Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Special senses

I'm not sure I will ever understand the special senses that mommies have. They are useful, but at times, I want to be able to pass the reigns of the mommy wagon to daddy. Those of you who know I do not have two-legged children may wonder what I know about mommy stuff. LOTS! I can see out of the back of my head, I know the sound of mischief and can generally identify the culprit and his/her "toy" without even seeing them.

Case in point. My husband and I are sitting on the sofa, and he's on the end nearest the Christmas tree with a squirt bottle of water in his possession. I hear running and scuffling, who wouldn't?, and realize the cats are playing under the tree. I interrupt hubby's TV viewing to inform him what's going on so he can take action. Rinse and repeat. Only the next time, the tree begins to topple! We rush over and rescue the tree and I jokingly tell him he's the worst mommy ever. I attempt to steal his seat on the sofa when he gets up, so I can be on tree patrol and in charge of the water bottle. He is vehemently opposed to a change in seating, and justifies his unwillingness to move by saying I require "too much stuff and a table and all." While this is true, it would have been easier to supervise feline frolickers had I been standing guard. Not to mention the most vital mommy sense, I know Sheldon's tricks. As I'm gazing over the end of the sofa, observing movement of the tree that I suspect may soon turn to mayhem, Rob tells me that Sheldon is just "sitting behind the tree being cute". Nope. He'll sit there long enough for you to quit paying attention and take full advantage of the opportunity to attack the tree!

Bumbling Biker

Ya'll know I love the new 441 bypass. On the bypass, I pass by Walke Dairy road. No idea exactly what part of Walke Dairy road, but I'm sure I've been there and done that, pedaling a bike. I fail to recognize the junction as I'm sure by the time I've reached this area while biking, I'm singularly focused on making it up one more hill or incline, staring at my feet, grunting and cussing like a sailor.

One of my proudest biking moments occured on the I-16 overpass on Walke Dairy road. I have yet to master drinking water and riding a bike at the same time. For me, they're mutually exclusive sports. So, Rob and I had planned to stop on the overpass for a drink and a rest. Stopping I have no problem with, it's UNclipping from my clipLESS pedals, and getting my feet on the ground before gravity takes over that throws a kink in my plan. You read that right, the pedals you clip your feet into are called clipless pedals. We come to a stop on the overpass, I cannot unclip, and just like a slow-motion cartoon, I topple over......still clipped into my pedals. I've been known to do the same thing on Highway 80 in front of Golden Corral and on Country Club road. So, if you see a chick biking come to a stop and topple over, spare me the embarassement and look the other way!

I love the bypass

How fun it is to be able to hop on a new road in the city I've always called home, and know that for at least part of the trip, I'll be lost. Technically, not lost. I've determined that the 441 bypass leads either to Wal Mart or to Milledgeville, depending on how long I want the journey to be. While this may seem strange to the directionally adept, you need to understand how Rob and I roll.

We headed out for Thanksgiving dinner to be held at the Brewer home on Snellbridge Road. By all estimates, this should have been a 20-15 minute trip. We left home at 5:50 to be there at 6:30. Our first mistake was turning on 319 rather than 80. Once we realized our error, we decided the two roads can't be THAT far apart! We'll just keep going until we run into Highway 80. Well, we pass the Johnson County line and soon come to a roadblock. JOY! The family has realized we're lost and they've sent the troops. Nope, just a roadblock. When the officer came over to check license and registration, I was laughing hysterically and holding the Garmin, henceforth known as Loser. He leaned in to look at me, probably trying to determine just how many toddies I've had. I manage to tell him that we are really lost and trying to get to Snellbridge Road. He asks, "Where ya'll from?". He probably assumed we would say Texas, Virginia, somewhere far away from middle Georgia. It was a proud moment when I announced, "Dublin". Yep, Dublin. A mere 25 miles away and we might as well be traversing the English countryside. So, he gave us directions. I couldn't locate a working ink pen, but heck, I'm good with directions so I'll just remember them. In the interest of brevity, I'll just give you snippets from the remainder of our trip.

Stepmom: Ok, Where are you?
Stepsister: Look for the cell tower and it's right past the Strut & Rut.
Dad: OK, I'm sitting by the road waiting on you.......was that you that just went by?

By the end of trip, Rob and I had started to refer to the cell tower as the "beacon of hope".

The general consensus, after we arrived at 6:50, was that the cell tower had definitely been moved.

