Motherwise Cracks

My latest diet that I have tried is the Digest Diet. While I like the diet, I didn’t like the fact that 2 weeks after I for my book in the mail, I get a bill saying I was overdue on payment when I didn’t even get one bill yet. I didn’t even get a chance to drop my first dress size and already I am overdue?

That hasn’t happened since my third pregnancy.

Just after my big rush to get my “late” payment in the mail, I get a note telling me I was overcharged and to ignore the late notice. Sure, after I sent my check and I don’t like rushing, especially to make payments. The note said not to worry because they will credit my account on my next order. A bit presumptions, don’t you think? Oh, I didn’t worry. Not one bit.

That only prompted me to call and demand my refund be mailed to me. I am anxiously awaiting my check for $1.24 now. You really don’t want to mess with me and my money. We are not easily parted and the cynical part of me wondered if the Readers Digest people do that to insure future orders. That would work with most folks but not with me. Humph!

But back to the diet. I do like it. Lost six pounds and the shakes are very yummy and filling. Too bad they messed with my money or I would have focused on the diet but maybe after I get my refund check, I can do a more explanatory review of the actual diet.

Here I sit with an additional cat who hates me, while my girls are off on another California adventure. One of them just text me a photo of a huge chocolate bar, and they better be buying it for me if they know what is good for them.

How does this happen that I am here watching a cat and they are sipping wine in Sonoma? I am not sure, but as soon as I write the check for my son’s next semester at college, I will take some time to try to figure it out. I think it might have something to do with the decision I made some thirty years ago to have these vacationing children, but my original thought process is getting fuzzy in my old age.

Staying home to raise the children was a fulfilling job. I was a tad saddened to learn this week that this experience precludes me from advising my husband on any matters of state should he decide to run for President.

Funny thing is that parenting involves very high level decision making skills with serious consequences.

Think about it. How many wars have you prevented? How many strikes and work stoppages have you settled? How many arguments have you been an arbitrator for? How many budgets have you balanced and how much self control have you had in order to do so? And scheduling? Being in two places, as close to one time as possible without the luxury of Air Force One, happens all the time. Executive decisions are made and enforced – hourly. A decision is a decision, and good judgement is good judgement no matter what the topic.

But now it is time to feed the cat from hell. Will it be turkey or liver? Decisions, decisions.

Isn’t it funny that people will ask how you accomplished something and then totally blow off the answer?

I have decided to try a new tactic. The next time someone poses a parenting advice question to me I will ask them how they think I did it. My theory is that is what they want to hear anyway. I might begin to experience being a crowd pleaser that way. As it is, I am not Miss Popular.

Perhaps it’s because my advice involves Using the word “no,” using discipline and sometimes making your kids angry with you like when you might ground them. If I could count the times other moms ask and then ignore this type of advice, I would be rich.

Needless to say, I am not.

Once when I was in my early 20s, I made some dandelion wine. I didn’t realize that if you don’t “rack it off” and leave some room or a special device on the top for fermentation, it explodes. My father made that perfectly clear when I visited after a month or so after leaving 5 bottles of it in his basement. Apparently, it is also very sticky and hard to clean up.

I never was good at reading all the directions.

Luckily for me, my kids are smarter than I was and bought the little thing to let it ferment without exploding, and they rack off the wine a few times before bottling it. And by “they” I mean me and them. I helped my daughter with it this weekend and lost two bottles of wine because one batch was too low in the bottle (called a carboy), so we needed to put some wine in. There went a nice bottle of Chardonnay and a Traminette of mine. What’s a mother for?

It reminded me of a book I bought both of my daughters called “A Book of Directions”  by Kate McNair when they were teenagers. It makes me very melancholy to read any part of it now – one of their copies is still up in their bedroom. I don’t think it’s in print now, but it is a funny and touching collection of stories written in or about 1970 from the perspective of various teenage girls as they encounter some typical teen life experiences. It’s mildly humorous too, as the author has a nice light touch, and it lets your kids know that what they are feeling as teenagers is normal – they are not alone. There are some things that are pretty universal.

No, there was no wine making but the book ends with a story where a daughter is asking her mom why she didn’t tell her exactly how to do something and watched her daughter make some mistakes. The mom answers with, “We all have to find our own way. It isn’t done with maps or a book of directions. We find our way, finally, with our heart.”

