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38 Longs

I’ve always heard that your 40s are the best years of your life.  Supposedly, people are financially stable, have some wisdom, have learned from their mistakes, blah blah blah.  I can’t say from experience that it’s true.  One thing I’ve learned from being in my 40s is that your body turns into a hot mess, and it ain’t pretty.  It’s really a cruel trick of that fickle old bitch, Mother Nature.  I thought we women were supposed to be on the same team and build each other up.  Clearly, Mother Nature didn’t get the memo.  “They” say that 50 is the new 30, which means I should be in my new 20s, but 20 sure didn’t look like this.  There is really no part of my body that hasn’t been affected by the cruel advance of time.

Let me start by saying that once you’re past the age of 18, zits should be a thing of the past.  They slyly disappeared for a couple of decades, lying in wait for their eventual reappearance. Once I hit my forties, they reared their ugly red, white blistered heads once again…and not just on my face.  Nothing says pretty like putting your gray speckled hair up in a clip only to have Mount Vesuvius staring at everyone like a third eye on the back of your neck.  What the hell is up with that?  I know I’m not the only one.  I have friends in their forties who also wonder why they suddenly have a pizza neck, or scalp, for that matter.  Don’t get me wrong, my face is not immune to such hideous eruptions.  It’s not enough that the wrinkles start making an appearance, but then to be flanked by a melon sized, oozing pustule is just beyond reasonable.  Don’t even get me started on groin zits.

Let’s move away from the face because nothing is as much a slap in the face as what happens to breasts at this glorious age.  Really.  They sag enough that they could slap me in the face if I moved at just the right angle.  They used to be so cute and perky, and almost the right size.  In my 20s they were a 34B.  Twenty years and three breast fed kids later, they are 38 longs.  When I bend over to turn on the shower faucet, they look like tube socks with a few inches of sand at the bottom.  They dip in the water at the bottom of the tub.  I could tuck them into my waist band.  They are too big and that makes it hard to find decent shirts that will contain them.  I used to wish for bigger boobs.  My wish was granted but at a time in my life that they are more of an eyesore than an asset.

Sagging in general is the suckiest thing about aging.  Apparently, someone came along one night while I was sleeping and replaced my tight little birthday suit, with one that looks a few sizes too big.  It’s also clear that it hasn’t been ironed in years and someone left it sitting in the drier for way too long.  It’s all out of shape, so apparently nobody let it dry flat either.  It also has a roadmap of veins on its legs that could lead me on a road to deep depression if it wasn’t for those lifesaving capris and long dresses that are popular now.  I have to say that as much as I love summer, I am thrilled when it’s time to get out the fall and winter clothes again.

Needless to say, this decade of my life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Things sag, erupt, crack, groan, get stiff, and make involuntary noises.  It’s not enough that I notice it, but my darling children love to point out body parts of mine that are swaying in the wind or lying flaccid next to me.  They are a charming bunch.  I happily inform them that someday they will go through the same nonsense, and that if there is any justice in the world, their kids will make them feel like crap, too.  I just hope that I will be able to witness the payback from my rocking chair as the drool slides down my cratered, pock marked, droopy face.  The least Mother Nature can do is let me get there.  We moms have to stick together.

If Adults Acted Like Kids

When hanging out with toddlers or pre-schoolers, people love to talk about how sweet and innocent they are.  They go through their days being spontaneous, not caring what anyone else thinks.  They immerse themselves in their experiences and live for self-pleasure.  I’ve heard numerous adults admire that about young children, and question when we lost that innate spontaneity.  I frequently watch young children and wonder to myself what it would look like if an adult were doing such things.  This is for my own amusement and entertainment.  I have spent a long time “researching” the behavior of little kids and what would happen if adults lived in the same spontaneous way that children do.  This is what that would look like:

 

At a business lunch:  Professionals and executives would be trying to seal the deal over chicken nuggets or spaghetti and meatballs.  At least one person would be blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk, while another stacks suger dispensers, salt and pepper shakers, and silverware in a tower.  Perhaps that would be the architect or builder of the group.  Yet another would be scribbling on his placemat.  Someone would likely have sauce rubbed all over his face and in his hair.  There may even be one well dressed woman crawling under the table, or flinging her legs over the back of the booth seat.  Never mind the potential for launching peas at each other with spoons.

