Random & Expensive Stuff

May 20, 2018 / Wanda / 3 Comments

My week has been crazy. Here are a few snippets….

Mother’s Day was good for me. My husband always does a stellar job of spoiling me on that day. He got me my favorite donut for breakfast, took me to brunch and we went shopping with the kids. He also made dinner and did all the dishes. The finest moment of the day, however, was his discovery of an app on Facebook that allowed you to generate your own Top Gun call sign. Did you know Mother’s Day also fell on Top Gun day this year? I didn’t even know there was a Top Gun day, but I was thrilled to share in it. And for shits and giggles, I made the decision that for the entire day, we could only address each other by our new Top Gun call signs. I was “Boom.” Dan was “B.A. Baracus,” and Bryce was “Hoser.” That one was my favorite! Bryn was “Cat,” which she loved because cats are her favorite animal. We laughed and made fun of each other’s names all day. It was magnificent.

U2 at The Forum

This past Wednesday, my husband was invited by one of his vendors to attend the U2 show at the Forum, here in Los Angeles. I have never seen U2 in concert. To be honest, I’m not a huge U2 fan. The last time I was actively interested in one of their albums was back in the 90’s. I’ve always liked U2, they just haven’t been on my bucket list of bands to see live. I didn’t want to go. The show was on a school night and I wanted to wear sweat pants, sit on the couch after helping the kids with homework, order sushi for dinner and go to bed super early. I suggested Dan take a friend and make it a guys night out. He said, “I like you. I want to spend time with you. You are my wife, and I want to take YOU to the show. You have to see U2 perform live at least once in your life.” Well, isn’t that sweet?! So I went to the show. And I didn’t regret it. It was amazing. Even though I only knew about five songs on their set list, it was an incredible night of visual and musical artistry. I love rock music, and they did not disappoint. I even almost cried, twice. Almost.

My refrigerator died slowly this week. It was fifteen years old and the compressor went out. The repairman said it would cost around $600-700 to fix it, and even then I would be lucky to get another 3 years out of it as other essential parts started to wear out. He recommended that for that amount of money and the age of the machine, I should research and look into purchasing a new unit. Thankfully, as we are approaching Memorial Day weekend, everything is on sale. So Dan and I went to Home Depot last night to start looking. When I told the Home Depot sales guy that I was replacing a unit that was fifteen years old, he looked like he was going to choke on his tongue. He informed me that the refrigerators today are just not made the same, and I should not expect more than a ten year life span for any new unit we buy. I wish I could say that surprised me. Maybe it’s because of the technology, but products just don’t last as long as their older generations. We keep finding ways to make things cheaper, less durable, more disposable, yet they cost more. Anyway, an hour later, I left with a receipt for a new refrigerator that cost twice as much as my old one, and will die in half as many years. Good times.

Minnie

Also this week, my cat had what I believe was a seizure and scared the hell out of us. We had gone to bed, and as I was laying there half asleep, I hear what sounds like two of my cats wrestling their way across the floor. I sit up and look around the dark room to see the shadow of one cat rolling around uncontrollably. Dan jumps up and flips on the light to find our cat Minnie scrambling around like she’s trying to run away, but half her body isn’t working. By the time I got my hands on her she was panting so hard her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and her pupils were severely dilated. I was worried she’d had some kind of a stroke and was going into shock. Dan took her to the emergency vet, and initially the vet suspected she might have had a blood clot. A few hours later, a round of blood work, two x-rays and a bill for $600, we had no definitive answers. Dan brought Minnie home and by the next day she was fine. No coordination issues, no lingering side effects of whatever had caused her body to go hay-wire the night before. And did I mention it cost $600? As Dan would say, “Fucking cat.”

I’m looking forward to this next week, and no unexpected surprises. No emergency vet visits, no last minute late night rock shows, and no appliance apocalypse. This is Boom, and I’m out.

Beyond the Veil

October 16, 2017 / Wanda / 11 Comments

Hello, world.

It’s been so long since I’ve done this that I feel as if we’re on a first date, again. Honestly, I’m a little nervous. It’s been a while since we’ve spent any time together. Will you still like me? Will I say something funny or interesting, and will you laugh? Will we be able to regain that sense of mutual interest and connection? Will you text me later and say you had a nice time?

