What Lies Ahead?

My core was rocked this week when Brubber nearly spilled the beans about Santa Claus not being real. On our way to school, our conversation turned to what we wanted for Christmas. The Pie boldly stated that she was getting me an iPad and had a plan: she would ask Santa and when he brought it for her, she would simply hand it over to me. Then Brubber (who is 8, remember) fell loose from himself and said, “You know, Santa Claus is not…” I interrupted his bubble bursting agenda with a strained noise that sounded eerily like a moose stuck in a manhole. He knows, and I know, that Santa isn’t real; I’m just not quite ready to let The Pie know. Then, this brilliant little kid asked me a question to which I had no definitive answer: “Why are you lying to her? She’ll never believe you about anything again!”

Damn. He had a point. If I have stressed the importance of truthfulness while raising The Pie, then why am I lying to her about a fat man in a red suit that decides if she’s been good enough to get presents? Am I perpetuating this myth, while based in fact, which was created as a marketing ploy? Am I leading her to believe it’s okay to lie as long as the end justifies the means? I admit it…I introduced the idea of Santa Claus to her and every year I explain that Santa will choose 3 items from her list and will drop them at our house on Christmas Eve. I bake cookies and set out milk. I even let her put out carrots for the reindeer! I am all in on this thing, people!

But now I can’t help but wonder if I am doing her a disservice by keeping up the ruse. How will she feel when she finally finds out that Santa Claus is not a real person? Will she feel betrayed? Deceived? Duped? I think they are all valid responses. I don’t remember actually when I found out, so I can’t remember how I reacted. What I do know is that I didn’t feel betrayed by my parents until much later; their abusive relationship took care of that for me. But I digress...

The point I’m trying to make is that I enjoy the wonder and magical part of Christmas that includes flying reindeer, long-eared Christmas donkeys and misfit toys. I look forward every year to Frosty, the Heat Miser and even the Grinch. Especially the Grinch. For what better way for The Pie to learn about the spirit of Christmas than from a grumpy dude whose heart grows three sizes? I only want The Pie to feel as magical and wondrous as I did when I was a kid. Is that so wrong?

I looked into this issue and found that hundreds of studies have been conducted and thousands of articles written about this very issue. The majority of reports I read come down solidly in the “Don’t Lie About Santa” category. As I perused them, I started to feel like a bad parent! One essay by Alison Gropnik, professor of psychology at the University of California Berkeley, was published in a discussion in The New York Times and made me feel a little better:

"When children pretend, they are exercising the evolutionarily crucial human ability to envision alternative ways the world could be. In adults that ability is at the core of our very real capacities for invention and innovation."

Sure, Santa isn't a necessary part of Christmas, and it's certainly possible to teach children about the spirit of hope and generosity without him. But a belief in Santa Claus allows children to use their imaginations to envision a world where anything is possible (and the laws of physics need not even apply). Imagination is important, as is the ability to believe in things we can't always see.

Fantasy is a rich and important part of childhood. It is a time to believe and wonder, for one time in your life, that all things are possible. Adulthood and brutal truth can wait. And so can I.

The New Gig

So...I have taken on a responsibility I never, ever thought I would entertain. I find myself shocked every day that I agreed to it, but it's actually more fun than I ever expected it to be. I'm a babysitter!

It all came about because my lovely young neighbor, who was their previous child care provider, became pregnant with twins and due to complications, was placed on bedrest at 14 weeks. This development left a very sweet woman without child care, and since I had helped out on other occasions, and times being what they were (Wizard of Oz reference, there), I took the job. It allows me to be at home more with Dad, who recently had another hospital stay, and makes a tremendous contribution to our gross household income.

Now, about my charges...Cutie is 13 months old and is just the sweetest, most adorable little girl! She doesn't talk much, which is fine by me, but she cutely babbles and sings herself to sleep. She has a wild mane of dark hair that refuses to be tamed and cheeks that weigh about 4 1/2 pounds each! She is a very good baby, though a little clingy at times. I guess that's what they do at that age. I enjoy having her around the house and Dad gets a kick out of her, but it does make for difficult scheduling of daytime appointments and such.

The there's Brubber...he's 8 and a 3rd grader who purports to know everything about everything.  He is a beautiful boy with dancing brown eyes and eyelashes that I would rob a liquor store for, but man, he can be a pill! He loves to torment The Pie and unfortunately, she provides the response he desires. After all, she's a girl and her tendency to scream and stomp is statistically higher. He and The Pie occasionally find a calm middle ground, and I am ridiculously grateful for those moments. I drop him off at school after The Pie, and we have engaged in many interesting conversations, some quite revelatory and insightful for an 8 year old boy.

I wasn't sure at first how I would take to the new gig, but it is smoothing out and I am establishing a routine. The extra money helps make our ends meet and lessens the stress of worrying about finances on me. Ultimately, I feel like I am providing a much needed service, helping out a nice family, and meeting my responsibilities at home a little easier.

Blessings abound.

Dirty Girl

I do not claim to be a germaphobe, or a neat freak, nor do I suffer from an obsessive cleaning disorder. I have a limit of how much dirt I can tolerate and, admittedly, it’s not high. That is why I now face a challenge regarding my daughter.



When The Pie was very young, she hated getting her hands – really, any part of her – dirty, sticky or messy. She would chant, “dirty, dirty, dirty” if even the slightest bit of foreign substance landed on her. I prided myself on that behavior, thinking I was raising a conscious girl that would embrace cleanliness. But something changed…


The Pie has imposed a moratorium on bathing. I don’t know when; I don’t know how, but it seems she has taken on the characteristics of the Wicked Witch of the West and eschews water in all its forms. This particular ban also includes washing her hair and brushing her teeth. She comes home from a friend’s house or inside from playing in the backyard with dirt under her fingernails (and toenails. I gave up on forcing her to wear shoes a long time ago!), smears on her face and her hair tangled into something a sparrow would like to call home. She is barely recognizable as my daughter! When I mention a bath, she begins to whine like a jet engine.


