Visits

A glass of wine should be a prerequisite before annual gynecological visits. I've had these visits for years but still haven't gotten used to them yet. The most recent visit was made a year in advance so you'd think I was anxiety-free. I should have postponed this one. My allergies have been brutal this summer. My usual pill in the morning, a pill at night and a nasal squirt here and there usually allows me to be okay.
Not this time.
I was sneezing as soon as I signed in. Sneezing in the waiting area. I think the folks waiting were worried that I had something contagious and needed to wear a mask.
"Allergy season," I offered between sneezes. Sara (well she looked to be that old) looked like she didn't believe me, which was fine because it was hard for me to believe someone her age would still be required to lay back and put her feet in those little contraptions for an exam.
Unfortunately, the nurse was on time.
"Mrs. Jackson", she smiled as she welcomed me back.
"How are you today?" she continued.
I would be great if I didn't have to come here today. 
"I'm fine. Hope you are?" I lied.
"Doing great! Thanks for asking. Are there any changes in your health or any questions; concerns for the doctor today? she asked.
"Is there any possible way to get exempt from this exam or get modifications?" I laughed but was so serious.
As she prepared to get my blood pressure, she laughed too.
"Your blood pressure is a little higher than last time."
"I've got a little normal anxiety with this exam." It's always a little elevated when I see white lab coats, specimen catchers, stirrups that aren't at the bottom of pants, silver instruments, modified gowns, and crinkly white paper I have to lay on.
She kindly patted my shoulder, directed me to do the usual: get fully undressed, put the gown on and wait for the doctor.
I reached for a magazine but he and the nurse had the nerve to be professional and timely as usual and come in to get started.
Sneezing started up again. Not good.
He started but had to stop a few times while I sneezed.
"Whoa! You okay?" he asked at one point.
"YES!" I said loudly, trying to cover the slipped, involuntary flatulence that sometimes occurs when I sneeze uncontrollably. I was so embarrassed.
Finally finished and dressed he did have good news! I was eligible to get exams every three years now!!!!
Maybe a postrequisite glass of wine?

Another Doctor's Visit

This blog could actually just be posts about our son's trips to the doctor. I have quite a few posts about that on here over the years. The posts started when he was about five. He's 14 and the stories haven't stopped.

After being sick, mostly sore throat, I took him to the doctor. If he misses school he is definitely not feeling well. Before I could press the last number to make an appointment the questions began. Already expecting it, I put my hand up to cut him off while I accepted the time given over the phone.

"They aren't gonna do that thing where they swab my throat are they?" Coughing, he added, "If that's the plan, I'm good. That's not gonna work for me."

What did that mean? I thought.

"They do that to test for strep and I don't think you have strep," I lied told him. "I'll bet your throat is just sore from coughing so much."

A few minutes after checking in, the registration associate called me back up to the desk.

"I'm sorry but I noticed that he hasn't had his annual physical?" I explained that he had s sports' physical. She explained that it wasn't a complete physical. She then told me they could go on and do his physical since he was there.

Uh oh. "Okay!"

He heard all of it. "I came because I'm sick! And you know I told you and Daddy that I don't want to have a female doctor to examine me."
He was on edge. He continued with statements or questions- unsure what they were. He was correct about wanting to change physicians. After his male physician retired, he told us that. He had just started having the "big boy" physicals.

"Am I gonna have to get shots?" "Naw. You've had all your shots. You're good." I lied assured him.

When they called him back I went with him. I had to give him the eyebrows to make sure he cooperated. The nurse asked him to fill out a screener. He was on the other side of the room by choice so I did not see his answers.
"Okay, mom do you have any concerns for the doctor today?" He vigorously shook his head. Then she told him what he didn't want to hear, after going over his symptoms. That she needed to swab his tonsils.
"My mom told me y'all weren't gonna do that today." I smiled and giggled, "You are so silly, you know I don't know. I'm not a doctor."
She was able to get something on the third try.
"Okay. The doctor will be in in a few minutes."
"You're not gonna stay in here are you? Before I could answer he asked another question. "I still need y'all to find me a male doctor."

