In which my head blows up

Yesterday, I was reading a blog from one of my co-bloggers, Dad Gone Mad. He was talking about his first migraine and how he only thought he knew what they were about until he’d had one himself. I think this is true about many things, including mental illness—the idea that until you experience it first hand, you really have no idea what you are talking about when you write it off as something that someone should be able to pull himself or herself out of or “suck it up.”

I don’t remember my first migraine, but I remember when they started. I was about 6 months pregnant and, like many of my current maladies, all began with the amazing hormone change that was brought about by one of the loves of my life, AJ. AJ just happened to go with me to my last neurologist appointment, which was, incidentally, my first appointment with this particular neurologist. When he asked when they started, and I replied that they occurred when I had AJ, the neurologist showed a wicked sense of humor, turned to AJ and said, “Ah, so it’s all your fault, then?”

Well, yeah, maybe. Or, maybe I was predetermined to have them as I got older. I don’t know half of my medical history, so I’m missing an important link as far as these are concerned. My mom has only had them for the last few years, but I started mine in my early twenties.

It could be because I’m more tightly wound than most. My levels of stress and anxiety tend to be through the roof. I have to moderate myself carefully to keep them at a manageable level. It means that I have to be very self-aware to avoid a meltdown. I’m usually successful. For me, that is. But stress isn’t my only trigger. Rain, stress, not enough sleep, too much sleep, waiting to long to eat, too much sugar, not enough sugar, msg and caffeine are all triggers for me too. Count noise and light in as well. I’m a sensitive little bugger.

I’ve pretty well given up caffeine, except for chocolate. Don’t ask me to give up chocolate. I rarely eat it as it is, but I won’t give it up completely. Since I’ve been eating more healthfully, my migraines have decreased to about once a month when they were at 3-4 per week. I consider that a success.

There is no doubt they are debilitating. When I’ve got one, I’m not going anywhere. I’m sick to my stomach, with an ice pack on my head and in bed with my Duder dog, who is sensitive to my moods and will not leave my side when I have a migraine. I may lay there for 2 days completely awake, but in pain. I have to give up weekends with my family and even work during them, at times, if I can. It’s been termed chronic pain and just like any other chronic pain it doesn’t truly go away for good. It’s always there. Lurking. Like those bad pictures you took in the 8th grade that you know someone will find and put on Access Hollywood if you were to ever become famous.

I’m just learning to manage it. I’m sorry that Dad Gone Mad had to experience what he did. I’m grateful, though, for one more person that truly understands what the experience is like and has more empathy, however.

Never Forget

Sometimes I manage to get it right. I often think that I'm an ok mother. I'm not downing my abilities as a parent, but I see all of those "super moms" and I do tend to wonder how they have the energy for what they are doing. Short of uppers (please pull your panties out of the wad I'm certain they are in, I'm not implying they are drug addicts), I have no idea how those people do it simply because I can't. I tried the stay at home mom thing and failed miserably. I was sad and unproductive and Adrian sure wasn't happy. However, that's a topic for another time. Today, I managed to do something right and that alone is cause for celebration.

This is the part where, if little believing eyes are around, you ask them to go away for about 10 minutes. Why you are letting little believing eyes look at my blog, I have no idea because this is an adult blog.

Last night, AJ was away from home at a sleepover that he'd looked forward to all week. When I say looked forward to, I mean that when I told him he could go after dinner, he was trying to get us to eat dinner at 2:30 in the afternoon. At 7pm, he was allowed to leave and when I say he practically flew out the door and down the street, I don't think I'm exaggerating too much. As such, Husband and I had nothing to do.

Can I communicate what a rare occasion this is? The last time Husband and I have had time without AJ was for Husband's Christmas party, which was 2 hours. Prior to that it was my birthday dinner, which was 2 hours and prior that that, it's beyond my memory, but it was likely something similar. A whole night is unheard of for us and while we were thrilled we were also....well, bored. What do you do when you are used to only doing kid friendly things? Bar hopping? We aren't the type. Clubbing? I currently have a bum knee and Husband won't dance if I pay him (and I've tried paying him). Toilet papering the neighbor whose motorcycle keeps waking me as he drives to work at 4am? Well, you know we're in a recession and toilet paper is expensive. We decided to take advantage of the opportunity to actually pick out his basket together as opposed to the whole "I'll run to the store and pick it up, you stay here and keep him busy, routine."