I feel like some hygiene despot every time I force her to the tub; and the neighbors must think I’m shoving bamboo slivers into her eyes when I wash her hair. I think one night coyotes gathered in the driveway in response to her howling! Very often, getting The Pie into the bathtub is akin to wrestling a greased octopus. Legs and arms flail (hers and mine) in the endeavor of placing the girl in the water.


I just don’t understand this new aversion to bathing and maintaining her hygiene. Until about a month ago, she practically begged to take a bath, whined until I let her brush her teeth (sometimes 4 or 5 times a day!) and cried when I took away the dental floss. Is this just part of growing up? A phase she will eventually outgrow? I desperately hope so because I can’t face a future with a Pigpen Pie! Maybe a good hose-down once a week will do the trick? Or I could spray her with Febreze! Any suggestions?

Two Pees in a ...Bucket

Over the past few weeks, my house became the one where all the neighborhood kids liked to hang out. I prefer to think that it’s because I have a charming and charismatic daughter to whom they flock; or it may be my own fun and somewhat more laid back approach they enjoy. In any case, lots of kids hang out here but not once have they asked to use the bathroom. Yesterday, many things crystallized for me and I realized I was being duped.


When kids are playing and having fun, the last thing they want to do is stop the action to leave the group and go inside to use the facilities. So, my intelligent, problem-solving Pie devised a plan to urinate into a bucket in the garage. Then another friend thought it would be a good idea, as well. That way, no one had to get out of eyesight of what the kids were doing, and they wouldn’t miss anything fun. On the one hand, I can see the pragmatism of this solution. Who wants to be gone from their friends for three and a half minutes while emptying their bladder? Why not stay engaged and pee at the same time? On the other hand, as a mother, I see so many problems with this behavior, not the least of which is that I am the one most likely to have to empty the bucket!! The Pie and her neighbor friend have been caught urinating outside before and there have been consequences for both of them. It seems they were not harsh enough.

 
Yesterday, while I worked on a dining room remodel project, children from the neighborhood roamed in and out of the house, playing and riding bikes and generally being kids. At one point, I went outside into the lovely day and found The Pie “washing the car.” She had snuck some washcloths from the bathroom and busied herself with cleaning the windows and portions of the car body that she could reach. I asked where she got the water and she told me that Mike, the lawn-obsessed neighbor across the street, had filled the bucket with his garden hose. I registered no doubt or curiosity at this statement… but wait, there’s more. The Pie was so proud of the job she completed and thought the car was the shiniest it had ever been, that she began harassing me for money in exchange for the unsolicited wash. We joked around a little and as I was picking up the washcloths and the bucket she used, I noticed a pungent odor. A strong, definite smell of ammonia wafted to my nostrils.

 
While I found out later that it was, indeed, true that Mike had put water from the hose into the bucket, I was horrified to discover that The Pie and a friend also contributed to the level of liquid. It took a split second for me to realize that the shiny car in my driveway was soaked in the urine of my daughter and her friend. I sent everyone home, took the Pie inside and delivered swift justice; I doubt she will pee outside again.


But she did do a really good job on the car wash!

You Talkin' to Me?

I’ve met a lot of people in my years on this earth and I thought I had seen and heard almost everything, but the level of rudeness and insensitivity that currently exists in society stuns me. I have encountered several new people recently and in some instances, had an opportunity to share some minor personal details. One man, in his early 50s, had the audacity to say to me, “Why did you have a baby if couldn’t afford it?” Thankfully, I possess the smart-ass gene and replied: “I waited 42 years already…how long was I supposed to wait?”


I apparently labor under the misapprehension that the stigma of being a single mother is a thing of the past. I’m sure you lovely readers know at least one, if not more, single moms; if not, then you soon will. So as a community service, I am here to speak for all of them and advise you of the things you are never, EVER allowed to say to them:



· “Where’s the child’s father?” In my own situation, the true answer is, “I don’t know,” but the truth is…NONE of your business. If the single mom chooses to share a part of her story, then it’s her choice. But she feels judged enough…she doesn’t need to explain the circumstances surrounding how she became a single mother to someone she barely knows.

· “Do you work?” Of course, we work! Around the clock! If we maintain employment outside the home, we feel guilty that we don’t spend enough time with our child; if we don’t, we feel guilty turning to state funded assistance in hard times. When I was asked this question, I replied, “I am the manager of a site-specific project leveraging behavior modification against the acquisition of La La Loopsys.” Yeah, that lady turned almost as blue as her hair!

· “You look tired!” That’s just a polite way to say, “You look like hammered hippo shit!” Don’t try to act like it isn’t! Our minds never stop spinning; in our heads we make grocery lists, plan play dates, plan meals, make a budget – sometimes being alarmingly creative, schedule doctor appointments and school functions. We cook, clean, launder, sweep, vacuum, bathe, brush, scrub, straighten and straighten and straighten. No wonder we’re tired!

· “Dating must be hard.” Thank you Captain Obvious! What amazing insight you possess! It’s harder than Chinese calculus, but it can be done…I believe it’s possible. Perhaps not always successfully, but understand that we do it not with the ultimate goal of finding “a new daddy” for our child, but a special someone with which we can share our lives, regardless of our respective baggage.

· “How long have you been divorced?” Let’s not presume to think that in addition to raising a child alone, I failed in a marriage, too! You know what happens when you assume. Enough said!

· “Where is your daughter/son now?” Concert, dinner, shopping, movie…doesn’t matter. I am asked where The Pie is as if she should be at my side every second of the day. Do you really need to know? She’s not with me, so how far of a stretch is it for you to believe that I have left her in the care of a responsible adult? No, I didn’t leave her in charge of her grandfather at home, but I did pay extra to have the umbilical cord cut when she was born, so that she can build independence and I can maintain my sanity.

· “Let me know if you ever need a sitter.” It’s not really what you mean, so don’t even waste your breath saying it. I always need a sitter, but what you should really say is “I have some time Tuesday evening, why I don’t I take The Pie for a couple of hours so you can watch a Red Box movie that’s not animated?” Yeah, try that one! Single moms appreciate the offer, but it is irritatingly similar to suggesting that “we do this again sometime” or “let’s have lunch.” No one really means it.

