HERE’S YOUR SIGN

Before we get started, I just wanted to let out a big WOOT! for President Clinton who negotiated the pardon and release of Laura Ling and Euna Lee.

I’m lazy out of new material really busy tired on hiatus this week so I’m posting some reruns of the early SMB posts that were never read by anyone but my family. This was one of my favorites. This was my third blog post.

THE SIGNS WERE THERE – I just didn’t read them. (originally posted 8/5/08)

I have friends that freak out over birthdays. Surprisingly many are men. Birthdays have never really bothered me. I’ve always enjoyed them. I’m for anything that includes a party and cake. I guess I have been in denial. This might explain my complete shock at the fact that I am indeed well into middle age. For me, it’s not the birthdays but the little milestones along the way that revealed the years passing by…..daughter #1 and #2's first day of high school, college applications, last proms, high school graduations, leaving for college…….and more everyday.

I remember the first time I felt the clock ticking: Daughter #1 “became a woman” November 11, 1996. You might think it strange that I remember the date. For some reason, my brain remembers insignificant dates, numbers and commercial jingles from the early 70s. I guess that is why I can’t remember the important things that I should remember. My brain is full of things like, “Wrigley spearmint, gum, gum, gum.” Do you remember that one? I remember this particular date because it was 2am on Veteran’s Day when she woke me with the announcement. I was certain I had prepared her for this occasion nevertheless she was quite distraught and convinced the world as she had known it was over. I remember thinking that it was fortunate that it was Veteran’s Day and there would be no school. She would have 24 hours to get used to the idea before she had to go out into the world as a new woman. My next thought was that while it wasn’t likely, it was now biologically possible that I could become a grandmother. OUCH.

Fast forward a few more years: We are sitting at the table eating dinner when I mentioned that I had heard on the radio that Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt were separated. I said that I was disappointed because until that time I thought they would be this generation’s Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. Daughter #2 raised her head with a look of complete confusion and said, “The salad dressing guy?”

A few years later: Daughter #2 is studying to take the SAT. The pressure of getting into the college of her choice is getting to her. Her entire future depends on the score she will receive on this test and she is descending into a serious melt-down. When I tried to offer her encouragement, she launched into a tirade about how I had no idea what she was going through; after all I had never had to take the SAT.

I said, “I didn’t?”

I will never forget the look of shock on her face. “YOU took the SAT?”

I nodded.

“I didn’t know it had been around that long.”, she said.

“Well, I did have to dip my quill into the ink to fill in those little boxes.”

“Really?”

UGHHHHH!

So, I guess with daughters like mine, my advancing age should come as no surprise. They have reminded me every step of the way.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

IN THE ZONE

Remember how excited I was that both of our girls would be home for the summer. Daughter #2 has been here since the first of May when spring semester ended at her school. She is now officially a sophomore. Woot!

Daughter #1 arrived home this weekend when school in North Carolina let out for the summer. She completed her first year teaching sixth grade social studies and survived! Woot!

D1 seems to be having some trouble realizing that it’s summer and school is out. I’ve always been supportive of her choice to teach school. But now it seems that has come back to bite me in the butt. Today I received a text message that went something like this:

“How tall are you and what do you weigh?”

What the……..?

“I’m doing The Zone for all of us.”

Really? D1 has been harassing encouraging me to try The Zone Diet for a few years now. I’ve always said not just no but HELL NO politely declined. You see, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried this diet or even heard of it but it’s quite complicated to my way of thinking. D1 insists that it’s very simple. Uh huh…….

When I came home from work, she got out the dry erase board. Think I’m kidding?

She proceeded to explain to My Harley Stud and I just what we would be eating and how much of it. There were blocks and grams and carbs and fats and proteins. My head was spinning. MHS commented that he didn’t think he had enough blocks. She said, you won’t starve on this diet.

He said, “I’m starving NOW and you’ve just started.”

Note to D1: Never give a lecture about nutrition and diet until after your students have eaten.

She explained that everything would need to be measured and weighed. Then she looked at me and said, “We’re pretty much going to have to feed Daddy but I think in the time I’ll be here this summer, he “can” learn.

I said, “Wait, I need to make notes.”

MHS said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure she has handouts.”

“No, not for the class, for my blog!”

After a presentation that lasted longer than an hour, we fixed dinner, a pre-planned non zone meal. We did have some yummy veggies even if we weren’t “in the zone”.

D#2 came in just as we were finishing dinner. D#1 says, “OK, now I want you two to present the material to D2. That will be your test to see if you were listening.”

