In 6 weeks, I will turn 34. I do not think of 34 as "old" nor do I feel old. However, I do not feel 34. I feel about 26 or 27. More than that, I'm just really not sure how I already got to the age of 34 but here I am. I've not been too concerned though because I feel young at heart and I keep telling myself 34 is still "young"...but there are surprises that keep occurring and reminding me I'm aging whether I like it or not. For example, on New Year's Eve this year I actually looked forward to staying home with my family and being in bed by midnight (or before) with a good book instead of being upset that we weren't out celebrating somewhere. Then, last week I was reading a book and it mentioned a lady who was 35 and described her as "middle-aged". I all but screamed at my husband what a moron the author was and that 35 is not middle-aged. He very calmly asked me "what's the current life-expectancy? 70? Then 35 is middle-aged". I told him he needed to shut-up. (By the way, current life-expectancy is 80 so while I'm not quite there yet, middle-age will be here before I am 50 which is what I had previously expected.) I've compiled a list of some signs that are making me acknowledge my true age. Maybe some of you can relate.
1) Where are my glasses?
When I enter a place that has low lighting or I go from being outside in the bright sun to inside, everything becomes a bit blurry. If I have left my glasses in my car, I almost always have to go back for them. My prescription is not bad. Truly, one eye is 20/20 and the other is 20/25. I can go without my glasses in many situations but put me in a dimly-lit room and I feel like an old lady asking "where are my glasses, dear?"
2) Are you supposed to be driving?
Seriously, how young are they letting kids drive today? And how come I can no longer tell the difference between high school and college students? They all look the same. And maybe most disturbing, how are there kids in high school today that I taught when they were in Kg? I haven't been out of school that long - or at least it doesn't feel like it - so how is that even a possibility?
3) Don't even look at the ice cream!
I am about five pounds heavier than I was in my 20s. I can lose this 5 pounds if I work out daily and eat a perfect diet. But if I even look at the ice cream, BOOM the five pounds are back on. I don't even think I have to put it in my mouth to gain the weight back. The nice part that has also come with age is that I no longer feel the necessity to have that "perfect" body. I'd rather eat the ice cream once in a while and be happy than crave it and deprive myself of it for 5 measly pounds. (And please, I know I am not overweight and have nothing to worry about as far as weight goes but it's all what you're accustomed to - so no lectures on my weight please.)
4) How old am I?
I remember making fun of people that had to think about their age. I mean, how do you not know how old you are?! But lately if I am filling out a form that asks for my age, I find myself having to do the math. Thankfully I was born in 1980 so it is pretty simple math. Even with simple math though, there has been more than one occasion where my husband has to correct me (most the time I say I'm younger than I am but occasionally I go the opposite direction).
5) Dying is no longer a question.
We're talking hair dye here people! It's always been optional before but now is a must-do because of my gray patches. It had been a stray gray hair here or there but the past few months it has become more of gray areas than a gray hair.
6) My feet are like the Arabian desert.
This is maybe the most disturbing change of all. I remember my mom putting lotion on her feet every morning and every night and thinking she was a bit obsessed with her feet. I remember going to get pedicures and looking at "older" women thinking "gross! Take care of those! Why are they so dry?" And now, here I am putting lotion on all the time and I still feel like the oriental ladies at the pedicure shop are saying to each another in their language "She better tip good after I've had to mess with her nasty old dry feet!"
I should add that not all is bad about mid-thirties. I'm much more comfortable in my own skin, am not as concerned about what others are thinking and/or saying about me, have learned to say "no" when it's something I don't care to do and am happy with my job, family and financial status. The internal benefits of aging far outweigh the external consequences of it. I just wish I could have the best of both worlds for the remainder of my life.
So to my younger readers I say this: you just keep sitting back thinking you have all the time in the world before some of these things start happening to you. Because they will happen and the timing will be faster than you expect. To my girls in their 30s: what has been your biggest "aging" surprise? To the girls wiser than me in this area: what else do we have to look forward to? Help a sister prepare herself! And to my awesome men readers: what's different or the same with your gender?
