I was selected as a guest blogger for Cupcakes Take the Cake! Yay! Please click the link above to read my post, and then PLEASE click the LIKE button on their website, so hopefully I will be asked back in the future. 🙂
(Of course, LIKEs here are always appreciated too. That goes without saying!)
I was feeling pretty spiffy (yes, I really said spiffy) in my new shirt from Loft…until I caught a glimpse of my reflection and thought “THERE’S Waldo!!” Hmmm, maybe that’s the reason the shirt was on sale at the outlet mall. (The photo is supposed to be my ‘YIKES, I look like Waldo face. But it looks more like a “YIKES, I’m turning into a fish face. I should have consulted a teenage girl for pointers on taking self-photos with my cell phone.)
Then I got to thinking what it would be like to be Waldo. To be right there in the middle of it all, but invisible at the same time. It might be fun to just be able to observe everything around you. To see what goes on when no one thinks you are there. To find solitude among the masses. To hide from the world for a while.
I think it would get lonely very quickly though and soon I’d be begging for someone to find me. “Hey! I’m over here!!! No, no, not there. That’s a red, white and blue beach ball. I’m over here, waving frantically. No, not there either. That is an American Flag waving.”
You’d never think someone like Waldo would be hard to find. Red and white striped shirt and hat with bright blue pants should easily be found an instant. But if everything around you is the same, it all blends in. It doesn’t stand out. It is overlooked.
Some days you want to be unique. Different. Noticed.
Other days you want to hide in plain sight. Like Waldo.
Now I will think of Waldo every time I wear that shirt. But maybe it will make me pause and ponder, “Do I want to be lost or found today???”
After explaining to Greg why I had been pounding our coffee table with a hammer to distress it and had put an antique finish on our kitchen cabinets, he replied,
“So you are TRYING to make them look old? And beat up? We usually get in trouble for that!!!”
There are many reasons people find antiques and faux antiques alluring. Maybe they like the uniqueness. Or they like the history of the piece. Or it is appealing aesthetically.
For me it’s simple. My kids trash everything. So why not have items that look “old” and “beat up” on purpose. The dings, dents, marks, chips and stains that I tried unsuccessfully to avoid suddenly “add character.”
Antique to me means one less thing to cause anxiety. One less thing to cause anger. One less thing to cause stress.
Distressed makes me de-stressed.
P.S. I highly recommend beating something with a hammer. It is therapeutic. Just make sure it is something, not someone.
Erma Bombeck is remembered as more than just a brilliant writer. She paved the way for wives and mothers to openly admit the difficulties encountered in every day life. She broke away from the status quo and embraced imperfection. She is legendary for her ability to tell the stories of her life with incredible humor and unwavering honesty. The following story is my tribute to Erma. While Erma’s gift to “tell it like it is” is exceedingly difficult to replicate, she will always have a huge influence on my writing.
I don’t understand why siblings seem to make it their goal in life to be cruel to each other. Sometimes I think they do it just to get a reaction out of me. And they usually do. The meanness will make my blood boil faster than a pot of water.
One day, Eric and Jake were having an argument that escalated to the point that I felt I needed to step in and ask “What happened??” Both started spewing out responses at the same time. “He started it.” “I didn’t do it.” “It’s his fault.” “It’s not my fault.” I interupted, “Woah, wait a minute. From the beginning!” Eric responded, “Well, it all started when I was born and…” Maybe you are on to something Eric.
Jake enjoys looking at videos on Youtube. I saw his most recent search on the computer. “How to annoy people.” I don’t think any instruction is needed for that topic.
Jake got in trouble for calling Eric a nerd for reading the newspaper. When I reprimanded him about it, he concocted the answer “That was a compliment. It means Not…Ever…Really…Dumb.” Good save.
Jimmy and Jake were having a pretend fight as we were leaving a football game. Jake rolled on the ground while Jimmy “kicked” him. An elderly lady came up and yelled for them to stop fighting. Jimmy tried to inform her that it was ok because they were brothers but Jake interjected, “No we aren’t. I don’t know him. He’s bullying me!” Jimmy couldn’t convince her otherwise and they both ran to the car while she yelled after them. Jimmy and Jake still quote her sometimes. “Don’t make me have to go get my badge!” To this day we can’t figure out what kind of badge she would have had.