· “I don’t know how you do it!” This has got to be the most annoying thing I hear on a regular basis. What I hear is that you have no faith in my ability to manage raising a child on my own, much less do it with barely enough money to make ends meet. Truth is, I’m not sure how I do it, either, but I do. And I do a damn good job of it. I’ve made bad choices, I admit, but I did it all for her and I was the only one to suffer the consequences. So if you utter this phrase to a single mom, don’t expect an outline of how she does it, because she has no idea how it works…but is just grateful that it does.



What I want to hear is that I am doing a good job. Don’t judge me if The Pie has a hair out place or is wearing her underpants backwards. Tell me that she is a wonderful reflection of me and she has a great role model. Don’t try to make me feel less of a person because I don’t have a husband – because at this point, I prefer it this way. And if you don’t have anything nice to say, then shut the hell up!!

Pie Theory

Some of the best conversations The Pie and I have had were during a nighttime car ride and this past weekend did not disappoint. On our way home from a friend’s house, The Pie began to wax philosophical while staring at the “Blue Moon.”




Pie: “Mama, what happens if all the people on Earth die?”

Me: “Then no one would be left to take care of it?”

Pie: “Would all the animals and plants and trees and lakes and oceans die, too?”

Me: “Probably. If there are no humans to take care of them, they just might.”

Pie: “Yeah.”



I knew it wouldn’t end there. It is not possible for her to leave something alone without exhaustively talking it out. Ok, here we go:



Pie:” Mama, I have an idea.”

Me: “Really, what’s that?”

Pie: “I think after all the people are dead, that God should send two angels back here in human being form to start all over.”

Me: “How would that work?”

Pie: “Well, God had to make sure they know all the rules to follow so they can take good care of everything and make more people so after the angels leave, everyone else will know how to take care of stuff.”

Me: “How will the angels make new people?”

Pie: “Mama (in a very annoyed tone), you KNOW how that happens. Duh!”

Me: (fighting laughter) “You’re right I do. Do you?”

Pie: “Yes. God puts special babies in ladies’ tummies that don’t have a husband and they are the best babies in the world and when they grow up they can save the world.”

Me: “That sounds pretty neat…are you one of those babies?”

Pie: “Well, yeah…it was my idea to bring the angels back and so I saved the world!”

Me: “That is fantastic!”

Pie: “Yeah…AND I did it in kindergarten!!”


Moments later, she fell asleep. Dreaming, I assume, of what wonderful feat she will accomplish next.

Triple D...Dating, Death and Dental Work

No one ever said it would be easy. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Had no expectation otherwise. But I was hoping for a little balance - instead of going through phases where nothing exciting happens, then suddenly being hit with a shitstorm – I prefer having my shit spread out in an even layer, thank you very much. Like Nutella on warm toast…


In the past 6 weeks or so, my limits have been tested, my sanity tried, my judgment questioned and my heart broken. Not necessarily in that order, because it seemed to come all at once! I felt overwhelmed and under prepared and as much as I tried to fake it, my grasp on everything slipped away.

Alzheimer’s took my favorite uncle from us. He was a sweet and funny man, a teacher and father of 6 – some of my favorite people in the world – but his final days were agonizing for him and everyone who loved him. I worried about how my father would accept the news of his brother’s death, but it happened the same day as the Colorado movie theatre tragedy, so he occupied himself with that instead. After the funeral, dad took a turn and proved more responsibility. His care took time, effort and skills that were already running low in the tank.

The Pie started kindergarten, so the adjustment from staying up late and sleeping in had to be made. With the God-given assistance of dissolvable melatonin tablets, I was able to get her back on a sleep schedule that coordinated with real life. First couple of days were a teeny bit rough, but we both survived, so I will gladly settle for that!

I had to have some nasty dental work done and that put me out of commission for about a week. I had 7 teeth pulled. I do not currently have dental insurance and the only viable option to end the discomfort was to have broken ones extracted. Oh, the pain! And eating soft foods was no picnic. Hey, pudding, Jell-O, applesauce, yogurt, I am no longer interested in you, I need to move on; on to something that can offer me more satisfaction…like Pecan Praline ice cream. I’ve spent years attempting to justify eating ice cream three times a day and finally found a way to do it! Who knew it would take approaching redneck status to do so?

My relationship with the Prince came to an end. I do not intend to delve into reasons, decisions or choices. He is a good man – he needs someone good. This one was all my decision, my reason, my choice. Still, dealing with it is stressful and difficult. Gives me a lot to untangle in that scary place inside my head!

My dad’s other brother passed away suddenly last week, adding more sadness to our family. He loved in Montana, so we hadn’t seen him in a while, but I reconnected with him via Facebook and loved him. I have really fantastic memories of childhood that involve him and his kids, so I choose to hold on to those right now. I have gotten closer to one of his daughter’s over the past few months because we share a similar situation; he lived with her. I can only send her prayers and words of comfort, but I wish there were something else I could do.

Now, the Pie presents with a loose tooth – her first. While at first I was excited and thrilled for her, I slowly came to the realization that she’s growing up. And doing it WAY faster than I want her to. Every single day of my life, no matter how crazy she makes me, I end the day with a thankful prayer of gratitude for her. The Big Guy knew what he was doing.

So I’m holding on, still believing that it will be ok soon. And if it isn’t, there is always ice cream….

Party Hearty?

I’ve been to several children’s birthday parties in my day, and in the past five years, I’ve even thrown a couple of fairly good ones. I think certain criteria must be met for a party to be labeled “successful” yet I seldom see an attempt to come close. I have a friend who has four children ranging in age from 18 months to 12 years and she set the bar very high with regards to kids’ birthday parties. She made a teapot cake, for Pete’s sake!!



This woman has talent!!



When the Pie was born, I looked forward to years of planning and throwing parties that were fun and memorable, keeping in mind the standard set years before by my lovely friend. First Birthday was small and intimate, with close friends and family in attendance and no real theme, save decorations of her birth month flower. Second birthday brought out a little more of the party planner in me and I went with a color coordinating motif of brown and pink. It was a rainy day so we had to move the party into my (at the time) very small house but everyone had a great time. I got into the zone for the Third Birthday, with a Teddy Bear’s Picnic theme at the park where we went on a bear hunt; Fourth Birthday was a Circus in a gazebo filled with food and games. This year we had a Rodeo Round Up of little cowgirls and cowboys in our backyard. When I pick a theme, I do it up right! Don’t think any different!!