I promise that if you do, I won’t wait another eight months to respond. 😉

The past eight months has flown by in a whirlwind of activity. Work, kids, husband, friends, travel, work, kids, husband, work, family, work, PTA, kids and work. It’s all been good, mostly.

My job, which I started nine months ago, has been going pretty well. After six years as a stay home mom, I took a part-time position working for a music publishing company as a music coordinator and personal assistant. It’s been fun. We create and license orchestral music/sound design for movie trailers. I love music and movies, so it seemed like a good fit, although I have no previous experience in either industry. As it turns out, my penchant (read OCD) for detail and organization lends itself nicely to the trailer music industry. A lot of people ask me for examples of what we do. Did any of you happen to see the debut trailer for The Last Jedi? The epically moving, raise the hair on your arms music in that trailer just happens to be ours! Yes, it was a BFD. We celebrated the next morning after the release of the trailer with mimosas and French omelets. Just in case you haven’t seen it…

Later, my daughter asked me, “Mom, what did YOU actually do to contribute to that movie trailer?” I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me because she thinks I’m lame, or if she was looking for proof that I’m really as cool as I tell her I am. So I was honest with her and said, “Not a damn thing. My job is to do all the other stuff, so the people I work for can focus their time and talents on creating music for projects like this.” I’m pretty sure she took that as validation of her initial assessment, which is that I’m lame.

Despite how well my job is going, I will admit that I’m still waiting for my lightening bolt. For a long time I’ve had this sense that there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, yet I have no idea what it is. It’s like there’s a thin veil hanging over my life, and I can’t quite see through it, but I know the answers I need are on the other side. I’ve always envied people who understood their talents. People who have a clear vision of their path in life. Some people know without hesitation what they are meant to do. Their talent and drive toward that goal manifests itself clearly for them. For me that has never been the case. Despite doing well in the career/jobs I’ve chosen, I’ve always struggled to fully grasp my sense of purpose, and after celebrating another birthday this past September, I feel a sense of urgency toward whatever self-discovery needs to take place in order to put myself on the right path. I’m not afraid of hard work, I just want to realize what I’m supposed to be working toward so I can get on with it. Is it too much to ask to wake up one morning with a hand written note beside my bed that reads,

Dear Wanda,

You are destined to become a dolphin trainer. Please make arrangements for whatever training is necessary to complete this task and file your application for employment at Sea World, as soon as possible.

Your welcome,

The Universe

I think I would take a clue like that seriously. I tried asking my kids what they think I’m good at. Their answers are ridiculous but I love their honesty. My son says stuff like, “You’re good at snuggles, Mommy. And you make the best meatloaf.” He also told me I was good at being a mommy, and he suggested I open up the baby factory and have another one so he could be a big brother.

So that’s where I’m at. Attempting to support one company on it’s path to greatness while I strive to discover my own. If any of you can relate, it would be awesome to hear about it. And by the way, to those of you who reached out to check on me during my little blogging hiatus, I want you to know how much I genuinely appreciated that, so thank you! 🙂

That Time I Lost My Sh*t On the Dance Floor

October 3, 2016 / Wanda / 12 Comments

It’s Saturday at midnight in the bar and I’m out with the girls enjoying a 90’s cover band and some ice-cold beer. The 90’s is my favorite decade, and every song brings back memories of high school and college, in such a good way. I felt nineteen again, and although I wasn’t drunk on alcohol, I was definitely drunk on memories and music.

You know that feeling, when all your favorite tunes are being played and your body has an almost involuntary reaction. It becomes this sort of instinct and rhythm combined. My nineteen year-old self was really into rock music. Imagine some air guitar, arms in the air, hair being thrown in every direction, and a complete and total disregard for the other bar patrons around me, other than my friends. It was just me, the band, my girls and the music.

Image result for dance like nobody's watching meme

I don’t do Zumba, but you get my point.

Now picture a middle-aged woman, married with two kids, who drives the weekly car pool and volunteers in the PTA, throwing her long hair and rocking out to Alice In Chains, Metallica and Nirvana. The dance floor wasn’t overly full, so I stood out. I think at one point I might have screamed, “I’m with the band!” Except, I’m not with the band.

