Menopausal Mother

     The other day I got into an argument with my youngest teenager. He was complaining about our family's strapped financial situation and was quick to point an accusatory finger at me. He understands that I'm a struggling writer trying to earn a buck, but he couldn't resist asking when I was going to get a "REAL" job. The argument quickly turned sour and I wondered why I felt the need to defend my work to a belligerent teenager.
   
     His worst jab was yet to come when he questioned what I'd done for our family financially. His question cut to the bone. I stared at him in disbelief and swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat. Where was this anger coming from? I'd never seen him lash out this way before.
 
      I raised four children while working three in-home jobs to help support the family. I sacrificed a writing career at that time because I was too busy wiping noses, changing diapers and breast feeding babies at all hours of the night with minimal amounts of sleep.
   
     What have I done for you, Son? Cooked thousands of dinners, packed your lunches, folded your laundry, cleaned your home, volunteered in your school classrooms, helped with your homework, read bedtime stories, chased away the monsters you thought lurked in your room at night, dried your tears, drove you to choir practice, to church, to school and to your friends' homes. I sat up all night with you when you had fevers, stayed by your side after your hip surgery, stood up to the teachers who lost faith in you, and spent a small fortune enrolling you in a new school for a better education. I made sure you had a roof over your head, clean clothes in your closet, and a full belly every night.
   
     There are too many teenagers out there today who are wondering what their parents have done for them. They're crossing boundaries I never dreamed of stepping over in my youth. Older values have given way to self-centeredness and greed in a throwaway society. Social networks and the anonymity behind a computer screen have enabled our children to forget their manners. Disrespect for authoritative figures is being reinforced by popular television programs that degrade adults.
   
     I grew up in a different generation where acts of kindness were rewarded with gratitude and love rather than monetary compensation. If we wanted something special, we earned it through diligence and hard work. Parents and the boundaries they set were respected. Broken rules were followed by strict consequences rather than empty threats.
   
     Our generation survived just fine without the convenience of cell phones, computers and high speed internet. We didn't need video games or Netflix to keep us entertained----we were too busy playing dodgeball in the streets with our neighbors until dusk. Whether our families were rich or poor, we appreciated the food on the table and the clothes on our back. People were judged on their merits and behavior, not by the designer labels they wore or the size of their bank accounts.
 
      In fifty years, society has progressed to a generation that feels entitled to the latest in material acquisitions. People no longer have the patience to wait for what they want by working towards their goals. They have abandoned simplicity in favor of extravagance. This is not the world our children and grandchildren should be raised in.
   
     I've never regretted the decision to put my career on hold to stay home with my children. At times we suffered from it financially, but I'm proud of the fact that my children grew up without having everything handed to them on a silver platter. They understand the value of a dollar and the importance of a good work ethic. My teen son has a job and goes to school full-time, but has yet to test his independence by living on his own. I'm hoping once he is an adult, that he'll appreciate all that our family has done and be thankful for the little things that will one day be the big things in life.
   
     What have I done for you, Son? I've been there for you whenever you needed me. Loved you unconditionally. Helped you navigate your way through adolescence and teenage angst. Spoiled you with hugs and praise rather than a trip to the shopping mall. Taught you to be independent, to take pride in your work and become the man I always knew you could be.
   
     Our family may not have had much while you were growing up, but what we did have was an abundance of laughter and love. You can't put a price tag on that, and you'll be a wealthier man because of it.  




*** The other websites where you can find more Menopausal Mother blog features this week:
http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/deliver-the-liver
http://midlifeboulevard.com/menopausal-acne/
   

   
We all have them. The secret sins that keep us awake at night and tap us on the shoulder during the day while we try to go about our business. The sins that we would prefer that our friends and neighbors never see. For some, this means dancing the salsa naked with a Hoover Upright ( Hey! I didn't say that was me!). For others, it's sticking their face in a bag of mini, cheese-flavored rice cakes at 2:00a.m. (Okay maybe that was me).
     I'm not Catholic and I'm pretty sure you're not a priest, but I'm sitting in a confessional booth right now about to spill the goods on Menopausal Mama's seven deadly sins.