 

At a business meeting:  Rolling chairs.  Think of the fun that can be had in a conference room with rolling chairs.  I’m thinking races around the table, and spinning each other until you can’t walk a straight line.  That sounds way more fun than watching some boring presentation on sales or marketing.

 

At the doctor’s office:  A husband brings his wife to the doctor.  She needs a physical.  She spends an hour in the waiting room, playing with the germ infested toys.  Once in a while, she stops to approach another woman.  She stands in her personal space, stares her down, and then looks her up and down, from head to toe, judging her by the way she looks.  Then, they start to play together…one puts a toy in her mouth, drops it on the floor, and the other picks it up, and puts it in HER mouth.  Finally, they get called into a room.  The man undresses the woman while she fights him the entire time.  Once she is in her underwear, she spins around on the doctor’s stool, climbs on and off the table until the paper is a shredded mess, plays lightning storm with the lights, and touches every last medical tool available.  The visit ends with her screaming bloody murder and fighting the nurse, the doctor, the husband, and six bouncers as they try to give her a shot.

 

At the grocery store:  Picture a mature couple walking into the grocery store.  They select a carriage.  The wife holds it still, while the husband climbs in to the back.  It would be way funnier if he tried to get into the little seat in front, but that would require a full on extrication by the fire department at the end of the trip.  So, let’s stick to the back.  She struggles to push him through the store because, as usual, she picks a carriage that only wants to go left, and of course, he weighs 200 pounds which makes it more of a challenge.  Five minutes into the shopping experience, he starts to whine because he’s bored.  He starts grabbing crap off the shelves.  He keeps standing up, so she has to continually remind him that he needs to sit.  He begs for some garbage food item in every aisle, and pitches a fit every time she says no.  The other shoppers give her dirty looks because clearly she can’t control his behavior.  Everyone thinks she’s a shitty wife.

 

In the car:  They leave the grocery store.  She tries to strap him into his seat belt and he does the whole “arching his back thing” while crying and screaming that he wants to go home.  Once they’re moving, he calms down and entertains himself by making faces at the people in other cars.  He might even suck his thumb.  Eventually he gets sleepy, and dozes off.  By this time, the wife notices a scent that indicates he needs his pull-up changed.

 

There are many scenarios involving children that would be way more entertaining if adults were the key players and not the kids.  Picture an adult stripping off his clothes and running naked through the playground.  Wait, that would just be creepy.  Bad example.  Picture adults playing in the dirt, or tossing stuff in the toilet and swishing it around with their hands.  Picture them running everywhere, and falling on their faces like a two year old.  Picture them riding the dog, climbing on the furniture, having a tug-of-war over a toy, or sticking a metal object in a socket to see what happens.  You can switch the players no matter where you are or what you’re doing.  It really is funny.  Next time you’re stuck in a board meeting or some mind-numbing adult activity, switch the players.  It might be a social faux-pas to act on these ideas, and you would likely appear to be mentally ill or at the very least socially immature for doing any of it.  But nobody can condemn you for simply thinking about it, and honestly, as long as you’re entertaining yourself, that’s all that really matters.

The Excruciating Honesty of Children

Kids are hilarious.  They are hilarious in the most obnoxious, yet innocent way.  They say exactly what comes to mind with no regard for the feelings of the unsuspecting adults in their world.  They can reduce a grown woman to tears of laughter, and can even make the most self-confident of people feel lower than dirty toilet paper stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.  I am the mother of 3 kids, and have worked in an elementary school for the past 6 years.  I LOVE to have conversations with kids, just for the sheer entertainment value of what they have to say.  Some of them have ripped me to shreds, but it never bothers me.  I love the innocence of it.