I just kept thinking how glad I am that the girls found their own way with wine making and that they followed someone’s directions. Otherwise, I would be cleaning up a 25 gallons of sticky half-fermented grape juices that would have blown all over the place.

On the positive side, I would have had the Chardonnay and Traminette to console myself.

Because we live here, and perhaps too much. And because this is a photo of the dryer. Yep, this is a dryer. My husband loves to hang his laundry in front of the wood burning stove. It does save money but I think it’s more like a vestigial camping organ left in his body.

I am willing to sacrifice my living room in the winter and the lawn (where he hangs the laundry outside) in the summer so that I don’t have to camp again. Who wants to be all dirty, smell like smoke, chase skunks or bears from your eating area and even worse things if you don’t camp where there is a bathroom nearby? Not me. Give me a kitchen, a bathroom and Words with Friends and I am a happy camper.

I used to want my home to look all neat and pretty but then I had kids and it ruined me. Gone was the need for perfection. With each broken treasured vase, lost article of favorite clothing and scratched up/marked up wall, a little piece of Martha-like desire for perfection died. RIP.

I am all in for that “lived in” look and feel as long as it is clean, of course.

The problem of the environment is the extension of good housekeeping of the thinking woman.
 ~ Marjory Stoneman Douglas

It is a major operation for my family to order at drive through windows. Sure, there are five of us, but apparently we are complicated. Or picky.

Nothing ordered  is as it is on the menu. We have to hold something or have extra of something. I swear that I can hear the cashiers fighting over who will have to take our order when our car rolls up.  Of course, we could plan ahead and write it down but that would make sense and make it easier, and the confusion becomes a form of our entertainment. What’s the fun in being all organized and efficient?

The only trouble is that the lack of it can impact the accuracy of our order and then the complaints get on the heavy side. And that is a good way to kill an appetite.  Or someone in the backseat. Just kidding.

It probably takes a village to fill our order – a more accurate description for this post.

Now I dread drive through windows just like a visit to the dentist.  Both drills give me a headache, empty my wallet and cause me to ponder the number of cavities in my head. However, I get a new toothbrush and floss at the dentist in a cute little bag. They are much more practical than the crappy toys I have been stepping  on for years and we do all leave the dentist with fresh breath.

“The art of giving orders is not to try to rectify the minor blunders and not to be swayed by petty doubts.”
~ Sun Tzu (Chinese General and Author, b.500 BC)

Yes, it’s about that time again and to celebrate, I went to the DMV to have my license photo retaken. The last one was taken when I was pregnant with my son. He is 21 now.

At the time, I was embarrassed of the way I looked in it because I was heavier than usual due to being seven months pregnant. Through the years, it magically made me look thinner and thinner to where I actually preferred it to the real thing. It was only the 90s permed hair that made me decide to go for the re-take. Ugh. It left me wishing for the ability to Photoshop my official NYS photo like I do for family portraits. At least I have good hair now.

My guess is that though the next set of years, I will gradually go though the same process and this photo will actually surpass my “good looks” (relatively speaking) and I will grow to prefer it.

But for now, my consolation is in getting mistaken for a friend of my daughters’ and not their mother. Still happens and while it should give me joy that this could possibly happen, the part I REALLY love is how much they hate it when it happens.

There is a trick involved in getting mistaken in this way. It involves alcohol consumption and dim lighting.

Since the last batch of wine making was such a success, the kids went to Fredonia, NY to get some more grape juice to make even more wine. That means our upstairs bathroom will once again become a wine cellar.

The kids have no space to make this wine, this time even a greater amount than before, and once again the parents will become foster vintners. My first thought was that I’d rather have grandchildren but then the wine turned out pretty good this last time, there were no diapers involved or screaming so I am okay with it.

My girlfriend’s daughter did my hair and it is so wonderfully colored that it really deserves to be seen by someone important, but since that is not very likely, I will settle for turning heads at Aldees and at the mailbox at the end of my driveway. This is as much exposure I can muster in a rural area where the largest village nearby has a population of 1800.

The other development is my recent acquisition of kettle bells. They were on sale at Aldees for $24.99. I have been swinging them around, which is kind of fun. Since they really make me sweat, I am not sure how long I will actually use them. Perhaps the latest health insurance survey I had to take that let me know my BMI is too high might motivate me. Maybe.