Omigod! 40 Is The New 20...Or Something Like That

Ever notice how conversations change as you get older?  Here, let me show you what I mean...

 

If you were to eavesdrop on a conversation of 20-something-or-other-year old Deb, you might hear some of the following quotes:

 

"Omigod! Did you see that hot guy?!"

"Omigod!  What do you mean the bar is closing?  It's only 1:00 am!"

"Omigod!  Let me reverse French braid your hair!"

"Omigod!  I'm pregnant?!?!"

"Omigod!  I got a killer new job!"

"Omigod!  I was SO wasted last night!"

"Omigod!  ROAD TRIP!"

 

 

Now fast-forward 2 decades and you might hear these corresponding comments:

 

"Omigod!  Not tonight, honey, I'm WAY too tired!"

"Omigod! WHO. IS. TEXTING. ME. AT. 10:00. PM?!"

"Omigod!  Your grays are coming in so evenly!"

"Omigod!  I'm having a hysterectomy?!?! (sa-weet!)"

"Omigod!  It's only Tuesday?!"

"Omigod!  I drank a glass of wine last night and my blood pressure is through the roof!"

"Omigod!  I dread driving after dark!"

 

 

I shudder to think what another 2 decades might bring. 

I figure it will go something like this:

 

"Omigod! You are going to HAVE to speak up.  I can't hear a THING you are saying!"

And The Season Of Peppermint Jesus Dawns...

Quick! 

Put away that turkey platter!

Stuff those leftovers into the fridge!

The dishes can wait until tomorrow!

It's...it's...it's...CHRISTMAS!

Yes, no sooner have we slept off the tryptophan, than the season of peppermints and Jesus attack in full force.  Every year I swear that I am going to take the holiday season in and really enjoy it.  And every December becomes a whirlwind of powdered sugar, scotch tape and yards of twinkle lights.  Before I know it, the day has come and gone and we are searching for nooks and crannies to store all of our new belongings.

This is the year of change...I really am going to enjoy the season.  Which has already started.  On Thanksgiving night. 

Yes, I am a Black Friday shopper.  It's my favorite holiday.  I love the hustle and bustle and the amazing deals.  I go in with a good attitude...if I find something awesome, great!  If I don't, no big whoop!  There's no fighting, swearing or panic from me.  I like the people watching.

This year I went with one of the girls from work.  She had her heart set on a Doorbuster from Target, so we got in line at 8:00pm and spent 4 hours waiting for the doors to open.  Here are a few tips of the trade that I learned this year:

1.  Dress in layers.  I mean a LOT of layers.  November in Maine is not balmy.  It was COLD!

 

 

2.  Blankets.  They were lifesavers.

3.  Chairs.  I'm torn.  While I wished I had one to sit in, I found if I didn't keep moving my feet, they

     got real cold, real fast.

4.  Hand and foot warmers.  Wish we had thought of that one.

5.  If there are 2 of you, make a plan.  We split up, one of us heading to the item of choice, the other

     getting a cart (to store our blankets in, of course!).

6. Don't drink a lot before you go...there are no porta potties.  Someone in our line didn't get the

    message (see pic below).

(panties in a puddle of urine...wtf?)

 

7.  Make it fun.  Don't go into it with your heart set on any one thing in particular and you will be

     amazed at what you can find!

 

So, you might ask, what on Earth does this have to do with sitting back and enjoying the holidays?  Isn't this just adding stress?

Nope, I'm done with my shopping! 

Now I can sit back, decorate, wrap and bake at leisure!

Oh shit!  Do I have enough bows?

~Deb

 



I Miss My Nana...

Do you ever wonder if grandparents are wasted on the very young? 
Wait, that didn't come out quite right.  I really feel that grandparents play such an important part in a young person's life.
But what about us 40SomethingOrOthers?