Those that know us personally know that we have been on a journey of "healthful eating" that leads to eating properly and restricted caloric intake 6 days a week and anything we want one day a week. AJ has done well with this and is actually quite a stickler for the rules. He's never believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny (again, another topic for another time), and since Saturday is our "eat what we want" day, we decided that we'd let him have his basket early. The dilemma here was what to get him being that I was not going to allow him to go into sugar shock after restricting his candy/soda intake for 4 months. This is what I came up with:


There are a lot of personal stories behind the items in this basket, but I was looking for a small mixture of decent candy that he can eat over a long term period and enough sugar that he doesn't feel like he's missing out. The items I included were items that AJ has expressed interest in over the course of about a year of shopping. Overall, I spent about the same amount as I would have on a candy basket and this is mainly stuff he can use again and again. I also don't feel guilty about giving him a little bit of candy and then telling him to eat healthy meals this way. Husband and I patted ourselves on the back for our ingenuity and waited to see how AJ would react.

He came home tired from his sleepover, but happy. I explained the situation about how Easter is tomorrow and everyone else would be getting things tomorrow, but that since his free day was on Saturday, it might make more sense for him to get it today. However, if he didn't want it today, that would be fine and it was his choice. AJ's a rational little guy and said "Gimme the basket." At first, he didn't understand that the bucket WAS his basket. When he did, his expression was hilarious. He kept going through the items saying "this is the best Easter basket ever" and "I will never forget this day." He's a little melodramatic. I don't know where he gets it.

The fun wasn't over, though, as Husband had decided that we were all going to see Monsters vs. Aliens in 3D after some necessary afternoon shopping and a leisurely dinner. I'd never seen a 3D movie and I was pretty excited about the whole thing. When we got to the mall, I found jeans (in a smaller size! YES!) and an adorable old-fashioned looking dress that I'm looking for excuses to wear. One place we always stop at is Brooks Brothers because Husband has become something of a BB addict. Look, if he won't take the first step and admit it, I'll do it for him. I'm assertive that way. They were having a sale and while he and I looked at things, AJ made friends with the salespeople. He really did. He talks to everyone. He made friends with the man fixing our central heat the other day, too. He loves people. I couldn't hear what he was talking about, but saw him talking to the man and looking at the women's jewelry and asking questions.

As we were about to leave, he asked me to try on a bracelet to see if it would fit because he wanted to buy a bracelet for "someone special" with the money he'd gotten from his grandmother for Easter. After having me try on about 20 bracelets, he chose one that was so tight on me I think it cut off circulation. AJ is a loving little guy and I wasn't sure if this was for me or for someone at school, but either way, it was far too expensive for anyone and he didn't need to buy it. I tried to be sneaky and said, "AJ, you know I don't wear pearls, right?" Total lie. I do wear pearls, regular pearls, not the ones with silver that he'd chosen. He winced and said, "But I want to buy these for you! I'm going to buy them for your Easter present. I want it to be special." Husband looked at him and mentioned that if I wanted the bracelet that we had the funds to purchase it and AJ didn't have to spend any money to buy me a bracelet. AJ looked at him like he was dumb (I'll admit, I do that a lot to people and it's not a good trait) and said "I have money and I want to buy it with my money so it will be special." Leon had him ask me if it's the bracelet I wanted and I pointed to one that wouldn't require an amputation of my hand. I thought that the extra $2 it cost might deter him because he tends to be thrifty with his money. Not today. He had his heart set on this.

