About Being Invisible

When I was younger, skinnier, blonder, I remember sitting around my Mother-in-Law's dinner table and the subject of being invisible came up. I learned that day, that when you grow older, you become invisible to the world. It was an interesting concept, being this: that as you age, no one notices you anymore for your beauty, smarts, or stylin' attitude. Since I am a person that is happy with blending into the wallpaper, (hello, it is why I blog...no one can see me...) it was a fascinating idea to me. Do people really stop acknowledging that you exist? Do they eventually look right through you? When I'm over 50 I am no longer? Oh, but t'were it true.


However, today invisibility happened. And I'm not complaining. Well I sort of am, but you will see why.


Case in point #1
I'm in Costco. I'm looking at Carter's kid's pajamas. I'm digging for styles and sizes. I hear these 3 women across the table from me talking. They all have a stroller, which means they all have a baby. Which means they all have a birthing story. And let me ask you this: If you had a birthing story that included the words pain, yell, crown, push, gush, water, burst, etc. etc. etc, would you want some old lady putting that in her blog? You don't? Then for heaven sakes don't be yelling it around in Costco.

People! Invisible people can hear you.

Case in point #2
I'm in the Walmart, standing in the customer service line, returning non smear highlighter pens that smear. I'm standing behind 4 young people, probably around 18. One of the girls, the Blondie, had on some 'skinny' jeans which is another word for too tight, too low, and too creepy. She bent over a couple of times and it was not exactly what I would have chosen to see. But that's not the bad part. She and one of the boys, were playing "I can slap your face, no you can't yes I can" the entire time. And I was right behind them. I, the invisible female immediately behind them got to witness the slap giggle grab slap giggle pull up pants that are almost showing my woo hoo slapslapslap party that was a foot an a half away. I'm gagging a little right now just thinking about it.

Case in point #3

Still in Walmart. I'm standing in the pharmacy line. This guy and his adult grandson are sitting on the bench. Grandpa has on a soiled white (maybe beige) t-shirt. It is soiled all over the area where his belly protrudes underneath the t-shirt. He has on suspenders that go over his t-shirt. They are bright yellow, and are made to resemble a yellow tape measure. This guy is older than me. Why is he not invisible to me? Why am I trying to read the tape measure that goes from the front of his pants to the back of his pants to see what the measurement is? Why aren't I following the invisible protocols? Why?

Case in point #4
Still in the Walmart Pharmacy Line. Guy in front of me starts talking about swine flu. On and on and ON with the swine flu. 1,000's are going to die. Like in 1918. And in 1968. ...Wha? More and more on the swine flu. And even more. I am certainly not invisible to this guy. Not one bit.


Case in point #5
Still in the Walmart Pharmacy Line. Grandpa's adult grandson is talking on a lime green cell phone. Let's call him Limey. Limey is pacing back and forth. Talking loud. I'm trying to be invisible what with not wanting to encourage Swine Flu Guy any more. And then I notice that Limey has developed a flatulence situation that is going on and on. And then there was a curtain call and an encore. How lucky am I? Swine Flu Guy rips his head around and looks at me like he's my best girl friend. I thought his eyes were going to pop right out and tumble into my palms. Absolutely NO invisibility saving me here. What is the deal?


So yeah. This invisible notion. Here's the real skinny: After 50, the perks of invisibility never go your way. You're invisible when you don't want to be, and you're visible when you pray to be invisible. I've proven it to you five times. Perhaps I have to wait to turn 65 for perks.

And now, I don't want to think about today any any more.

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You Should Not Blog about Some Things

Yesterday, I was sitting in the children's meeting of our church. It is called 'Primary'. I'm sitting there, singing along with the kids, and I look up and notice that one of the 3 year olds who is sitting on the front row is wearing a tiger mask. It is one of those foam ones that grandmas make with their grandkids.

She's sitting there with that mask strapped to her face singing her little 3 year old heart out about Jesus. And nobody cares.

