Menopausal Mother

    Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group posting. 13 bloggers are inviting you into their homes today for a glimpse into their private lives. Thank you once again Karen from Baking In A Tornado for hosting these hilarious group posts!

     The past month has been a mixture of joy and sorrow for me. As many of you know, my mother passed away unexpectedly on April 4th. My family has been dealing with the loss as best we can, and  in typical Doyle fashion, using humor to get through the rough patches.

     On a lighter note, one of the highlights from earlier in the month was my trip to Dayton Ohio for the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop conference. I had one of the best times of my life meeting many of my online blogger friends and taking educational courses to improve my writing skills. Since I don't fly, I convinced dear ol' Hubs to drive me again this year, just like he did for the last conference in 2014 (you can read all about it HERE). Being trapped in a car together for 19 hours spurred many an interesting conversation and quite a bit of binge eating. When I wasn't napping or stuffing my face with Pringle's chips and peanut M&Ms, Hubs and I enjoyed the scenery around us. I received some strange looks from people at truck stops when I climbed out of the car with my purple hair, but all in all, we had a great time.


     If you had been a fly on the wall in our car during the road trip, here are some tidbits of conversation you would have overheard:

"You know you're old when you have to drive with a knee brace on."

"I think the GPS is drunk. It keeps getting us lost. It needs its own GPS."

"How am I supposed to eat this gooey sandwich while driving at the same time? It's like trying to hold a sloppy joe behind the steering wheel. Half of the goop ends up in my lap."
"Well, at least you'll have some leftovers on your shorts for later in case you get hungry again."


"Why is it that when we leave the state of Florida, all the radio stations only play oldies music?"
"Because we're fossils who still remember all the lyrics. Most of these singers are already dead....someone must be trying to tell us something."

"Can't you drive any faster up this mountain road?"
"I'm driving a Prius, what do you expect? It's like driving a car powered by hamsters. When someone asks me if it's a four cylinder, I tell them, 'No, it's a four hamster.' And right now, I think one of them just died going up this mountain side."

"I'm an emotional drinker, and you are seriously stressing me out during this road trip. Oh look! A pub!"
"Good to know I won't need to call 911 now."

"We need to lay off on the bean burritos. This car can only handle so much gas. "
"At least it's not just one of us doing it. My farts are responding to your farts."
"Yeah---we're sharing fart emojis."

" We need to get an RV and take more road trips. We could retire early and live off our savings."
"That sounds great, but what will we do for money the following week?"

"Sometimes there just aren't enough curse words invented to meet my demands after a day like today."

"What do you mean I'd be lousy at camping? I'm an outdoorsy type of guy."
"Only if your tent comes with a large cooler full of beer."

"My legs and knees are so sore and stiff from sitting in the car for five hours, I can barely stand. It's a good thing no one is trying to rob us at gun point right now, because I wouldn't be able to run. I'd just hand over my wallet and tell them they're welcome."


THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GO OUT OF TOWN AND YOUR FOUR-YEAR-OLD GRANDDAUGHTER GETS AHOLD OF YOUR MAKEUP KIT

     If you've been having an unusually craptastic week, there's a pseudoscientific reason for your misfortune. Mercury is in retrograde from September 17 to October 9th, and this astrological phenomenon is the perfect scapegoat for everything that has gone awry in the past week.

     "Mercury Retrograde" occurs during three periods throughout the year, a time when the planet appears to stall and spin backward. Although this is an illusion caused by the rotation of the earth, many people believe that the retrograde phase is responsible for wreaking havoc during each of these three-and-a-half week periods. Mercury is the ruling planet of communication, so it stands to reason that while in retrograde, communication, travel and technology go haywire, causing a certain degree of pandemonium on earth. Computers crash for no reason, cell phones erase info, emails are lost and transportation is a nightmare.


     It doesn't stop there. Staunch believers of Mercury's trickery advise against signing important documents, traveling, starting a new job, moving, getting married, or launching a new business venture during retrograde.

     I've had my own share of misfortunes in the past week; my car died, my husband was in a car accident (not hurt, thankfully) and one of my sweet pets died in her sleep. I've also had a few heated debates with friends and even engaged in a ridiculous argument with my husband one night over the Miami Dolphins….and I don't even watch football.