The doctor came in. "I'm a little concerned about you," she said.
Oh no, I thought, the lab results are back already.
"You answered on the screener that you weren't happy?"
"I'm not happy."
"Why? she asked.
"I had to come here to get my throat poked and now I gotta take my clothes off. AND I still don't know for sure if I gotta get shots." he barked.

OMG. The doctor thought he was depressed.

Allergies?

Feeling embarrassed. How did I not know our oldest has severe allergic reactions to graham crackers. 
Let me tell you how I found out.
So I'm sitting with two other moms at our daughters' tennis match, and during a break, before they transitioned to doubles I see the players petting an onlooker's puppy.

"Oh no," I commented. "She's gonna mess around and rub her eyes after rubbing that puppy and start sneezing."

"So what is she allergic to?" one mom asked me.

"Well she has seasonal allergies mostly but she can be sensitive to pet hair sometimes too," I answered.

"What about graham crackers?" she asked.

"Naw. Not graham crackers," I chuckled. What in the world, I thought. That's a weird question.

Moment of silence. Then,

"Oh my gosh, I felt so bad! My daughter said she shared some cheesecake I made with some of the girls on the team and she said your daughter had a reaction to the graham cracker crust," she informed me.

She said my daughter, told her daughter that she'd "better be glad she didn't have to pull her epi-pen out."

What!!!!

She's good. She's really good. But why didn't she just say she didn't like it.

Was the Prayer Answered?

A few years ago we kept a family prayer box.
Our daughter was probably in fourth grade and our son was in second.

We told them that they could write down anything and place it in the box and we would all pray over the box and share if/when the prayers were answered. "Ask God for anything and thank God for anything," I encouraged them.

I felt like this would allow them to say what was on their little hearts freely, knowing no one else could see what they wrote AND see how real God is when prayers were answered. This would encourage them!

I imagined what they wrote: for a puppy, a new toy, trip somewhere, super birthday party, etc.

Well...

Flash forward and our daughter is a rising junior in high school and our son is a rising freshman!
(When I started this blog he was one and she was three maybe)

We moved a few months ago and I came across the prayer box!

Smiling I sat down and opened it!

Tears came as I gingerly opened each written request.

Then, came one of the most surprisingly honest requests I'd ever seen.

After I read it, a few times, I thought about asking her if the prayer was answered.

Rules

Our daughter is really into Cosplay. We've grown accustomed to receiving packages from China, wigs from local beauty stores and fully, professional looking videos of her, uploaded onto  Musical.ly, by our creative 16-year-old.
But I learned that we need to set some ground rules when Cosplaying.

Recently, we had a visitor. An older, friendly man who was talking with Daddy about life insurance. I introduced myself, and our son and daughter did too before they went off to their rooms.

A few minutes later our daughter, nonchalantly, walks into the kitchen. Dressed in character. A Korean male character. Softly singing in Korean.

Not surprisingly the conversation switched from life insurance to silence.

"What are you looking for?" Daddy asked her as she looked around in the fridge.

Literally taking on the character, she answered in Korean.

"English Maurissa!" Daddy responded.

"Oh!, she laughed. "Do we have any Sushi left?"

You could see the confusion in the man's face. He was puzzled but seemed to come up with the explanation.

 "Do you all have an exchange student living with you?"

Nah. But it sure seems like it sometimes.

Stuck!

Got stuck today.
Not in traffic.
Not in an elevator.

Got stuck in my clothes!

I was running late for a doctor's appointment today. Needed to use the bathroom but no time. The office wasn't too far away.

Traffic was a little slow but got there with a few minutes to spare.

Checked in and hurried to the bathroom.

I'd received wonderful compliments from coworkers earlier about my black jumpsuit.

It was cute but not so much in that bathroom stall.

Why did I buy a jumpsuit with buttons that didn't go all the way down??

I'm walking around in that small stall trying to get the suit down, like a puppy chasing its tail. Then I heard a toilet flush.
This made it worse! Thought I was in there alone.
After a few more stumbles and turns, I heard another flush.

Another person! Oh gosh!

Finally, I was able to get the suit down without ripping it. Another flush!

Realized I was the only one in there... it was an automated toilet. All that movement created flushes.

