Aging with Silliness: My Favorite Jokes

It is the weekend before Thanksgiving and I am too busy to think…so…

In the interest of full disclosure... I was a natural blonde at one time. My hairdresser says I  could be again if I wanted to be.

What did the blond say when he opened the Cheerio box?

Oh look…donut seeds.

A blond, a brunette and a red head were looking at a magic mirror. If you spoke the truth the mirror would grant you one wish. However…If you spoke a lie, you disappeared.

The brunette when first. “I think I am smart,” she said and the mirror granted her a wish.

Encourage the red head went second. “I think I am smarter than the brunette” Poof she disappeared.

A little daunted the blond decided to comment on her looks instead of her brains. She said,” I think”. Poof

Do you have a very clean joke you would like to share?

Tales from the Hormone Front or How Meatballs Saved my Sanity

Sunday I am sitting in the worship serve at church and I realize I am angry. Really angry! There is no rational reason for this anger. The teens are listening, the pastor is not going late (that would not be as good reason to be angry by the way), no one is singing off key and no small child is kicking my chair.

My neck is tensing. When am I going to remember to carry Ben-Gay along with lipstick in my purse? My mind is racing and my emotions only need a red flag to set them loose. I have teens; someone is going to wave that flag at me…!

The service ends. With one look at me, my husband gets that” I do not what happened but it was not my fault look” I quickly readjust my face, this is public you know. Instead of chatting while my men help stack chairs, I go wait out front.

Perimenapuase is an emotional “mind” field. I know it is just hormones but the anger feels real and even more difficult, it feels justified. Carbohydrates in massive quantities are needed and needed quickly! A few Dove Chocolates or a dash of black cotash will not stem this hormone surge. It is time to pull out the big guns!

Pasta…massive amounts of pasta.

We arrive home mostly unscathed by my tongue. A feat of super human self-control that will not last much longer. I dive into the freezer. Pasta calls for a good sauce and a good sauce need both meat and a long slow simmer. I prefer three hours but in this emergency, I will endure for two. There is no ground beef unfrozen. Disaster looms…but wait a bag of 128 frozen meatballs leaps off the shelf into my hands. 128 meatballs will not be enough thinks my hormone soaked brain, but it will have to do.

Into the pot, tomato paste and sauce and spices and soy souse, garlic and onion and finally the noble meatballs.

I go hid in my room except for quick pops into the kitchen to stir the sauce.

Two hours, fifteen minutes, two pounds of cooked pasta later, sanity returns.

I did share some pasta and sauce with my family…. Even a meatball or two.

Do you have a tale from the hormone front?

Aging With Adventure: My Own Personal Stash

I have kids so I have stashes all over the house. This is for the sake of my sanity than any desire to go treasure hunting. About 15 years ago after buying yet another hammer after my husband used the last one and the hammer somehow went walk about, I bought my own personal tool kit. All the tools fit in a cool black plastic case and I have not had to go hammer hunting since. No one in my home knows of this tool kit existence. My husband has made more then a few trips to the hardware store to get another hammer. The children got older and became hammer liberators also.

I keep my sewing kit hidden also. If I don’t the thread gets tangled, the pins wander away and the needles I suspect wander after the pins. I have to find a new hiding place after a child borrows the sewing kit. There is something about how the children interact with the sewing kit that causes the pins and needles to disappear. I can’t figure out why this is, my children don’t cause the dishwasher to run and hide or the stove to overheat.

Scissors, I have scissors hidden all over the house. The problem is I can’t remember where they are secreted so I have to buy another pair no matter if the kids uncover one of the hidden ones or not.

For clear tape, I have a different plan. There is a roll in the kitchen draw next to a pair of scissors I am hiding in plain sight and then there is my secret supple. The kids discovered the secret supple so that explains why we rarely have clear tape on hand when needed.

Finally my stash of Dove Dark Chocolate Promises: 2 little pieces and life seems better than it was 5 minutes ago. Not only do I have to keep these little sanity savers hidden, I have to be moved my stash every 24 hours or so because we have some truly dedicated chocolate loves in my home. I am willing share when I am raiding my stash. Two for me, one for every child that asks nicely.

Do you have a stash?

Parenting Teens: Teens That Blog

There is a building debate in the mom blog world about if or not mom bloggers should be posting about their teens. The debate seems to focus on the early adapter moms who started blogging before their kids could read and now the kids are objecting to what they are reading being written about them.

Since I have only been blogging for about 6 months I have no dog in that fight. If I didn’t write about my kids, I would have nothing to write about. My kids get to complain about what I write to their friends whose moms don’t blog. They get sympathy; I have an unending supply of blog post material and a handy parental warning. I even heard my husband say to one of the kids “Watch it or you are going to become a blog post!”

Posting about my teens is no problem. My teens posting about me, big problem. I have a child who blogs in the old fashion sense of the word. She has an online diary read by her friends, their mothers and it seems a good half the world’s population of teens.

My daughter is a brilliant writer. Brilliance is in her genes. She is insightful, quirky and edgy. She is good with words. She can take an ordinary situation, give it a twist and delight her readers. She could be a G-rated Daily Show writer and supply her own video for each segment.

The problem is I usually only appear in her blog when she is mad at me. The extensive vocabulary she possesses get put to impressive use in letting the world know what an mean mother this child has. Who knew a teen could be so expressive with a G rated vocabulary. You would never know from reading her blog she has a father both active and interested in her life. There are siblings that appear when she is mad at them or they have done something nice for her. No other family member has reached my Attila the Mom Status.

I don’t like it.

I threatened censorship with a previous blog she had but have decided against that route with this one. Unless she starts building bombs in the basement or running numbers, than all freedom of expression becomes void.

At least her latest blog isn’t titled “Mommy Dearest”.

The Hundred Push Up Challenge: Week 4 Redo!

After struggling last week with The Hundred Push Up Challenge, I was thinking only two more weeks to go, 2 weeks to go. I logged on to the Week 5 workout and discover someone wrote I should be able to max out at 30 push up before doing Week 5. This someone suggests those who fail to make the golden 30 should redo Week 4 and maybe even Week 3.

If I were in my 20s, I would feel myself a failure and give up. In my thirties, I would remain stuck on Week 4 trying to reach the golden 30, eventually fail and give up. This is a joy of being in my 40s closer to 50. I m not bound by anyone else’s standards on issues that are neither criminal nor moral!

I can wear white shoes after Labor Day, vote for the party opposed by my friends (I didn’t but I could), I can read the last page of the mystery book if I so desire (I usually do) and I can (and did) complete 3 marathons by walking not running.

I read ahead. To complete the Challenge you have to do 100 push up but you can do them in sets of ten with rest in between. To my great surprise, I realized I could do this already!

I dutifully redid Week 4 (there is no sense in blowing off a sensible suggestion). I maxed out at 25 push ups.

On to Week 5!

I love being on my 40s!

Are you finding, as you get older you are more able to define for yourself what success is?