My sister, the terror.

When I was about six years old, my sister cut my Barbie's hair.  I am not talking about a cute bob or razor bangs, she butchered their heads.  When I began crying, she promised the hair would grow back just like mine did.  It never did!  When I was about nine years old, I ran home from school one afternoon, the door was locked, so I rang the bell and that same sister told me that in order to get in, I needed to taste the chili she had on a gigantic spoon.  I should have known something was "fishy" when I saw my brother holding a glass of water and smiling, but I ate the 5-alarm chili anyway and as I the heat set in and I jumped for the water to rinse down the fire in my mouth, my sister laughed hysterically, refused to let me in and dared me to tell our parents.  She even promised me she would make me the best baked goods in her home economics class  in exchange for my allowance, needless to say, the goodies never showed and she spent my allowance on fortunes of her own.  As we became teens, she began to steal my favorite clothes and told me that the dryer ate my favorite jeans or she accidentally left my cutest sweater at her friends house, only for me to see her a day or two later wearing the same ensemble.  Growing up, my sister was down right terrible.
She left for college and I was releaved.  When it was time for me to go off to college, she convinced me to attend where she attended and I obliged.  I knew I was in for some hazing from my sister, but like when we were kids, she was convincing.   I am happy to report, her antics stopped.
Over the years, the two of us formed a friendship.  She became my confidante and my tour guide when I lost my way.  I have been on plenty of literal "ledges" and she has always talked me down. There are still times when I notice my favorite shirts or purses are missing and when I see her again, she will be wearing them, but there is no way I can repay her for the valuables she has placed in my life.
My awful sister came for a quiet visit this week.  Over mimosas and movies, we laughed and remained around each other for a couple of days and although we didn't discuss much, her presence spoke volumes.  I once told my sister, we have to be sisters, but we make the choice to be friends.  I am so glad she is my friend and not as awful as I once thought!

Who is the Surgeon General anyway?

I read a report from the Surgeon General that says to help achieve and maintain a healthy lifestyle, Americans of all ages should reduce the consumption of sodas and juices with added sugars; eat more fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins; drink more water and choose low-fat or non-fat dairy products; limit television time to no more than 2 hours per day; and be more physically active.  Does the Surgeon General even have a name?  I may want to drop him/her a letter if the report helps my family become healthier, but who do I address it to?  (Dear Mr./Mrs. Suregon General Sir/Ma'am). 
Anyway...based on this report, I decide that my entire family is going to follow this vision. What better place to start then at my local grocery store? 
Let the shopping begin...
I had not eaten that morning and rushed out hungry. BIG MISTAKE!  When I walked through the sliding doors the aromas from the bakery hit me like a foul ball while not looking. I could smell cookies, cupcakes, baklava, croissants, sourdough, you name it..they were baking it.  I strolled by and they were giving out free samples of cookies. The clerk offered and I accepted!  The cookies were so good (White Chocolate Macadamia), I asked her to box up a dozen fresh baked treats for me and the clan.  This leads me to my second mistake.
I brought the kids with me. GIGANTIC MISTAKE! Since the kids were with me, they could help me get all the items on my list.  COLOSSAL MISTAKE!  
My list was simple (please refer to the actual list below...)

• Reduced Fat milk (just like the Surgeon General said)
• Eggs
• Bananas
• Apples
• Oranges
• Pears (for diversity)
• Cherries (By the Way-These little things are SO expensive!)
• Whole Grain Bread
• Lean turkey (from the deli)
• Asparagus
• Brocoli
• Green Beans
• Light Popcorn

A small list and if done correctly, I could get in the 20 items or less line and be out of the store in no time! As I strolled the aisles, with kids in tow.  Every two minutes I heard the rationale from my kids. "Look Mom!  Buy One, Get One!" Can we get these?  I thought Blueberry Muffins, Pop Tarts, Fruit Roll Ups, etc... couldn't be that bad.  "Go ahead, grab two packs!"  Down every single aisle there was a BOGO offer and they rationalized with me.  Every few minutes I even heard "AND its good for us".  As my twelve year old steered the cart to the check out line, I looked into the cart and it was filled to the brim with 900 million calories!
The shock of a full cart, the words of the Mr./Mrs. Surgeon General Sir/Ma'am, no vegetables or fruits in sight and a pushy check-out clerk caused me to turn red (if you knew me, you would see how this is possible) and sharply give my children the parent stare. 
I began to only take the healthy choices out of the cart and place them on the belt.  My children began to question this behavior. The little one even had a minor temper tantrum as she held onto a large bag of Cheetos Puffs. I heard them whispering to each other "I can't believe she won't let us have the Strawberry Pop-Tarts!"  I gave a cut of my eyes, swiped my card, abandoned the half full cart, bid the clerk adieu and vowed to NEVER take the kids shopping again. 
I am convinced, the Surgeon General must be a person with no kids and must send someone else to do the grocery shopping.