Ask a nurse

A funny thing happened when I became a nurse. Well, lots of funny things, but let's focus on one today. Suddenly, I'm viewed by friends, family and most strangers as an expert in all things medical. While shopping today, I ran into a former student whose son is a patient where I previously worked. I was greeted with a quick "hello" and then "Hey, I need to make an appointment for ___________." There are several problems with this statement, not the least of which is, I no longer work there! For the sake of argument, let's say I still do. Problem #2: I don't have an appointment book with me. Also, she describes a condition and says they were going to treat it "with that medicine that tastes real bad and you have to take it for 6 months". I think she was aiming for tinea corporis, a fungal infection of the skin, that is often treated with a foul tasting medicine taken for 3 months. To complicate matters, she throws in, "but doesn't eczema usually go away?".Of course there are no absolutes in medicine, but where did ECZEMA come from? She then proceeds to pull the kid over so she can show me his abdomen, which has 3 tiny pink dots on it. She explains, "OH, it's gotten better, but down here (points to groin area), this is just awful!" I'm positive I had a look of shock, awe and confusion on my face, so she wrapped it up by saying, "I just need to make him an appointment".

Wait? Wasn't that the 2nd statement out of your mouth 5 minutes ago? Well, thanks for sharing! If you need me, I'll be the one wearing dark sunglasses, a cap pulled really low on my head, and huge, non-descript clothes:)

Friday, December 10, 2010


A friend posted tonight that she’s expecting bifocals for Christmas. Her eye doctor told her she’s “reached that age.” That age for me was 37. What can I say, I’m an early bloomer! My doctor was kind enough to blame it on my contacts, which are for distance. Yeah, o.k., I’ll go with that. A couple of years later, Dr. Billy Moses noticed my vision problem. Ever the kind gentleman, all he said was “Mrs. Jackson, are your arms not long enough?” Let the record show, I was attempting to read some small writing that he couldn’t read. If you know him, you know he’s an absolutely wonderful man to work with! Still, it was like the proverbial blind leading the blind! I’ve recently worked with another doctor with the same problem, we both have arms that are too short. Eventually, it becomes funny when we are both attempting to hold an item further and further away, and still neither of us can see it. When I was younger, I would see ladies wearing reading glasses and think, “That will NEVER be me.” Now I not only appreciate the usefulness of “readers”, I embrace the opportunity to accessorize! If you’re going downhill, you might as well go in style. Bring on the rhinestones.

Thanksgiving 2010

Thanksgiving 2010

Plans change, noses run! Rob and I originally planned to spend Thanksgiving with my dad and (step)mom at Lorene’s house. Lorene is such a “character”. She reminds me of Paula Deen. Funny, outspoken, spunky, and just altogether awesome. I like to imagine, while I listen to and observe her, that I’m seeing a pretty accurate image of what I’ll be when I’m a few years older.

Well, since I became the queen of drippy noses today, I decided to stay home and not share the microbes with others! You can thank me, when you stop by to admire the impressive stack of discarded tissues that will be covering the entire house before sundown. So, in the interest of our community’s wellbeing ,I am at home alone, quarantined-ish. Well, not totally alone. I have Gabe, Ava, (normally, Mugsy’s name falls here), Minnie Kittie and Sheldon Zazzle. I’ve had furballs running by, over and around all day. I really wanted to get to see my family, but just didn’t think it fair to visit friends and family knowing that I’m sick and still contagious. Not to mention, I'd be walking around with tissues stuffed in my nose to control bodily secretions. You know, tissues packed in each nostril just isn’t a good look for me, and can you imagine the rumors that could start? Well, if you live in a small town, you can imagine. If not, let me help you. Just a few: “Have you seen Christy? She has this weird tissue stuff sticking out of her nose, looks to me like that cheap stuff too. You know those ¢89 boxes they sell at Wal Mart! CHEAP. Guess that’s all she can afford since she *whispers* quit her job. She should have let her plastic surgeon finish, or at least start, all that cosmetic work on her nose before she quit! I mean, bless her heart, her nose still looks huge and bent, and now she can’t afford to fix it!! "

Staying home on Thanksgiving has is benefits, but it’s not without its drawbacks, like getting hungry. So, around lunch, I requested a to-go plate from the diner (my mom’s house) next door. It was delivered with a smile and an offer to help with ANYTHING I may need while the hubby is away. When I cancelled plans with my dad, Rob decided at the last minute, to go visit his mom, specifically his nieces. Word on the street, actually from him, is that he had an awesome time with everyone! So glad he went. I won’t lie, it’s been a little odd spending the day attached to the sofa, wondering if I may end up on an episode of “Hoarders” after just one weekend of illness. They’ll come to film the show at our house. The camera crew will trip over 2 enormous baskets of unfolded clothes, and find me under approximately 9 billion feet of used, cheap toilet paper. Toilet paper? Yes, we’re out of facial tissues/Kleenex. OWWWWW. My nose is raw.

