Young Teen v. Old Mom

Heeeeyyyyyy Folks!!!!

      So it’s my young teen’s first day back at school.  Those of you who follow my blog know my struggles. She’s a 13 year old genius (in her own mind) who would rather than sleep than eat. Anyone who just joined our “already in progress lives” can click on the links below and be brought up to speed—

As I was saying, it’s her first day back at school and while most folks get great “first day back at school” pics, my young teen refused to cooperate this morning. Not only was she not in a great mood, she even said, “ma, can you please not yell all that -have a good day and I love you stuff- when you drive off?” Wow! Yep, my feelings were hurt… but not really. I realize she’e growing up and she’s easily embarrassed.

So, she wouldn’t let me take a “first day…” pic and she didn’t want me to yell out the window— In my quest to be like millions of other parents today and post a pic I decided to share this one…IMG_4495 (1).jpg

Can anyone guess the significance?

    *hint- I think it has something to do with her grouchy, “first day back” attitude.

           I think the score is now tied!! LMAO  

                                             Young Teen -1    Old Mom -1

 https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/young-teen-v-old-mom-young-teen-1-old-mom-0

https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/ma-thats-not-faaaaiiiir

https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/my-familys-rebuttal

Stay tuned for more episodes of   Young Teen V. Old Mom

 

“ThToTwTu” TONGUE TWISTERS

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https://positivelyappealing.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/themed-tongue-twisters-for-august/

Check this out— It’s a challenge where you write a tongue-twister using a specific prompt.

Click the above link to get the details.

The prompt for the month of August is ‘cooking/baking’.

Here’s what I came up with:

 

baby bananas are better barely battered and baked who took the barely battered and baked baby bananas?

 

Young Teen v. Old Mom Young Teen: 1 Old Mom: 0

 

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Old Mom (looking very serious -like she was about to teach her young teen a lesson in life): Jill what is the largest denomination of money?

Young Teen (looking concerned): uhhhh?… $100.00 (looking like -duuuhhhh)

Old Mom (looking a bit disappointed):  I didn’t learn that until I was grown- probably about 10 years ago. I actually thought there were five hundred dollar bills and thousand dollar bills.

Young Teen (looking concerned): Mom this isn’t Monopoly

 

 

 

If you sprinkle…

I saw a post earlier this evening in which Christine over at I’m Sick and So Are You talked about people who live in clean houses. Her post brought some things to mind and in my usual humorous and always sarcastic manner I decided to share my thoughts about this subject so here goes:

My house is now, and always will be, clean enough to be healthy but dirty enough to be happy! It will also always be full of love and laughter… It’s not just our living space it’s “Our Lived-in Place”. It’s where we go at the end of the day to hang out together, where putting your feet on the couch is cool and so is eating dinner in the den. The floors are clean enough to walk on — heck that’s what they’re there for right? The walls are painted with semi-gloss paint that can quite easily be wiped clean; after all, how long can little hands resist the urge to touch shiny surfaces? Beds are made at random which is great because they double as trampolines at night and in the cold winter months when playing outside is a no no. The bathrooms? Oh, they are kept spotless…well maybe not spotless, but definitely clean… ok, ok… maybe just tidy, but definitely germ free. As for the kitchen, I don’t allow bags of any type in the fridge and more than 3 takeout boxes in there at the same time is strictly prohibited. Dirty dishes are never left over night… Of the few things not allowed in our place, night crawlers top the list.

Moral of this story: if you’re ever in the neighborhood stop by. Don’t worry about taking your shoes off cause we don’t eat off the floor. If you can’t deal with the idea of eating in the den (off of clean plates… maybe paper, but definitely clean), you may want to go into the kitchen. If you happen to bring your own food and need to refrigerate it be sure and remove any bags first and if there are already three go boxes in the fridge yours will have to wait in line for the next available opportunity. Oh, and we have napkins so please don’t mess up the smeared spaghetti or the pudding that you’ll find throughout the house all over the walls. Also, napping could be hazardous to your health if either of the girls are in a jumping mood (warning: the smallest one often uses my body as an elevated surface to dive from so beware). And lastly, if you sprinkle when you tinkle, please… you know the rest.