Friday, October 17, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
The hatchlings and the larvae
Hatchlings: baby bird Larvae: baby bees
That's right... the birds and the bees...kind of. Well, the beginning of them at least.
Because I have 2 girls, we've never had to have a name for boy and girl parts. Everything up until recently has been referred to as "bottom", "front", "back" or "private area" (except when Kherington was about 3, she had been to the bathroom with a boy at the babysitter's and she came home and educated me that "boys have a stick and girls have a rainbow"). Anyway, those 4 words were basically how my mom referred to that area with me and it has resulted in a perfectly healthy adult... Kind of. Ok, I'm a grown woman who has to force herself to say any word - even the medically correct terminology - for that area (see, I can't even type the words) and I often have to ask my husband what certain words or phrases mean because I am a tad naïve and innocent (just a side-note: don't ever google something you think may be of sexual content. Ask your spouse or a trusted friend. It's much safer.)
So, Kherington turned 5 and was about to start school and I decided that she needed some words to refer to that area for several reasons. 1) we have talked since she was 2 about our privates being special and who is allowed to touch that area (me, her dad, the baby-sitter and her mimi) and we only touch them when we are helping her wipe. (Please have this conversation with your child! There are many sickos out there hiding under many positions that your child, God forbid, may come in contact with.) Because my ability to control, choose, and supervise her peers and teachers is being significantly decreased due to school, I want her to have good language and vocabulary to explain exactly what happened if (God please protect my children!) something ever did happen. Reason 2) I want to be the source of sex-education to my children. If I have never even been able to talk about different body parts with them, they will turn somewhere else for information (I am not so naïve to believe they will be completely open and honest with me their whole lives but I do believe that open conversation begins now) And finally, I want them to be comfortable enough to say the words..."penis" and "vagina" when they're 33. There, I typed them! Success.
Ok, now for the good part. So this summer, Kherington was in my bathroom when I got out of the shower. She made some comment that would allow me to use those words. "Rainbow. We call that a rainbow!" is what I wanted to shout. 10 long seconds of an internal debate willing myself to say that word, I finally whispered "vagina". "What?" she asked. "Vagina. That's the name of that part." Beads of sweat started rolling down my face and my palms became clammy. "And boys have a".... (gulp. why is my heart pounding? say it, say it)... "penis". "oh ok" she replied nonchalantly and went skipping off to play with Barbies. Whew. That wasn't too bad. I did it! I gave her a name for those parts and she didn't ask questions and didn't seem to be scarred for life. I gave myself a pat on the back and marked that off my "need to do" list.
Until last week. Kimber pulled her shorts up way too high and I told her I could see her cheeks. Kherington laughed and remarked how she didn't know those were called cheeks. I made some comment about "yeah, we have 4 cheeks. 2 on our face and 2 on our bottom" She continued to think that was comical and I started laughing because she was laughing so hard. Then, she said "3 people in this house have 4 cheeks" and I corrected her by saying that 4 people have 4 cheeks. She then inquired "daddy has cheeks too?" "yep". "Oh. I thought since he had that long one in front that his back was different too." At least I think that's what she said. My brain stopped working after hearing "that long one" and it just kept replaying that phrase in my head as I realized we were about to have the terminology talk again. CRUD! I then had a vision of her as a 15 year old in the locker room saying something about boys and "their long ones". I then came to my senses and remembered how easily the first conversation went. I finally made myself say it again... (gulp. Breathe.) "Penis. That long one is called a penis." "Hahahaha! It sounds like peanuts! Penis, peanuts! Penis, peanuts!" on and on. "PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT!!" I shouted wanting to cover my ears with my hands. "And when I drop you off at your private Christian school in 20 minutes, please don't say that word to anyone! You can say it at home or ask questions to me or daddy about it but let's just keep it with our family." (to which my husband later informed me "I want no part of any of those conversations!" Great... we have 2 girls which means I have to have all "the talks" and he gets off scotch free. No fair!)