     I'd love to blame Mercury for my bad luck, but rather than focus on my misfortune, I prefer to think of all the good things that the retrograde phase might do for me. If everything is spinning backward, that means I might have a second chance at enjoying some of the things I miss:


*My old metabolism. Maybe I can go back to eating chicken wings, donuts, and cheeseburgers without gaining a pound.

*High energy. I'd like to be as energetic as I was when I was a kid with the motivation to run around the playground, climb a jungle gym or sail down a hot metal slide without getting second degree burns on my chunky thighs.

*Good music. Pat Benetar, Journey, The Cars, Peter Gabriel, Toto, The Police…..the list goes on and on. I'd rather listen to them than some dude singing, "Now watch me whip, watch me nae nae…"

*Size eight clothing. It sure would be nice to fit into that size again, since right now the fabric from one of those tiny t-shirts would barely cover one arm.

*Required nap time. In kindergarten, we played all morning, ate lunch, then pulled out our mats and blankets to sleep for an hour. When we woke up, the nice teacher handed out graham crackers and milk. I want to go back to kindergarten….for adults. And the nice teacher hands out margaritas with chips and queso dip.

*My stamina. I could stay out all night and party like a rock star when I was in my twenties. Now I can't even make it to the dinner hour without three cups of coffee to prop me up.

*80's fashion. Shoulder pads, parachute pants and velour jumpsuits. Just kidding. Pajama jeans and yoga pants work fine.

Come to think of it, now that there's a Clinton and a Bush running for office again, who knows? Maybe there's something to the lore of Mercury in retrograde, after all.

     Last month I wrote about the fifteen things no parent should have to say to their teen daughter (you can read it HERE). So what about the boys? I've raised two sons, as well as daughters, and it seems that in every stage of my boys' lives, from the moment they stood unassisted to when they took their first step, there was a battery of things I NEVER imagined I would have to say to my little male bundles of joy. When they were young, it was the simple stuff like, "I know it looks like a Tootsie Roll but you can't play with the cat's poop"…..."Stop eating dirt---it's not part of the food pyramid"…... "No, that humming wand you found hidden in the back of Mommy's drawer can NOT be used as lightsaber while playing Star Wars."

     Raising boys is a whole different ballgame, and their teen years are known to reduce even the toughest of parents down to a puddle of anxiety and insecurities. Please know that if you have uttered one or more of the following statements to your teenage son, you're not alone:



*You're gonna need a chain saw to cut those toenails.

*If you keep 'borrowing' gas money from me, I'm trading in your car for a Vespa.

*Just because you have laser lights and a stereo system the size of a Winnebago in your room, it doesn't mean that you're allowed to host a rave every weekend. Our house withstood several hurricanes, but I'm not sure it'll last through the rumblings of your bass.

*Please chew with your mouth closed. I don't need to see how fast your molars can masticate a steak.

*Did you wipe?

*You're going to have arthritis in your fingers by the time you're twenty-five from using your cell phone 24/7.

*I don't care how pretty she is---when you take her out on a date, you'd better be thinking with the big head and not the little head.

*All that stinky laundry on your closet floor is making your room smell like a Porta Potty that hasn't been cleaned out in months.

*If you're going to spend THAT much time in the shower, then you need to start scrubbing all the extra  "conditioner" off the shower doors.

*Pay your speeding tickets before you end up on a television episode of Cops.

*No, you will not get carpal tunnel syndrome from flushing the toilet several times a day.

*It's going to take an ice cream scoop to clean all that wax out of your ears.

You need to make a cell phone payment instead of spending your entire paycheck on sneakers…unless, of course, you plan on ditching the wheels in favor of using your feet to get around.

*Yesterday there was a five pound ham in the refrigerator, and now it's gone. A gallon of milk, two bags of chips, a loaf of bread and an entire box of Oreos are also missing. If you step on the bathroom scale, I think I can solve the mystery of the missing food.

*Belching the alphabet is not a skill that women find attractive.


Thankfully, one of my sons is now an adult who has turned into a fine gentleman. My youngest (and feistiest) still has a few more years to go, but the way I see it, he'll be the one who ends up married with four children. Hopefully all boys.

I'd better keep an ice cream scoop in my pocket at all times…..just in case.