The game “punch buggy” involves punching someone in the arm every time you see a VW Bug. During an intense “punch” game, Greg was getting frustrated because he was in the back row of our Suburban and couldn’t reach anyone. I saw him kicking and was ready to scold him when he yelled “Kick buggy, no kick back!” All I could do was laugh. The game eventually got out of control and the punching was banished because of too many injuries and complaints. A few minutes later Greg exclaimed, “Say buggy, no say backs!”
Eric came to inform me that Greg called him “dumb.” Greg ran in and defensively responded, “I did NOT. I called you dork.” Yes, that is much better.
Just when I was about to lose all hope of them ever getting along, the following conversation happened on the way to the first day of school for Greg. Eric asked if Greg knew where to go and Greg said he couldn’t remember. Eric put his hand on Greg’s shoulder and reassured him, “Don’t worry. I will show you the way.”
With moments like that, maybe brotherly brawls and parental peace actually can coexist. Hopefully they will show me the way when I forget.
It isn’t often that a broken bone is funny. Unless, of course, the bone has a funny name. And the patient is a 13-year-old boy.
Jake literally got knocked on his butt last night during his football game and was still in a lot of pain this morning, so off to the urgent care center we went. Had to stop myself when asked the reason for the visit. “Jake is a pain in the…uh…I mean Jake HAS a pain in the butt.”
Jake’s reaction to showing the female nurse “where it hurt” was enough to get me in a giggly mood. The blushing cheeks and the one word please-let-this-be-over answers showed that the nurse’s questions were much more painful than the injury.
Once she left the room, Jake announced that he needed to fart (boys feel the need to proclaim that hourly). The conversation went something like… “Don’t you dare!”“But I have to.” “No, this is a tiny room and the doctor will be in any second.” “I can’t hold it.” “Don’t do it! The doctor may think it was me!!”
When the doctor came in, the first thing he said was “Yes, you can smell it in the air…” I glared at Jake as if to say TELL ME YOU DIDN’T DO IT!!! Fortunately, the doctor continued his statement “Yes, you can smell it in the air. Football season and the injuries it brings.” Whew. I had to cover my face to hide the chuckling over what I thought the statement was referencing. I’m not sure what the doctor said for the next 5 minutes, because I was using all of my focus trying to maintain my composure.
For some reason, hearing someone say buttocks is hysterical to boys. Every time it was mentioned, Jake would smirk and glance at me. “Did you get hit in the buttocks or did you fall on your buttocks?” Snicker. Snicker. “Does your right buttock hurt more than your left buttock?” Snicker. Snicker. And so on… I was trying to do anything to prevent an outburst of laughter. Bit my lip. Fake coughed. Thought of the ending of Toy Story 3. That worked. The doctor probably thought I was overreacting a bit to be tearing up about the injury but at least I wasn’t going to be known as the Mom who laughed at her child’s broken bone.
By the time the doctor began talking about the crushed coccyx bone, I could barely contain myself. “The bones in your spine curve in at your lower back and then once it gets below the sacrum, it curves back out. The bone that sticks out at the bottom is the coccyx.” A bone called the coccyx sticking out below the sacrum…well, I’m sure you can picture the expression on Jake’s face. The word buttocks is funny to a teen boy; the word coccyx is hilarious. Add in the word sacrum, and it’s too much to handle. I couldn’t even look Jake in the eye because I knew if I did, I would be rolling on the floor.
If there is going to be a bone referred to as the “funny bone,” I think the coccyx bone would be a better choice than the elbow. But then again, the skin covering the elbow is sometimes referred to as the wenus so, yeah, I guess that is funnier. Hey docs, who named these body parts anyway??
Now before I get slammed for being unsympathetic, I do feel very bad for Jake. I know first-hand that it is very painful because I broke my tailbone falling down some stairs once. Perhaps a problem of weak cheeks runs in the family? Our family just tends to find humor in strange places. Just imagine if he broke his humerus bone…
If laughter is the best medicine, Jake should heal very quickly. I surely hope this injury doesn’t cause Jake to be the butt of any jokes.
