Girl Power!

Last night My Beloved saw a mouse. As the kids and I were out of town he went to the hardware store down the block and bought everything they had, no mouse was going to share an address with the Malloy family!
No school today for Little Monica, so we ran some errands, Costco, the library then home. Walking into the kitchen with an armload of goods I heard a SNAP! I thought for sure one of the 10 mousetraps set by My Beloved had gone off mistakenly. So I look under the sink and it was not a mistake. I quickly slammed the cupboard door and started to quietly whimper, when I realized I had no audience for the squeamish damsel in distress act I felt a little stupid and stopped whimpering. My decision was made, I would leave the dead mouse in the trap for My Beloved to deal with when he got home.
I began to move on with my day when my mom called, I told her the plan with the mouse and instead of supportive and understanding she said "Isn't Little Monica home with you today?" I said she was, which unleashed in my mother all the girl power opinions I've never heard from her before. Her primary concern had nothing to do with the dead mouse under my kitchen sink, it was the lessons I had clearly missed growing up. What kind of an example was I being for my daughter? Hadn't she taught me independence, self-reliance? That girls can do anything boys can? That women don't need to wait for a man to handle the dirty work? (For the record I am ok with waiting!)
After realizing the importance of the lesson for Little Monica and that this was somehow reflective on my mother's parenting of me, and knowing I was made of tougher stuff, I knew what the right answer was. I was going to have to clean up the icky mouse myself and look like a brave, strong woman doing it. Yeah.
So I made Little Monica get me some rubber gloves from the toy doctor kit and hold the bag open for me to put the mouse carcass in. I proceeded to find the grill tongs, now largely labeled "MOUSE TONGS" on one side and "NOT FOR FOOD" on the other. I was not touching that mouse or mouse trap. No way. I pulled my hair back, put on the itty bitty rubber gloves all the while wishing I had a clean suit (you know, full body suit with helmet and a clear, little square to look out of), covered my face with a paper towel and reached into the cupboard with the long arm of the tong and picked up the mousetrap with mouse attached and gently placed it in the bag my daughter was holding open. We then put it into a larger garage bag, and put it outside in the garbage. After allowing Little M to put the mouse carcass into the garbage, she came back in the house and proudly said
"We sure took care of that Mom! Girls Rule!"
Not sure who learned the bigger lesson today. Probably me.

This Is It?

Lately we've been in negotiations regarding our future. I've been stressed, my Beloved has been stressed, every conversation has been regarding the upcoming months and what the best decision is for our family. While both of our families have weighed in, ultimately the decision is up to us. The past 5 years have been so many changes, in no particular order; a cross country move, then back, a new baby, new jobs, a period of unemployment, the loss of a dear grandparent, discovering our sweet Norah is hard of hearing, a rental home or two, and the lowest point our marriage has ever experienced, and the recovery from that.
Finally we are leveling off, we are reaching a point where we are feeling comfortable, and dare I say, settled. It's a new place for me and while some days I love it, other days I look around and think "This Is It?" I wonder is this what all the fuss is about? Is everyone else having a meaningful life, making daily contributions to the world, and the highlight of my day is a perfect spelling test? Truly, is this it?
Don't get me wrong, I adore my children, think my Beloved was a pretty great catch, but now as we close in on the purchase of a home that we hope to live in for the next ten years and beyond, I find myself thinking about the next step. In your ordinary checklist of life, if there is one, I am struggling to figure out what the next thing to work towards will be.
I know there are thousands of books, websites, refrigerator magnets, pod casts, etc. encouraging me to live the simple life, and enjoy the small things, and most days I do. OK, some days I do, but on the other days, like today, I look at the toys Baby Henry has scattered around, or the kitchen needing cleaning, the to do list that can be done tomorrow and think, "Wow, is this boring."
These may sound like and may be the lonely ramblings of a stay at home mom in a snowstorm deep in the heart of the Midwest in February, and you may suggest taking a vacation (please send money), seeing a counselor (please provide childcare for appointments), or even anti-depressants (no thanks), but those are things I've considered and discarded, because this is my life, good or bad, this is it. Tomorrow will be a better day or at least different, and I think I might try a Vitamin D supplement.