Yesterday I did a craft fair in South Portland.  During the down times that occurred throughout the day, I pulled out my yarn and my crochet hook and worked on some ongoing projects.  For some reason, I could feel my Nana all around me.  Now, it might be the fact that both crafters and shoppers were a nice balance of the young and the young-at-heart.  Or it might be the fact that my Nana used to take me to church craft fairs and bean suppers when I was little.  Or it might be the fact that she shared my love of yarn and all the things that could be crafted by her hands out of it.  I don't know, but for some reason, she was there with me.

When my Nana was alive, I was too young to appreciate all the handmade gifts she lovingly made for me.  And, *GASP*, I couldn't possibly take time out of my crazy-busy social life to spend time with her, learning her gift of knitting.  But now that I am old enough to appreciate gifts of the hand-made sort and I have no social life to speak of, I can't help but wonder what it would be like if she were still with us?  Would we sit together on her couch, sip tea and create?  Would we chat about all the things I had no time for when she was here, like our family history and stories of the past that I always thought were lame, but now have the yearning to hear?

I don't know, who can foretell what can never be? 

In the meantime, I think I will just continue to do the things that I love to do, knowing that I share it with her and carry on a tradition that she started long ago.  And who knows?  Maybe she really is really here with me?

If so, Nana?  Could you help me out with socks?  I really want to figure out how to make them, but I am stumped!

Thanks,
Love and miss you,
Deb

 

 

Nana with Gabby

HELP! My House Is Getting Smaller!

Oh wait, no it's not.  I just have too much stuff!

So you know those people who can't get to sleep at night if there are dirty dishes in the sink?

Yeah, they piss me off.

Probably because I'm not one of them.

I am perfectly content to use the kitchen sprayer to fill my glass with water so that I don't have to disrupt the Jenga pile in my kitchen sink, and then head off to a deep and restful sleep.

I watch Hoarders to make myself feel better.

At least I'm not THAT bad!

 

I am a piler of stuff.  Yes, it's true.  I am disorganized and I hesitate to throw things away.  Hey!  I might need them someday!  Add to my own disorganization, three male species of various ages with their own crap to add to the mix.  I'm screwed!

 

"NO MORE!" I say.  "STOP THE INSANITY!"

 

I have decided that the first step to my newfound independence is to love my home.  I don't need it to be spotless, I don't need it to be uber-organized.  Let's face it, I'm not going to develop OCD overnight!  But I'm going to weed out.  I don't think my 17-year old is going to wake up one morning and say "I really feel like building with Legos today."  I think it's okay for me to get rid of some of the things that we surely do not need anymore.  My kiddo is growing up, it's time for me to do the same.  Well, to some degree.  I still like to make fart noises under my armpits.

And The Nest Gets Quieter...

A conversation I had yesterday with my 17 year old:

 

Mike:  Can you teach me how to make coffee in the coffee pot?
Me:  Um, sure?  Why?
Mike:  Because I start my new job on Monday.  I need to make coffee.

(my baby needs coffee?)

 

Me:  Okay, but you know I make a pot every morning.  You can have some.

Mike:  Yeah, but I'm working 3rd shift.  I'll be gone before you even get up.

 

(oh.)

 

Me:  Hey, did you shave?

Mike:  Well, yeah, Mom, I have to shave for work.

 

(my baby is shaving?  like for real?  not with a popsicle stick or anything?)

 

And so it begins.  My nest is far from empty, but it is getting a little quieter.  My child still needs me, but not in the same way as in the past.  Gone are the days of playing (okay, PRETENDING  to know what I was playing) Pokémon, watching Toy Story and whittling bars of Ivory soap.  Gone are the bazillion rides to basketball and football and child care and bell concerts and talent shows.

 

Here are the days of driving, bank accounts and "real" jobs.  All important, but far less time-consuming for the mom in me.

 

So, I am finding myself with more "me" time than I know what to do with.  Let's face it, the last time I had this much free time, I was 25 years old and filled each and every minute not devoted to working, to partying.  Now, at 40-something-or-other, partying is not high on the priority list.  But what is?  I'm not sure.  Hence, this blog.  I am hoping that by keeping track of my interests, my hobbies, how I spend that free time, I will somehow discover who I am as an individual.

But for now, I am first, foremost and forever...Mom.