***This week I was thrilled to be featured on Beyond Your Blog! You can read my post about living the writer's life here: http://www.beyondyourblog.com/its-a-writers-life-for-me/#

   
 Welcome to another edition of the Fly On The Wall Series, hosted by Karen at http://www.bakinginatornado.com. That pesky fly has been busy buzzing around the 12 bloggers participating in today's group challenge. He even followed me on a recent family vacation and left with an earful. My guess is that after spending a week with us on the road, he dove into the nearest martini to drown the memory of what he witnessed during our trip:

"I've had so much coffee on this road trip, I could hang a Starbuck's sign on my bladder."

"Stop feeding the pug banana bread! It may smell good going in but it smells really bad coming out."

"Don't make me laugh so hard in the car---I have to pee!"
"Next time remind me to get plastic seat covers..."

"Too bad it rained, because I was really looking forward to zip lining over an alligator pit."

"Why are we the only people in the hotel gym with Solo cups full of champagne?"
"Because the lounge was closed. This way we can drink and burn off the calories at the same time. Oh
look! There's champagne cup holders on every treadmill!"


"Did you just fart in the pool?"
"Um...no...why?"
"Because your swim trunks are billowing out like a flotation device."

"Oh great...take the guy with no cartilage in his knees on a rocky, ten mile hike through the woods...yeah, that's my idea of a fun, family
bonding moment."

"What on earth took you so long at the gas station?"
"We were comparing penises in the restroom."

"We've had so much to drink since we've been on vacation, my liver is crying out for an AA meeting."

"Stop dropping gas bombs in the car. You smell like processed ass."
"You're the one who bought me the fried chicken tenders, Dad. They upset my stomach."
"Chicken tenders? More like chicken stinkers out the butt."

"Nothing like driving a car with a transmission that bucks you out of your seat."

"We took a wrong turn on that last trail. I think we're lost. We could be in China for all I know."
"I think we've just entered another dimension, known as the Twilight Zone."
"Or we're starring in a new movie---Paranormal: The Woods Edition"
"I told you we should have left a trail of breadcrumbs..."

"Hon, you've eaten so much on this trip, I think we need to stop at Walmart and get you some men's maternity pants."

"Stop making booger patches on your side of the car!"

"Why aren't you going inside the caves with us?"
"Because I'm probably older than most of those stalagmites. And I'm claustrophobic. I might have a heart attack. Paramedics don't respond to cave calls."
"I don't understand what caused you to be so claustrophobic."
"I got trapped inside a mole hole as a child."

"Stop using the gingerbread cookie air freshener in the bathroom to mask your poops. Next year when I smell Christmas cookies baking in the oven, I'll think of poop."

"I know its been raining a lot, but it'll pass."
"Yeah, about as quickly as a gallstone."

"It's about time you got into a pool after 15 years. This is a HUGE event...sort of like man's first visit to the moon.... one small step for Marcia,
one giant leap into the pool."

"Why did you guys sprint ahead at the park and leave me behind in an open field with lightning, rain, 50 mile per hour winds and a funnel cloud above? You knew I couldn't run the mile back to the car with my bad knees."
"It's not our fault you're the injured buffalo in the herd."
"That means you'd leave me behind to be eaten by the wolves?"
"We didn't want to get hit by lightning or sucked up in a tornado. You were moving too slow for us!"
"I was busy clicking my heels, trying to get back to Kansas."



     And this, folks, is how we vacation Doyle style. I'm off now to swat a fly and fill my Solo cup with champagne. Be sure to visit the other bloggers in today's challenge!

 
 I don't do well on long road trips. Being confined in a car for hours on end causes me to search frantically for a roadside bar. My butt becomes numb and my long legs ache from being folded up like an accordion under the dash. I fiddle with the A/C between hot flashes, causing everyone else to shiver or sweat in the backseat.
     Some of the other issues that make me want to claw my way out of the car during a long road trip include:

THE RADIO:  One minute I'm listening to Bon Jovi and digging it, then suddenly the radio station changes over in the next city and Wayne Newton is serenading me with a love ballad that makes me want to stick a fork in my eye.

SNACKING:  Long hours in the car causes terminal boredom. Boredom breeds hunger. Every five minutes I'm popping M&M's and Cheez-Its in my mouth like a cracked-out snack hoarder.