This blog post will be a little different.  Rather than drone on about how funny kids are, I am going to share some of my favorite “kidisms”  from the past several years.  They’ve been posted on facebook before, but I wanted to put them all in one place.  I hope you enjoy them, especially because a large number of them were made at my expense.   Here they are as they appeared on FB, in all their glory:

One of the 4th graders asked me today if I was born when Laura Ingalls Wilder was alive. Apparently, I look 100 years older than I actually am. Can anyone recommend a good anti-wrinkle cream?

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Two kids at school made my day today. I was telling a 4th grader that when I was a kid, we didn’t go to computers because they weren’t invented yet. After asking me if TV was invented when I was kid, she told me I look like I’m about 20.  Then a second grader winked at me in the cafeteria, and told the kid in line next to him that “Mrs. Palumbo is my best friend.” So cute. The wink made me laugh though…I can see him doing that in a bar in 15 years.

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One of the kids I work with a lot asked me a few weeks ago if I was retired. I told him no, but wondered for days if I look THAT old. Today, he asked me what my son’s name is. I told him, and he then asked me if he’s still alive. Apparently, I’m not only old enough to be retired, but old enough to have outlived my own kids. I’m left wondering who is more damaging to my self esteem…my own kids, or the kids at school? Between them all, I’ll be curled up in a fetal position in the corner, sucking my thumb, and crying by the end of the year.

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So, I was playing “Go Fish” with a kindergartner today, and when I told him to clean up and hand me his cards, he said, “Here you go, Sweetie.”

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 I got a “Rico Suave” wink, and eyebrow raises from a 5th grade boy in the lunchroom today. I looked at him like he had lost his mind, and asked him what he was doing. His reply (in a Rico Suave voice) was “it’s all okay,” followed by a thumbs up. You just can’t make this stuff up.

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A 4th grader asked me today if paper was invented yet when I was born. I told him no, and that my mother carved my birth certificate on a rock, in the cave I was born in. Sheesh.

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School isn’t the only place that I hear these charming little nuggets of love. I get it at home from my own spawns, too.  If they aren’t directing their drama at me, they direct it at themselves or each other.

My daughter called me despicable today because I wouldn’t let her stay at her friend’s house for dinner. When I looked at her with shock, she asked me what it meant. I love 8 year olds.

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It’s a sad day in a mother’s life when her almost teenage child says, “Mom, can you please stop singing? It’s embarrassing.”

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You’ve got to love it when you ask your 11 year old son to do something and his response is, “okay, sweet cheeks.”

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“Why did you have to bring the devil into the house?!?”  Hannah, Drama Queen Extraordinaire, when she saw that we are having a roasting chicken for dinner.

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Conversation in the car on the way to get a Christmas tree: 
Lucas: (singing LOUDLY and off key) “Cause you’re amazing, just the way you are.”
Hannah: LUCAS! SHUT. UP.
Lucas: (in a soft voice) I’m sorry madam, did I get your knickers in a tweet?

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So Lucas was playing around and called Arienne “Areola” this afternoon. He had NO IDEA what he said, and I wasn’t about to tell him because that would have only encouraged him to keep saying it. *rolls eyes* I just told him to stop calling her silly names. Yikes.

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Apparently, I put “the devil’s spawn” in tonight’s soup. That would be broccoli…according to Hannah.

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I was traveling with my kids in the car and they were asking me incessant questions about everything under the sun.  I was answering as best I could in a way that they would understand. My preschooler proceeded to ask me how I knew all this stuff.  I replied, “Because Mommy is really smart!”  She responded back with, “Noooo, that’s not it!”

There are more profound comments where these came from.   As I collect funny stories and insulting comments I hear from kids, I will share them as a periodic blog post.  Maybe it’ll become a series.  Maybe it won’t.  Either way, I am just going to continue to enjoy children and find the humor in their words.  Meanwhile, if anyone knows of a good anti-wrinkle cream or face lift surgeon, let me know.