Good times.

It was so fun, and in the moment I had no regrets. It was a great night. I mean seriously, when anyone plays Enter Sandman by Metallica, you throw your hair to that shit. It’s just how it’s done. I think the point where I really peaked and just let my shit go all over the dance floor was when the band played Man in the Box, by Alice In Chains. One of my favorite songs, and when I became aware of my environment toward the end of the song, there were a few dudes thrashing next to me, so I guess it was good.

Except, in the light of day, when I woke up with a very stiff neck and a screaming headache, I had a moment of thought that said, you-are-too-fucking-old-to-act-like-you-belong-in-a- White-Snake-video-and-oh-my-God-you-are-such-an-asshole! I woke up embarrassed. I know we all like to pretend that we don’t care what other people think, but the truth for most of us is that to a small degree, we do.

I’m a person who typically embraces the immediacy of a good time and enjoys being in the moment with my friends. We’ve been at weddings where Dan and I are the only ones on the dance floor, while the other couples are engaged in far more dignified conversation and interactions. Not shaking their asses to Baby Got Back. I always look back later and self-consciously think, damn, did we take that one too far? Shouldn’t we be past this sort of behavior yet? So Sunday morning, as I reviewed the events of the previous night, I thought to my self, are you honestly going to be the crazy lady that loses her shit every time someone plays some AC/DC?

Fast forward a few hours, and Dan and I are in attendance at a lovely baby shower/brunch for our dear friends who will soon welcome twin boys into the world. After a brief cocktail hour, where a few mimosa’s were going a long way to soothe my misplaced embarrassment, the father-to-be takes up the microphone and begins to welcome his family and friends to this celebration of babies, and also discuss some important events of the past nine months. He said shortly after they discovered they were pregnant, he received a call from his doctor and learned he had Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

He said he spoke with one doctor who gave him “good odds” with a 60% chance of survivability. He decided that wasn’t good enough, so he fired that doctor and got another one who told him with 100% certainty that he would live through this cancer. That he could beat it. And he did. Over the past nine months, he fought his cancer while his beautiful wife managed a complicated pregnancy with unbelievable grace and strength. They kept the cancer diagnosis to themselves, for the most part, telling only a few people. Dan and I found out about a week ago, after he finished his last chemo and was able to share the good news with everyone that he was cancer free. We were all so grateful for his outcome, and we celebrated his health as much as we celebrated the babies!

A short while later there was a moment during the party and the DJ was playing some great dance music. There wasn’t a dance floor, just good music playing to keep the party lively. Dan and I were sitting by the bar and the father-to-be, along with another friend began an impromptu dance-off in the space next to us. Then the grand-father joined in, and these three grown men began taking it to town in front of everyone. It was crazy and awesome and hilarious and I started to cry a little. I was actually laughing first, and then found the emotion behind the laughter.

Here he is, grateful to be alive, lucky to have two beautiful babies on the way, and he wasn’t embarrassed by his super sweet dance moves. He wasn’t concerned about what anyone thought of him, or whether or not he looked silly. All three men were simply enjoying the moment, making the most of the mood and the occasion and the love. It was quite simply the most amazing celebration of life I’ve seen in a long time.

I found my perspective and some unnecessary but welcome validation in that moment. The truth is that I AM the mom and friend who will dance in the bar, or in my living room with my kids. I AM the person who sings at the top of my lungs when the song is good and the company is better. I AM the person who isn’t afraid to live in the moment and doesn’t care what strangers think because my life is not about them or what they may or may not think of my Saturday night amateur rock show performance. I’m done feeling insecure about this, and as we all know, insecurity is an asshole, and we do not choose to be friends with assholes!

So when I ask myself if I’m really going to be that middle-aged mom who loses my shit every time my jam comes on?

Well, this isn’t me, but you get the idea!

The Love-Hate Challenge

June 28, 2015 / Wanda / 17 Comments

Hello, world!