I’ve been to parties where it’s just cake and ice cream and presents…those are fine by me - less time for kids to get bored and cranky. The activity parties are pretty nifty, too…either at a bowling alley, a roller skating rink, an arcade…something that all the kids can do all at once.

Pool parties make nervous.

And let me tell you why…

It is our nature as humans to socialize and enjoy each other when we get together, especially if the only time we adults gather is for a kid’s party! Most of the time, the adults’ attention is not on the pool, where it should be, but on the other adults in attendance. I am just as guilty as the next parent, chatting away while a kid is up to some form of malfeasance, or a toddler without floaties jumps into the deep end. Thankfully, there is a levelheaded person who can come to the rescue at some point, but what about those who just plain want to have their own fun? Yeah, there’s one in every crowd. Most recently, there were three.

At a Luau Pool party for a girl turning seven, I was stunned by the behavior of three men. With little regard to their own child’s safety, they wrestled and dunked each other, splashed little ones in the area, and challenged each other to crazy stunts. I spent the majority of the time watching the pool because most of the other adults were inside the pool house. My kid nearly drowned on two previous occasions; I don’t need another close call. I’m all for having a good time, but horseplay can quickly turn dangerous. Notice in the picture below how close children are to these oblivious men.

Adults should be allowed to have fun at childrens' birthday parties...just not at the expense of their children.

My Dearest Pie: A letter to My Kindergartner

My Dearest Pie,



You are about to begin your educational journey by starting kindergarten soon. All the preparation we’ve made together for your first day will fade away as soon as you leave the relative safety of my vehicle and walk into your new school and away from me. I will have to release your hand and watch as you take your new teacher’s hand and stroll bravely into your new classroom. This is just another stop in the endless farewell that is being a parent.


I am so excited for you! You will make new friends and enjoy new experiences and learn new things. It will be such fun for me to watch you grow and blossom every day, but it also reminds me that these days are fleeting, The past five years flew by so fast that I can hardly remember you growing up into such a beautiful little girl. But one thing I will never forget is that I am proud to be your Mama.


I admit that I am not a perfect parent; I have flaws and shortcomings just like every other parent on the planet. No matter what mistakes I made, I was willing to learn about how to be better for you. I hope that I have provided you with tools to navigate your way through school and know that I love the smart, witty, imaginative child you are.


I’m not saying that kindergarten will be easy. You will have days where you will come home frustrated by an assignment, or mad at a classmate or sad about something that happened on the playground. We’ll get through it together. It scares me to let you go out into this less-than-perfect world, but it is my fervent hope that your presence in it makes it just a little better.


My child, I wish for you these two things; to give you roots, to give you wings.

Love,


Mama

The Tale of My Tail End or How Many Words Can I Use to Describe a Part of Anatomy (Warning: Graphic Language Used)

One of the reasons for my relative blog silence lately is that I have been recovering from surgery. While it wasn’t necessarily major surgery, it was an invasive procedure that doctors estimated to resolve in about a week, but instead, took over 6 weeks. It’s a little embarrassing to describe, but I’m sure we can all be grown-ups about it.



For several months, I experienced rectal bleeding for no apparent reason. By apparent, I mean that I knew nothing had been up in the poop chute and I there were no discernibly difficult bowel movements to cause aforementioned bleeding. At first, my primary care physician assumed it was a result of taking Naproxen, an anti-inflammatory prescription I used when I injured my ankle. But when I stopped taking the drug, the bleeding continued. It never coagulated or stopped, so I became concerned. And I was tired of shoving gauze in there. ..


I went back to my PCP and she suggested an anuscopy. Believe me… not NEARLY as pleasant as it sounds! An orifice that is by its very nature designed to be exit-only, does not joyfully accept the insertion of cold steel shoehorns and a tiny camera. When this adventure into my dark parts was complete, my crack medical team determined that I had a mass in my rectum that was irritated and bleeding. Now, if I had been poked with foreign objects, I’d be a little irritated, too, but my point is…I left the office that day with a surgeon referral.


After a few less than blissful encounters with insurance people, and the rescheduling of the surgery, the day finally arrived. My neighbor drove me to the hospital in what was essentially the middle of the night…I had to be there at 5 a.m. for a 7 a.m. procedure. … and another friend arrived just as I was being prepped. I felt anxious, but mostly relieved that it was about to be over. I remember noticing the clock in the operating room striking exactly 7:00 and I thought to myself, “Oh, wow! We’re on time!” and I was out. No counting backwards, no deep breaths, just …out.


I awoke to a perkier than necessary nurse requesting that I open my eyes and breath deeply. I felt woozy, a little disoriented and my ass hurt like hell! The nurse explained that the mass was successfully removed, but was rather large and needed to be removed via an incision in my right buttock. The plan when I went in was to enter the rectum, retrieve the mass and then exit the rectum, but evidently, the surgeon’s surprise at the sheer volume of the growth sent him cutting holes in my ass cheek! Be that as it may, I was informed that no sutures were used on the incision, just the medically sound and always infallible Super Glue was applied to keep the skin together. I knew at that point that I would rue this day.


Several days of discomfort passed and when I called the office to schedule a follow-up visit, I advised them that the incision site had not stopped bleeding. The office suggested I come in first thing the next morning. This did not bode well for me…or my derriere. The surgeon, who resembled Dr. Oz a tiny bit, roughly accessed the area and declared that I, indeed, had an open wound. His assessment was not surprising, but his treatment was. “We’re just going to clean it and let it heal. Take sitz baths, keep it clean and dry, come see me again in 2 weeks.” I wish I had a job where I didn’t have to take responsibility for my mistakes like that guy! So. That was that. While I was not 100% compliant with the sitz baths, I did do my diligence in keeping the area as clean, dry and undisturbed as possible. However, when you are the sole caretaker for an 83 year-old and a 5 year-old, rest is not something that comes easily. The wound continued to open over time until it completely exposed the underlying tissue. Its size accommodated my thumb, both in length and width, so I certainly wanted to be careful with region.