Gag Me With an Herbal Lollipop

It’s Oscar night.  The night when rich celebrities gather in their fancy duds to pat each other on the back for their stellar performances in movies half the world probably didn’t see.  The audience will enjoy the hilarious antics of the Oscar host, watch nominees smile and act humble when they are announced in their category, and then enjoy the shock on their faces when they win, take the stage and give a 40 minute prepared speech, even though they NEVER thought they would win. *rolls eyes*

I probably sound a tad bitter.  Honestly, I love the movies as much as the next person.  I think awards shows are fun to watch.  However, this year, I stumbled across a story on the internet that announced what the nominees will be taking home in their gift bags this year.  Gift bags?  Why the hell do these people need gift bags?  They go to some fancy dinner after the show.  What ever happened to raffling off the table centerpiece to the person with the closest birthday?  These aren’t ordinary gift bags, people.  These are $85,000 gift bags…for the celebrity who has everything.  Because clearly, they need this stuff.

I’m not going to go through the extensive and vomit inducing list because frankly, I’d like to get to bed before Tuesday morning.   Let’s just say there are some beauties in those bags, and I’d like to highlight a few.  My favorite by far is a vagina rejuvenating injection that assists women in having orgasms.  It’s worth $2700.  What woman doesn’t need vagina rejuvenation?  I’m sure Dame Judi Dench can’t wait to try it out.  They say it gets rid of dust and that pesky tumbleweed we all deal with as we age.   It’s called an O-Shot which sounds like something you’d order from the bar.  Frankly, a shot from the local dive  sounds more rejuvenating than an injection in the old hoo-hoo.  But that’s just me.

There is a little bit of irony in the bag, too.  They have included a $6.95 drain wig.  It’s an adorable little gadget that you put over your shower drain to prevent hair from clogging it.  When it’s full, the precocious little darlings of the stars can fashion wigs from Daddy’s pubic hair for their Barbie doll.  Not really, I made the Barbie thing up.  In contrast, there is a $5000 gift certificate for laser hair removal.  Do they really need both? Yes, they do, as a matter of fact.  Because in addition to a drain wig and laser hair removal, there is $16,000 towards a hair transplant.   They’ve also included a $15 do-rag.  I mean, honestly. Who are the unstable half-wits who chose these items?

Thankfully, there are other awesome gifts included for the impoverished movie stars of Hollywood.  There are five vacations, including a $15,000 walking tour of Japan.  Haven’t they heard of limos in Tokyo?    There are free sessions with a personal trainer for the rare actress who weighs more than 90 pounds.  There are herbal lollipops, electronic cigarettes, luxury condoms, and mace guns.  There are even things for celebrity pets.

Perhaps, you’re thinking, the green eyed monster of envy has visited me this evening.  That would be a big, fat no.  In fact, the blue eyed monster of disgust has visited.  Actually, I don’t know what color that monster would be.  I made that up, too.   It’s disgraceful that such an excessive amount of money has been spent to provide the well-to-do with a token of thanks for being nominated for an award.  I’m sure that the honor of being nominated, as well as the exorbitant salaries they earned for performing in these films, is enough of a prize for these people.  Goody bags should be obsolete once you’re past the age of six.

There are so many Americans struggling right now just to put food on the table.  There are people losing their homes.  There are schools struggling to provide the books, supplies, and teachers necessary to give students a basic education.  There are people dying of diseases, and others who are fighting unrelenting addictions.  Movie stars who have little want for material luxuries, are being gifted these extravagant presents as people freeze to death on America’s streets.  Perhaps, $85,000 for each goody bag could have been given instead, to food pantries, homeless shelters, rehab centers, hospitals, or schools where it could provide something vital to someone’s future.  I’m sure Sister Mary Sunshine would prefer it if money were donated to her orphans rather than  to rejuvenating Meryl Streep’s vagina.