My 8-year old bought me a silver bracelet from Brooks Brothers so I could have a special Easter present "just like his." With his own money. All the money he has. He insisted upon carrying it out of the store and said, "Mama, this is for you. Happy Easter." I hugged him tightly, got choked up and kissed the top of his head. He grinned at me and whispered, "You'll never forget this day, will you?" No, AJ. I will never forget this day.

Leftovers

April 6, 2009
There isn't much in life that is as cathartic as making a list of songs that you can listen to over and over again that have meaning to you and then just putting them on shuffle when you are having a bad day.

April 1, 2009
I can say with unequivocal authority that is is not good when your husband instant messages you when you are in the middle of the lecture and the following pops up on the powerpoint screen: "Illusions, Michael. A trick is something a whore does for money. Or candy!"

March 31, 20009
If I could see myself the way AJ sees me, I'd never doubt myself or my capabilities ever again.

Magic, not illusion!

I have discovered something so incredible that I must share it with you: Magic is real. It is. Before you think I’ve lost my walnuts, let me at least defend my belief. I have found a magical blanket. It’s true. For those of you that have been reading faithfully, all one of you, you heard me mention that, on my no good day, I’d taken a shine to a blanket, pillow and sock set that Husband gave me for our anniversary. What I’ve found, since then, is that this blanket is MAGIC. When they call it the nap blanket, they aren’t kidding.

Within 10 minutes of curling up with it, any member of our family is asleep. Look, I can’t guarantee that yours will be as magical as mine, but, in our house, it even works for dogs. Let me rephrase that: In our house, it especially works for dogs. Particularly those fond of little boys who like to snuggle when the little boy magically falls asleep within 10 minutes of wrapping himself up in the blanket.



It’s magic. You won’t convince me otherwise.

Oh my glory...

Many mothers wouldn't have written this post. They would have hidden this in a box to be brought out when "the one" comes to dinner, or when they have grandkids or when they find the pot or the porn under a mattress. I've considered this post for a month now, even before this blog existed, and I have decided that I have to write about it because Husband and I can't be the only ones that see this. We just can't. It's unfair to...well, humanity. Or, at least, to the one person that may or may not read this blog.

AJ often surprises me with the items he carries home in his bookbag. I have yet to find anything that was once alive, so I'll say that I have thus far been pleasantly surprised with the things he carries. Generally, he is good about showing me the things I need to see and allowing the non-important items to sit in there for a month or so. I'm not an overly hovering mama, but I am still up in his grill, if you know what I mean.

One day, AJ brought home a piece of artwork. I didn't immediately see it as Husband or AJ had put it on the couch to surprise me or send me into early menopause. I was walking through our always messy living room and I saw a stack of papers on the couch that I had been looking for when a bright piece of blue craft foam material caught my eye. There are no delusions of grandeur about my son's talents. He is what he is and what he'll be is up to him. I'll support him and tell him he rocks and he'll rock. I never expected him to be an artist. AJ loves art. He loves to draw and color and paint and I encourage it by getting him a new art set every couple of Christmases so he can nurture that activity. He also loves athletics and video games and I nurture those things, too. Granted, he never brought anything home from those that was quite like this.

On the back of his artwork was a little sign, which makes me believe this art may have actually been hung in his school building. At the thought, I started laughing so hard I was gasping. Not at my baby's talent. He is so, so good. My laughing was at what those poor adults must have implied. When Adrian was asked what he was drawing, according to Husband, he simply replied, "People, Daddy. They're people. That one is standing on his head." We have no idea which one it was. I'll let you judge for yourself.

AJ's art inspired by Keith Haring

Bad to the burn

Weekends around here have become all AJ all the time starting this weekend. It was this way during basketball season, but now that baseball is here, and we have TWO games per week, I'm questioning our devotion to our spawn. Weekends are to be fun, relaxing time. What occurred this weekend was neither and we have signed up to do this every week until mid-June? Have we lost our noodle? Let me explain.

AJ's first game, last week, was canceled due to weather. In Nashville, this time of year is highly unpredictable. Last week we had tornado sirens and warnings on Saturday and the ballparks were flooded. There was no way 7-8 year olds were playing in that weather. He was disappointed, but like a good little soldier, he sucked it up and played Nintendo all day. Practice was canceled all week, again, for weather.