I know these conversations can make us parents uncomfortable - especially "church" people who have been taught certain topics and/or words are taboo. But our kids will learn these words from someone. Wouldn't you rather be the one teaching them? I would. At least until my 5 year old walks around saying "penis" over and over - then, I have to think twice about it. The good news is I've now survived 2 of these conversations without God striking me down or my child needing therapy.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Friday Fun Day
So I have this thought that on Fridays I can post some of my favorite Kherington and Kimber stories from the week. I will do it this Friday but you should know that my intentions are always much better than my follow-through so this may be the only one... I'm not kidding.
Just a quick review of my girls. I have Kherington, age 5. She is motherly, neat and organized, rule-follower, loves to study and read, doesn't care for being outdoors, extremely particular about how she looks and feels in clothing, only sees in black and white, and is a perfectionist. Then, there is Kimber, age 2. She loves being outdoors, doesn't care if she's dirty, doesn't really care about books, loves her sweets and candies, knows what she wants and will not give in until she gets it, is more concerned with making people laugh and is just plain cantankerous. In fact, I truly believe she has already mastered the art of annoying her sister and does so simply because she thinks it is fun.
Earlier this week I was doing dishes and heard Kherington yell, "Mom! Kimber's getting my iPad all wet!" I knew they were in the living room with no running water or drinks so as I was contemplating how this would happen or why Kherington would make this up about her sister I hear "Mom! Kimber keeps licking my iPad!" As common with Kimber I'm fairly certain she is only doing this because she likes to see her sister upset but I say one of those sentences I never thought I'd say: "Kimber quit licking your sister's iPad!"
Maybe the most interesting part of motherhood lately has been our trip to Disney on Ice. We enter the building and I do what most moms do: head straight to the restroom. Kherington does her business and I take Kimber in to do hers. Here are some things about Kimber and toilets: if Kherington goes and has not flushed, Kimber will not go unless I flush first. If the toilet seat has any scratch on it, she will not go. She's only 2 but very particular about her toilets. She immediately upon entering the stall, stiffens her body, starts reaching for the door and goes into full 2 year old screaming and fit throwing. I try to convince her to let me shut the door but since there is no reasoning with her I leave frustrated. We return to our seats, I tell Anthony what a weirdo Kimber is and 5 minutes before the show starts I take her again to try. She goes in and does her business with no problems. Again, we return to our seats and I tell Anthony how strange she can be. Intermission comes and I, again, do what all moms of young childen do - we return to the bathroom. We enter the stall, Kimber stiffens up, reaches for the door and screams. This time, though, she yells "Not dis one! Not dis one!" So I say "okay okay. Not this one?" "No" she screams. I ask "but we can go to this one?" pointing to the next stall. "Yes!" I then have one of those mom moments where every bathroom encounter with Kimber throwing a fit quickly flashes in my mind and I realize they all had black toilet seats. That's right - Kimber has a fear of black toilet seats. I find a white toilet seat and she goes with no arguing. So now when I'm in a public restroom with a long line, I get to peek in the stall to see the color of the seat and if it's black I get to politely tell the person behind me "go ahead... we'll wait on the next one". You can imagine the looks I get - most filled with disgust wondering what I saw in there that is making me pass it up. I then get the luxury of explaining to strangers how the restroom is fine I just have a 2 year old who refuses to sit on a black toilet seat. Motherhood!
Have a great weekend!
Just a quick review of my girls. I have Kherington, age 5. She is motherly, neat and organized, rule-follower, loves to study and read, doesn't care for being outdoors, extremely particular about how she looks and feels in clothing, only sees in black and white, and is a perfectionist. Then, there is Kimber, age 2. She loves being outdoors, doesn't care if she's dirty, doesn't really care about books, loves her sweets and candies, knows what she wants and will not give in until she gets it, is more concerned with making people laugh and is just plain cantankerous. In fact, I truly believe she has already mastered the art of annoying her sister and does so simply because she thinks it is fun.