ENVY:  I live near a park and a jogging trail. I see women of all ages out there, rollerblading, jogging and biking. Certain ones catch my eye---the PERFECT ones, who look like they just rolled off the Barbie shelf at Target. Pink sweats with the Juicy label across their firm, little butts, and a matching tank top stretched tight across breasts that aren't jiggling like jello cups in a truck when they jog. THOSE are the women I envy. Their pre-baby bodies are free of stretch marks
resembling the NYC subway system. They are blessed with perky boobs on the high beam setting aimed at the stars instead of their knee caps. It makes me long for my youth and a certain pink bikini I once owned.


GLUTTONY:  This is the reason I no longer own the aforementioned pink bikini. I am a wine hoarder and a Nutella crack head. I am also selfish when it comes to Chinese take-
out. Don't touch my egg roll or lay a finger on my chicken chow mein. To prevent anyone else from stealing my leftovers from the fridge, I cleverly disguise my food in a covered jar marked "URINE SAMPLE." It keeps my thieving teenager away from my stash while I'm busy Googling Nutella rehab centers.

PRIDE:  This is something easily lost when you're driving an old minivan with missing hubcaps and a broken door handle....which is why you'll NEVER see me behind the wheel of the mommy mobile that seizes up at every stop light in town. My husband has inherited that hemorrhoid on wheels because he happens to know car CPR. My own pride is seriously challenged every day at the gym when I look in the mirror and see body parts wiggling and waving back at me in an unnatural way. But if you ask me about my kids or my granddaughter, I'll
whip out my cell phone faster than you can say moo shu pork and force you to watch a terminally long slide show of every phase in their lives, starting with their ultrasound images all the way to their college graduation ceremonies.


LUST:  When you're menopausal, the mind says, "Yes" but the body says, "Oh, hell no!" So you learn to lust after other things....like a beef burrito the size of a chihuahua. Or Ben and Jerry's Triple Caramel Chunk ice cream and a good bottle of Dom Perignon. A trip to Tahiti would be nice too, but at this rate I'll never be able to fit back into that pink bikini again.

ANGER:  Think Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Anthony Hopkins in Silence Of The Lambs. This is what I become when my son misses the school bus at 6:30 a.m. My head has also been known to spin like I'm in the throes of an exorcism when I send The Hubs to the hardware store for a socket set and he returns with a water-sprayng fan or a singing can opener. What's next, a toilet plunger that chants, " I think I can, I think I can"?


SLOTH:  When I think sloth, the first image that comes to mind is Jabba the Hutt. No, I do not resemble a bloated, slug-like alien, nor do I eat fleshy, aquatic creatures with slimy legs. But I DO like having minions (a.k.a. children) around to take out the trash, wash the dinner dishes and fold the laundry before all the socks play hide-and-seek or join Match.com to find their missing partners.

GREED:  While most people associate greed with money and power, neither of those things appeal to me. I'm greedy when it comes to sleep. Those evil, menopausal twins Hot Flash and Fatigue have joined forces with their mischievous cousin Insomnia to deprive me of a solid, seven hours of slumber. My bladder is never one to miss a party either, so she's right up there playing checkers with her cohorts at all hours of the night. If there's such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as a bear so I can hibernate for a few months in a cave and bite the head off the first person who wakes me.

     There should be an 8th deadly sin as well, called INSANITY. When my body thermostat mimics the mercury levels of an Arizona desert during the month of July, or I suddenly find myself trolling the girdle aisle at Walmart, I'm bound to feel a little crazy. To combat the bipolar symptoms of my fluctuating hormones, I've discovered that the road to happiness is paved with Prozac and chocolate....and maybe a side trip to Tahiti with a pink bikini in my suitcase.