Once again, life has been busy and I’m checking in to say hello and tackle the Love/Hate Challenge handed down to me by one of my favorite bloggers, Kimboxin. In this challenge, I have to list ten things I love and ten things I hate, then nominate other bloggers for the challenge.

Initially, it doesn’t seem too complicated. How hard is it to list things you love and hate? So, I spent a few minutes pondering the many nuances of what it means to love or hate something. If you really think about it, love is not the opposite of hate. Indifference is the opposite of love, but I have not been asked to write about things to which I feel indifferent. So, for me, this is not an exercise of opposites, but rather a list of items that either make me feel extremely happy or extremely unhappy. Oh, and I’m leaving out the obvious stuff, like loving my family or hating anchovies. Seriously, who likes anchovies?

Hate, hate, hate….

These are instruments of torture.

1. I hate high-heels. Why, as women, do we choose to wear shoes that after about twenty minutes of wear feel like razor blades are imbedded on the inside? I admit, high-heels make legs and ankles look more attractive. They add that special something to a dress or an outfit that flats just can’t imitate. They are incredibly feminine and just make you feel fancy. I occasionally attempt to wear them. But high-heels make me feel insecure. Insecure in that I know the pain is inevitable, and I know that with one small misstep or slip, I will fall ass over tea kettle in front of anyone watching. Friday night Dan and I celebrated our anniversary. We got dressed up and went to dinner at Beso, in Hollywood. Then we walked to the theatre and saw Phantom of the Opera. The theatre was less than two blocks from the restaurant, and in the seven minutes it took to walk there, I honestly felt as though my toes were being severed from my feet. I then made the classic mistake of taking the shoes off while I was at my seat enjoying the performance, because my toes began to swell, which then made trying to put the shoes back on feel like a fresh new hell. After the show, I put on a brave face, and hobbled out of the theatre, hanging on to Dan’s arm for dear life. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity and not look like a drunk hooker falling down on the street. About half way up the first block, I said fuck it. I took off the shoes and walked down Hollywood Boulevard in my bar feet. I figured, what the hell? It’s the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and it’s probably one of the nicest sidewalks in the country. I did enjoy a laughable moment though when we walked passed a strip club whose marquee read, “1000’s of Beautiful Girls and 3 Ugly Ones!”

2. I hate being the center of attention, or having too many people looking at me at once. It makes me feel very insecure and nervous. Even at my own wedding, knowing that everyone was looking at me filled me with anxiety. I prefer to blend in with the natives. This anxiety does not exist for me in this medium, thankfully. I want people to read my blog. And it doesn’t feel like the same level of scrutiny for some reason.

3. I also hate crowds. Too many people. Too much noise. No parking. And people tend to behave poorly in large crowds. I prefer smaller, more low key environments. Causal, laid back places. Pubs, not clubs.

4. I hate allergies. I am allergic to everything. If I was stranded on a desert island, I’d probably be dead within hours from touching a leaf or a plant, or being stung by an insect. A handful of years ago I saw an allergist and she did that skin test on my back where they scratch your skin with a hundred different allergens and then see what you react too. Within seconds of the nurse applying the allergens, it felt like fire ants were biting me everywhere. The allergist sort of freaked out when she entered the room and it took several doses of antihistamine to calm the reaction and welts on my back. When I looked at the chart she gave me, it said one of the items I was allergic to was cockroaches. WTF? I want to know what part of a fucking cockroach they rubbed on my back to find out if I was allergic to it. Gross.

5. I hate most reality TV. Mostly because it’s not reality and there is very little substance to these shows. I don’t give a fuck about the Kardashians, the Desperate Housewives of any city, or who the Bachelor or Bachelorette is making out with this week. And don’t even get me started on the Duggars. There are a few reality shows my family enjoys, but we’re pretty selective. My family loves MasterChef, American Ninja Warrior, the Amazing Race, and more recently, BattleBots.

6. I hate hypocrisy. If you talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk.

7. I hate it when people don’t take responsibility for their choices, or try to negate the choices of others. In life, your choices, for good or bad, is truly what defines you. Own them, and use your powers for good, not evil.