Finally got myself suited situated and back to the waiting area.

"Oh there you are!" the receptionist said, just as I sat down. "We were worried about ya. Everything okay?"

I just nodded, smiled and wiped the sweat from my head.

Bet I burned at least 50 calories in that bathroom.

Memory

My memory isn't what it used to be but it was pretty good when I was younger. Spending summers at my Godmother's house helped with that. We really referred to our mornings as prison time. Her daughter would cook oatmeal; regular oatmeal. I can still see that little Quaker dude on the box. At eight or nine, he seemed to grin at me while I tried to eat it. We were not allowed to leave the table until we ate our food. Being the leader I was at that time, I showed the others how to gradually put chunks of the lumpy stuff in a napkin. Then, once the warden she left the kitchen the third time, run and put the full napkins behind the curtain. We'd go back before lunch to dispose of it. Needed good memory to do that. Should've had common sense too. Doing that made her think we liked the stuff.

But my memory, at that age, has nothing on our daughter's memory at fifteen. While attending our son's school Open House for rising freshman recently, I also spoke to one of our daughter's current teachers.

"How is she doing in your class so far?" I asked him, shaking his hand.

"She's doing pretty well. She still has to do the presentation, but it's been hard for her with losing her voice and all."

Speechless.

"She was out for the three days when she was sick and it's been difficult for her to talk. The hoarseness has been bad. Feel bad for her."

Yes. You should feel bad for her. I thought.

I was hoping my face did not reflect what I was thinking.

He informed me that she could do the alternative which would be to take a test in place of the presentation. He seemed genuinely sorry for her.

When we got home I told her about the blind-sided conversation.

"Momma, you didn't tell him that I didn't lose my voice did you?"

Speechless again.

Her memory- much better than mine. She actually remembered to change her voice each time she went to that class. And it was believable.

"You may want to look into theater arts. You're good!"

"Well, actually, I-" she began.

"I wasn't serious!" I assured her.

Little Michael Evans

I realize as I type this that I need to get back to posting about our two kids and parenting. May need to give more updated background about them so that you will understand why they are still so amusing after all these years- especially if you are a new reader. They are both so comically, polar opposites, and wonderfully created!

I really thought we would have had our own sitcom by now but that would be impossible without consistent posts. And believe me they are still funny. So are "Dude" and I.

So our youngest is 13 now. He is still afraid of people in costumes and not ashamed of it. He is intrinsically motivated, loves God, does exceptionally well academically and socially, is the best dancer in the house and many affectionately call him "Little Michael Evans" from the show Good Times.

A few Sundays ago, we were sitting in church waiting for Praise and Worship to start and one of the leaders of our church made his rounds to say hello.

"Hey Buddy! What's going on?" he cheerily asked as he athletically-like, patted our son's chest. He then moved on and said hello to the rest of the family. I noticed the look on Myles's face but before I could say anything the music started.

I found out why he had the odd look once we got in the car after service.

"I don't like when he pats my chest," he told us. "It's weird."

Dude  Daddy addressed it. "He probably does that to all the boys. Not a big deal."

Oh Lord, I thought. I was waiting to see what Little Michael Evans was thinking.

The look on his face. Now I guess it's important to mention and necessary for some to get this story. The man is White.

"Back in the day, men patted little boys on their heads," Daddy told him.

Myles said something as he looked out of his window. It was inaudible. I was glad.

"What is it?" Daddy asked him as we turned slowly out of the parking lot.

"I'm not a-" he began.

"Your're not a what?" his sister asked him. She was sitting in the back next to him.

As I began to give my spill on it he finally said it:

"I'm not a monkey!"

There was a moment of silence. Then I couldn't contain my natural reaction. I squealed with laughter. I couldn't stop.
Then Dude Daddy and our daughter joined in. Myles didn't find it amusing.

"Where did you get that from?" I managed to say while wiping my eyes.

Weeks before that incident in church, we had a visiting minister (White too) who was over many of the Assemblies of God around the United States. He mentioned this when he spoke.

"I've been the over seer of the Assemblies for more than ten years now..."

Myles nudged me.

A few minutes later the speaker said something about people sitting around singing "Kum ba yahs".