Earlier this week I was doing dishes and heard Kherington yell, "Mom! Kimber's getting my iPad all wet!" I knew they were in the living room with no running water or drinks so as I was contemplating how this would happen or why Kherington would make this up about her sister I hear "Mom! Kimber keeps licking my iPad!" As common with Kimber I'm fairly certain she is only doing this because she likes to see her sister upset but I say one of those sentences I never thought I'd say: "Kimber quit licking your sister's iPad!"
Maybe the most interesting part of motherhood lately has been our trip to Disney on Ice. We enter the building and I do what most moms do: head straight to the restroom. Kherington does her business and I take Kimber in to do hers. Here are some things about Kimber and toilets: if Kherington goes and has not flushed, Kimber will not go unless I flush first. If the toilet seat has any scratch on it, she will not go. She's only 2 but very particular about her toilets. She immediately upon entering the stall, stiffens her body, starts reaching for the door and goes into full 2 year old screaming and fit throwing. I try to convince her to let me shut the door but since there is no reasoning with her I leave frustrated. We return to our seats, I tell Anthony what a weirdo Kimber is and 5 minutes before the show starts I take her again to try. She goes in and does her business with no problems. Again, we return to our seats and I tell Anthony how strange she can be. Intermission comes and I, again, do what all moms of young childen do - we return to the bathroom. We enter the stall, Kimber stiffens up, reaches for the door and screams. This time, though, she yells "Not dis one! Not dis one!" So I say "okay okay. Not this one?" "No" she screams. I ask "but we can go to this one?" pointing to the next stall. "Yes!" I then have one of those mom moments where every bathroom encounter with Kimber throwing a fit quickly flashes in my mind and I realize they all had black toilet seats. That's right - Kimber has a fear of black toilet seats. I find a white toilet seat and she goes with no arguing. So now when I'm in a public restroom with a long line, I get to peek in the stall to see the color of the seat and if it's black I get to politely tell the person behind me "go ahead... we'll wait on the next one". You can imagine the looks I get - most filled with disgust wondering what I saw in there that is making me pass it up. I then get the luxury of explaining to strangers how the restroom is fine I just have a 2 year old who refuses to sit on a black toilet seat. Motherhood!
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
A month with no momma.
Never in a million years could I have guessed this would be the subject of my second blog post but yet, here we are. It has been just over a month since my mom quickly and unexpectedly passed away. For those who haven't heard the full story, the synopsis is: my mom has fought glaucoma, seizures and breast cancer in her lifetime of 64 years. She was, by no means, a perfectly healthy person. But, she was, overall, in good health. She had talked to my dad on the phone while he was at work and when he walked in the house an hour later, she had had a heart attack and passed away.
I feel like I have learned more about dealing with death in the past 33 days than my previous 33 years. No matter how many books you've read, counseling classes you've taken, or number of people you've helped get through a situation like this, the old adage, unfortunately, holds true: there is no teacher like experience. Here are seven truths that have clutched me in the past month. Most I knew on a cerebral level but they have since taken on deeper meaning.
Time stands still for those mourning.
Getting the phone call from my sister and making the 5 hour drive home in the middle of the night feels like a lifetime ago. Standing in the funeral home and choosing a casket had to have been a year ago. How has it only been 33 days? And people keep saying "Wow, it's already been a month?" and I just reply with "It's only been a month?"
It never leaves your mind.
I consider myself a very sympathetic and even empathetic person but I have been guilty of thinking "you need to try to get past this" when weeks later someone is still speaking about their deceased loved one constantly. I now understand - it's all you can think about. Sure, you might be at the lake with friends, or at the state fair watching your children enjoy Disney on Ice or in a deep conversation about politics and terrorists but at the forefront of all your thoughts is your loved one. You're in this state of always thinking "I can't believe this happened."
Observing the living parent is just as hard as losing a parent.
