The nerve of it all..

I could not drive.
I could not chip.
I could not putt.

My left hand is still in a semi-comatose state and I am beginning to get seriously hacked off. The ring and pinkie fingers feel like your lips do after getting a cavity filled at the dentist. The sensation isn't painful but it's a nuisance and I am not able to get a firm grip on my golf club. I know that I am officially middle aged but just how long should it take for an inflamed muscle to relax enough to let go of the nerve?!!!

The glides were lovely yesterday and after one and a half hours, I was like a limp rag doll but my hand was still numb. I have consumed my weight in water over the last 24 hours but my fingertips feel nothing!

Today, I have resorted to Ben Gay. You would think that if we can put a man on the moon and a complete illiterate into office, the powers that be would be able to make an odorless muscle ointment.

I had my hair done this morning and it was perfect the way it only can be on the day that it is done. Afterward, I am feeling kind of sexy and I sashay into my local Home Depot looking for some new hardware for my bathroom. I meet a few gazes and politely smile. They smile back until they get within a foot of me and then suddenly, their noses wrinkle, they avert their eyes and the moment has gone horribly awry.

Years ago, there was this study done on the nose. As it turns out, when you are exposed to a scent for a sustained period of time (10 minutes or so), your nose will gradually adjust to the smell until it becomes mostly undetectable. From an evolutionary standpoint, you can see how this comes in handy...baby diapers, teenagers, Matthew "A man should smell like a man " McConaughey, chicken farms, Hong Kong sewers, boiled cabbage, etc. The study in question involved a bunch of goats and men (not to be confused with the Falkland war ) and how the scientists came to realize that not only did the odor of the animals become tolerable but it was transferrable (think smoky bar and hair). They came out of the barns smelling like old goats, themselves.

Soooooo, it occured to me (belatedly, of course), that as I was meandering through Home Depot with Eau du Ben Gay wafting from me in unchecked menthol plumes, I was smelling pretty old, too.

I love Fridays

Gosh, is it Friday again, already?!! Just kidding. I've been looking forward to this day all week because, as you know, today is the day the Nazi comes to clean my house. I cannot wait to go home and walk in with everything in its place and smelling so fresh. It's just my little slice of heaven.

A weird thing happened yesterday. As an office, we have recently employed the services of a traveling massage therapist. She uses one of those nifty massage chairs and for fifteen minutes of pure bliss, her fingers dig way down deep into laptop hunch shoulders and impossibly knotted backs. Afterwards, each one of us looks like we just had great sex and for the rest of the afternoon, we gulp water like we're on a Saharan safari.

Well, after she had finished I noticed a strange pins and needles feeling in my left hand. I really didn't give it much thought until I got home and it became more pronounced. I called my sister (who is a nurse ) and casually mentioned that my hand was numb. I tried very hard to hide the edge of hysteria that I knew was starting to creep into my voice. I'm forty, after all, and I'm thinking numb hands probably means I'm going to keel over at any second begging for a baby aspirin. She quickly dispelled that nonsense (except if the numbness spreads and I start slurring my words) and told me that i was most likely suffering from a pinched ulnar nerve. S0, I am headed back to the therapist's office where she is promising heat and "glides". Whatever. I just want her to fix this hand so that I can golf tomorrow.

Uber Mom I'm Not

I don't think it matters if you are a single parent, stay at home mom, working mom or any other type of mom. Universally, we are a tired bunch. This is not to disregard the contribution of fathers but the rules are different for us.

We are expected to be available for all performances, awards, parent/teacher conferences and any other events of significance in the lives of our children. Don't get me wrong. I know how important my attendance is to my kids and I want to support them in every way possible but there are times when I open up their backpacks, see the telltale colored flyer sticking out and I want to scream.

In that lovely script, replete with several exclamation marks, I am informed of a date (usually inside of a week), a time and whatever the event planner might need. Sign up sheets are the bane of my existence. I live in the south and down here, y'all better not show up with anything store bought. So, I am usually running to the grocery store the night before (because who can fricking remember) for sugar or eggs so that I can stay up half the damn night baking cookies.

Again, let me repeat that I want to be supportive. I want to be the kind of mother that sews Hallowe'en costumes and decorates the Christmas tree in a different theme each year. I want to be the kind of mother that goes to the soccer game and actually knows the rules. I want to be the mom who plans out her meals one week in advance and who holds elaborate, well-planned birthday parties that EVERYONE attends.