However, through some magical power or some serious "soak it up" dust, the fields were ready for a game last night so the kids played. Husband laughed at me as I bundled myself in my heaviest coat and got Pea, our smallest dog, a blanket. The weather was cooling and I forced AJ to wear a shirt under his t-shirt. Under duress, he pulled it on and glared at me like I was forcing him to eat broccoli (which, coincidentally, he can make himself puke to avoid eating).

30 minutes into the game, we were FREEZING. I could see my breath, Husband had his hands in his shirt and Pea was looking at me like she hated me. Pea hates cold. AJ was immune because he loves baseball. The rest of the parents were coping, but I don't think any of us would have minded cutting the game short. AJ's team lost by a lot. They were seriously outplayed.

On the flipside, they got to play again today. Fearing cold, boy do I fear it, I threw a sweatshirt over my black tshirt and loaded up our Weiner dog and went to the field where I proceeded to fry for an hour and a half. 15 hours after the game where I froze, sure enough, I fried like an egg on the sidewalk. I spilled water on the ground and it was gone less than 5 minutes later. I look like a Milano cookie. Half of my body, the side turned toward the sun, is dark and velvety and the other half, turned away from the sun, is as pale as porcelain. I have a feeling I'm going to look funky tomorrow.

I think the real question here is whether or not this is worth it for the times my son wins...like he did today.

I'll get back to you after I'm done blistering.

Oh,and it's supposed to snow on Monday.

Stunting his growth

Natalie and I have been friends for many, many years. 10, at my last guess. We have followed essentially the same path in life with few divergences, but have managed to stay in touch and close throughout marriages, births, extreme joys, extreme hardships, loss, grief, many moves, new homes, new states, new careers, new degrees and new opportunities. She is one of my favorite people ever and is one of the very few people I can tell ANYTHING and know that, as gross or wrong as society thinks, or even I think, she'll think it's cool or ok or hilarious. And then she'll make fun of me for it. There is no judgment and even in friendships, that lack of judgment between two people is really rare. We've just been through too much and really, we know know way too much about each other.


Around 9 years ago, Natalie and I were pregnant around the same time. Natalie was pregnant with one of the most gorgeous dark-haired, gypsy featured beauties I've ever seen in my life. Bee (as she will be known), is a precocious, tell it like it is, intelligent girl child. She's a mini-Natalie and is amazing. I was pregnant with AJ, a sensitive, athletic, science-minded, all-american featured boy child who is currently sporting a pumpkin grin. From the time they were womb fetuses, these two were jokingly betrothed. Natalie and I greedily planned grandchildren and enjoyed the idea of not fighting over the rights to grandchildren.

When AJ and Bee met, it seemed all plans were falling into place. They were like two peas in a pod and AJ and Bee's little brother, Mee, are best buddies. Our plans for world domination by living vicariously through our children were imminent.

However, today I hit a snag. One I never saw coming and the ton of bricks didn't fall at once, rather one at a time they fell on that sensitive spot. Someday, AJ, Bee & even little Mee, will all GROW UP. In order for betrothed to get married, THEY HAVE TO GET MARRIED. To have grandkids, they have to...well, YOU KNOW. NO NO NONONONONONONONONONO. MY CHILD WILL NEVER YOU KNOW!!!!!

Ok. Ok. I can handle this. He may or may not you know. We aren't Catholic, but he could decide to be a priest but then I don't get grandchildren. This doesn't seem fair.

So the question is, how does one of my very best friends factor into this? Well, Natalie recently had twins (Holy wow!) and she took a picture of Bee holding one of the babies. Bee is sitting in a hospital bed holding the baby and for all purposes looks like a new mother. Our babies are growing up and it's happening sooner than we ever intended.