My parents were married 40 years. They were together twice as long as they were single. Watching my dad try to navigate through life as half a person is almost unbearable. His personality has always been care-free and easy-going. He frequently has some new joke to share and loves to make people laugh. I've not heard him laugh and have barely even seen a smile out of him in a month. I know he will slowly find himself again without her but I feel, in a sense, as if I've lost both parents. I truly believe he is doing as well as we can expect but unfortunately expectations right now are not set that high.
The "Denial Phase" should be more accurately labeled the "I can't comprehend this" phase.
Denial seems like something you choose like "I refuse to believe that she died". That is not the case. I want to believe and move on with my life but my brain simply cannot come to terms with it. I just can't make myself understand that for the first time in my life, I can't call my mom. It's ironic how it never leaves your mind but yet your mind can't come to terms with it - no matter how hard you try to understand it.
We All Handle Grief Differently.
I've been given songs to listen to and books to read and I'm appreciative of others reaching out. But I am a busy-body. If I sit still for too long, I may go into depression. So I keep busy. My family has had more activities and outings than ever before. I still feel like I'm dealing with it after everyone's bedroom lights go off but during daylight I want to keep moving.
Sometimes you start to cry.
Most often it's brought on by a song, smell, sight or thought. But sometimes you can feel like you are having a great day and things are starting to feel normal again only to find yourself bawling your eyes out 5 min later for no reason you can come up with.
Without God, family and friends, it's impossible to cope.
I have 5 siblings that are all going through this with me. I cannot imagine going through the past month without them keeping me sane and validating every feeling I've had. My husband has been understanding, loving and has not complained once even though we've eaten out every night for a month straight and the house is a disaster. Finally, I've often heard that after a couple of weeks everyone else goes back to life and the ones really hurting are left all alone. The friends that have continued to let me know they have not forgotten, that they are still praying for me, who are calling just to check in have embedded themselves further in my heart than they could ever realize.
I feel like I have learned more about dealing with death in the past 33 days than my previous 33 years. No matter how many books you've read, counseling classes you've taken, or number of people you've helped get through a situation like this, the old adage, unfortunately, holds true: there is no teacher like experience. Here are seven truths that have clutched me in the past month. Most I knew on a cerebral level but they have since taken on deeper meaning.
Time stands still for those mourning.
Getting the phone call from my sister and making the 5 hour drive home in the middle of the night feels like a lifetime ago. Standing in the funeral home and choosing a casket had to have been a year ago. How has it only been 33 days? And people keep saying "Wow, it's already been a month?" and I just reply with "It's only been a month?"
It never leaves your mind.
I consider myself a very sympathetic and even empathetic person but I have been guilty of thinking "you need to try to get past this" when weeks later someone is still speaking about their deceased loved one constantly. I now understand - it's all you can think about. Sure, you might be at the lake with friends, or at the state fair watching your children enjoy Disney on Ice or in a deep conversation about politics and terrorists but at the forefront of all your thoughts is your loved one. You're in this state of always thinking "I can't believe this happened."
Observing the living parent is just as hard as losing a parent.
My parents were married 40 years. They were together twice as long as they were single. Watching my dad try to navigate through life as half a person is almost unbearable. His personality has always been care-free and easy-going. He frequently has some new joke to share and loves to make people laugh. I've not heard him laugh and have barely even seen a smile out of him in a month. I know he will slowly find himself again without her but I feel, in a sense, as if I've lost both parents. I truly believe he is doing as well as we can expect but unfortunately expectations right now are not set that high.
The "Denial Phase" should be more accurately labeled the "I can't comprehend this" phase.
Denial seems like something you choose like "I refuse to believe that she died". That is not the case. I want to believe and move on with my life but my brain simply cannot come to terms with it. I just can't make myself understand that for the first time in my life, I can't call my mom. It's ironic how it never leaves your mind but yet your mind can't come to terms with it - no matter how hard you try to understand it.
We All Handle Grief Differently.
I've been given songs to listen to and books to read and I'm appreciative of others reaching out. But I am a busy-body. If I sit still for too long, I may go into depression. So I keep busy. My family has had more activities and outings than ever before. I still feel like I'm dealing with it after everyone's bedroom lights go off but during daylight I want to keep moving.