Alas, I am so not that woman. I have Pizza Hut on speed dial. I nearly cried with relief when pre-lit Christmas trees were introduced. Soccer? I'd rather watch paint dry, especially now that it isn't PC to tell the kids to, "TAKE. HIM. OUT!" Oh, and birthday parties...I just don't know what to say. I've experienced sleep overs, similar to this which had me twitching and muttering to myself about government mandated sterilization.

So today, I was summoned to my child's presentation. He has attended author's camp for the past two weeks and on this glorious Thursday morning, I was told that I would be treated to a reading of some of his work. I don't know how I got it into my mind that this would be a private thing with my son showing me the picture book he'd made or the chapter book he had written. Maybe he would enlighten me with a few paragraphs and then we would thank the teacher, collect his stuff and depart. I was thinking...15 minutes, tops.

Not a chance.

For nearly an hour, me and all of the other parents (with joyful smiles permi-plastered to our faces) listened as EVERYONE presented a little something from EACH of the six genres that were explored. I know that I was in hell because I could smell my hair burning and I could feel little droplets of moisture collect on my upper lip and others slide down my spine. Mercifully, after 56 minutes of torture, it was over.

At the car, my son dumped his collection of goodies in the back. Then, he turned around and gave me a huge hug.

"I'm really glad you came, Mum."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, sweetie." And in that moment, I meant it.

The Two Year Itch

I'm told that for most people, boredom/restlessness/apathy seems to settle in around the seven year mark. This would not be true for me. I would estimate that somewhere between 20 and 30 months, I develop a serious case of the yawns.

It is genetic. My mother is afflicted with the same disease.

What happens is that during this transition time, little vapours of discontent slowly seep into the subconscious whispering gems like:

"You should have another baby"
"Skydiving might be fun"
"This car doesn't suit you anymore"
"Sell everything you own, pack up the kids and write your own Poisonwood Bible"

When it really gets bad, I am forced to take action. Since my twenties (when I identified this phenomenom), the following are things that I have done to try to shake up my vanilla life.

1. Moved to a different country. I sold everything I owned, packed two suitcases, booked a flight and landed in San Diego with $300 and no plan.
2. Married a gay man. To be fair, I wasn't conscious of that fact at the time but looking back, it waddled and quacked so I probably should have assumed it was a bloody duck.
3. Joined an outrigger canoe paddling club. You have not lived until you've hulied in 52 degree water.
4. Switched jobs because making good money with excellent hours and very little responsibility just blew.
5. Moved to the beach.
6. Learned to scuba.
7. Moved to Michigan.
8. Moved to Houston. (are you picking up a pattern here?)
9. Changed jobs.
10. Atkins
11. The Zone
12. Protein Power Diet
13. Hoodia
14. Eat Right for Your Blood Type
15. The Maker's Diet
16. Grapefruit Diet
17. South Beach Diet (another pattern)
18. Proud owner of the Band Flex Gym: used 2x
19. Golf
20. Blogging

Currently, I am casually looking through the real estate listings in my area. The cerebral self is telling me to banish such foolish thoughts because can't a slip 'n slide can provide as much relief from the heat and humidity as a pool?

The emotional, knee-jerk, stuck- in- the- Freudian- id- stage is encouraging me to go find my dream home even though it will mean that I have to mow my own lawn and (gasp) clean my own house.

I really, really, really like having my house cleaned so for now, the brain is winning. Of course, there is the small dog that lives behind me that barks and barks and barks and barks and barks..........

Midlife Crisis

I was speaking with my friend the other night and she expressed that perhaps the recent lifestyle changes could be attributed to my very own midlife crisis.

Huh? Are you kidding me? Midlife crisis is for people in their forties.

*blink*, *blink*

Hmmm... maybe she is onto something.

Yes, I have recently taken up golf. Yes, I have spent an obscene amount of money on equipment but can you really equate my Big Bertha's with ..say..um..a shiny, new, Corvette? I'm not so sure. Of course, the (sexist) argument could be made that sweet golf clubs draw men like mosquitoes to a zapper.

Yes, I got divorced but I didn't get out of my marriage to jump into a relationship with some hot, young boy toy . I left because I spent the better part of each day trying to convince myself that killing my ex husband in his sleep was not the answer. I was intimate with that just-under-the-surface, bubbling, festering, barely controlled rage.