8. I hate Jalapenos. Does this need further clarification? I think not.

9. I hate technology when it doesn’t work. My last cell phone sucked. It was an older model Samsung that had the drop down keypad for typing. I preferred that to the touch screen because my fingers always hit the wrong key and it took me forever to do anything on the phone. So, one evening my friend was over for our regular Friday night wine o’clock, and I was bitching about my phone and how long it took to connect a call. And she said, “Can you just give it a second to let the signal come back from space?” LOL!

10. I hate skinny jeans on men. I can’t think of many things more emasculating than seeing men wear skinny jeans. Biggest fashion mistake, ever.

For the love of….

1. I love fresh, clean paper. There’s something about a new notebook or journal that fills me with excitement. It’s a clean slate. You can write or create anything. I would hoard them if I was crazy. But I’m not crazy. As far as you know.

2. I love office supplies. I have no idea why. I have always loved stores like Staples and Office Max. I love buying stuff that makes me feel organized. Shopping for school supplies as a kid felt like Christmas to me.

3. On this same note, I love making lists. I write lists for everything. Again, it helps me feel organized, and my brain needs this in order to feel peace.

4. I love getting flowers, for no special reason. Or for a special reason. That’s fine too.

5. I love giving and receiving compliments, especially when they are unexpected. Admit it. Getting a compliment at an unexpected moment can make you feel on top of the world. Especially because we rarely see ourselves the way others see us. And when you give a compliment, even casually, and you see that person’s face light up, it’s an amazing feeling.

6. I love it when I’m on the treadmill at the gym and one of my favorite Kid Rock songs hits the playlist. When Bawitdaba starts playing, it takes all I have to not start singing out load and head banging in front of everyone. That song, among others, just pumps me up and makes me feel like I could run a hundred miles. I can’t, of course, and about a minute into the song I have to slow down and remind myself that I’m forty and my knees can’t take that shit.

7. I love my husband’s photography. He enjoys photography as a hobby, and I love his pictures.

My kids, walking down the street, holding hands.

8. I love candles that make my house smell good. I specifically love Gold Canyon Candles. They are the best.

9. I love reading. I love being absorbed and transported by a story, and the devastation you feel when the book ends.

10. I love my husband. I know I said I would leave out the obvious stuff, but we just celebrated our anniversary, so it feels important to include him in this list. I love the life we have together, and the balance we share in our relationship. I’m proud of the man he is and I’m proud to be his wife.

Happy Anniversary, Dan!

I nominate the following blogs to participate in this challenge, if they so choose.

1. https://myspokenheart.wordpress.com/

2. https://nosajnawk.wordpress.com/

3. https://lindsaysmiles.wordpress.com/

4. https://brandedexplorer.wordpress.com/

5. https://sweetykannoth.wordpress.com/

6. https://hysterectomy4dysmenorrhea.wordpress.com/

7. http://catsatthebar.org/ (I would love to see the cat’s perspective on this!)

Wanda Says…The Versatile Blogging Award!

May 2, 2015 / Wanda / Leave a comment

Most of you know that I LOVE blog awards!

So, I’m very flattered and happy to accept the nomination for the Versatile Blogger Award from two of my fellow bloggers.

The first nomination for this award was given to me by Tastehitch. Andy’s blog is brilliant, and he happens to be the author of Being A Dad Is Brilliant. He writes a lot about fatherhood and parenting…you know, the glamorous life. Check him out, or better yet, buy his book, and I promise you will not be disappointed!

The second nomination was given to me by Rob over at the V-Pub. V-Pub is short for Virtual Pub, and Rob’s blog has a little bit of something for everyone. He blogs about music, life and the occasional (or frequent) embarrassments that make the best happy hour stories. Go check him out!

Thank you, to both Andy and Rob for the nominations!

Here is a list of rules to accept this award:

Show the award on your blog.

Thank the person who nominated you.

Share seven facts about yourself.

Nominate 15 blogs.

Link your nominees’ blogs, and let them know.

Seven Facts About Me:

1. I’m a HUGE Star Wars fan. I grew up wanting to be Princess Leia. Soooo, one of the most memorable moments of my life happened like this…..I was sitting in an aisle seat at the Coliseum, watching a USC football game with my husband. Dan is a Trojan. George Lucas was at the game as alumni and to promote his latest film project. As he was exiting the stadium, George Lucas walked right past me. That man was five feet away from me, and for about ten seconds, as I watched him approach, I swear everything went into slow motion and I heard the Star Wars theme song in my head. It was epic, and I will never forget it. (And yes, his hair is incredible!)