This development became more than uncomfortable…it inhibited certain physical activities. I think you know what I am trying to say. No? Go ask your mother. The Prince is a gentleman – patient, understanding, compassionate – but still harbored concern over my booty and the status of healing. However, he wanted no part of seeing it or discussing it at length. I don’t blame him.


So after 7 weeks, I am completely healed, pathology results were good – no sign of cancer, so YAY! – and I no longer have a pain in my ass. Unless, of course, you count that 83 year old and 5 year old …. :)

How Does That Make You Feel?

My emotions lately have run the gamut from depressed to elated, from giddy to livid…and back again. I have no reason to believe I suffer from bipolar disorder or any serious mental imbalance (although some might argue otherwise) because all those emotions are situational in their basis. It mind boggling that I can change moods so quickly…going from laid-back mommy to raging evil queen in 2.2 seconds!



Relationships with people are so delicate that I wonder sometimes if I have irrevocably changed their course with my emotional outbursts. I witness my daughter jump and recoil from me, I receive of look of incredulity from my boyfriend, and I usually elicit a “whoa” from most other folks.


Is The Pie destined to spend thousands of dollars on therapy in the future simply to determine that my yelling damaged her self-esteem? Does The Prince think I am a raving lunatic when tears leap to my eyes for no apparent reason? When Dad looks at me like I have just insulted his mother, is it because I inadvertently unleashed the bitch that resides inside?


How can I possibly be normal if I can be in the middle of a benign conversation one minute and then inviting someone to engage in coitus with themselves the next? I baffle myself. And that’s WITH medication!!


Good thing I have counseling tomorrow….

Measuring by Pie

Mother’s Day is always a little bittersweet for me, but this year, it was a laugh riot! The Pie’s teacher at Preschool arranged an interview with her students about their mothers that would ultimately be used for a Mother’s Day card. The card and a lovely little flowerpot were bestowed upon me to celebrate me giving birth to the greatest child on earth…but the card trumped all previous gifts and following are the details revealed about me:



WHAT IS YOUR MOTHER’S NAME? “Jackie”


WHAT DO YOU CALL HER? “Mama”


HOW OLD IS SHE? “30” (I love my daughter!)


HOW TALL IS SHE? “8 feet”


HOW MUCH DOES SHE WEIGH? “267 pounds” (ok…NOT loving my daughter so much now. This is her favorite number and by NO means my current weight!)


WHAT COLOR IS HER HAIR? “brown”


WHAT IS THE PRETTIEST THING ABOUT YOUR MOTHER? “her eyes…they look like mine!”


WHAT DOES SHE DO DURING THE DAY? “she goes shopping and reads magazines”


WHAT IS HER FAVORITE TV SHOW? “grown-up shows”


WHAT IS HER FAVORITE DRINK & SNACK? “Dr. Pepper and anything she wants”


WHAT DOES SHE COOK? “pancakes and McDonalds”


WHAT DOES SHE LIKE TO DO FOR FUN? "do grown-up stuff and go on dates”


WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH YOUR MOTHER? “play”


WHAT IS HER FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH YOU? “snuggle” (love her again!)


WHERE DO YOU LIKE TO GO WITH YOUR MOTHER? “Wal Mart”


WHAT IS THE ONE THING SHE SAYS TO YOU MOST OFTEN? “no” (not true!)


HOW WILL YOU CELEBRATE MOTHER’S DAY? “eating and drinking and playing”


WHAT DOES YOUR MOTHER WANT FOR MOTHER’S DAY? “her butt to stop hurting”


Some answers were pretty accurate, but others were simply ridiculous or too revealing. Especially the last one! I do occasionally express that I have a pain in my ass, but this particular pain is a result of surgery and its complications. It’s nice to know she pays attention, at least!

The Life of Pie

Today The Pie and I celebrated her 5th birthday with a breakfast of pink pancakes, pizza for dinner and a friend sleeping over. I can’t believe it’s been five years since that little creature made her debut at 5:29 p.m. on a Friday evening.

I checked in to the hospital the night before, after a dinner of gyros and root beer. My friend Becky was planning to be with me throughout labor and delivery so she with me during registration. I was settled in my room, given an Ambien and Pitocin and we were left to our own devices. I don’t recall exactly what the topic was, but we talked and giggled like little girls practically all night. I was on a fetal heart monitor (which we called a He-tal Fart Monitor – after an hilarious scene from a movie called Micki and Maude), so I was unable to get up for any reason…even to use the restroom.


At 6:00 the next morning, more Pitocin was administered and I began to experience labor. It was no more uncomfortable than menstrual cramps but knowing it would result in something fabulous kept me going. At exactly noon on April 20, my water broke. For the life of me, I will never know why, but I asked, “What color is it?” The nurses determined meconium was present, so they attached a flushing tube to me. For the next five hours, I experienced moderately severe contractions and remember holding the hand of The Pie’s Poppy while he prayed and squeezing until I thought the man would yell out in pain!


At 5:02 p.m., my doctor waltzed in and said, “Let’s get her out of there,” as if she were a POW or something. Within minutes, I was in the delivery room, receiving a spinal block – which left my entire back bruised – and being draped for a C-section. When they finally let Becky in, I felt relief that someone could tell me what was going on…but she is, shall we say “vertically challenged” and couldn’t see over the drape. I asked, “When are they going to start ?” and was answered with laughter. The doc advised me that they had already made the cut and were pulling my daughter out even as I asked the question.


The glorious moment is a little blurry for me, but I do remember waiting to hear her little cry. It seemed to take forever from the moment they pulled her from my body – a nurse crying, “oh, how cute!” – until she took her first breath without my assistance. In that moment, I discovered that I received the fulfillment of a wish I never spoke, a dream I never knew I had and the answer to a prayer I never dared to ask.

Random "Shower" of Thoughts

I do my best thinking in the shower. It’s the only place that I really have to myself, with no one asking me to put something in them, rub something on them or do something for them. Usually, I can put together some pretty incredible strings while soaping up, but today, I felt disjointed and ended up with a real stream-of-consciousness vibe going on.