Yes, I have let my hair grow long because it makes me feel more feminine, not younger. You see, as I have aged, the resemblance to my father has become more pronounced and short hair merely accentuated the issue. Besides, that whole pixie look is for young, perky women who don't have to step into their bras in the morning.

Yes, I have purchased a few (thousand) anti-aging products. I could pack a week's worth of clothes in the bags under my eyes. I had even budgeted for Botox until I was introduced to Arbonne. Soon though, even great skin care products will not be able to stop my eyes from falling into my head (like spitting into a snowbank...thanks Norma) and I am determined not to go gently through middle age. I'm not talking Joan Rivers or anything quite so scary but plastic surgery is most definitely in my future. I have a laundry list...

And finally, I suppose I am much more serious about my health. The reality of this is while you still feel great, the body starts to betray you in little ways. The common cold, if accompanied by cough, can be a challenge for any woman who has had more than one child. Carrying your kids up the stairs can make your knees sing. Having one too many cocktails now wipes out the entire next day. This isn't mid life crises, it's the epiphany that happens when you realize that you have to do everything in your power to maintain good health because your quality of life depends upon it.

My mum said that your forties are a great time...even better than your thirties because you still look good, have money, some life experience and you are finally comfortable in your own skin.

Yeah, I like that.

So, if my lifestyle has changed, it is because my perspective has shifted. and if this is a midlife crisis, well I just want to welcome it with open arms. Oh yes, and just because I divorced for all of the right reasons doesn't mean that I'm not open to a little May-December thing. Isn't that what being a coug is all about?

Forty-something

I turned 40 in February and for the first several weeks, I couldn't say the word, "forty" without stammering, sputtering, stuttering stupidness. I was like Porky Pig:

"I'm fffff.."
"I'm ffffoor.."
"I'm fffoorrt, ffoorrt.."

"I'm middle aged."

My mum sent me a birthday card which said that the best thing about turning forty was that it wasn't fifty. Nice.

It has been my practise to drink take a life inventory at these milestone birthdays. I reflect back on the last decade and sort of grade myself.

Marriage: F - married the man who was a lot like our president..cute but unable to form complete sentences. Divorced after nearly a decade of purgatory.

Motherhood: A -gave myself the high grades here because even after begging someone to kill me in the throes of childbirth ("walking epidural" is an oxymoron), I firmly embraced the secret code of women everywhere and drank the "forget the pain" elixir. Five years later, I found myself nodding vigorously as the anesthesiologist asked me if I would like a little drug cocktail to take the edge off as baby #2 made her way out.

Career: A+- very pleased with the progress made in this area. Besides the lovely boost in compensation and traveling the world, the unexpected lift in self esteem was worth every miserable minute I spent in my twenties asking questions like, "Would you care for fresh ground pepper with that?"

Health: C+ -this is a mixed bag here. Bad marks for smoking and having to explain to people that I had just had a baby (four years previous). Good grades for going organic and refusing to be bullied by the medical establishment.

Friendship: B -again..this one is not a cut and dried category. I did mature. In fact, people told me that I would be their phone call if they were on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire". On the other hand, I was unable to shake that little bit of crazy, that intangible, irresponsible urge which makes babysitters of the people closest to you. I am also not great at staying in touch. Email has certianly simplified things but I am ashamed to admit that I have a huge trunk full of addressed, unsent Christmas cards going back as far as 2000 (nobody sent cards in 1999 because the end of the world was nigh and who could afford postage after spending whacks of money on bottled water, generators and canned food ?!!!)

Finances: A - great comeback decade. Went from abject stay-at-home-mom poverty (just my situation..lots of SAHMoms have normal husbands who don't say things like, "Where does all my money go?") to comfortable single parent. I finally had "stuff"; which is not to accentuate the material but more the accomplishment. To this day, I can't put into words the emotion I felt closing on a house with only my name on the deed. Life insurance, pension, 401K, living will directive, etc.....all very grown up and responsible.

Not a bad decade, all in all.

I think back to my twenties, living near the beach in San Diego with a decent job, no responsibilities and uncensored enthusiasm. I used to watch the cougs in the bars and feel pity. In the blink of an eye, I'm the COUG!!! This is why I avoid the bar scene like the plague.

Then, my mum was able to put things into perspective for me. One night I was whining lamenting about my age and she said,

"You being forty rattles me, as well. Do you know what it is like telling someone that you have a FORTY year old daughter?!!"

And just like that, I was over myself.