I couldn’t have worded it better myself: A nose in need, needs Puffs indeed!

Gone to the dogs

Another Oldie

We have truly gone to the dogs. My husband and I had gone out for "a night on the town", without the kids. Granted, we were only driving thru at Taco Bell, but we were out. All of our children have four legs, fur and English is their 3rd language. They are born speaking whine, which is still employed by our 1 year old son at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday mornings when he can't find anyone to play with. They then progress to bark, which is adorable when they weigh 2 pounds and their bark sounds like a door squeaking. However, it loses appeal when they weigh 65 pounds and have the ability to bark, for hours, at the same squirrel in a tree. English is a distant third. While it is not a spoken language for the kids, it is understood on rare occasion. For instance, when they hear the word BATH. Bath is the universal word for "head for the doggy door, ASAP".

OK, back to the night out. We had just rounded the corner on the home stretch to the Bell when our daughter called. "Mom, what are you wearing?" I answered, "My best dress and some spiffy accessories." "You have on my collar again, don't you?!" "Well, yes.....". She interrupted, "Nevermind, just come home quickly. I'm expecting friends and I can't reach the hotdogs. And don't worry, I preheated the grill, and was able to put out the fire on the roof all by myself".

By the time we arrived home, the party was in full swing. Animal Planet was blaring on the TV, there was a lively game of fetch underway on the front lawn, and a small bonfire was blazing in the grill.

We did what any defeated parents would do. Handed over the hotdogs, and headed to Home Depot for repair supplies.

Cute blonde nurse

The cute, blonde nurse. It was an honest mistake, I'm sure. So, I clarified for the patient by saying, "You mean the OTHER cute blonde nurse". We had a good laugh, which somehow turned into us talking about the "older, cute, blonde nurse". There's a lot of truth to the old saying that youth is wasted on the young! If I had the figure I had at 21, I'd go to work in a bikini. Actually, my figure wasn't THAT great then, but compared to now, it was glorious. And, who knew (not me) that hair actually begins to darken as it begins to sport some gray, or as my hairdresser refers to it, artic blonde. How absolutely backwards and rude is that? I'm fighting it all the way. If I was a 2 year old, you could almost call me "tow headed", but at my age, my sister just says I need some contrast! Some months I'm blonder than others, thanks to chemical processing. When someone comments that they didn't recognize with blonde hair, I tell them that I've heard blondes have more fun, and I'm trying it out. In all honesty, I'm just giving the gray a run for the money. Until it gets an allowance, I can pay more than the gray to maintain my color choice. Vive la blonde!

The Lab

This is a REALLY old piece, written before I had MANY nieces and nephews.

We have a car full of toys, and no two-legged children. Most of the meals I consume are ordered at a drive-thru window, and clarified by the following, "a toy for a boy or a girl?" Having neither in the car, I answer with whatever comes to mind first. Having a nephew, I usually say "boy", and give him the toy later. Unless, I really like it, or think it would make a nice addition to the "toy tree" in my husband's office. I kid you not, they have a tree (fake, of course) with the likes of Steve Irwin and his alligator and "Jimmy the printer man" on it. Many of these objects d'art, I'm proud to say, are my contribution, but back to the drive thru.

I always feel bad about leaving leftover food, so I take it home and place it in the laboratory aka refrigerator. I wouldn't have this problem if adults were allowed to order from the kid's menu. Don't cringe! It's not that I'm a light eater, I just don't want to ruin my midnight snack by filling myself with a well-rounded meal earlier in the evening. However, since I only consume approximately one meal per month at home, the chances of well-rounded are slim. Luckily, my in-laws have us over for lunch every Sunday. I know they love us and enjoy the visits, but I think they may also worry that their son will succumb to vitamin deficiency if not for at least one good meal per week! Come to think of it, he has looked a little listless, and they were only gone last weekend.


This is my first foray into blogging just for fun. Some of the first entries will be a couple things I've written over the years. Who knows what order I'll decide to put them in, not me! Also, I don't know how to add pictures or make this a fun-looking blog, but we'll get there. I enjoy writing, but I'm not a master of grammar and punctuation. I'm trying to teach myself that's it's o.k. to not do everything perfectly. So, I'll make you a deal. If an I.V. needs inserting or a vent alarm is going off, I'll check on it. If I make a grammatical, punctuation or spelling error, you check on it and let me know about it. I'm not offended in the least by having these errors pointed out. Let me know so I can correct it, and we'll all be Happie:)