entire world, as you know it, changes in those few seconds.  Things flash in your mind, things you never even thought about thinking before.  You are then shuffled like beer bottles in a factory down (what seems like) a never ending conveyor belt of tests,  xrays,  MRI’s, biopsies, blood work, and Doctor appointments. You are expected to make critical decisions about things you have not the slightest idea about. You hear people talking but you can’t make out what they are saying. All that is going on in your head is that word “CANCER”.
                We all take life for granted. There is not one person that doesn’t.  And anyone who tells me they don’t, I will call a Liar, because if we didn’t take life for granted we would spend every minute of every day curled up in a fetal position, under our warm fuzzy blanket, in a closet, terrified of what could happen today. Walking out your front door, you could be hit by a falling tree. Standing in your front yard an out of control car could run over you. So many things could happen and any given moment and if we didn’t take life for granted and continue on with our lives we would be paralyzed with fear and be in that closet with fuzzy warm blankets where we thought we were safe….until we realize that a plane could fall out of the sky and land on our house…It could happen.  
                I am a nurse. I worked as a trauma nurse for 12 years.  I have a little more insight than most about the freakish things that could happen. Because of that, I have tried to live my life by not taking it for granted. I have tried to be thankful for everything I have. I figure, I may not have much, but I have a wonderful family/friends and I love my children more than anything on this earth and I am thankful for all of them. When my daughter broke her arm falling off a zipline, I was thankful that she only broke her arm and not her neck. Whenever something doesn’t go right in my life, I try and look at it from the perspective that “It could be worse, look at the poor people who have had to bury a child, or the people who have to send their loved one off to war not knowing if they will ever come back again, I can deal with this (whatever the “this” may be at the time)”.  When some idiot cuts me off and I swerve out of the way from being smashed in a car accident, I am thankful I was able to swerve and not have been in the accident. No matter how conscious I am about trying not to take the world for granted, I still do, Everyday.  I wake up, get ready, put my kids on the bus, go out the door to start my day. If I didn’t take it for granted, I would be a basket case every day worrying about the school bus crashing on the way to school with my kids in it, or worrying about a plane smashing through my house when I went back home to fill up my coffee before work, or worrying everyday about the possibility of someone I deeply love being diagnosed with cancer. We don’t worry about those things, because we don’t want to be that person in the closet in a fetal position with fuzzy blankets. We just want life to go on as it is, without any worries.  But when one of those worries is handed to you on a silver platter, you realize how it absolutely changes EVERYTHING!!!
                My Mother, my best friend, my hero, raised us as a single mother (back in the days when single mothers weren’t popular). My Father left when I was six and my brother was 2, we didn’t see him much and he never paid child support. When I was 12 he disappeared and never came back.  My mother raised two children completely on her own, sometimes working two/three jobs at a time to support us (back when women didn’t make as much money as men, because they were women).  She taught me that there was “NOTHING I couldn’t do as long as I put my mind to it and did my best”. She taught me how to fix household appliances,  move heavy furniture, change spark plugs in cars, carry heavy air conditioner window units from the basement to the second floor without any help from any one, stand up for myself, and that it was more important to be a kind, caring, generous person, than it was to be right. She has supported every decision I ever made, most of which she knew were wrong, but also knew that I needed to learn it for myself, because that was the only way to truly learn it. Then she was there to dry my tears and pick up my pieces when those decisions didn’t turn out so well. She truly is my best friend. She has been through everything with me, including the birth of my children, and has now become my children’s best friend.
Two weeks ago a doctor spit out the “C” word when talking about my Mom.  That powerful word that changes your whole life. That word that I NEVER wanted to hear in the same sentence as my mom’s name. That word that I took for granted every day, and if It did somehow try to slip into my thoughts, I refused to let it in so I wouldn’t end up in a fetal position with warm fuzzy blankets in my closet.  It’s strange, actually, how it all happened….. I had a mammogram done a few weeks ago. On a Friday, I received a letter stating that my mammogram was abnormal and that I needed to contact my doctor immediately to arrange for further testing. I was a mess, terrified that I had the “C” word. My mother rushed to my side, hugged me and bought me “don’t worry about your boobies gifts” over the weekend. Yet, she worried about me all to herself, begging the higher power to let it be her and not me.  My follow up appointment was on Tuesday. My mom INSISTED she go with me. She refused to take no for an answer.  She figured while she was there, she would just get her mammogram over with too, because she knew she was late. She has been taking care of my elderly grandparents for the last few years and all of her time is spent running them back and forth to appointments and running errands for them, cooking and cleaning and doing their laundry, so she hasn’t taken care of herself.  So there we sat, best friends in our “boobie gowns”, laughing, cracking jokes, trying to take the stress off of what my results were going to be. My AWESOME friend, Kathy (who is worthy of a whole other blog just to make it clear how awesome she is), did my tests and gave us the all clear, I WAS FINE!!! Yay!! My Mom and I were so happy. Relief! We waited for her results, but they were running behind. So they told us they would call the next day. We thought “Ok, I’m sure it’s fine, we just got great news that mine was good, what are the chances that hers would be abnormal?” They called the next day, told her it was abnormal and that she needed to come back in. So, “here we go again”, we thought, thinking it was going to be the same outcome as mine. Matter of fact we had the whole day planned out, we would go get the test, then go to lunch, then go shopping. …That’s NOT how the day went, at all….. After her tests, we were told they found something very serious. The next thing I knew, we had spent all day at the hospital being herded like cattle from test to test and were sitting in a surgeons office being told my Mom, my BFF, my hero had the “C” word. As soon as he said the word, I could not understand anything else. His voice was no longer comprehensible, it sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher’s voice.  