Oh Lord, I thought as I closed my eyes and waited for our son to respond.

"Momma! Overseer? Kum ba yahs?" he whispered and shook his head.

I did too. At him.

No Talking!

During the last thunderstorm, our son said, "Shh!"

Laughing, I told him, "It's okay. It's just thunder."

"At Grandma's house we have to turn everything off and we can't talk," he informed me.

Shaking my head, I walked to the window to see if the rain was letting up.

"I remember those days. We had to sit quiet until the storm was over but I thought it was only for lightning."

Either way, it was one of the many stories I have about the old days of growing up. Didn't realize she was still doing that.

"Grandma said we need to do the same thing at home."

I explained to him that it was okay and that my mom had probably grown up with someone telling her that and she passed it on.

I started thinking about my younger brother. Now just behind me at 43. During those times when there was a storm, not only was he quiet, but you could find him clinging to the bed; under it. He would sweat as if he did something really bad. I would get in trouble for laughing at him.

Still can't, for the life of me, understand why we couldn't talk during a thunder storm.

"Thunder is just sound. It's a little different from lightning," I said.

Our son shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know but Grandma gets really serious 'bout that. We can barely move until it's all over."

Weighed Down

Times have been tough as I approach fifty. Yep, the BIG 5-0. Well, I will be 45 in a few months but just thinking 50 is around the corner makes my craziness feel warranted; excusable. 

I've been more forgetful than usual. Me! I'm the one who usually remembers specifics about things decades ago. I remember playing pencils with the pencils we were supposed to be selling in the school's store in elementary school. I remember how many chops it took for me to break the school's president's pencil in the back of the store.And what we she said to the students doing the right thing selling supplies. 

Nope. Now it seems that I hear, "Remember? I told you blah, blah, blah." a lot. 

I have been trying to stay proactive when it comes to my health. Even though I'm not always  consistent, I give myself credit for doing it when I do. 

My clothes were fitting me a little looser recently. It was almost unbelieveable. With getting back into the teaching groove, still transporting our kids around daily and other things, I hadn't truly noticed how much weight I'd lost and how quickly. But with all the chaos of life it hit me- like a big truck of chocolate and potato chips. I had to talk to somebody fast!

As I stood on the scale, I talked to a close friend on the phone. 

"I told you I'm stressed out or something," I whispered as I closed the bathroom door. 

"How much weight have you lost?" she asked. 

I began to weep. I smothered my cries so my husband and kids couldn't hear me. 

"How much weight? It's okay. You will be okay girl," she tried to convince me. 

I was almost inaudible. "Thirty pounds," I managed to say. 

"Woah," she whispered. Not sure why she was whisperingt. 

"And no one noticed that you've lost  that much in just almost a month?" she questioned. 

I slowly slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor. "Nooooooo. And that's the sad part. My husband. My kids- none of them have noticed." 

I couldn't take it. She tried to calm me. After we hung up, I just stayed there, on the floor, sobbing. 

Knew I need to get a grip but geez- I was down to what I weighed before having my son!!! H'e's 13 now. 

After a few minutes I wiped my face and went to bed. I was thinking I would need to possibly talk to a counselor or someone the next day. Losing this amount of weight in a short time- meant stress city and instability. 

The next morning, I woke to the sounds of my husband yelling in the bathroom. 

"Myles! Maurissa! Which one of ya'll been messing with this scale again?" 

I sat up. 

Good Intentions

Always trying to do good, we decided to apologize to our two kids before nightly prayers. We wanted to show them that adults make mistakes and we weren't beyond apologizing. If you have read any of my previous posts, you know where this is heading.

Things started off well, as they should have, considering we had good intentions.

"Before we pray tonight, we just want to apologize to both of you for not always being the best parents. We can't lecture the two of you about things if we aren't doing the right things. That's not right," Daddy began.

We went on to apologize for specific things we'd done, the main one being about having disagreements in front of them when they were a little younger.

Feeling good about our good intentions, we prepared to pray.

I noticed the kids looking at each other. They had this look of "one accord". Any other time this would be great, especially since we talk to them about having a great bond and not having the common said "sibling rivalry".

So the first one started: the youngest one.