As I shampooed my hair, I started thinking about breakfast (because I was hungry) and then food in general. I wondered about the brave souls who first ate a coconut, an artichoke or crab legs…they seem so labor intensive and yet are quite delicious. Those people must have been REALLY hungry to work so hard for the little bit of food they found. I would have been incredibly pissed off. But that’s just me.

Now the rinse: I wish I looked good bald. Not that I know if I look bad…I’ve never been bald, but the time and effort it takes for me to do my hair seems ridiculous. I could be sweeping or mopping or something else more productive with my time! But because I don’t want to be stared at and my new boyfriend (I can’t believe it either!) likes me to have hair, I guess I will soldier on.



The soap-up: I am so proud to personally know people who have served in the military…and I need to make some calls about insurance and home health care after my surgery. (Surgery is scheduled for April 25th and involves a tender area of my nether regions and will require dressing changes. I refuse to ask my father or daughter to complete this task!!) Did I hear the phone ringing?
Shaving: I want to back in time and meet the first chick that shaved her legs and/or armpits. Then I want to punch her in the throat for starting this laborious trend. Again…a lot of work, for not a lot of reward. I sense a theme!
Foot Scrub: I need to come up with a yummy sugar-free dessert for cooking out with the fella (his name is Carl) and his son (Cody) and son’s girlfriend (Heather) this week. That will be fun! Why was I so nervous about changing my Facebook relationship status? And why did we have to discuss it before it happened? Technology makes us weirdoes.
Final Rinse: I like him. Really. A lot. I like his kid, too. A lot. Did I hear the phone ringing?

Crikey...I Got a Live One!!

I once heard a tale about a creature “out there” that is nice, thoughtful, funny and kind. This being allegedly appreciates women for who they are, not what their measurements are or if they give it up on the first date. Experts spend countless hours studying the courting and mating habits of these subjects and report that, while they are quite rare, they actually do exist. And I found one!

I wasn’t sure what to do with it at first…it was entirely foreign to me. My initial consideration was to run in the opposite direction, fearing that it was a hallucination or a harbinger of an impending mental breakdown. I remember being told all my life that these oddities were just waiting for me, but I supposed I always just missed them and ended up with a sub par specimen. My experiments with these creatures invariably failed spectacularly. Each one concluded with results of infidelity, abuse, low motivation, dishonesty, inconvenience, or general malfeasance.

The aforementioned subject in my care exhibits traits of humor, intelligence, kindness, compassion and attraction; those rarely combined in nature. Under further examination, the specimen is pleasing to the eye, generous, and elicits laughter and general feelings of warm fuzziness. When in the company of this elusive creature, the examiner feels, desired, enjoyed, appreciated and very well liked.

I am of the opinion that I shall retain full exclusive rights to this rare being for evaluation, observation and study. With careful consideration and ample exposure, the theorem that a Good Man exists for me will be proven!

Elder Abuse

Abuse in all of its permutations has been in the news for years. Some forms get more press than others, and only in an extreme case do you hear about elder abuse. In college, I delved into a research project on the topic and found myself horrified at the tales of caretakers allowing geriatric patients to lie in their own excrement for days at a time, failing to provide proper medical attention, withholding food as punishment or perpetrating horrific acts of violence upon their charges.


But what about when the elders are the abusers? Do we hear about when the patient turns on his caretaker and inflicts violence or threatens to do so? What steps must a caretaker follow to ensure safety – for themselves and the elderly? I never really considered it a possibility until today. A surreal and shockingly unexpected episode took place in my kitchen this afternoon that I am loath to forget for some time.

My 83-year-old father took a swing at me…with his metal cane... because I couldn’t understand or follow what he was saying to me. The conversation began innocently enough; he closed the patio door and said he was going to spray a hornet’s nest. When I inquired as to the location of said hornet’s nest, my father suddenly reversed in age about 40 years and began loudly spewing obscenities at me, asking if I ever used my head for something other than growing hair. When I admonished him to stop yelling at me, that I was simply asking a question, he replied, “I’m going to beat some sense into you,” and swung his cane at my head.
My reflexes thankfully kicked in and I swatted the cane away before he actually landed a blow. I admit, somewhat reluctantly, that I immediately saw red and lost my cool, daring him to try the attack again. I reminded him that I am not my mother and he is not allowed to treat me in that manner. It was an instant change that took place…it was like he was somewhere else, in another time and he returned to just his usual grumpy self.




My father physically abused my mother for many years. I have a scar in the middle of my back as a result of me jumping between them when he brandished a butcher knife at her when I was 11. I have vivid memories of this six foot four inch man violently shoving and slapping my four foot 11 inch mother to the ground. He verbally abused her every day and once threw a bowl of stew against the wall above her head because it wasn’t hot enough.


Upon meeting my father these days, people comment about what a nice man he is and how sweet he is. They simply cannot fathom the rage that he carries from his childhood, from military service and other pressures he endured in his lifetime. I once shared with one of my best friends the kind of childhood I experienced and she refused to believe me, citing that he was always such a sweetheart. Sure…he was nice to everyone…except his family.


The past year presented a myriad of situations, issues and problems that I handled to the absolute best of my ability, but this one really stumped me. How can I possibly allow my daughter to witness violence coming from her grandfather, whom she adores? Fortunately, she was playing with her friends outside when this whole thing went down. But what if there is a next time? And what if next time, she sees him swing at me or hears him denigrate me? There is no explanation that is acceptable and I find myself embarrassed that it happened at all.


I never experienced physical abuse from a partner and always swore to myself that I would not tolerate it. But I think I gained some insight today into why women stay in abusive relationships…shame, embarrassment and humiliation are great motivators to keep secrets. But if something is ignored, it is likely to repeat itself until it properly mitigated – it’s true with abuse, maintaining a vehicle or a nasty rash.


Following a cooling off period, he apologized, but with little sincerity. I explained that he doesn’t just get to say “sorry” and forget about it. It must be at the forefront of his mind, so that his temper doesn’t become uncontrollable again. But I fear that even if he’s not losing his temper, he just may well be losing his mind.