Old Boyfriends

So lately I've been thinking about old boyfriends. As I am a frequent user of Facebook, the idea of getting a look into the lives of those who might have been is just too tempting for this gal! Thus I have become friends with a few (OK, more than a few) old boyfriends.
My definition of boyfriends is pretty loose, pretty much defined as any one I have kissed (and I really just mean kissed) in a non-platonic way more than once in my 31 years. Considering I've only been kissing my Beloved since October 31, 1998, let's just say a few of these former flames have sent me friend requests, and I'll admit, I've searched and friended a few. My curiosity overwhelms me and I just have to know! What do they look like? What kind of jobs do they have? Do they still love the Beastie Boys? Are they bald? Fat? Into NASCAR? Did they marry ugly women? Did their kids inherit their short, stubby fingers and small, squinty eyes?
After having my curiosity quenched I inevitably feel thankful. You read that correctly, thankful. Different qualities from all these previous heartaches (whether mine or theirs) have been thread into the quilt that is who I am. More impressed upon my memories is the likes and dislikes I learned about myself through these relationships. Knowing and unknowing these old boyfriends brought me to the day I met my husband and all the days ever since.
Because of these old boyfriends, I can watch my child play soccer with some expertise, after 2 semesters dating a soccer player, a girl learns a thing or two about the game. I know and love theatre to this day because of some ill-fated forays into dating theatre majors. I would have never learned to Rollerblade or that I really don't like rollerblading had I not fibbed about my rollerblading prowess with a handsome allergy prone fella in high school. The smell of hockey still brings me back to the hot, hairy Italian from my freshman year in college. Sports expertise, theatre knowledge, even some brief kisses from some Ivy Leaguers, don't compare to the first and subsequent kisses from my Beloved.
So yes, I'm thankful for the tears shed, anger felt, cassette tapes recorded in memory of, all the different personality traits I was able to try on throughout the years because the one that fit me best was a hunky football star with a penchant for the country music and I couldn't be happier. Most days.

Drastic Measures

I am about to do something drastic. I'm not sure what, but I have begun making grand statements to my Beloved and contemplating even more impossible things in my own mind. Fortunately for both he and I, I do not have the funding available at this time, nor do I have a very focused idea what drastic measures I am going to take.

Some of my thoughts have been, in no particular order:

- I'm going to take the GRE
- I am going to dye my hair
- I think I should go on a week long retreat at someplace that has a vow of silence
- I might look cute if I got my nose pierced
- I should run for a city office
- It might be fun to be on a game show
- I am going to go to law school, in which case I should take the LSAT, not the GRE
- I am going to take the LSAT
- I've always wanted to learn to knit
- I've always thought being a dental hygienist would be neat, and I bet I could get my teeth all capped at a serious discount


When I have shared some of these with my Beloved he does something so irritating I genuinely want to punch him in the nose. He is supportive, sweet, and understanding. He begins telling me things like, "You should go to grad school honey! The GRE is a great idea." or "You have some definite leadership skills, what kind of city office?" Sometimes he proceeds to talk about costs and ways we could pay for tuition, or really practical things, like "If you went on a retreat I'm sure we could figure out something with the kids, if you want to do it, we'll figure it out!" Who is this guy?

For some reason his support and love regarding my crazy fantasies really takes the wind out of my sails and I get ticked off. At some point, usually after his offer to make a spreadsheet or do a cost/benefit analysis of going back to school I walk away and decide to do nothing.

I choose to stay home, with some serious gray hair sticking out, I don't go on a retreat and take a vow of silence, I don't audition for a game show, I don't get my nose pierced, I don't even make an effort to learn to knit and the worst part is that it's my own lack of inertia that keeps me fantasizing about these things, not doing them. It's certainly not for lack of support.

So I'm not going to do something drastic I guess, at least not today.

That's It!

When I was in high school the school began requiring notes from the doctor or dentist when a student was going to be out of school for an appointment. I would never describe my mom as someone who is a rule breaker, but the idea that the school didn't trust a note from her, and required documentation from a doctor really ticked her off. I recall a note she wrote to the school saying I would be leaving school midday for a dental appointment and the note went something like this:

"Sheridan will be leaving school at 11am today for a dental appointment and THAT'S IT!"

At the time I thought little of it, but somehow the "THAT'S IT!" part of the note really strikes a chord with me today. It's a simple way to say, I don't want your opinion on the topic, I have made the final ruling, there will be no further discussion.

Dinner tonight is chicken pot pie, and THAT'S IT!
If your laundry isn't in the laundry basket it won't get washed, THAT'S IT!
Bedtime is 7:30, THAT'S IT!
No, I don't feel like cuddling tonight and THAT'S IT!
Yes, you need to pick up (insert child name) from (insert activity) and THAT'S IT!