"Well we have some things we want to talk about that you all didn't mention."

His sister sat up with great posture and a little too much confidence and poise.

Before we knew it the two of them were tag-teaming as if they were headlining a WWE fight! They were on a roll.

It got to a point where Daddy and I were about to skip prayer all together. It suddenly got really hot.

"You know what. We are just gonna go back downstairs and pray for you. We just aren't in a good place right now!" we said, fanning.

Luckily we all simmered down and prayed. With limp hands.

Purple Rain

The world lost a talented and giving artist today. Decided to post because I remember posting the day Michael Jackson passed away years ago too. Two great artists I grew up on. While I appreciate the coverage I also had to turn it off because I could feel a spirit of heaviness just as I did sitting through all the coverage of MJ. Prince seemed so healthy (vegan and conscious of what he put in his body) so we are all in shock.

This coverage also brings a smile when I think about his music. I was young when Purple Rain came out- the movie and album. I was only 12, the summer the movie dropped. I had Purple Rain buttons. The thought of singing some of the lyrics to some of those songs makes me smile and shake my head. So there are amusing stories from these memories. Sneaking to listen to songs but getting busted. I remember a friend learning the steps to the dance in the video, When Doves Cry, and teaching me the moves in the foyer of a church during a wedding rehearsal. We live in NC... the Bible Belt. I can still feel that slap upside the head.

I also believed the world was going to end in 1999. Hello? Didn't Prince mention something in the song about a "...bomb and we could all die any day." The party was going to be over in 2000 so we would be out of time.

It's sad that such a talent who defied the norms and did what he wanted to do is gone. His music will certainly live on. He will be unmatched. Let's be grateful for his time and music. Music brings us together. He'd want that. We will miss the purple highness. Prayers for his family, friends and fans like me. Nothing Compares to You.

Ain't Nothing Wrong With Me

Resolutions? Well I don't do well with those. In the past I've made them only for them to dissipate by March. Then later I feel defeated for not completing them.

A week ago, I felt the need to change my eating...again. Even though the New Year was around the corner, I decided I could start early. You know, be an overachiever! And I was tired of feeling yucky and bloated after meals. Hanging out on Twitter reading great tips about eating better from MindBodyGreen also helped.

"That's it!" I proclaimed! "I'm eating better starting today!"

No verbal responses from my family. But a few looks and shakes of the head. Nonbelievers!


"Clean your room!" I told the youngest. Had to take it out on someone and he was the closest. He looked confused. I think his room was already clean.

Humming, I made my list of groceries and skipped out the door. No one asked to go with me.

I always have the hardest time with eliminating sugar/sweets! Was doing well until I read that it was okay to fall off. That, and I was near a new bakery I'd been wanting to try while out running errands. Personification is something because I did hear the chocolate calling my name. I got two just in case one fell out the bag and onto the floor of my vehicle on the way home. You know how that goes.

Of course I could not let the family see me eat it. What kind of example would I be setting for them? They wouldn't understand. Besides, they weren't supportive when I made my announcement. Daddy was watching a game and the kids were in their rooms. So I took my sin dessert to the guest room. They know that I go there sometimes to write.

Midway through the second dessert-I HAD TO- the youngest comes to the door. "Momma?" he said.

Not to be caught, I inhaled the rest of it and coughed while I stuffed the paper under the mattress of the guest bed.

Well, as fate would have it, for a few days after, I noticed that every time commercials about women's panties or Depends came on, the family would snicker and look over at me. I felt like the elephant dessert in the room. And the commercials came on quite a bit. As if they were calling and requesting the commercials.

"What's so funny?" I'd ask.

To my chagrin, one of them found a chocolate stain on the guest bed. But they didn't know it was a CHOCOLATE stain. I ran to get my proof- the discarded bakery bag still in between the mattresses.

"See! Ain't Nothing wrong with me!" I showed them the paper and fessed up!

At least THAT ain't what was wrong.

A Little Christmas Etiquette

I love holidays! Especially Christmas! Enjoy giving gifts and putting a smile one someone's face. I get more joy out of giving than receiving.

There is one little thing that's always a little uneasy for me: food. Eating other folks' food.