REST STOPS:  Within the first two hours of the road trip, my bladder starts knocking at the door. "Hello? Remember that grande size iced coffee you insisted on chugging down seventy miles ago? I'm not doing the camel thing here for you by storing all this liquid. Go pee!!" Murphy's Law inevitably points a finger at me and laughs by trapping me in the middle of bumper to bumper traffic on the interstate. At this point, I place my hands together in silent prayer: "Dear bladder, please don't fail me now." I'm also forced to consider using my red Solo cup for something other than it was designed for. The cup is probably cleaner than most of the highway rest stops we visit, where everyone looks like Walmart refugees. Maybe it's because we're all sporting the same, rumpled clothes and a glazed look in our eyes from white fever. The good news? I can stock up here on more snacks---a soda for five bucks, a bag of chips that expired two months ago in the vending machine or boiled peanuts from a one-armed man.

SINGING IN THE CAR:  Another hour on the road and the bored men break out singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" when it plays on the radio. I feel like I'm trapped on a tour bus with either The Mormon Taber"knuckle" Choir or The Vienna "Sour Note" Boy's Choir.

FAST FOOD:  Junking out on fast food while driving 80 miles per hour down the interstate is always fun, especially if nobody has any napkins on hand. Half of the food ends up in your lap and the rest of it on your greasy chin. By the time we emerge from the car at out final destination, we look like we've just played paint ball with ketchup, mustard and chocolate milkshakes.


CAR FARTS:  Eating all that crappy fast food and sitting for hours on our butts causes noxious fumes to fill the car. It's too big of a job for those little, hanging air fresheners to mask the smell. The Hubs thinks it's hilarious to crank up the heat and lock the car windows when he farts, just so he can listen to us gag and beg for mercy. I usually try to suffocate myself with a pillow when this occurs. Even worse, pug farts. Word of advice: Never, EVER let your teenager feed the dog a leftover bean burrito before
hitting the road for a long trip. Your olfactory senses will never be the same.

THE HOTEL:  I'm not sure where hotel chains purchase their pillows, but I'm betting they come from a sandbag factory. The mattresses aren't much better; they're so hard, I wake each morning folded over like an elderly man with rheumatoid arthritis.
         Four people sharing one bathroom keeps things interesting as well, especially if everyone indulged in the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet the night before. Hotel managers would be wise to install timers in each bathroom so that everyone gets their fair share of privacy on the stink throne.
        Large bath towels would also be a nice addition. No one can dry off properly from a shower with a towel the size of a dinner napkin. Foam padding needs to be added to the walls of every room so that it doesn't sound like the family upstairs is bouncing on a trampoline or a herd of elephants stampeding the hallways.

VACATION ACTIVITIES:  We spend most of our time hiking, visiting museums and fooling our stomachs into thinking we've entered a Man v.s. Food eating contest. The prize goes to the person who can no longer button their pants at the end of the trip.
 
 Hiking in an unfamiliar forest with a multitude of winding paths is not a good idea if you're codependent on a GPS. With dozens of banana spiders hanging from the trees and a gimpy husband with a bad knee, I don't feel safe getting lost in a secluded area that resembles a perfect spot for a sequel of The Blair Witch Project. It's enough to make me want to pee my pants, but I don't recommend doing that in the forest either, in case you accidentally squat over a patch of poison ivy. Try explaining THAT to your doctor.
     Museums are a great way to pass the time, mostly because they're air conditioned and I don't have to duck under banana spider webs. The downside is standing in a quiet room filled with ancient relics
when your teenager farts loud enough to shake the walls....then points a finger in your direction.
     Caves are also a fun activity to explore while on vacation, but not so
much if you're claustrophobic. Or penis-phobic. There are too many underground stalagmite areas that resemble multiple rooms of erections. It's not cool to snicker about them either, especially while your tour guide is trying to explain these rock formations to your group.
     Here's another travel tip: if the weather has been crappy all week, don't delude yourself into thinking it will pass and schedule an outing to the park. Nothing gets the heart pumping faster than being forced to run like an Olympian a mile back to the car while torrential rain is lashing at your face and dark, ominous clouds begin funneling overhead. Even more thrilling, yell, "TORNADO!!" and watch
everyone scatter like ants out of an anthill. Leave the gimpy husband behind as he does his best imitation of a peg-legged pirate limping over tree roots and rocks. It's every man for himself when a tornado is involved.

     Would I do it all again? Absolutely. Those moments of deep laughter with my family that caused our eyes to water and our bellies to ache were worth every mishap. But next time, we'll skip the bean burritos and carry a bottle of Gas-X instead.