2. I’ve mentioned this before in my very first Wanda post ever, but I have a strict policy of only naming my pets after historical figures or literary characters. Since my teen years I’ve had beloved pets who bore the names of Napoleon, Ulysses (S. Grant), Thor (Norse mythology’s god of thunder), Cain (biblical son of Adam & Eve), Psyche (Greek mythology’s goddess of the soul and wife of Eros), Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird), and Oliver (Oliver Twist). Currently, my two cats are named Lucy and Linus, from of course, The Peanuts Gang.

3. There are a handful of movies that I am unable to pass over if I come across them on television. They become a mandatory time suck and I am helpless to change the channel or be productive in any way until the movie is over. Some of these movies include Stand By Me, The Goonies, Rocky, The Breakfast Club, Alien (and any of the sequels in this franchise), Star Wars, and any Tom Hanks movie, ever made. I’m a huge Tom Hanks fan. That’s a lot of time sucking.

Goonies Never Say Die!

4. I can sing. Or, I’ve been told that I can sing by others, but I choose not to sing in front of anyone other than my kids and our pets. I get embarrassed and self-conscious and that just doesn’t feel good. My husband says that if I wasn’t so self-conscious I could be a karaoke super star. Isn’t that sweet? Also, the only instrument I can play is an air guitar. I totally rock that shit. Particularly when playing anything AC/DC.

5. I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Special Education and I spent twenty years of my career prior to becoming a stay home parent working with children and adults with special needs. Over the course of those twenty years I’ve had jobs ranging from providing direct care, managing group homes, providing advocacy services, licensing and program coordination, to being an assistant director of a private family services agency. I’ve cared for individuals with special needs in every capacity imaginable, and it is not work that just anybody can do. I’m very proud of the people I was able to help over the course of my career, and I have days where I miss it terribly.

6. One of my biggest regrets so far in life is not going back to school to pursue a Master’s Degree. At this point in my life, it may still be an option, but since I feel I’ve moved on from my previous career and would like to embark on something new, I have no idea what I would go back to school for. I’m still trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Any suggestions?

7. I’m a good baker. I make a mean chocolate chip cookie. Ask anyone who knows me. I used to make cookies for my friend’s as their birthday presents, and they were thrilled to get them as their annual gift. At one point my husband suggested I open a bakery business based on his love of my chocolate chip cookies. No, I won’t share the recipe. I spent about five years tweaking the recipe to get it juuuuuust right. If I ever do open a bakery, I’ll call it “You’re Not the Boss of Me Bakery.” Yeah, that name suits me well.

Now, I would like to nominate a few blogs in order to pass on the honor of this award. I know it says I have to nominate fifteen blogs, but I won’t just nominate for the sake of meeting a number requirement. The blogs I nominate are…

1. Carrie On, Y’all (Carrie is hilarious! I’ve actually snorted a beverage out of my nose while reading her blog. She’s that good!)

2. Kimboxin (Kim is totally badass, and I love her writing and her perspective on life. Her blog is honest, funny, and I find myself scrolling her blog to make sure I don’t miss anything she writes.)

3. Peaches & Poppycock (Kristin’s blog is funny, full of southern charm (she says y’all a lot) and she enjoys wine flavored ice cream! How cool is that?!)

4. The UnsimpleLife (Ray’s blog is amazing, but he’s currently not posting new material right now due to some recent life changes. However, you should head over and read some of his stuff because he’s funny and insightful.)

5. Floordeboor (I love this blog because the brilliant woman behind it is sharing her personal journey with health and wellness. She’s smart, gives good, solid advice and shares her recipes and tips for weight loss, workouts and just living healthy. Check her out!)

If any of the blogs I nominated choose not to participate, it’s totally cool. And perhaps you will enjoy some new traffic and followers based on the good things I said about you!

Have a great weekend, everyone, and thanks again for the award!