Thanks for stopping by ———-

 

2 a.m. Feeding

2 a.m. feeding
It’s 2 a.m. and she’s wide awake.
These days it doesn’t take much to wake her, but it takes a whole lot to get her back down. It seems that not too long ago, she slept more and tossed and turned less. When and why did the pendulum swing? Even gone are the nights when she drifts off peacefully and wakes in the mornings all bright eyed and eager to go. Is this all happening because she’s getting older? But what’s age or aging got to do with it? Sleep is not reserved for newborns nor is it old person- only specific.  Maybe she’s afraid she’ll miss something. But what could she miss at this late hour? The sound the air freshener dispenser makes as it’s battery slowly dies leaving it to dispense sporadically rather than regularly? Or the sound the a/c unit makes as it kicks off and on throughout the night trying to beat the hot and humid summer nights? Since neither of those sound likely, it’s got to be something else…
Surely she can’t be awake listening for the sweet, melodic  sounds of her babies resting peacefully in bed beside her…
…. oh, but yes, she can. Her sound slumber is forever a thing of the past. She hears, feels and senses all movements – no matter how slight. Try as she might,  her sandman manages to stay just out of reach for hours once she wakes. They are there- within her reach – her breath, her wind, her lifelines… the food to her soul.
Thank you for my 2 a.m. feeding Baby Jesus.

Giving In~

 

The moment I opened my eyes I felt that urge.  It was the same urge I’d felt last night, standing like a hidden object in the shadows of my mind. For more than a month, my mind had been plagued with its ever so present being. I couldn’t shake it nor would I force myself to face it. Opening and closing my eyes, I put forth a valiant effort to send it back into the recesses of my subconscious. To my dismay, this seemed to cause an increase in the intensity making it apparent that it was more determined than ever to be fulfilled. Wait, could an urge be “determined” or was I overthinking this? Was I taking this yearning and giving it life or did it already have a life and existence of its own? I was certain that at the very least it had an existence and a very powerful one. Lately, I’d had so many middle of the night awakenings that I was beginning to see dark circles under my eyes. My excessive pride and the floor to ceiling mirrored walls in my bedroom told me that I had to find a way to satisfy this urge without completely giving in to it.

I had to work fast, and my proclivity to lose myself in puzzles and riddles, paired with my extreme delight in doing so, would certainly come in handy as I faced this daunting task. I would have solicited the assistance of one of my roommates, but I feared neither of them would have the patience nor the courage to do so. I was undoubtedly about to delve into something bigger than my roomies and I combined. That thought alone shook me to my core, which was a completely new sensation to and for me. Fear had never been an emotion I allowed myself to submit to.

I inhaled long and deep – allowing my lungs to inflate to full capacity. As I exhaled, I closed my eyes and felt my mind coming to rest at a blank, black wall. My breathing became slow and rhythmic, as if keeping time with the seconds that ticked away loudly on my wrist. I stood motionless. I gradually opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings, and I let my eyes adjust to the light. As the room came into focus, I spotted it… that tall, slender double decker that taunted me in my dreams.

There was no more holding back. I’d fought as long and hard as the next person. There was no question as to whether or not I would give in- the real question was, to what degree?

As I pondered, I found myself reaching out-

Before I could stop myself, I’d opened the door, removed the box and cut a huge hunk right out of the center of that decadent chocolate cheesecake.

I didn’t eat it right out of the pan, so I didn’t completely give in —

 

New York or bust- Issue no. 2

Second Issue: Why, just why, are elevators placed at the top of really high places (like parking garages) only to have “OUT OF ORDER” signs posted on them? And why on earth would anyone think that a damn arrow pointing in the direction of a flight of stairs would be of any consequence at that moment? The only “flight” people are interested in at this stage in the game is the one they’re about to miss. Could I blame this too on Expedia? Not fair… let’s place blame where blame is due. The same smart ass who has the prestigious position of riding around on that damn golf cart counting open parking spaces and putting that on the scroll bar at the foot of the garage could have added “you’ll have to walk a country mile while carrying your luggage, pushing a baby in a stroller and following a chain smoker to get to a working elevator if you park at the top”. How hard is that?

Note to self- contact Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport (MSY) ref: no warning signs about warning signs, directional arrows or chain smokers (with hacking coughs) that would be encountered if traveling on Friday, July 21, 2017, at 6:10 a.m.

We finally made it into the airport, after very likely contracting some type of incurable airborne smoker’s disease. We checked-in, checked our bags, got our boarding passes and headed to security- with a few minutes to spare.