She wore an itsy bitsy teenie weenie...

I am a believer in the simplest of things, therefore, I keep my motto's simple.  One of my most simplest of motto's is.. "If you can get dressed for parties, school, and outings.  You can get dressed appropriately for church." Simple, right? Well maybe not so simple for my teenager.  Let me start at the beginning...

My father is a minister and I grew up in the church.  We were involved in so many choirs and activities, we weren't free to do anything else (Well, that's not entirely true, but I promise to tell you about that sometime).  Needless to say, as children in my parents house we had to be up, clean, dressed and ready for church EVERY Sunday morning.  There was no being late.  If we thought we were going to sleep in, we were mistaken.  We couldn't fake sick. We had BETTER be ready to get in the car when my dad said "Let's go!"  You have to understand, I am a little more lenient with my children.  We don't attend church every Sunday.  Some Sunday's I stay in bed and watch Lifetime and wear pajamas all day! Some Sunday's I would rather have brunch with my girlfriends and I watch church on TV.  DON'T JUDGE ME!   But this Sunday was different.  We woke up at 8:30AM.  Church service starts at 11 AM.  Plenty of time I thought, so I yelled to the kids to get ready for church. Simple, right?
Maybe not.
My teenager remains in her bed.  I walked by her room several times.  As I looked in on her all within 30 minutes.  She was on Twitter, Facebook, texting, watching old Jefferson reruns, but she didn't budge from her bed.  I commence to helping my youngest get dressed, assisting my preteen iron his pants, making oatmeal for the troop and getting myself together.  I look in her room, no movement.  I call out..."We are leaving in 15 minutes!"  I poke my ear out and I hear her stirring.  Then she prepares herself slowly.  I forgot to add...When I was a child, we were NOT allowed to wear pants to church and our skirts (or dresses) better be fingertips down our leg to ensure boys were not taking a peek up our dresses as we praised God.  But I am more lenient.  I allow her to wear pants, but they must be appropriate, it's called the church dress code.  After about 10 minutes she yells out, "I'm coming!"
We wait.
We wait!
We wait?
I immediately grab my keys and yell back out.."Let's go NOW!"  As she emerges, I can't believe my eyes.  She is wearing the tightest, smallest, most hoochiest (if that's even a word) little black skirt that they make in the store.  Where did she even get this little thing from?The skirt is coupled with black flowery tights, combat boots, a blazer, a scarf , large pink earrings and a VERY large bow on her head.  I stood. FROZEN.
I glance at the clock and its 11AM and church has begun without us.  I decide that today is not the day for a fight, but a lesson.  After all there are countless teenage girls that will be in church dress code and they will sure point and stare and my teenager will notice them noticing her.
As we are nearing the church door entrance I remind her of my motto.  "If you can get dressed for parties, school, and outings.  You can get dressed appropriately for church."
As we stand up for the responsive readings, prayer, alter call and just some ordinary praise and worship, I notice all the girls looking at her and pointing.  Then I glance at my daughter and she has her crossbody bag across her, but resting on her back so no one can see her hindparts.  TOO LATE!  I wanted to yell out, but I gave a little I told you so smirk and kept right on clapping.  For the rest of the service, she placed her coat over her legs and looked very uncomfortable.

I couldn't believe she decided to wear that toddler skirt to church, but after the looks she received today, she's sure to be dressed appropriately next time. I can only hope!

Almost 40?

I guess I expected an invitation.  Heck...I would even settle for the sign that the drivers hold up at the airport with my name on it.  But there was nothing. Only a small birthday celebration with a few friends and way too much birthday cake.  But I want a guide.  There must be a guide.  Is there a guide? There has to be someone who thought it pertinent to tell me and everyone else about how your hair gets gray EVERYWHERE.  How you forget things and it requires an act of Congress to get you to remember. There must be a book that explains what the heck all those vitamins are in the vitamin aisle at Walgreen's are for (that reminds me to Google why Cinnamon comes in a tablet form). I turned 39 and there is so much more to learn.
I find myself trying to figure out how to juggle the kids, homework, meetings at work, PT conferences, finding interesting things to cook, read books and articles and still be interesting and relevant. I hear my kids whispering behind my back..."Why does she dance like that?"  "Why is she wearing that?"  Recently, my 17 year old said to me..."Mom.  If you are coming to my school today, can you at least wear something cool?"  Since when did cable knit cardigans stop being cool?  I see the look in their eyes.  It's the same look I gave my parents when I thought they were uncool and old.  I have finally entered into the geriatrics aisle in the "aging" store and I don't like it.  I am almost fourty.  It should be a bumpy ride. I think I am ready.  I guess I better be.