Nobody tells her to take it off. Nobody asks if it is pinching her head. Nobody tells her that tigers don't belong in church. Nobody tried to take it off of her and put it on themselves. Nobody laughed at her. Nobody compliments her on it. Nobody says it doesn't match her outfit. She was just allowed to sit there looking through two holes that had been punched through orange foam. It was messing up her hair.

Last night, when I was getting ready for bed, as I took off that undergarment that only we ladies wear I noticed it was probably getting time for me to go in and get measured and fitted for a new undergarment that only we ladies wear.

And I heaved a big sigh.

My neighbors could hear it.

I hate new undergarments that only we ladies wear. And here's why:

1. They are expensive. I believe in quality undergarments that only we ladies wear, because, hello, we wear them EVERY day, ALL day. There are no breaks except for the days we stay in our pajamas. You get what you pay for in undergarments that only we ladies wear. And Hello. Economy Eblonomy. It's a problem I tell you.

2. After wearing old worn out undergarments that only we ladies wear, breaking in a new undergarment is like walking around in a band aid that is pulling at the hairs on your arm. You are noticing it all the time.

3. Your old worn out undergarments that only we ladies wear are like old friends. You have to say goodbye. And they can't even go in the Good Will bag because they flew past that point 2 years ago. They have to go in the garbage. Which brings me to another question: Are we supposed to put them through the shredder? Because you could find out alot about me by examining my old undergarment that only we ladies wear.

4. There's the awkwardness of the dressing room fitting. I don't care how non threatening the sales clerk is, and I don't care how pink they make that measuring tape.....Having someone measure you there, WRITE IT DOWN, and then bring you in a bunch to try on (waving them around through the store shouting "these are for Mommacita"...OK they don't do that but it almost feels like they do) and they burst through the door with them while your standing there half neked with mirrors 360 degrees around you....it is not my finest hour. I do not throw my chest out and declare Come to Mama. I cower in the corner and suck my thumb and humbly apologize for offending the pink measuring tape.

5. I do not wish for anyone to try and sell me Spanx at any time, in any thing or in any place. Especially while buying undergarments that only we ladies wear. No, this did not happen to me, but it might have gone through my mind when I thought about the salesperson bursting through the door.

I am loco, no?

So back to last night, when all of the above went through my head when I took note of my undergarment that only we ladies wear, I wondered why I have to conform. If some people can wear tigermasks whenever they want and get away with it, why do ladies have to wear undergarments that only ladies wear? Who decided this expensive, constrictive rule? Aren't I happiest in my pajamas? Is this the reason? Is someone trying to restrict my freedoms? Did I just have an Aha moment?

And right then, right as I thought I might be having an Aha moment, someone in the cosmos who loves me very very much warned me that I was getting awfully close to wearing purple and a red hat.

Enough said cosmos.

Today I will make an appointment for a fitting.

And I will not be blogging about it.

Blogging for Jennifer Wahlquist Day

It's Blogging For Jennifer Wahlquist Day...Did you know?

Well it is, and I'm down with it. Downtown and all around.

The title "Blogging for Jennifer Wahlquist Day" kind of reminds me of a show I would watch on afternoon TV when I was home from school sick. It was called "Dialing For Dollars". They would show an old movie and during the commercial breaks they would have this big bin with every body's phone numbers in it and a guy in heavy rimmed glasses would roll the bin, pull out a number, and call that person on the telephone, and if they were watching, they won some dollars. They never called me. Or my house.

Jennifer is my niece-in-law and I love her. And I love her husband Todd. And their 3 amazing kids. And I love Todd's wonderful mother: Tim's sister Diana, who has helped keep the household running during the last 8 months. Since September, Jennifer's life has been in a Dialing for Dollars bin, spinning around and around and some random be-speckled weirdo has been pulling out all kinds of wrong numbers:

Bone Marrow Transplant

Graft Vs. Host Disease

In the Hospital

Out of the Hospital

In

Out

In

Out

pneumotosis

enterobacter aerogenes

streptococcus viridans

third colonoscopy

hook up antibiotics to the IV port in your vein

feeding tube out of her nose.

in her nose

out of her nose

gram negative rods, a nasty kind of bacteria

IVIG infusions

high dose steroids

skin rash

"D" word.