I will admit it. I am one of those employees at the staff's Christmas party who wants to know, "Who fixed the broccoli casserole?"
Yep, I am smiling but inside I'm flashing back to see if I've witnessed the cook wash her hands in the employee bathroom. And fortunately churches have come a long way with communion. Growing up in the Baptist church, in the South, we had those teeny communion cups and broken up Saltines. Those communion cups were reused and who broke up the crackers? I know Jesus turned water into wine and multiplied the amount of bread but the people handling the communion did not resemble Jesus.

Well, I love my family but I am also fair. I am not gonna eat something just because it's family. No ma'am! I'm shaking my head as I type this just thinking about some family members.

Like one of my uncles. He's deceased now but whenever he'd cook, I could not eat. It was the cigarette! I can see him now. Left hand on the spatula. He's telling some exaggerated story and... had that Newport in the other hand! Quite talented with it. I swear it clung to his lip, while he was talking- hand free- and it never fell! I'd be tempted to hold an ash tray under the cigarette to catch the ashes but they would never fall.

I realize there were a lot of things that went on in kitchens, back then, that would have generated a C or D but I'm grown now. I've got options.


Being behind the scenes is not always good.

You canNOT stir a drink, that is for everyone to partake in, bring the spoon to your mouth to slurp and taste it...then put it back in to stir. I don't care how many times you have brushed your teeth, gums, swished mouthwash, or flossed. I ain't drinking it.

Then two huge No-No's with the turkey: if you are going to cut it and pull the meat off with your BARE hands, I'm gonna need to see some hand washing prior to. The person cutting cannot have sweat rolling of her face while standing over the turkey. Sweat is clear! You have to look really hard to see if it rolled off onto the meat or not. At almost 44, my vision is not that great anymore.

So needless to say I was thirsty and without turkey this Christmas and for good reason.

Brow Raising Experience

I have to replace my brow technician. Yes, the place is two stoplights and a railroad track away but it's time.

Now I have to take some responsibility for this situation.

About a month ago when I went in, I felt like she ripped too much hair off but I figured I'd just wait a little longer to go in next time. Give my brows time to thicken up.

I wasn't quite ready- well my brows weren't ready yet, but I needed to take my daughter in for a lip wax. After fussing at her, on the way there-

"You know in the winter time, the hair is easily visible! I shouldn't be the one to tell YOU that it's time for a wax! I fussed right up to the door-

"You didn't see it was time? What were you wa' Hey! How ya'll doing today?" I smiled as I went to the counter to sign in.

The owner startled me as she yawned and stretched among the magazines. WHERE THE CUSTOMERS SIT.

"What you get today?" asked the masked lady giving a manicure on the other side.

I politely informed her that I didn't need a service. "It's for her. She needs a lip wax."

After stretching again and sticking her feet in what I think were sandals, the owner sized me up and said, "No eyebrow wax today?"

"Nope. Last time you took a little too much off. I will be back in another week. But thanks!"
My daughter dropped her head. She seemed embarrassed for some reason. She didn't lose any hairs.

She said something in her first language and all the technicians employed there, looked at me.

Didn't appreciate not knowing what was said. But it was obvious it was about me. One lady getting her nails dried, smiled and giggled.

Since they were looking, I raised my brows.

After their two minute, secret conversation, one technician told my daughter to come on back for her wax.

"Who do you brow last time?" the owner asked. Well that would be tough to identify who it was for two good reasons: I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings and I couldn't tell who was who with masks on!

I shrugged. The shrug was symbolic because my shoulders were saying, I don't know, but that is exactly how I looked the last time my brows were done- like my brows were saying I don't know! All the time!

Here's where I messed up. The owner came over and looked at my brows. She offered to do them. Were they that bad?

"I just clean up fo you. Not take much. You not need much off," she assured me.

As we walked back. It seemed like- through my eyes and problematic brows- the other technicians were giving me the "You Gone Learn Today" look.

"Momma. I thought you weren't getting yours done today," my daughter said, through a contorted mouth. I waved her off. I'm grown! I got this!

"Not a lot o customer here today. I fall asleep," the owner laughed.