I was worthless at that moment, as a daughter and especially as a nurse.  I watched as my always brave, always stoic, always humorous mother turned to stone. She just stared straight ahead. I knew what she was thinking, not only were we just told she had breast cancer, but one of her biggest fears lied ahead, she would have to get a chest xray. My mother (and I)is (was) a smoker. It was her only vice. She had a very rough life and She never drank, never did drugs, but she smoked. She tried to quit many times, with no success. I worry about her all the time and wished she would quit, but who was I to complain? I was a smoker too. About a month ago I decided to quit, mostly because I was worried about her and her chronic cough she’s had for months. I begged her to go to the doctor, but she refused, worrying they would do a chest xray and tell her she had lung cancer. It was always her biggest fear, so she lived in the “What I don’t know, won’t hurt me” mode. So, I figured the only way to get her to quit was if I quit with her. We both tried, but fell off the wagon. Now, with all this whirlwind of breast cancer, she had no choice but to face her biggest fear. My mother has NEVER been afraid of anything in her life. I’ve watched her walk around a dark, quiet house with a baseball bat when we thought we had a burglar many times, Every year I watch her go on the highest roller coaster at Hershey Park because the kids want her to, I’ve seen her pick up snakes barehanded out of her garden and let them go into the woods, but the fact that she knew she had no choice but to have a chest xray took all the life out of her beautiful face.  As we walked from the surgeon’s office to the xray department, I held my shit together, holding her hand, telling her “It’s ok, we will get through this, whatever it is, we will get through it together”.  When they finally took her back, I lost my shit. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I was never so afraid of anything in my life. And knowing how afraid she was, made me all the more afraid. She came out sooner than I was expecting and caught me crying. She then went into “Mom” mode and apologized for “her having to upset me like this”. She was apologizing to me! Hugging me and telling me how sorry she was that this made me so sad. That’s my Mom, that’s the kind of person she is. On the drive home she told me, she wasn’t worried about the breast cancer, she was worried about lung cancer. I made a deal with her that the minute we got the results from her chest xray back that we would quit smoking, together. She agreed.
I have always waxed and waned about my belief system and what exactly I do believe in. So, I’ve never been one to take a stand on or against religion or have anything to say about anyone else and what they believed.  I always liked to believe that everything happens for a reason and that there is some sort of higher power, but when I see children being sexually abused, murdered or dying of horrible diseases while suffering, it kind of takes the ‘everything happens for a reason’ possibility out of the mix for me, because what purpose could that serve and what reason could that possibly have? Anyway, I told my mom that if her chest xray was good, that we were given a second chance and that maybe this was our wake up call to quit smoking. I prayed to everything and anything that I thought was out there, begging them to please let it not be lung cancer too. I promised to quit smoking and to make my Mom quit smoking if they could just let it NOT be lung Cancer. Here I was, begging for it to only be Breast cancer. Sounds crazy, but I know my Mom would fight breast cancer. Lung cancer was her kryptonite and I knew that would be the end of her if they said THAT “C” word, she would give up.
Luckily, we received good news that her chest xray was clear. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. And we both quit smoking!! 1 week and 4 days, So far. We will never go back, but it is hard, especially when we are still dealing with her having Breast Cancer.  We met with the doctor today and all came to a decision that my mom will have a mastectomy. We have a long road ahead. I realize that we all have to face the reality that our parents will die before us and that it’s part of life, I realize that I am lucky to have had mom my around for as long as I have, and I realize that other people face far worse problems than me, But I was just not ready to let my Mom go just yet. She’s only 64, has finally retired and able to enjoy herself from a life long journey of working hard and taking care of everyone else.  I want as many years as I possibly can with her and for my children to learn what an amazing, strong wonderful woman she is. I will stand by her every step of this journey to fight the “C” word, but I will call it “CANCER” because I refuse to be afraid of that word and I refuse to let that word destroy my family. I will be strong for my Mom and I will remind her of her own words to me “There’s nothing you can’t do if you set your mind to it and try your best.”  I’d like to say we will kick cancers ass, I don’t know if we will or not, but we will give it our best shot. We will fight it with everything we have and we will do it together, me and my BFF.
I’m not sure exactly why I wrote this. Maybe to get it off my chest, maybe to put it somewhere other than my head. I don’t know, I just sat down and wrote it. Some people may have something to say about me putting my feelings and family’s medical problems out there for the world to see. But anyone who knows me, knows that I am what you see. I have no secrets, no hidden skeletons in my closet. I wear my heart on my sleeve, I always have (which could possibly explain my 3 marriages- but that’s another blog for another time).  I have no problem with people knowing about my personal life, because that’s what makes me, me. My Mom taught me that too. ;)
 I do want to thank all my wonderful, supportive, loving friends for all the texts, posts, inboxes, emails and phone calls through all this. Anyone who has ever met my mom fell in love with her, so I thank you all for caring so much about her, and about me. I have the best family and friends in the world! Thank you all! And as much as I want to go to the closet in a fetal position with a warm fuzzy blanket, we will keep fighting, we will carry on, trying not to take life for granted, and be thankful for everything we have. Peace out, my friends!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Joke of the Moment