I was so excited about the increased views of my blog since being Freshly Pressed. Views of my blog have been coming in by the thousands. Well, sometimes the thousand. And other times the hundreds. But I’m an internet sensation, or at least a WordPress sensation. Right? Oh, what’s that you say? “Thousands” means nothing on the internet? The latest viral sensation on youtube right now has 131 MILLION views and climbing?? Oh. Wow. That must one absolutely EXCEPTIONAL video to get that much attention. Phenomenal, remarkable, surpassing all expectations! I MUST go watch this.
Wow, I was right. That IS one EXCEPTIONAL video. I just had the wrong definition of exceptional. Peculiar, abnormal, nothing I would ever expect to see! I think I will refer to the singer as Psy-cho. The video is full of bizarre outfits and scenarios. One of my favorite is the fake explosion with the person nearby jumping out of the way. Unfortunately, they jump out of the way about 5 seconds AFTER the explosion. Amazingly, they seemed unharmed. Another scene shows Psy sitting on the toilet. Lovely. Psy supposedly popularizes a “new” dance called “riding the horse.” Sorry, but Will and Carlton dancing to “Jump On It” on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air show comes to mind. Now that is rad.
Now for the confession. I can’t get this “exceptional” song out of my brain. Please. Get. It. Out. Of. My. Head. I have been singing it over and over (and over and over) all day long. I even re-watched the video. Twice. Alright, alright. I admit it. I’m listening to it as I type this. For me, it isn’t a viral sensation. It is a viral infestation. I can’t rid my mind of it.
“Oppan Gangnam Style” is the full title of the song, which translates as “your big brother is Gangnam Style.” The best part of this craze is “Umma Gangnam Style” or “Mom is Gangnam style.” Middle aged woman steps up to the challenge. No, she one-ups! This Mom has some serious moves while dancing to Psy’s song. I saw somewhere that the Mom is 60, but I am inclined to believe that was written by a teenager who thinks anyone over the ago of 30 is “60.” If she really IS 60, I want her secret.
The Umma video “only” has 4 million+ views but deserves as many as the original version in my opinion. That Mom, that Umma – now SHE is a sensation. You go Mom!
Just what IS it about this song that makes it so “exceptional??” I think it is the outrageous factor. And possibly some sublimal messages that make it impossible to stop thinking and talking about. If that is what is required to go “viral,” I think I’m out of luck. There is no way my brain could come up with something that outlandishly memorable.
So, for now, I will enjoy writing in my little part of the internet, millions of views or not. While I listen to Gangnam Style. Again.
Important warning to all bloggers: One must be sure to log out of WordPress on husband’s computer when finished. Or one may find a new mysterious blog entry next time one logs on.
My husband, Jim, finally decided to read Momopolize. “Gee honey, it only took you 3 weeks. Thanks.” Oops. I forgot, I promised to play nice. I meant “Gee honey, you took the time to read 3 weeks of blogs in one day. Thanks!!” After reading, he decided to post a complimentary comment about my new blog. Only he didn’t post a comment. He put his comment as a new blog post. And PUBLISHED it. For the world to see. So for everyone who viewed the new blog entry from earlier today titled “I hope no…”, now you have an explanation. I’m sure you’ve been wracking your brain all day trying to figure out the mystery.
At least now I know I’m not the most technologically challenged person in the family.
This was Jim’s “comment” blog entry seen ’round the world.
“I hope no one sees how long I’ve been reading this. I never realized how much I miss of my own family. What an interesting time from 2:30pm to 6:00pm each week day. I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you for all you do! Love you.”
I hope this dispels any rumors that I am narcissistic for posting my immense appreciation and love for myself.
Honey, repeat this 3 times: Don’t click “add new post.” Ever. Thanks for the kind comment though. I really do appreciate it. And for giving me my laugh for the day. And material. Lots of material for my blog. Writing my blog is easy. I simply regurgitate the antics of my family!
I’m not really a writer. I just play one in real life.