Wanda Says…This is how I know I’m getting old.

February 6, 2015February 6, 2015 / Wanda / 21 Comments

I’m getting old and this is how I know it…

1. When I was younger, I remember thinking it was very progressive when the FCC began to allow cursing on TV. I remember thinking, “What’s the big deal if someone uses a curse word on national television? It’s not like most people haven’t heard them before.” And then commercials began to evolve and I thought the adult humor and content infused into the marketing of different products was more humorous than dirty. I remember one event specifically at my grandmother’s house when she tried to shield my great-grandmother from seeing a racy scene on TV, and my great-grandmother responded by saying, “It’s not like I’ve never seen boobs before, Francis.” Fast forward twenty years, and now I’m a parent. Thanks to all the sex and adult references on every station and every network, I’ve mastered the sport of living room gymnastics. All parents know what this is. It’s the sport that’s all the rage in any family living room with small children. It’s the act of diving, jumping, tumbling, rolling, running, or hurdling furniture, small people or pets in order to get to the remote on time to either hit the mute button or change the channel when you realize that what’s happening on the television is not appropriate for your child to hear, see or imitate. (And I’d like to thank every network that showed the new SI Swimsuit cover and all the 50 Shades of Grey trailers for the extra gymnastics practice this week. I really enjoyed trying to field my ten year old daughter’s questions about why that girl was being blindfolded, and why that other girl was practically bearing her private girly parts on the cover of a magazine. Thanks for that). I’ve become that crotchety old person who complains that commercials are filled with unnecessary sexual references and that there isn’t enough quality family television suitable for my kids to watch during prime time, and that just blows.

2. When I see a pack of teenagers walking down my street and they stop to loiter in front of my house, I want to tell them to get off my lawn. I have a nice lawn with nice bushes and flowers, and I don’t want them to litter in my yard or fuck up my grass. Get off my lawn you lazy hooligans! (I can’t believe I care about this).

3. It’s difficult for me to stay up past 10pm, even on a weekend. I force myself to stay up on weekends because it’s ridiculous and I refuse to go to bed at nine o’clock on a Saturday. If my husband and I are out with friends or having a few drinks, I seem to be more energized and can rally to the occasion, but as soon as the action’s over my body goes into complete shut down mode. I need my sleep like my grandmother needs to watch the Wheel of Fortune every night, or as she likes to call it, “The Wheel.”

4. If I have more than three alcoholic drinks in one evening it takes me a week to recover. Seriously. A week. Who’s got time for that shit? I can’t feel like death for a week. So when I do drink wine or other alcoholic beverages, I try and keep it under three drinks and I have to drink a liter of water in between. Otherwise my skin is dehydrated and wrinkly and I get headaches that feel like they last a thousand years. I long for the days in college when I had the energy and stamina to go out five nights a week, stayed out until 2am and was still able to make it to an 8am class. I don’t necessarily want to engage in those activities, I just wish I still had that kind of energy.

These will make your toes feel like they’re being cut off with a butter knife.

5. I now choose function over fashion, every day. Is it comfortable? Stretchy? Will those shoes make my feet hurt if I walk more than ten feet in them? I live in yoga pants and t-shirts. I’m with kids all day and no one gives a shit what I look like. And the last time I made an effort to wear super cute high-heeled boots to a party, I ended up losing a toenail and needing first aid by the end of the night. My poor husband had to practically carry me to the car, and it took me six months to regrow that toenail. When I was 30, I would have toughed it out and claimed, “beauty is pain!” But now, I’m too old for that shit. Give me blue jeans and tennis shoes, any day. (I do get dressed up and fancy for dates with my man, but that’s different than my 6am to 10pm work-as-a-stay-at-home-mom dress code, and I always wear comfortable shoes).

I prefer these.