Today I used these magical word when calling our health insurance company regarding hearing aid coverage for children, which no one seems to know about. When the nice lady offered to look into it and "get back to me real soon," I responded sweetly "That would be great, I expect to hear from you today though, and THAT'S IT!" It worked, she called me back 30 minutes later with loads of information. I firmly believe my "THAT'S IT!" made all the difference.

I recommend you practice different tones when you say these power packed words, play a little with volume and force and even tone, and be careful not to abuse them thus diminishing their effectiveness.

If you have some "magic" words that work for you, post comments and tell me what they are.

Neglectful blogger

It was a long December and there is reason to believe this year will be better than the last. (Can you name the song?) I have made only one serious New Year's resolution. Here it is:

If I have an instinct to bury my head or hide in my bedroom, or just stay locked in my house, I will turn my back on that feeling and walk forward, head up, shoulder's back into whatever I am socially avoiding.

I also wanted to share something my college roommate, Lisa, gave me my sophomore year in college. The year I fell into my first deep depression. It is not something of great monetary value and I don't know what her motivation was in cutting out an Ann Landers column from the newspaper. I did NOT see the wisdom or guidance in it then, but now I refer back to this yellowed, corner worn scrap of newspaper cut in Lisa's precise teacher's hand. It has moved many times since she gave it to me, from Winona, to St. Paul, our 1st home in Waseca, our 2nd home in Waseca, Maine, back to Waseca, Stillwater, and now to Roseville. I look at it almost everyday, I thought you might want to read it too.

The following letter was written in Ann Landers column, I don't know the original publication date.

DEAR READERS:If some lines in today's column sound vaguely familiar, you have a good memory. They appeared in this space last year. Not much about New Year's Day has changed, so thank you for allowing me to loaf a little.

Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you've always wanted to do but couldn't find the time.

Call up a forgotten friend. Drop an old grudge, and replace it with some pleasant memories. Share a funny story with someone whose spirits are dragging. A good laugh can be very good medicine.

Vow not to make a promise you don't think you can keep. Pay a debt. Give a soft answer. Free yourself of envy and malice. Encourage some youth to do his or her best. Share your experiences and offer support. Young people need role models.

Make a genuine effort to stay in closer touch with family and good friends. Resolve to stop magnifying small problems and shooting from the lip. Words you have to eat can be hard to digest.

Find time to be kind and thoughtful. All of us have the same allotment: 24 hours a day. Give a compliment. It might give someone a badly needed lift.

Think things through. Forgive an injustice. Listen more. Be kind.

Apologize when you realize you are wrong. An apology never diminishes a person. It elevates him. Don't blow your own horn. If you've done something praiseworthy, someone will notice eventually.

Try to understand a point of view that is different from your own. Few things are 100 percent one way or another. Examine the demands you make on others.

Lighten up. When you feel like blowing your top, ask yourself, "Will it matter a week from today?" Laugh the loudest when the joke is on you.

The sure way to have a friend is to be one. We are all connected by our humanity, and we need each other. Avoid malcontents and pessimists. They drag you down and contribute nothing.

Don't discourage a beginner from trying something risky. Nothing ventured means nothing gained. Be optimistic. The can-do spirit is the fuel that makes things go.

Go to war against animosity and complacency. Express your gratitude. Give credit when it's due -- and even when it isn't. It will make you look good.

Read something uplifting. Deep-six the trash. You wouldn't eat garbage. Why put it in your head? Don't abandon your old-fashioned principles. They never go out of style. When courage is needed, ask yourself, "If not me, who? If not now, when?"

Take better care of yourself. Pass up that second helping. You really don't need it. Vow to eat more sensibly. You'll feel better and look better, too. And you'll weigh less, and wouldn't that be nice?

Don't put up with secondhand smoke. Nobody has the right to pollute your air or give you cancer. If someone says, "This is a free country," remind him or her that the country may be free, but no person is free if he has a habit he can't control.

Return those books you borrowed. Reschedule that missed dental appointment. Clean out your closet. Take those photos out of the drawer, and put them in an album. If you see litter on the sidewalk, pick it up instead of walking over it.

Give yourself a reality check. Phoniness is transparent and tiresome. Take pleasure in the beauty and the wonders of nature. A flower is God's miracle.