Now is not the time to be laughing. This is not reversible. I ain't a Chia Pet..

After doing the first brow pretty quickly I eased up on the sweating.

She finished the second one. Took a little longer.

Hear the scary music? I didn't scream but I wanted to.

Too much off. Again!

Shoulda known better! Needed my brows to grow back in like two days! By the time I went back to work.

No radio on in the car. Flipped mirror up. No need for reminders Needed time to reflect. The sun was out so I could see, even though she was looking out of her window, that she was smiling hard.

Vocabulary Lessons

Earlier this year one of my students, who has been in the country less than a year, innocently asked, "What is A Deez Nuts?" Three things were clear: I need to teach the proper use of the articles A and An, subject-verb agreement and obviously, he is paying attention and socializing- language acquisition is moving along! As the other students snickered, I calmly wiped the Caramel Brulee latte I projected onto my desk.

Students haven't always been so innocent when they ask about words. Like when they can barely ask you about a word because they are choking back the laughter. Nonetheless, I guess I should just assume they really don't know and stay calm.

Well, that didn't happen recently. I went from zero to ten real quick!

It was the last period of the day. I just finished helping a student with an assignment for another class. Students began packing up.

"What's a hooker?"

Everything stopped. In my mind anyway.

How dare she attempt to be amusing in front of the others! They weren't laughing but still.

"Why did you ask me about that word? Where did you see that word?" I asked her.

Before she could answer I continued with the interrogation. "Why would you WANT to know about a hooker!"

She tried to play confused and innocent. But I knew better!

By this time, the other students were curious. Getting in a little closer to us.

"I don't understand why you would ask about that word! Just out of the blue?" I asked, not really expecting her to answer. "I mean it's not like you see a word like that around this classroom do you?" I scoffed.

She pointed to one of my blue pocket charts near the board.

There it was.

"I said HUNKER," she clearly and softly told me.

Hunker was one of the week's vocabulary words for eighth graders.

Students waited for me to respond.

"So what is a hooker?" one of the other students asked. Of course they wanted to know now after my conclusion jumping.

Too cool to be embarrassed I replied, "Oh my Gosh! Look! It's obvious what hunker means- I've got a perfect visual right beside it! Don't you all see the person squatting- hunkering!"

Announcements and bell never late but today it would be.

But They're So Cute!

I think I may be having a close to mid-life crisis. Well, close because I'm just three months shy of 44. The older I get the more I seem to revert back to my younger days.
For example, when I was a preteen I did some things that, I just can't explain. Well I can't say WHY I did them. Coerced a close friend or two to follow in my craziness too. One may be reading this.

Not sure of my age but I remember putting the silver foil-like wrapper which covered the Big Red and Wrigkey's gum over the top row of my teeth. And I'd walk around like that. Until my mom slapped it out. Shaking my head at this as I type.

I also did those ridiculous breast exercises that Margaret did in that book by Judy Blume. If God was there for Me he was laughing. Added a twist to it but you'll have to read that earlier post.

So now that I gave a little background maybe my recent stint at 43 may not seem too weird.

Well, I'm pretty sure I need glasses. Thought nothing more than Readers but guess I will let someone trained diagnose me. So I lost the pair of Readers I had so I rushed to purchase a new pair on my way to chaperone my son's field trip. Usually there's nothing really appealing about them and they're cheap BUT this time I found a pair I really liked so I spent a few more minutes than usual at the small carousel of cheap spectacles. Well, they weren't the right number. But there wasn't another pair like them. I did what I had to do- I bought them anyway. I mean what's more important, seeing 100% correctly or seeing maybe 70%, give or take, OR looking cute? Exactky!

Drove to the school. A little slower and with my head tilted down a bit but I got there and parked really close to the curb. I'm releived that no one accused me of being inebriated when I think about the ordeal. I stepped up into the building higher than needed and went down the wrong hall, until my son called me.
"Mama? Why were you going that way," he asked. Looking at me peculiarly.

I took the glasses off and cleaned them intensely with the end of my shirt. No use. Couldn't change them. Finally connected with the class and other parents and walked slowly with the blobs to the cars.