It occurred to me that children are doing things more quickly now. Statistics are showing that children engage in non-penetrative sexual contact as early as 12-13 years (7th grade). AJ and Bee are 8 years old. We could be forced to deal with this stuff within the next 5 years. NO. Children can be parents as early as 13. Our children will be adults in 10 years. This is all overwhelming. I know that we can handle this stuff as it comes, but that seems so FAST.


The only thing I know about all of this is that I thank God that Natalie and I will be going through all of this at the same time because there is no way that I would survive it without her. Of course I have Husband, but he's not as sentimental about this as I am. He's a BOY. Natalie will get it. She always does.

Scrimmage Schrimmage

I'm still learning how to be the perfect mom.

I'm going to let you digest that for a minute.

In Gen Psych, a couple of weeks ago, we discussed Maslow's Hierarchy and, after much excellent discussion, a consensus was made that we don't believe in it. We did some critical thinking and while we like stage theories, we think Maslow had it wrong. Self-actualization seems impossible to achieve because there is no way that, while living, you can actually determined that you have hit your uppermost peak. It's only in death that you can say you are done growing. For some people, they are actualized in the act of death through selflessness. See what I mean? My class was floored by this idea and more than a little peeved that someone as smart as Maslow wouldn't have come up with this on his own. I love their earnestness.

So, I was thinking about this need for reaching some higher peak of being a mother. It's not completely unlike that feeling of self-fulfillment that Maslow touted. I continue growing and learning and it does feel like I work in stages, however, will I ever really know how well I've done? AJ is going to make mistakes because he's growing and learning and it seems irrational to place my success as a mother on his peaks and valleys.

Getting back to what started this whole train of thought: Baseball. Why yes, I can go from abstract psychology to America's past-time. Frankly, I was doing them at the same time tonight while I was grading papers on Erikson's psychosocial theory and Kohlberg's theory of moral development and watching my son whomp one out past second. Both were equally enjoyable and both made me proud. It helped qualm my fears about the mid-term I have to take tomorrow...the one I am not going to think about right now.

As I was saying, I'm new to this whole soccer mom, or in my case, baseball mom, thing. I'm not a stay at home mom. My house is filthy 90% of the time. I work two jobs not because I have to, but because I thought teaching would be fun (and it is!). I would rather spend time cuddling at home than out on stone bleachers cheering. I don't get what I'm supposed to be doing out there.

And, here's the kicker: I'm a bad, bad sport. Yep, I'm the one yelling at the ref. I don't mean to yell at the ref. I truly don't and I'm not even holding things against the ref. It just kicks in after years and years of softball and being a spectator at required high school events. When AJ played basketball, Husband actually glared at me because I "accidentally" yelled at the ref, "Are you kidding me? Did you even SEE the basket?" It slipped out. Accidentally.

I resolve to do better with baseball. But it's not going to happen. I played softball for 8 years and I know what I'm talking about. In my head I'm constantly chanting "Elbows up, knees bent, too high, c'mon pitcher pitch 'em straight and solid, run faster you can do it!, eye on the ball" and about 800 other things. There is no way around this. The only way to make me stop is to make me watch a game I care nothing about. Like golf. You don't hear me saying "MAKE A FLIPPING BIRDIE YOU FOOL!" at anyone. I don't know what a birdie is. I keep my mouth shut.

So, AJ is going to have super supportive mom who will chant for him and clap for him, but he is also going to have to put up with "I'm trying my best" mom. He asked me today if I'd ever found a four leaf clover. Maybe I should find one and put it in his cleats. He's going to need it with me around.

Everything fell so perfectly into place...

A while back, before Christmas, we had decided to do something special. We'd commissioned artwork before, with disastrous results. When I say disastrous, I will just say it was a learning experience, as those commissions were through a previous friend who has a good heart, but is still learning how to be a professional. As such, we were wary of artists in general and worried about getting jerked around.

For the last year, I've been fascinated with the artwork of Kurt Halsey. Kurt rarely, if ever, does commission pieces, and, as an established artist, I think it's awesome that he is at the level where he is comfortable establishing those boundaries. After being friends with an artist, I know commissions are not fun. The suck the creativity out of an artist faster than most anything and people are picky, finicky and, since it's their money, they want it like Burger King: to have it their way.