6. The music I love and came of age on is now only played on the oldies stations. I remember being a kid and being mortified when my parents listened to ‘their music.’ I can recall my dad rocking out to the 50’s and 60’s and thinking he was the oldest man in the world. My mom listened to Neil Diamond, Helen Reddy, James Taylor and Barry Manilow. Now, I love all four of these artists, and I am a Fanilow. The first concert I ever went to was Barry Manilow and I was eight years old. I will never forget those palm trees coming out of the stage when he sang Copacabana. I loved him, and still do. However, when I was a teenager, I remember thinking my parents were so uncool because they didn’t understand MY music. They couldn’t understand how important Aerosmith was to me, or Foreigner. Journey, AC/DC, Steve Miller Band, ZZ Top, Creedence Clearwater Revival, the soundtracks to both Grease 1 and 2, and eventually Madonna and Guns N Roses. And then I went through my New Kids On The Block stage (don’t judge me), and eventually it was all about Grunge. Nirvana, Bush, Alanis Morissette, the Stone Temple Pilots and Smashing Pumpkins. My mother would shake her head at me and tell me to turn that crap down. And now, I find myself listening to the popular music of today and thinking, “How does anyone listen to this shit?!”

7. According to my husband, my hearing is going. When I ask Dan a question, if he answers by saying, “No” all I hear is, “Yeah.” I rarely ask him to repeat himself.

8. New appliances excite me. You know you’re old when you get excited over buying a new dishwasher, power washer, or coffee maker. I got a new Dyson vacuum cleaner for Christmas and I felt like I won the lottery.

9. I get turned on watching my husband do chores. Man flesh does nothing for me. Pictures of hot guys bearing their chests and showcasing a six-pack leaves me feeling…meh. But watching my husband do dishes, laundry, rescue wayward animals, and play at the park with our kids is the equivalent of old people porn. Confident, successful, and happily domesticated men are sexy. Period.

10. When my daughter asks me, “Mom, how old were you when you got your first cell phone?” LOL! She’s mad at me because I won’t let her have a cell phone until she’s 13. She has classmates who have them now and she feels left out. In my opinion, fifth graders don’t need cell phones. So when I told her I was 25 when I had my first cell phone, it was a regular phone, there was no app for that, it was the size of a regular cordless house phone, and I kept it in my glove box and used it only for emergencies because it cost like, fifty dollars per minute, she looked at me like I smoked crack. And she learned about crack in school, so it was a nasty look. Also, I seem to repel technology, and watching my kids run circles around me with new devices, games and programs makes me feel like my grandmother must have felt when I showed her how to use a cassette tape deck on my new boom box when I was in high school.

So, now that we’ve established the undeniable fact that I am turning into a crabby, appliance loving, no sexy shoe wearing, chase the hooligans off my lawn kind of spinster, what makes you feel old?

Wanda Says…Silliness, Shenanigans and Air Guitar.

November 9, 2014 / Wanda / 11 Comments

I have very little sympathy for my kids when I embarrass them, especially when the embarrassment takes place in the privacy of our own home over silliness and varied shenanigans. I also feel that occasionally embarrassing my children is a necessary action of parenting. It’s a public service really, because I am preparing them to deal with the insanity of the real world.

Last night, my husband and I had a date, and I was in my room getting ready. I was listening to the Journey station on Pandora and Bryce was laying on my bed talking to me. And then it happened.

Pandora began to play one of my favorite jams…Jukebox Hero by Foreigner.

I am not physically capable of restraining myself during that song. Every Midwestern, rock star wannabe cell in my body rises to the occasion and becomes the music. I ran to the remote and cranked up the volume. I did not care that Bryce had a slightly alarmed look on his face.

I sang. Loudly. I danced. I threw my hair around. (I grew up on 70’s and 80’s rock music, so my hair banging skills are exceptional). I rocked the air guitar and I embraced the moment. My guitar solo was totally badass. Or, I imagined it was as I rocked that shit all over my bedroom.

At one point I saw that Bryce had his hands over his ears with his face scrunched up and he seemed to be shouting something to me. His eyes were wide and his face was red with the tell-tale signs of mortification and agitation over my less than mature behavior.

I kept singing to him and playing my air guitar.

Then I heard Bryce shout to me, “Mommy, what are you doing? Stop it!”

He was embarrassed of his mother. It’s more likely that he was embarrassed for me, but regardless, he was clearly not appreciative of my sweet dance moves, less than perfect rocker voice, or my expert hair thrashing.

So I turned up the music and sang louder. 🙂