I looked at MHS, “Test! I didn’t know there would be a test. I WASN’T listening. Crap!” I should have known. This is the same woman who made us take the social studies quiz in her class when we went to NC to visit last fall. (which by the way, we aced)

I made a lame attempt to explain what we had learned. D2 began to complain at what small portions of protein she would have. MHS made his contribution to our presentation by saying, “Eat spinach! You can eat a shitload of spinach!”

And to think how excited I was to have her home. Who knew we were entering the Nazi food camp?

THE EFF WORD

Last week I told you about how Daughter #1 gave me some embarrassing moments as she was growing up. Raising two girls to adulthood has provided me with an endless supply of anecdotes to amuse and confuse. As promised, D1 wasn’t the only one who managed to make me squirm a little in my boots.

When Daughter #2 was a toddler, she had an absolutely irritating adorable way of getting our attention. She chanted. I guess that came in handy as a cheerleader in her teens but as a little tyke……not so much.

She couldn't quite pronounce the word “milk” correctly and when she wanted some, she would say “mook”……………………….”mook”…………………..”mook”….”MOOK!”…”MOOK!

"MOOK!MOOK!MOOK!MOOK!

The chanting would get louder and more frequent until she received a boot in the arse the milk. It wasn’t just beverage requests that would make her chant. Allow me tell you about a little shopping experience we had when D2 was about two years old.

If you’ve ever been in Victoria’s Secret at Christmas time, you know that any purchase will not be completed without the required 30 minute wait in line. I was “selected” by my employer at the time to shop for some lotions and potions to go along with Christmas bonuses. My Harley Stud (who didn’t have a Harley then but was still a stud, nonetheless) was working and I found myself having to haul my two children to the mall and into VS to get said lotions and potions.

D2 was in a stroller and D1 was walking alongside me. The store was packed (DUH!) and it was not easy maneuvering a stroller through the chaos. I quickly grabbed what I needed and headed to that very long line that led to the checkout counter. I took one look at the line and quickly determined that the wait would be more pleasant for all concerned without the stroller. I led D1 and the stroller with D2 over to a lotion display about 10 feet away from where I was standing in line. I told D1 to entertain her sister and just move the stroller back and forth a little bit because she liked to keep moving. I got in line and began to relax and listen to the lovely classical music playing and take in all the aromas from the perfumes being tested, all the while keeping an eye on the big and the little just a few feet away.

All was going well for about 5 minutes. Then the peaceful melody was broken by a young child telling her older sister, “Fart on you!” My eyes widened! I cringed. I hoped. I crossed my fingers. I prayed. It was all for naught because the chanting was about to begin. I don’t know what D1 did to tick off D2 but she was TICKED! It started out low and slow and increased in volume and speed with each repetition.

“Fart on you!……..fart on you……fart on you!..FARTONYOUFARTONYOUFARTONYOU! and on and on.

Would you think less of me if I told you that I didn’t give up my place in line? I just stood there with the rest of the crowd looking appalled at the audacity of some women to bring their bratty children into this fine establishment and ruin my shopping experience! Oh yes I did.

LUCKY ME

I thank God every night when I don’t fall into a comatose sleep before saying my prayers for giving me these lovely young women as daughters. They are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. With Mother’s Day approaching, I am even more aware of how fortunate I am to have these girls in my life.

Daughter #2 is home from college for the summer. Daughter #1 will be home once school is out in NC. It’s going to be great having them both home again. MHS will be so glad that he doesn’t have to hold up his end of the conversation at the dinner table for a few months.

I’m happy to say that Daugher #2 finished her freshman year at college on the dean’s list. Noleboy did too. I guess they ARE doing more than just playing kissy face at school. Congratulations to them both for a job well done.

Daughter #1 is about to finish her first year teaching. MHS and I are so proud of her but wish she didn’t have to move so far away to start her career. Letting go has never been one of my strong suites.

D2’s dean's list announcement brought back memories of D1’s last semester at the same university. As she was stressed out busy preparing for final exams, she would call me each day with an update. It would go something like this:

Day 1: “Did you send out the graduation announcements yet? I don’t think I’m going to graduate. I’m never going to pass this class.

Day 2: “I think it’s going to be OK. I’m pretty sure I’ll pass but that’s it.”

Day 3: “Don’t send the announcements! I’m definitely NOT going to graduate!”

Day 4: “I feel better about my finals. I think I’ve got it under control and I’ll graduate.”

Day 5: “Did you send the announcements? Don’t! I’m not graduating.”

And on and on until the day she took her finals. And guess what? She not only graduated (which you already know because she is teaching 6th grade social studies) but she made the dean’s list! I wanted to smack her (right after I hugged her).

Me: “How could you have thought you weren’t even going to pass and then end up on the dean’s list!” Silly girl!

Some days there’s just not enough wine in the world!

Once again, congratulations to Daughter #2 for making the dean’s list! You rock!