Why is that??

You awaken in the middle of the night by that innate mother's ear that is always listening for the sounds of your children. Your eyes open quickly and your feet start to swing off the bed before you are even fully awake. You grab your robe and head to the bedroom across the hall.

It is immediately apparent that your child is going to be sick within seconds. You try to scoot them out from under their sheets in order to carry them quickly to the bathroom. Not going to happen so you turn and reach for the wastebasket. Too late! The sheets and bedspread are now a mess.

Does this phase you at all? Nope. Your husband, having been wakened by your child's crying, is now beside you ready to strip the bed while you change the pj's and softly cuddle the little one. Fresh new clothes, cool/soft sheets, tears all dried you settle the child back into bed. You and your husband return to your room. He falls easily back to sleep. You? Not so easily. You stare into the blackness concentrating on the sounds of the night. There! Your child calls "Mommy!" and off you go, again, this time successful in getting to the bathroom. You shut the door to keep your voices contained so your spouse can get his rest. Again your child empties what is left in their stomach then needs to sit on the commode. After all is done you take a cool washcloth and softly wipe their face and neck and chest to help them feel refreshed. Back to the bed, tucking the sheets around their body. You turn off the light and sit in the dark until you hear the even, relaxed breathing. Then you soundlessly go back to the bathroom to clean up the sink and commode. How easily we do this. Without even thinking about the distastefulness of it all. The protective love we feel takes us beyond the mess and the smell and the laundry. This is our baby and we will cover them with our wings keeping them from any harm. Anytime. Anywhere.

Then why is it when we have to clean up after a child that is not ours we react differently? Do we help them? Yes! Do we do whatever we must? Absolutely! But now the sensual details listed above come to play in an uncomfortable fashion and !UGH! Not so easy to ignore, are they? An observation which I was forced to confront recently and, if I may say so, carried off the diaper duty with much (gag) aplomb! Now don't get any ideas--even though I was proud of myself I have no desire to repeat the activity more than I must!

The Black Painted Car? Or the White?

I'm sure you have these riveting discussions in your households as well. Pork or chicken? The brocade or the chintz? Boxwood or privet? Wall-to-wall or area? Tylenol or Advil?

Much discussion can be attached to each of the above. But I am focusing specifically on my title for we have had an on-going friendly verbal fencing for years concerning this very comparison. The first car we bought for me alone was white. Now I had never owned a car before let alone considered white as the perfect color for a vehicle. When questioned the salesman did two things. First, he led me outside the sales room and pointed to the extremely busy road which ran in front of the dealership. "What color really stands out when you look at that traffic?" he asked me. "White." I answered. He congratulated me. "It is the safest color because a driver's eye will pick that color up quicker visually thus accidents have/will be avoided because of their speedier response time." Secondly he took me around the corner of the building where a fellow salesman was standing beside his own white car. "Hey, Steve....how easy is it to keep it clean?" "Super simple. A white car will show less dirt than a darker model."

Hmmmm. Think about that. Mud gets splattered on a black car and a white car. It dries and as it does it becomes paler in color. Thus against the deep backdrop it still "pops" because of the contrast. But against the lighter paint the contrast is less thus fades to the eye. So logical. I'm convinced. My husband not so much. I'll take the white one. Sold!! (OH! I'm still stickin' to my story but I must tell you I now own a black one 25 years later....which I love and just wash more often!!! I call her "Olive". Get it?? ...black olive...)

A First

Each of us have a few situations that we hope to avoid for the entirety of our life. Personal aspirations to feel that satisfying ability to state, with pure truth and conviction and just a touch of arrogance, as we tuck our thumbs under our suspenders while puffing out our chest with pride: "Nope. Never happened to me, no sir." Well, today I actually met "never''.

I always experience a tiny shred of dread every time I pull down on the handle of a free-standing mail box. The gaping mouth of this metal contraption appears to be very greedy and is always happy to digest whatever your hand is holding. Once you let go your contribution falls into the black hole of the interior. Irretrievable and unattainable.

You must make absolutely sure that your envelopes are properly addressed and tightly sealed and the postage secure. For at the second you unhand your stack is the moment you relinquish all control. Thus the conundrum: Knowing you must thrust your mail inside, must let go feeling very much in command as you set your postings free to flutter down to nest at the bottom and walk away accepting you have fulfilled your due diligence.

But what if you realize, as you are closing that trapdoor, that the check to pay your son's credit card bill (which you were subsequently going to drop off at the bank located just a few blocks away and was the reason why you decided to save a stamp in the first place) was on the bottom of that stack previously lying on your car seat just moments ago? Your stomach gets a little tight. You close your eyes and curse your stupidity having to face that you have just committed one of those "never-want-to" errors. Rats. Double Rats.