My Top Five: Memories of the Week

One of the most difficult truths of life that I have recognized is this: Everything has a shelf life. Once a moment occurs, it’s too late to capture it. That’s why God gave us the ability to remember…to recall a special instant in time that made us smile, laugh or even shed a tear.


This past week has been a busy one…my father was admitted to the hospital, I faced my own health crisis and it was Spring Break, so the Pie was wound up tighter than an eight-day clock! But one thing I carry with me are the memories of times I know I can never get back, but that I will treasure for eternity. At least until the Alzheimer’s kicks in.

1. After the miserable rain-soaked days we finally were able to enjoy some time on the back patio. Dad is supposed to get some small bursts of exercise, so I encourage him to walk around the back yard. During a rest, the Pie plopped down in the grass at his feet and said, “I love you, Papa!” Then she began howling (she likes to play “puppy”). Suddenly my father joins in the howling and soon our actual dog joined the fray. I laughed at this ridiculous sight and then laughed harder when asked, “What’s so funny?” That moment is now stamped into my memory banks.


2. The night I put dad in the hospital, my anxiety level was off the charts! I needed a buffer between the Pie and me, so I called the fella I’ve been dating…friends call him The New Guy, so let’s go with that. I asked The New Guy if he could come to visit, then kept changing my mind about whether he should come or not. Finally, I relented and he came to the house, after the Pie was in bed, and we snuggled, talked and giggled. He surprised me with how supportive and sensitive he was to what was happening with me and I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms. Regardless of what the future holds with this man, I will carry that memory forever.
3. My family had an unexpected financial shortfall this month and we were sorely in need of groceries, prescriptions and other necessities. My lovely neighbor graciously volunteered to help. She brought us milk, bread, bottled water and even paid for medications for Dad. She is a sweet young Christian mother who is incredibly busy and probably financially strapped herself, but thought nothing of spending her family’s money to help us. The memory of her generosity is stuck in my heart.
4. This week we celebrated the 30th birthday of one of my favorite people in the world. Her mother and I are best friends and she has always been my “niece.” The young woman characterizes everything I wish the Pie to grow up to be – compassionate, generous, smart, kind, strong, logical, motivated and achieving. I was present when she was born 30 years ago and while I missed a large chunk of adolescence, I am honored to see the amazing woman she has grown into. The memory of her as a baby superimposed over the image of her managing her burgeoning family is one whose beauty is indescribable.
5. With the exception of actually bathing my dad, I provide all of his hygiene needs: clip and file, nails, rub lotions and potions on, check moles, cut hair, etc. It was hair-cutting day this week, and my little helper was ready to make a splash in the art of geezer barbery! The Pie assumed her place behind Papa’s chair and combed all of his little stray hairs into a semblance of a style, patted his head and pronounced, “Voila! (Although it sounded more like “Waaaa-Laaaaa”) I am finished. You left me no choice and I will sit down!” I have no idea what she meant, but I laughed myself silly and even giggled later at the memory of it.



It can be a moment, an instant, or a long process, but everything everywhere has potential to make a lasting, wonderful memory. The question is whether you make yourself open to experiencing it and noticing that something wonderful is happening before your very eyes. Open yours this week and be surprised at what you see!

LeAnna is 30.wmv

The Top Five: Funniest Things the Pie said This Week

I try to look for humor in nearly every situation I encounter; and when it involves my daughter, I don’t have to look very far. The Pie is a veritable treasure trove of comedy and she loves to make people laugh. This week in particular was crammed with hilarious bon mots, so the task of culling them into the top five challenged me.







1. “Oh, man, my butt looks great!” - While sorting through clothes The Pie has outgrown, we discovered a pair of jeans she hadn’t worn in a while. They are embellished with dazzling crystals and swirly designs on the back pockets. I tried them on her to see if they still fit and following a quick glance in the mirror, she delivered this very true statement.






2. “Mama, you are mistaken.” – This declaration ended a discussion about whether or not it was Treasure Day at school (which is Friday); the conversation took place on Tuesday.






3. “Do you WANT to look like a hoochie?” – I don’t normally wear a lot of eye make-up during the day, but I had a lunch date, so I went with my “date look.” The Pie is fascinated with the whole make-up process and watched while I loaded up on the face paint then delivered her critique.






4. “Papa smells like Mini’s breath!” – My dad is convinced that garlic is the panacea for all of his ills…and he doesn’t just take garlic pills, he eats an entire head of fresh garlic every day. Mini (the dog) has a tendency to ingest little nuggets left in the cat’s litter box (I know, gross). The Pie balked at giving her Papa kisses and this was her answer when I asked her why.






5. “Mama, is your date over yet?” – So that lunch date? It lasted into a dinner date with friends who were babysitting The Pie. Said date and I met them at a restaurant and there ended up being10 of us at the table enjoying a lovely time. At one of the few lulls in conversation, The Pie dropped this bomb.

Weekly feature? Probably...

Can I Take the Scenic Route?

I realize that one of my responsibilities as a parent is to guide my child down a path toward maturing into a productive adult member of society. But does it have to happen so quickly? The Pie is 42 days from turning 5 and there are days, if I don't a double take, I think I'm talking to a 15-year-old. Surly attitude and all.

I believe she has now appointed herself as Royal Inquisitor to the Empress Mama because she asks questions about where I've been, what I've been doing, who I've been doing it with...you get the idea. I haven't been grilled like since I was 17 and snuck into bedroom window an hour after curfew. Man, that was a night!

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have decided to cautiously try dating again. The Pie surprised me the other night with this conversation:

Pie: "Do you have a date?"
Me: "Yes, I do."
Pie: "What is a date?"
Me: "It's when Mama goes out to eat or to a movie with a new guy friend."
Pie: "Are you going to do that date?"
Me: "Yes, I am."
Pie: "What is his name?"
Me: "His name is (date's name)."
Pie: "I don't know him!"
Me: "I know you don't. I said he was a NEW friend."
Pie: "I have to meet him to see if he is OK. Get him on the phone."
Me: "AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I don't understand why she felt the need to vet my date; I have never been on a date in her lifetime, so I fail to see where she learned this behavior. Next thing you know, she'll want a credit report and a background check!