Sunday Bloody Golf Sunday

Okay. So today I went golfing with my friend Steph on her home course. I've been feeling pretty good about my game lately (well actually, I've been feeling groovy about three clubs: driver, lob wedge and putter) and I had heard that her course was challenging. Yeah...sort of the same way that giving birth without an epidural is challenging. Click Shadow Valley for a tour of the course.
I need to preface this whole conversation with yesterday's events:
A bunch of girls from my country club and I decided to golf at an affiliate club 25 minutes south of our home course. Well, the first hole was a dream. I spent enormous amounts of time in the sand trap on the second but on the third, I teed off like a rock star. Then... the storm horn sounded. Where I live, when that siren goes, you get off of the links in a hurry. I've lived with the earthquakes in California, the floods in Texas and the snowstorms of Canada but nothing and I mean NOTHING rattles my cage like tornado weather.
Anyway, after nearly an hour in the clubhouse, we were informed that the front nine were flooded and golf was likely done for the day. Late that afternoon, the clouds parted and you would never have known it had rained (except for the 2 feet of standing water at my fence line) so I decided to go drive a bucket of balls at a range by my house. This was MY weekend without the kids and I was going to get some quality golf time in without having to pay a babysitter, damnit!!! Besides, I needed the exercise.
I got two extra large buckets (170 balls each) and proceeded to make like Vijay. Half way through the first bucket, I decided that I had better try to hit the rest of the clubs in my bag. Oh dear. I think perhaps I might have been gripping my irons just a wee bit too tightly. I felt the blisters but they were still covered with skin. Knowing that I had over done things, I returned the second bucket for a refund.
Today, on the course from hell, I lost 7 balls. Yes, you read that right...7. By the time we started on the back nine, I would have sold my children for a bandaid. Here is what my hand looks like now.


Steph is my friend for a lot of reasons but today, she decided we shouldn't keep score and consequently, she shot to the top of the list of people with whom I could be stranded on a deserted island.

Yankee Doodle Dandy

My friend from work has a 7 year old son and a 5 year old daughter. Well, the other night she told them to head upstairs to shower. They have shared bathtime since they were young and it was one of the few moments in the day when my friend was able to relax for 10 minutes. The kids played really nicely together.

After about five minutes, my friend walked upstairs because things were unusually quiet and heard her son say something along the lines of, "it's growing". Hmm...probably not good. Well, she poked her head into the bathroom and told them to finish up and get out. She then asked her husband to keep an eye on things. He returned downstairs after several minutes and announced that the shared showers were officially at an end. So my friend went back up to the bathroom to talk to the kids.

As expected, they were looking a bit pensive and my friend calmly explained that now that they've gotten older, certain curiosities had become inappropriate. Her daughter then stated that she merely wanted to see if her brother's winky would sing. My friend let that pass.

Later, when she was brushing her son's hair, she quietly asked him, "What did she think it was going to sing?"

He said, "I don't know...Yankee Doodle Dandy".

With a straight face.

Serious.

Matter of fact.

Ms. Clean

Well, today was a monumental day in the life of my family. Today was Linda's first day as our housekeeper! Just the word, "housekeeper" in the same sentence as my house makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.
Of course, I ran around like a mad woman last night putting away toys, picking up clothes, and using Clorox Wipe Ups in my bathrooms. I can't have the housekeeper know how slovenly we really are!!! Actually, Linda is very no nonsense. She told me what products she uses and expected them to be ready for her when she got here today. She expected us all to make our beds. I did make mine this morning and I have to tell you...it looked so much better but really, what was the point? I'll be right back in there tonight.
I went to Wal-Mart after work yesterday to stock up on the necessary supplies. Big problem...no 409 glass cleaner. I had hoped that Linda would be okay with the Windex.
Well, I got home after work today and from the second I opened the door, something was different. I expected the house to be clean but wow...it was sparkly. She dusted the fake plants!!! She also left a little note asking me to really scrub down my shower for her this week so that when she comes next week, she won't have to stay an extra 30 minutes to do this. Now, I'm no slouch in the cleaning department so I opened the shower door and had a really good look to see what could possibly occupy her for half an hour. Looked clean to me...
Did I mention that Linda came highly recommended (as in..."You have got to call her and get on her list. She's booked solid but I hear her Friday morning is moving to Colorado") or that cleaning houses has her driving a Mercedes SUV?
Maybe I had better take another look at that shower.