It just so happened that I'd met Kurt online and had the chance to talk to him a couple of times. After I got over my initial awe of his talent, because trust me, I can't draw stick people and you could ask anyone that knows me about that, I decided to keep an eye on his work. Eventually, as most do, I collected a piece here, and a piece there, as they related to me, AJ or Husband. None of them related to all of us, though, and the pets are our family, too.

So, when I saw that Kurt had ebayed a commission, I was miserable to have missed it. I hinted---ok, strongly suggested---to Husband that Kurt may be willing to do a second piece, with it being around the holidays and all. It turns out, I was right. And he did. We got this around the end of January/beginning of February. This is ours. This is us. This is my family. Duder is there, so is Pea. Weiner and Francis are there in their glory. AJ is playing in the leaves. And Husband and I are doing what we do best. Thank you, Kurt. This is special. This is my life through his eyes. And mine. I love it.

Jillian and the Terrible, Horrible, Blah Blah Blah Blah Day

Whew. For the third time in two months, my throat is as sore as a sunburn on an albino chicken. The last time it was sore like this was just 2 weeks ago on my spring break when I had an outbreak of bird flu aka strep throat. I'd been denying it, oh, I'd been denying it, since Friday. I hadn't been leaving the house, but I hadn't been bellyaching about it like I did today.

What made it clear that I was in trouble was the awful fatigue that settled my bones. An hour after I woke up, I wanted a nap. Three hours after I woke up, I craved a nap and nothing I did would rid me of the need. AJ lovingly told me that I looked like the Scream mask while I slept. He didn't know it was the "scream mask," he just made the face, scrunched up his eyes and made a large OOOOO with his mouth. Little snot. At least he didn't comment on my snoring.

For our anniversary, one of my gifts was a Nap set. I was dubious as to the use of this item, as when I nap, I enjoy my huge, King size bed and my own pillow, but Husband does a good job with gifts and I was waiting to see how this one fared on a day like today.

When the "nappies" (not a diaper for those of you who use that terminology) came on me, it started slowly. First, my feet were freezing. Then, I slowly lay down on the couch as Husband made room for me amid all of his lawyer-ly work stuff. The blanket came out amid a case of the shivers and the pillow slowly followed. I don't remember much beyond that point. As AJ said, "the scream" was very much in effect.

It strikes me how, when we're sick, we lose all the facade that we put out there on a regular day. Life goes back to basic things: sleep, food, bathroom breaks, and cuddling on demand. There was no disagreement as to what we were doing over the weekend because I didn't care what they did. I was silent on the couch. My husband probably cherished that silence, as it is rare. AJ got to go to a friend's house without having to do chores first and stay much longer than usual. I slept the sleep of unknowing, uncaring and just wanting to feel better. What I ate was no longer important and frankly, I didn't care if I ate. How I looked was not in the slightest important, though was funny to my 8 year old. The dogs were caring and concerned and stayed beside me, as did my Husband. He checked on me every little bit with ibuprofen and making sure I didn't need anything.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad day, after all.

Random Happy Thoughts from this Week

Sunday March 15, 2009


Like most nights, I was reading to go to sleep last night. The book was huge and I had propped it up on something to hold it as I prefer to wait until I'm older to deal with unnecessary carpal tunnel or tendon strain, etc. I was turning a page and realized that Pea had stuck her head to the left of the book and was looking at me pleadingly for cuddles. Sometimes, I forget that even the wee ones need a little affection because they had a bad day. After an hour of cuddling, Pea was under the covers snoring like an 85 year old man and I was back to reading my book.

Monday March 16, 2009


"Mama, I love you more than the Milky Way. More than the stars. More than the GALAXY!"

Tuesday March 17, 2009

AJ was asking me about some candy I'd bought for my undergrads at the beginning of the semester. As candy is off limits on every day but Saturday, I wondered what he was doing. It turns out, he was wanting to show his teacher his appreciation. He wrote her a lovely note and attached some candy to it. He has a heart of gold.