There are moments when I look at her and all the innocence of childhood shimmers behind her indigo eyes, her features soft and curvy. In a flicker, her eyes turn dark, her mouth turns to a hard line and she spits, "Whatever!"

Last week, while running errands in town, she asked what all the orange barrels were for. I explained that the roads were being repaired and all cars had to get in one lane. To which, she replied, "If we could all go in one lane, why are there so many other lanes anyway?" I admitted that I had no answer for that - I was looking for a detour somewhere on our path...

Top Five: Activities

Today marks the first of a series of my Top Fives. That is, a list of the five things that I like most...and today, it's ACTIVITIES. These are things I enjoy doing more than anything else. You will not find either of the following on the list: camping, hunting, fishing, or any form of car racing. If you are surprised about that, then you don't really know me! Okay, here we go (in no particular order):

1. COOKING - I taught myself to cook at a very young age because my mother could only successfully prepare about 5 meals - and one of those was liver - so I wanted to add some variety. I remember watching Julia Child on Saturday mornings on PBS and was fascinated by how she took a bunch of stuff, threw it together and then served it as a meal. Now baking is a different thing; I like baked goods, but I sometimes have difficulty with the precise measuring and all. I like to change things up and experiment, so cooking is fun for me. I prefer cooking for a lot of people, filling them up inside with tasty warmth and goodness, then basking in the "mmm"s and "ohmigawd"s that follow.

2. EATING - what's the point of cooking if I can't eat it? I get excited when I am trying a new recipe and think about all the possibilities that it holds. I especially love eating out because then I don't have the clean up to worry about. I like all kinds of food and will try anything once. I DO NOT like raw tomatoes and eschew them as often as possible. Don't mind them cooked, but they just seem wrong in their natural state...like they're not finished or something. Also, I discovered a long time ago that it is physically impossible to eat and cry at the same time.

3. READING - I am never without a book...I am always in the middle of reading something. I do not read several books at once, because that feels like I'm cheating on all the books. I like to dedicate myself to the characters and plot of one book at a time so that they actually become a part of my consciousness. Whenever I read a book, I create the visual setting in my mind by associating it with a real place in my life and I cast the characters in the movie of the book. I did it with "The Help" and was surprised at how accurate I was...except for Skeeter - I was WAY off! I prefer thrillers or legal and medical suspense, but I do read various genres. I don't exclusively read novels, but that's what I seem drawn to the most. Authors like Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Jeffrey Deaver and Tami Hoag are favorites, but I like finding debut novels from writers that affect me. Makes me think I might have a chance someday of getting published myself.

4. KISSING - I recently rediscovered this particular joy of life. Because so many different kinds of kisses exist, there seems limitless options for kissing. I kiss my daughter's smooth cheek, her scraped knee, her burned fingers (long story), but I also kiss Dad on the forehead, the cat on the nose and the dog on the head. I obviously have an oral fixation. It had been a long time since I last kissed in a dating scenario, but delightfully found that I still like it! It's intimate, fun, teasing, aggressive and romantic so I like to do it A LOT! I'd rather spend hours kissing that moving on to whatever base is next. Sorry guys, but that's how it is. 

5. LAUGHING - It's one of the most cathartic, liberating things to do and I take advantage of every opportunity to laugh. I especially love to do it with my daughter...and that's easy because we are always cracking each other up. Our mutual admiration society is ALL about laughing. Laughter relieves stress, calms our nerves and binds us together. I adore when my Pie is really tickled because she throws her head back and really let loose with a squeal that calls the neighbor dogs and it's one of my favorite sounds...but that's another blog entry. 

So, it's a place to start and if there's any other topic you might want me to have list my top five on, please feel free to suggest one! Next week: Smells!

News and Updates: All the News That's Fit to Share

Due to circumstances completely within my control, but far outside my ability to manage, my access to posting has been very strictly limited for a while. However, I have returned for a brief time to supply updates and info for those who care. I have a plan to post regularly ( at least weekly) that should be easy to accommodate so ya'll go on ahead and get all excited...

• I managed to strain a ligament in my left foot that has left me sporting a "big ugly boot" (BUG) for nearly 6 weeks. I don't wear it as often as I should so my healing process is slowed. It is still quite painful and inconvenient but it does justify parking in a handicapped spot at Wal-Mart.
• The Pie has decided to drop out of her dance class. For weeks she was uninterested and simply not engaged in the class. She loves to dance, but on her own terms. She's more of a free-style dancer at this stage and doesn't care for being told how to shake her booty.
• I am considering looking for a part-time job. The financial situation at my house is quite strained and the only answer at this point is find a way to make more money. It's a double edged sword, really because I will probably only make enough money to pay for the daycare required for the Pie.
• I began some crafting projects aimed at "girlifying" the house. My father's house is dark, masculine and dated, so a few feminine touches here and there are sure to improve the feel of the space. I have selected a kind of shabby chic or modern vintage look using the colors of aqua, green, chocolate and ivory. Perhaps pictures will be in order after some of the items are incorporated in the decor.
• I am earnestly planning the Pie's birthday party (which takes place in 7 weeks). This year's theme is "Cowgirl Round-Up". I expect this to be the biggest party yet, in terms of attendance, so I am trying to get an early start. I don't want to be swiping icing on a cake just as guests arrive!
• I made the decision to consider dating again. It's been more than five years since what masqueraded as a relationship ended and I feel like I have a lot to offer in a relationship. I will use dates as my required "me time" to relax and not think about cleaning or cooking or washing or...anything but having a good time.
• Counseling has proven to be a God send for me. I have a great counselor who has the uncanny ability to reveal to me how baseless and just plain ridiculous the things I think about myself are. I highly recommend counseling to everyone at least once in your lives. You can learn a lot about yourself.

My weekly scheduled posts will feature my Top Fives. Residing in my head (it can be a scary place) are endless lists of my Top Five favorite things...actors, songs, movies, smells, etc. Each week I will elaborate on each category but when another topic arrives that I must share...I most certainly will!