Sometimes you start to cry.
Most often it's brought on by a song, smell, sight or thought. But sometimes you can feel like you are having a great day and things are starting to feel normal again only to find yourself bawling your eyes out 5 min later for no reason you can come up with.
Without God, family and friends, it's impossible to cope.
I have 5 siblings that are all going through this with me. I cannot imagine going through the past month without them keeping me sane and validating every feeling I've had. My husband has been understanding, loving and has not complained once even though we've eaten out every night for a month straight and the house is a disaster. Finally, I've often heard that after a couple of weeks everyone else goes back to life and the ones really hurting are left all alone. The friends that have continued to let me know they have not forgotten, that they are still praying for me, who are calling just to check in have embedded themselves further in my heart than they could ever realize.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
"You Should Write a Book!"
I have heard this suggestion numerous times from numerous people in the past 3 years. While I won't deny the fact that the challenge of writing a book intrigues me, I find it fascinating that people keep telling me that. "Are they really that interested in my mediocre life?" I wonder. Or maybe they are secretly thinking, "Your FB posts are entirely too long and so you need to just go write a book already." (I have been told something similar to the latter by my brother-in-law so I can't help but think that may be more of the case than the former.) Whatever the reason, the thought of starting my own blog began to plant and seed itself inside me (writing a blog just seemed much easier due to the whole process of publishing and then actually selling of a book). So in 2014, I made a New Years resolution to make it happen. I know you are thinking, "it's only September. What's the rush?"
To be honest, I did look into starting this right after the new year and I did what I do before I start anything new; I researched "how to start a blog". I found that to be a successful blogger, one should go into it with a clear idea of what the purpose is and that the blog should help teach or guide others in one specific area. For example, a photography blog would share secrets on getting the perfect lighting or the perfect pose and a cooking blog would be all about recipes and...what...temperatures for baking I guess. So, I spent the next 8 months pinpointing exactly what my blog readers would have in store for them: Nothing. You will probably not learn anything from reading this. It will, more than likely, be a complete waste of your time but isn't that what we have gotten good at - wasting time by reading about others' lives? Here's what I have and hope to offer you. I have 2 girls that say and do some entertaining things and I hope to provide some light-heartedness comedic relief in a world that often takes itself too seriously. At the end of all this, though, I will have a record of my girls' childhood so that when I'm old and they've left me and I have no memory left (since there is very little left in my 30s) I can sit back and reminisce about the days that went entirely too quickly. After I'm gone, they will have some sort of record of their childhood (since it's becoming apparent neither will ever have a finished baby book) and possibly some of the inner thoughts, fears, and revelations of their mom. And if our friends and family and maybe a stranger or two want to tag along for the ride, come on and welcome to the King household.
To be honest, I did look into starting this right after the new year and I did what I do before I start anything new; I researched "how to start a blog". I found that to be a successful blogger, one should go into it with a clear idea of what the purpose is and that the blog should help teach or guide others in one specific area. For example, a photography blog would share secrets on getting the perfect lighting or the perfect pose and a cooking blog would be all about recipes and...what...temperatures for baking I guess. So, I spent the next 8 months pinpointing exactly what my blog readers would have in store for them: Nothing. You will probably not learn anything from reading this. It will, more than likely, be a complete waste of your time but isn't that what we have gotten good at - wasting time by reading about others' lives? Here's what I have and hope to offer you. I have 2 girls that say and do some entertaining things and I hope to provide some light-heartedness comedic relief in a world that often takes itself too seriously. At the end of all this, though, I will have a record of my girls' childhood so that when I'm old and they've left me and I have no memory left (since there is very little left in my 30s) I can sit back and reminisce about the days that went entirely too quickly. After I'm gone, they will have some sort of record of their childhood (since it's becoming apparent neither will ever have a finished baby book) and possibly some of the inner thoughts, fears, and revelations of their mom. And if our friends and family and maybe a stranger or two want to tag along for the ride, come on and welcome to the King household.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)