I lifted these terms from their blog, which has kept us all posted, with love, humor and a touch of sketchy politics. No offense Charlie T.

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Now I admit that putting all these nasty terms in one blog is not their way, (too negative) but I did it, because collectively, over the months, these are the words that have manipulated their lives. And I'm proud of them for not backing down to them.

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So to celebrate Jennifer Wahlquist Blogging Day, I propose a new list. A list that is fitting to what I have seen happening to the hearts of Jennifer, her family, and all who know her. Drum roll, fanfare, and three handfuls of gold and silver sparkles in the air if you please:

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Faith

Courage

Quick to Pray

Grit

Introspection

Desire

Perseverance

Togetherness

Love

Humor

Fun

More Love

Even More Love than Before

Support

Kindness

Sacrifice

Serving Gladly

Warmth

Knit Together

Family

Abundance

Grace

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So Yeah. They're Awesome. And Taryn, I heartily raise my hand.

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PS. Jennifer, Todd, Clara, Amelia, Charlie T., Diana, Brent: I heart you, I love you, and my prayers are with you every single day. Keep on keeping on. You can do this!

Dimples and Bunnies and Me. Never Thought I'd Want to Say That

Somebody (Benjamin Timothy) is a Chub-a-Lub, and there are dimples involved. First, there are dimples on both knees. I've heard of dimples on both knees, but I've never seen dimples on both knees. Here is a knee dimple in case you've never experienced it either: (towel strategically placed and you can thank me later Benniebob)



Next there are dimples on the right hand

And then there are dimples on the left hand (although this is a right hand picture too, but I'm banking on the facts that

1-- you know I'm all about artistic license and

2-- I was left with two right hand pictures after wrestling wiggly naked baby)

Next there are dimples (2) on the left elbow.....

And then there are dimples on the right elbow (got both pictures this time and this looks like it might be something else, say on first glance, but guess again because I'm not that kind of Mommacita so look to the left of the picture and you will see a face and remind yourself this is an ELBOW dimple and that will orient you.... you're welcome......)

Are you in dimple heaven? Yeah. Me too. I tried to fill the dimples in with kisses but they were too numerous and they were too deep.

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And if that's not enough to blow your mind, here are some little girl with bunnies shots (which can rivel kittie pictures in some minds):

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First, a bunnies-make-my dreams-come-true bigger girl:

And next a smaller but inwardly awestruck girl (who happened to think it was her birthday when she got dressed that morning):

I stood in line 30 minutes at Baby Animal Days just so bigger and smaller girls could have a crack at holding bunnies. Dimple Baby sat in the stroller like a perfect dimpled angel.

I also was just as excited as they were when they got to ride ponies Chip and Misty. And I was even more excited that they sprayed each helmet with lice spray inbetween riders.

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Yep. Grandma of the Year. And I'm not ashamed to toot it.

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Go ahead and leave all kinds of comments about how lucky I am.

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I Love Orange Juice

OK. I am not really going to write about liking orange juice. I just wanted to see if you'd keep reading. The real working title of this freaking post is "A Glimpse of the Inner Corridors of the Mommacita Mind." Or something.

I visited with family over Easter. It was Deee Lux. Which means good. Glitch (formerly known as Mitch and Gloria) took me out to dinner on Monday for by Birthday. (I just miss spelled Birthday and accidentally wrote Girthday and gave myself an accidental chuckle because54 is pretty girthy.) Glitch is darling, and fun and cute.

I visited with me Madre-Padre and they are pretty good for 82 and 85 respectively. One has a brain for somethings, the other has a brain for the other things so they are working it out. dawg. Yep I speak Idol.

This weekend my mom gave me a couple of books that were hers as a child, and she gave them to us to read as we grew up. I must of read and reread and reread them a million times. I loved these a books. I wanted to marry them. The copy rights are in 1927 and 1934. I LOVED them:

This is the first one. It is a book to teach kids to have good health.