Thursday March 19, 2009

School hasn't come easy to my little man, even though he's WAY too smart for his own good. This year, he finally found a teacher who gets him. When this happened, he took off like a shot. After picking him up from school, I wanted to see his report card and he wanted me to wait until we got home. We had a minor spat in the car over this and some other things and when we got home I wasn't in the mood to talk. AJ is a sensitive little guy and he went to the backyard and sat on our swing. I watched him and saw his reflective face. After a little while, he came inside, with a handful of dandelions and said "I love you." He put them in a small glass up on the mantle. Right next to the flowers that his daddy gave me for our anniversary.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

AJ just passed his swimming test after 5 weeks of swimming lessons! On his first try!

A dirty restaurant, cheap but good food and free entertainment?

For those that personally know the Blueshelled family, most are aware that the last 4 months have been months of great change in our familial health. All three of us have taken an active role in watching what we eat and attempting to be more active. For me, unfortunately, a bum back, then a bum knee, now surgery preventing therapy for the knee, has made the activity part difficult. However, among the three of us, we've been doing quite well for ourselves on the sticking with it.

One of the ways we accomplish this is by having one day a week that we can eat whatever we want and as much as we want. Generally, what we've found is that we only go about 500 calories over our restricted daily caloric intake and we more than make up for that throughout the week.

With all of that explained and out of the way, Saturday has been our beloved free day. Free day is what gets us through the rough days where we want to eat everything under the sun, but don't. Free day is coming and we can eat all those bad for you things then. The knowledge of it is soothing. What's funny is that, come free day, we still don't know what we want to eat. It shows how food has taken a back seat in our lives.

Tonight was no exception. Dinner time came and we drove around the area looking for inspiration. At long last, we settled upon the Waffle House. If you have never been to the Waffle House, you have never set foot in the South. They used to be dirty, filthy pits of cigarette smoke where you could get greasy food at cheap prices in a reasonable amount of time. Now they are dirty, filthy pits minus the cigarette smoke (thank you smoke free Tennessee!) where you can get greasy, TASTY food at cheap prices in a reasonable amount of time.

As we walked in, all the tables were dirty and we sat down at one and had to ask someone to clean it for us. Husband ordered what he calls "Satan" hash browns. I can't tell you what all is involved in this meal other than it smells pretty bad and is 100% guaranteed to give you heartburn from looking at it. The verdict from Husband is "Delicious!" AJ and I ordered our regular variety of foods and we sat quietly talking while waiting for our food.

In the middle of what seemed a fairly standard meal, the Waffle House staff erupted in drama. 2 new people showed up and immediately started telling the others they were now required to stay overnight (this was around 9pm), as 3 people had called in sick. This turned into 30 minutes of all of the staff there complaining about how people only call out on a Saturday if they are lying and how, since the 3 of them are friends, it must be A PARTY!

Of course, this turned into one using his defense mechanisms to justify his staying as to how he needed the money and would get overtime. This was until the manager burst his bubble to tell him how they would just switch his shifts later in the week and "make" those that called out tonight cover the shifts, thus demoralizing the poor guy even more with the knowledge that he was going to not only have to stay up all night to cover someone's shift, but also was not going to get anything extra for his trouble.

Husband, AJ and I didn't even pretend to not listen. This was fascinating stuff. As we packed up to leave, the manager called another staff member back and we heard him say, "You have to stay tonight, too. We just got another phone call."

This is a good incentive to get a college degree, I think, to those that don't have one. But thank you for making my meal interesting.

No Boomerangs allowed in the house!

While reading an article on the so-called Boomerang Generation, it occurred to me that there is this huge generation of entitlement issues. Of course I'm not generalizing an entire generation, that would be stereotyping and utterly un-pc of me. I'm stuck in my multi-cultural education course and was required to take about 9,000 other courses to avoid that kind of mentality. However, I'm also trained to notice patterns, and this one is a biggie.