All I can say is that in the midst of my angst I recognized the blessing. I had decided to go to our community post office to utilize the boxes I could drive by for two reasons. First was my desire to make sure these would be postmarked with today's date and, secondly, was the ease of staying in my car. I was so thankful I had not chosen a box located in my residential neighborhood. What chance for help would I have? Slim if any. So like the little boy that throws the baseball through his neighbor's window and must confess and garner forgiveness, I found myself walking inside the building to expose my blunder and ask for help. The gentlemen were very kind. No jokes made. No laughter heard. The check easily found. Gratitude shared.

I know I wasn't the first nor will I be the last. The fact is I just never wanted to "be".

You Have No Pen...

So what do YOU do when you are driving along and you are mentally making a list of "stuff" you want to remember? One or two things suddenly become a collection as more ideas float in there and your stomach starts to get that cramped feeling (or your head starts to reel from overload). AHHHH!!! What if you don't remember every single detail AND you panic thinking the one ... or two ... you forget might be the most important of all!!?!

My solution: Julie Sentances. What are those you say? (Didn't think I could hear that, did you? And, by the way, I saw your eyes rolling as well. Remember I am a mother and we can see and hear everything.) Here's an honest-t0-goodness example that happened to me last week.: As I was driving my car filled to the brim with yard waste (twigs, boxwood trimmings, pulled weeds, etc etc) out to our community's composting site, I was deluged (yes, deluged, I say!) with this streaming one-after-the-other, very important not-to-be-forgotten errands, customer ideas, necessary web research, etc, etc, and I didn't have paper or a writing instrument. Did I start to sweat or shake? NEVER!! (yeah, right) I took one word from each item and made a sentance. I will share the beautiful prose, if I may say so myself, that I repeated to myself until I got home. Ready?

Here goes: Matt's diamond dogwood eats purple oats while Jan reads treadmills. Made perfect sense to me!! The interpretation? I called my computer guy; wrote a note to a customer that his wife saw a cross she likes; called an older couple, who I haven't seen in a while and live out of town, ostensively to ask about their pink dogwood (I have a white one and we compare notes every spring) but really just wanted to hear how they were faring; cut out the material (matches the new window coverings in the bedroom) to sew the matching chest runner; went to the garden center and to buy Northern Sea Oats to plant in front of our brand new gas meter that was installed by the front door last Tuesday (don't ask--that's fodder for a future blog); wrote 4 letters; started to write promotional materials for my part-time boss; read a 15-page paper my son wrote; went to the gym. Whew! and Woo-hoo! Done and Done.

Had a Flash of Interior Design Genius!!

We redecorated the hall bath recently. Decided not to remove the Tan-colored (not my favorite -- I'm just not a more-yellow-than- brown Tan kind-of-girl) ceramic tile because of expense and mess plus the fact that it is in great condition. Painted the walls in a fabulous....FAB-U-LOUS ...deep red which changed the feel of the aforementioned tile immensely. We had already installed new stink and counter top several years ago thus we didn't have to deal with that.

Next step for me was finding a pre-made shower curtain and window treatment or the fabric to make them. I searched and searched. Too fancy. Too cutesy. Too plain. Too orange/Too yellow. Too ugly. Too "Too"!! Finally found one that matched our tone of red and dull gold in a textured stripe patterned material. Perfect. Now what to do about the window. I stood in the store envisioning what I wanted and how to produce that look using the existing plain old extension-style curtain rod. EUREKA!! Hit me like a great ideas do -- right between the eyes. I grabbed shower curtain number two and left with a big fat smile on my face and money in my pocket. (Love those sales!)

Here's what I did:

1. Measured the height of the window.
2. Cut off the one curtain at the top (very important) according to the length I had determined I would need to achieve my concept, leaving the nice straight existing hemline at the bottom.
3. Took the rough edge and turned it down (to the back) and sewed to create a "tube" allowing for the thickness of the rod.
4. Slid the new window curtain on the rod and hung the rod up.
4. Now here is where the FLASH came in: I glued small squares of velcro (one-half inch long) at the top of a stripe on the backside of the curtain at the top along the line of stitches.
5. Followed each stripe down to the bottom of the hem. There I glued the other half of the velcro cut in the matching small square size, again on the backside.

Have you guessed my idea yet?? I have to tell you before I =pop=! I'm still patting myself on the back for this one. Very Proud. Maybe gloating better describes it. Ok -- here it is. I let the curtain hang straight down at night for privacy purposes. But then in the mornings I pull the base hem up and stick the two coordinating Velcro pieces together. And.....