Here is an excerpt from it:

"One day Teacher Squirrel sent a note to Mother Squirrel. The note said, "Dear Mother Squirrel, Bettie Squirrel does not weigh as much as other little squirrels who are as tall as she is. She should drink more milk. Mother Squirrel said, "Dear me! This will never do! Bettie Squirrel must weigh more. She must drink more milk every day. She must be strong and healthy."
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The story goes on, with Mother Squirrel all up in Bettie Squirrel's grill about how much milk she drank that day. Then once she gets appropriately revved up, Mother Squirrel gives Bettie Squirrel both guns:
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"You must drink more milk. You must drink milk at every meal. You must drink milk between meals. It will make you weigh more. You must weigh as much as the other little squirrels who are as tall as you are."

.Bettie Squirrel fires back: "I do not want to drink milk all the time. I am tired of milk. I like candy and cake. I do not like milk."
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So Mother Squirrel climbs on her power wagon and yee-haws:
"Let me tell you something, Bettie Squirrel. I shall not let you go to any picture shows until you weigh as much as the other little squirrels."
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Bettie Squirrel knuckles under:
"I like to go to picture shows. I do not want to stay at home when the other little squirrels go. I think I will drink some milk. May I have some milk now, Mother Squirrel?
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Who Knew????

(Perhaps we have it all wrong nowdays? Perhaps we should be encouraging weight gain in females? Perhaps we should power struggle about more fat instead of less? Perhaps this is why I never was interested in starving myself? Perhaps?)

As I read through the book again, I found this picture, and I was instantly swept away to my childhood.


I know it is hard to see, but this is a chapter where Bettie and Bobbie Squirrel's Mother gives them red and blue drinking cups to take to school and they were instructed NEVER to let anyone else EVER drink out of their new red and blue drinking cups. (nasty nasty GERMS!)
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You can see that it drove me crazy that the cups were not colored in. I distinctly remember looking both ways, running to get a pen and a red pencil and sneaking back into my room, shutting the door, hiding between the bed and the wall and coloring in those cups, even though I knew I shouldn't. Proof that Mommacita herself once was a child. I love that little girl.

Never was caught either.

Here is the other book:

This is a simple story, about two kids, a brother and a sister, who lived on a farm, and there was a tree on it that had a squirrel family living in it. They played so much under the tree that their dad built them a table and benches for underneath the tree and they got to help paint them. And there was a birthday party involved with a cake that had walnut decorations. Oh! Oh! Oh!.... and a big storm that almost killed one of the baby squirrels.

I read it to Gracie and she was mesmerized. I love that a story published in 1927 can still capture the heart of a child in 2009. I hope you can see this illustration enough to enjoy it

And now you know why I was infatuated with squirrels and health habits until last year. Well, actually I still kind of like health habits.

And milk.

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This Could be a Waste of Your Time and Mine

Give me an S.
Give me a Lacker.
Whassthat spell?
The World is Better Because of this Blah Blah Blah ditty Blah?
Yep.
That's Right
You got it
Uh Huh

Hey.
When you've got nothing to say, whatdaya supposed to say?
My neck hurts?
I like orange juice?
I think I might start swimming, only I'm not a strong swimmer?
Should I stop wearing earrings?
I could go for Cold Stone right now?
Why do I wear so much black (duh. slimming.)
Why did my daughter have to tell me not to go in public in my pajamas even though I never did and all I did was get the mail in them not that it's any of her business?
Yet another post about how much I wish the Gilmore Girls would return?
People I know went to Tea Parties?
My neck again?
I turned 54 and I want to rub it in?
I found out why I really did love the cute squirrels until last year?
I ate a McDouble and it grossed me out?
How when hamburger meat is described as soggy then you kind of choke on it?

Yeah. I've got to work on some blog bits. And you agree, but you're just to polite to say so.


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We're Thinkin' of You Mister.

Thank you Sawyer Timothy and Horse for remembering Tim's big day. Gotta love the Bumbo, and a child that carries with him Tim's love for the comfortable.

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Now everybody out there have a piece of German Chocolate Cake in honor of the birth of the Tim-o-tee. I know I will, because it's tradition that's why. insert smiley faces, glasses toasting, and confettie throwing here.

And blue ballons because he loved blue.