For me, I do remember back in high school that there were some lucky kids whose parents were going to cover their education regardless. I'd been told since the age of zygote that this was not going to be the case for me and that I should be working extra shifts because I needed to pay for college. There was no room for delusion in my family. Most of us worked for money, worked for scholarships, excelled in atheltics (not this person, but some other schmucks), or found other ways to make ends meet. The bottom line was that there was pressure to do something on our own because our parents weren't responsible for our education.

Now, however, as I am exposed to a growing number of high school students, this is not the case. Mom and dad are expected to give up whatever savings they have to foot the college bill. If the child gets a full ride, but needs a new car and gas to put in it, they aren't expected to a get a job; Rather, mom and dad will take care of it. I'm floored by this ideology. Blah blah blah capitalist society blah blah blah. Part of being in a capitalist society is thought that if you expect to get money, you have to find ways of earning it. The harder you work, the more money you earn, etc, etc, etc.

I'm not going to go into the whole "earning your way into school builds character" because no one I know that is in high school cares. Frankly, I'm 29 and I don't care that it builds character. If someone said "hey, I'll pay for the rest of your doctoral degree! ON THE HOUSE!" I'd say screw my character, give me the free education.

Here is my deal: eventually, parents run out of money, or get sick, or the economy dies, or they do and children do NOT KNOW HOW TO COPE ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT THAT HELP. You can hustle and manipulate all you want, but unless you are paying EVERY SINGLE ONE of your bills without the help of your parents/guardians/family members, you haven't officially stood on your own yet. You're faking it until you make it and the people around you know it. You can proclaim your adulthood and your independence, but those of us that have done it and continue to do it are humoring you and waiting for you to find your clue.

Quit taking advantage of your loved ones and find a way to make it on your own. I am speaking from experience. For the first couple of years you do need some help. Then it's time to get off your butt and do it on your own. This is what we did: give up the fun stuff. And the tasty stuff. And the stuff that makes life really good. Until you can afford it. Because until you can, you are essentially stealing from someone else to make your ends meet and lying about your actual "need." If you have money to go out to eat EVER, but can't make a car payment so you "borrow" money, you're stealing. If you go on vacations, even once a year, but can't pay your rent, yep. If you make excuses to buy new clothes when those who are lending you money haven't bought them in over 2 years, rethink your life.

Eat at home. All the time. The cheap stuff. Go to Aldis and Save a lot. It's what broke kids do. It's what broke adults do. Give up your internet and go to the library and use theirs for free. Get basic cable and drop the premium channels. Do you really need to spend what you spend on your cell phone? Drop down to the most basic plan offered and shut off your text messaging. Unnecessary expenses are just that: unnecessary. Use freecycle and craiglist to get free stuff for your house instead of buying it. Sell stuff you can't wear/use anymore on ebay. The key here is taking your own responsibility for your situation. If you can't cut it on your own without borrowing, then by all means, move back in with the parents, but pay rent.

If I sound harsh it's because I feel harsh about this situation. It's hard out there and no one says it isn't. It's the whole reason you get 18 years to prepare for life prior to being dumped out there. Unfortunately, my guess is that you spent that whole time worried about prom and who liked you. I know I did and reality hit me in the face. The good news is that I made it and you can, too. I can go out to eat. I can have my cable. I can have my cell phone. I have the house and the car. I didn't get it at 18, though, and I had to work over 10 years for what I have. No one handed it to me. And it's still not easy, but it's doable.

My 8-year old, AJ, gets this concept. Like me, he's heard about this since he was a zygote. He was in the car with me today and said, "Mama, I will need to save my money for a tv." I was curious about this as we have more tvs than we need for him to watch in our house. I asked him why and he said, "So when I move out I have one." I was perplexed as I assume this is a ways off and him buying a tv now is probably not a good plan. I asked when he wanted to move out and he said "When I'm a growed up! I don't want to leave, but you keep telling me I've gotta go." Amen, brother. Yes, you do. And when it's time, you'll be ready or you'll pay rent.