And VOILA! Instant Balloon Shade. How slick is that?!? No fuss. Super easy. Two looks for the price of one! I'm telling you-- pure genius. Now you can copy this idea. I guarantee your family and friends will think you are soooo clever. I promise it will be just between us.

Not-So-Good-For-You Secret Pleasures

We all have habits that make us feel good. Mine are chocolate, Pepsi, and romantic historical novels. The first two are just fine if done in moderation. ** a little off the subject, perhaps, but an insightful sidebar: I get a kick out of the nurses at my family doctor's office. Whenever you go for an appointment --whether it is your lenthy annual physical or simply to pick up prescription renewal -- they have you stand on the scales, check your blood pressure and take your pulse. Then they go over the permanant details that are written down on your record -- "Do you still take a multivitamin, a B-complex, and Calcium everyday? ("Yes.") Drink alcohol at a minimum?("About two drinks a year.") Have one Pepsi everyday? ( I lower my voice and respond in a conspiritor tone: "Sometimes, just on a rare occasion, I even have two.")

So what do you think their reaction would be to my lunchtime reading material? Maybe I should bring it up. That would throw them a curve, huh! Can't you just imagine their faces? They'd turn to look at me just to see how sincere I was about that huge revelation. They would see me smiling and nodding my head up and down, realizing I was not being facitious. Their reaction would be reflected in their shocked expressions: What??!? She reads novels. Then they'd raise their voices and scream: AHHHHH!!!! DIAL 911!!!! CALL THE SQUAD!!!!! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY HERE!!!!!

Ok, I'll pull myself back on task here. On the flip side of the above we all have one or two favorite pasttimes or pleasures that either are not safe or not healthy for our bodies...or for the longevity of our life for that matter. But you have to promise not to tell my dermatologist before I reveal the secret I'm about to tell you. Not only is she a great doc but she is also a very good friend and she would absolutely KILL ME if she knew this. Mine...are you ready? You sure?

Mine is the tanning booth. There! It is finally out in the open. Whew! I love to rub the cocoanut-fragranced lotion on my arms and legs. Then I turn the radio to some station that plays current pop music -- the kind you play at the pool when you're laying out. Next I lay down on the bed and let the lights make me feel like I'm on the beach somewhere faraway. It's my "Take me away Calgon" minutes. I feel myself exhale. My body totally relaxes. I let my mind wander to warmer climes and palm trees and little paper umbrellas topping off delicious fruity beverages.

Wow. Did that feel good or what? Sharing something I've kept bottled up inside for years is pure relief. Now I don't want you to think I'm "hooked" on this terrible-for-your-skin machine. That last time I was actually in a booth? Over two years ago. Maybe I should go to a support group for these long lulls in between my sessions. TBUA: Tanning Booth Users Anonymous. Known as "Taboo" for short. All right. All right. I know this entity doesn't exist. Maybe it should. I think my coined name is darn cute. Don't you?

Pulling an All-Nighter

Wow. What memories this brings back. Staying up all night. I remember in college it was a desperate necessity. Tonight it is a gift. A gift of time. My desk stack that needed attention now is demanding attention. Pronto. In fact it is downright SCREAMING. How do these little "things" collect? Gather? Congregate? Magazines that have interesting articles. Websites scribbled down you want to check out. Letters to write. A shared DVD from a neighbor. Addresses that need entered in your book. The answer is of the multiple choice variety. Pick one: A. By ignoring B. By letting them C. Your daily schedule doesn't allow for them D. All of the above

Ok, which one did you pick? Mine? It was definitely D. Thus I decided not to do A, not to allow B, and do the opposite of C. I am maturely taking responsibility and firmly grasping my destiny. I am embracing each item that found itself not immediately tossed out and/or refused but was, almost unconciously so, brushed into THE PILE. I have put my foot down and quite responsibly, I might add, not allowing any further growth. (Kind of like rabbits, you know? You start out with 2 then WHAM before you know it there are 150 !!)

I like challenging myself to meet my lofty goal. So far I'm wide-eyed and bushy tailed. And, best of all, I am plowing through the eclectic collection of goodies. The desk already looks cleaner. Almost empty. My husband is going to lay his hand on my forehead to check my temperature. (Always a good idea to catch 'em off guard every once in a while with a little surprise.) Just you wait. He'll probably nose around a bit out of pure curiosity and, perhaps, a little dose of doubt, to see if I didn't scoop it all into a drawer. Or hide it under the bed. Or stuff it in a closet. Funny. I hadn't considered the closet option before. Hmmmm.......