My son ran up to me as I neared "the car" and begged me to just take the darn things off. I knew I had to when I realized that I was trying to unlock another white car. 'What's wrong with this stupid remote!" But those glasses were so cute! Any other irrational 43-year-old woman would've agreed.

Blind Sex

While cooking and watching The Voice the other night with the family, our youngest was awed by one of the contestants. He commented, "Wow! That's cool! They have a blind person who sings!" The contestant talked about being ready to start a family.

Our son was confused. "How can he start a family? He can't do that."

"Blind people do a lot of things," I informed him while starting my pasta sauce. "Remember, Stevie Wonder is blind. He's been around for years and he has a family-"

"WHAT? He has a family? Like CHILDREN?" he interrupted.

"Of course!" I laughed.

Quiet

"So blind people have SEX too?"

Stirring the pasta sauce.

Not thinking, Daddy adds to the mix. "They don't have to SEE to have sex. Duh!" he laughed and obviously not thinking.

Being wise, I honed in on my sauce.

"They don't? But how are they gonna know where to-" our son started.

"Daddy. YOU WANNA TRY THIS SAUCE?" I interrupted.

Missing the attempted rescue, he replied, "Naw. They just need to know where to-"

"This sauce is really good!" I put a hot spoonful to his mouth. "TASTE THE SAUCE!"

Remembering EVERYone During Prayer

WE try to drop little nuggets on the kids as much as possible. There is always something to be grateful for.

Sometimes the nuggets turn out a little undone or overcooked.

When our kids were much younger, we told them that other kids did not have as good as they did- that there were some kids who went to bed hungry.

"They would love to eat those vegetables you are trying to leave on your plate!" I said.

"I really want to help those kids and give them these little trees Mama," our son told me one day.

Well...

The other week, prior to praying, I talked about the importance of praying for others and not always asking for things for ourselves.

"God really likes that and will definitely give you the desires of your heart when you think of others before yourself; even people you may not get along with."

Well...

Our son volunteered to pray that night.

I think he prayed for every family member, extended family member, all students in his school, all teachers, the crossing guards, neighbors and even prayed for the nice people who work at the convenience store, where we frequent often.

His sister almost went to sleep by the time he finished.

Crunchy Collards?

I'm learning that just because I decide to eat healthier doesn't mean the whole family is on board.

This summer it's been much easier to eat better. I'm out for the summer so that means I am less stressed and I have time to actually take the time to cook! I also have had time to read about healthy recipes and better ways to prepare foods.

So...

I have been feeling better by eliminating sugars, drinking more water and trying to do the "clean eating"!

So...

Thought I'd try to get everyone on board but wanted to start with the other adult in the house: husband.
Things WERE going well until I decided to steam collard greens. We are both from the South and both grew up on collards. It's a staple or at least it should be.

Prep time: 20 minutes while he watched ESPN
"You know the way we grew up on collards was different. I know it was considered good eatin' but we now know that they weren't seasoned the best or healthiest way. We don't wanna overcook them. We want to keep the beneficial vitamins," I began.

Now over the years since we've been married I have been able to cook them differently, electing to use turkey or chicken broth and spices. No problem consuming them that way.

Cook time: 15-20 minutes So I seasoned and steamed them while he was still glued to ESPN. Good outlook for the Cowboys so I knew he was in a good mood. But I knew that cooking collards in such a short time period may not be great. I tasted a few, AND washed the fork I ate from. I know people still double-dip in the kitchen when folks aren't looking and that is nasty.

They were a little crunchy but hey, here's to good health I thought. Worried that he may not like them I did what anyone else would do...I added some cayenne pepper. This would at least, prayerfully, distract from the crunch. I put a little vinegar on them and Voila Wa-lah!

The flavor was so foreign, that he had to stand up! "These are greens? But they're crunchy! I've never heard of crunch greens!"

"Well. You know I told you I was cooking them in a healthier way. Remember?" I offered, as I chewed through my forkful.

"Wooh! And they are really hot!" he almost screamed. Well, he did. I guess from the shock and "Awe!"

"So I'm thinking it's a no on steamed collards?" I said, as I blinked through the tears that sprung up from the over powering cayenne pepper I'd just swallowed.

I think he thought I was trying to kill him.