Hope you see the beauty and wisdom in it like I do, everyday. Thank you dear roomie.

Chicken Nuggets

We joined the YMCA. When making the decision to join I expected some transformation, some self-discovery, some sweat, some tears, but I didn't expect so many results so soon.
My primary discovery has been that I am neurotic and paranoid. The idea of exercising in a gym atmosphere with other people around makes me giggle, act immature, and pretty much make a dope of myself...big bonus, we're coughing up almost $100. a month for the aforementioned moronic behavior on my part. Last night Rory and I went together, working out will bring us closer together, and I hoped maybe make Rory so tired he'd go to bed at a normal time (didn't happen).
We got to the Y, dropped off the kids, which is where the tears come in, you'd swear Baby Henry has serious abandonment issues whenever I leave him.
Then we went to our separate locker rooms, everyone in the locker room acts like they know what they are doing. People shower, change, brush their teeth, I even saw a woman blow drying her hair, it was 6:30pm, WHY?
I felt like I needed to do something while I was participating in the locker room portion of our adventure, so I put my stuff away, went to the bathroom, washed my hands for a looooong time, then I checked my Facebook profile on my phone, checked the lock on my locker again, weighed myself, tied my shoes, checked the steps on my pedometer and went to wait for Rory...where was he? What could you possible do in a locker room to get ready for working out? I was in the locker room for almost 5 minutes and I read every sign in there!
Finally I just went to the "Fitness Area." Hopped up on a treadmill and felt totally overwhelmed, all the buttons, should I do a "Fit Test?" While I was debating the merits of the Rolling Hill setting vs. Interval training Rory came up behind me, I was somewhat taken by surprise, and for some reason yelled at the volume of someone who had been approached by a knife-wielding serial killer, and that's just the beginning.
Now that everyone was looking at me, Rory suggested we go lift weights and work on our arms. This is where I should tell you, I've worked out before, I've been to a weight room, just not at my current shape and size. Let me tell you, size matters. We started out at some machine and I put the weight peg thingy in the hole by 50lbs. I can lift that...wrong! I couldn't even move it and I looked in the mirror and my face looked funny trying to move it, so I started laughing and then I started commenting about the lack of mirrors at McDonald's and how much safer I feel there. Still no smile from Rory. I was really making some good comments, I was rolling!
I did the sets required of me by my very serious looking husband and we moved on to the next machine, then I started noticing the people standing around "pretending" to be stretching. I say "pretending" because I know they were really staring at me and mentally commenting on my ineptitude on the machines and general out of shape-ness. I could see the scorn in their faces. OK, really I couldn't but I was feeling really UNCUTE in those mirrors and maybe it was the scorn in my own face, I don't know, I remember in college I really liked those mirrors, seeing how my different muscles flexed. Now I would be happy if I could wear a snowsuit in the gym, or at least a long scarf to cover my mid-section.
We moved on to the bench. At first I thought he was joking. I laughed, too loud, made some comment about it being a breeding ground for bacteria. Still nothing, usually he finds me very funny, what is his problem? So I attempt to lay down, I say attempt because in laying down I misjudged where the actual bar was and hit the back of my head on it, but I totally meant to do that. I think my hair absorbed most of the blood. When I finally was able to lay on the bench I had to scoot my body down because my head was hanging off, then my shirt started creeping up and I couldn't stop laughing. I thought Rory was going to kill me, don't worry though, it got worse. I couldn't lift the bar. The bar with no weights, I couldn't lift it, when I finally did my arms were shaking and I was worried I was going to drop it on my face so I closed my eyes, and Rory took the bar away from me. He then handed me something called the Body Bar, which is a little bar for wienies. So then I started saying stupid things like "Look at me with the wienie bar." Rory was still not amused.
At last I was allowed to go back to the safe treadmill, and the only one available was next to a pretty foxy college girl who had on WAY too much perfume. I got on the treadmill and just pushed a bunch of buttons, because I didn't want her to think I was a total idiot, then the treadmill began going really fast and I had to run, and I couldn't see the stop button. Eventually I was flung off and the college gal took out her ear bud and said "Are you OK?" and I was about to say something like "Someday, you too will have your body ravaged by 3 pregnancies with no time to work out and a McDonald's right by your kids school. So enjoy hot and skinny while it lasts Sister!"
Instead I said "I'm totally OK, I meant to do that." Thus confirming to her that I was a total idiot.