After a wonderful Thanksgiving with the people I love and a great weekend, I am feeling generous and uncharacteristically kind and loving. As a result, I want you to be as happy as I am at this moment so I am going to share a simple joke that made me laugh REALLY, REALLY loud (Thankfully the staff here is used to my sudden outburtsts of laughter and they shake their heads and move on) Anyway, I am sharing it with anyone else who likes simple stuff and might need a good laugh today.

Little Susie goes home from school and tells her mom that the boys keep asking her to do cartwheels, because she's very good at them.

Mom said, " You should say no - they only want to look at your undies."

Susie said, " I know they do; that's why I hide them in my backpack.

HA!

Luv ya,
AllieMac'Gina

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Women and Bathrooms

Men always ask...."Why do women go to the ladies room together?" I am one of those women. I like company, and I like people around me at all times, maybe that is why I do it. I do not ask someone to go with me when I am at home or at a friends house, wouldn't even think of it. It is only when I am at a public place.

When I am out, I will gladly escort you, or ask you to go with me to the ladies room. I have never been jumped in a bathroom, nor have I ever had my head flushed in the toilet. I have no bathroom phobias. I was working on a bathroom calendar with photos of me and facebook friends in local bathrooms last year, so I clearly like them. I have had my ass submerged on more than one occasion, when a man has left the seat up, I don't mind, just saves me the trouble of bathing that day. There is no clear reason for this behavior on my part and I am not afraid to go alone

Men, in case you aren't sure how it works, we converse over the enclosed stalls. If there is more than one stall, we all go and continue our conversation as if we are on the phone. If there is one stall, we still continue the conversation, like we are on a phone, but just take turns in the stall. (I giggle when there is someone and they pee really really fast, it is like a crazy pee, like someone is in a great big hurry and it is so loud, it makes me laugh, just sayin) When we are all finished, we continue to wash our hands, fix our hair, apply lipstick and occasionally try each others makeup and stuff. We usually do all of this without skipping a beat in our conversation. We then exit the bathroom, and continue on with our evening.

The downside....Sometimes I have to wait forever for a bathroom, because of this behavior. I hate it when I am solo, and have to wait in a line. I wait and wait, and then three women come out. You know what they were doing, and it would have gone much faster if they just went in alone. But we do it. I find that i don't do this as much as I used to when I was younger. I do find myself texting when I am alone in a bathroom or I check my facebook. HA. Maybe technology is changing this behavior as well. I would hate to think I might just be growing up.

Oh, and in case you care about any of this, I think that men don't do it because they have no stalls. We can go to the bathroom together, but still have privacy in our own little stall. Men would have to look at each other, while holding themselves, and they just aren't secure enough for that.

That is all, until we meet in a ladies room...

Luv ya,
AllieMac'Gina