Menopausal Mother

     I dread using public restrooms on the interstate during a long road trip, but sometimes it can't be helped, especially if I'm traveling with a large iced coffee from Dunkin's. Whenever my husband and I make a pit stop I try to get in and out as quickly as possible because I never know exactly what I'll find behind the stall doors.

     The other day when I was on my way back from a mini-vacation in Palm Beach, I needed to make a potty stop. The restroom was actually quite clean, but it got me thinking....what sort of things does a bathroom stall witness in the course of a day? (Yeah, I know, I think about strange things sometimes while I'm using the bathroom.) I imagine the women's restrooms on the interstate have seen it ALL. What would their daily itinerary look like? If only the stalls could talk....


6:00 a.m. Janitor check-in time: Ahhhhhhh smell that? Bleach! Finally, I've been cleared of the olfactory sorrow left from that busload of teenagers heading back home after a day at Walt Disney World. Let's see if today's travelers do a better job at keeping me from smelling like a fisherman's wharf.

7:32 a.m. Prepare for women who don't read the disposal sign for feminine products: Seriously, lady? Clearly, you didn't read the sign above the metal receptacle where there's already a collection of mummified tampons waiting to be tossed. What are you trying to do, choke me?


9:01 a.m. Poop alert: Uh-oh, she has her headphones on. That means she brought her poop playlist. She's gonna be here for a while.

10:45 a.m. Send out the first daily reminder.:Wash your hands. WASH YOUR HANDS!

11:13 a.m. Tinkle alert: Don't blame me if the seat is wet. That last tinkler hovered above me and sprayed like a cat. You might want to wash your backside with some hand sanitizer when you're done.

12:00 p.m. Lunch break: I don't know what you're smoking but I'd love a hit.

1:01 p.m. 15-minute group therapy: Well, Carol, I don't know who Brad was texting while you were scanning the road for the Fort Pierce exit, but I'm pretty sure Kandy with a "K" is NOT his cousin. Cry and talk a little louder on your cell so the rest of the women waiting in line to use this stall know what you did last night at the Motel 6.

1:15 p.m. Play Potty roulette: What's behind stall door number one, two or three? Take your pick---we're all filthy!

2:04 p.m. Clean up in stall #2: Holy crap, WHAT IS THAT SMELL?? Call the plumber---we have a floater!


3:00 p.m. Naptime: I really look forward to this quiet time in the stall, just before rush hour hits. Shout out to all the ladies with Paruresis. This hour belongs to you, my bladder-shy friends!

5:36 p.m. Send out a second daily reminder: Flush the toilet. FLUSH THE TOILET!

6:10 p.m. Art class: That's a lovely drawing of the male anatomy but my walls are not designed to be your personal canvas. Also, I don't think Kevin would appreciate your SMALL drawing.

7:22 p.m. Pray to the patron saint of air fresheners: The senior citizens' bus just rolled in from the bingo tournament in Vero Beach. Brace yourselves; flatulence is coming.

10:38 p.m. Toilet paper refill time: Honey, you're gonna need a LOT more paper for that.

1:00 a.m. Puke alert: That's okay, I got you, girl. I'm guessing too many Jager Bombs? Here's some advice: Pop two aspirin, chug a bottle of Gatorade and eat a bag of greasy potato chips. You'll feel good as gold in the morning, and no one will ever know you spent your Friday night praying to the porcelain god.

2:44 a.m. Border run: Seriously, you had to have Taco Bell's Steak Rattlesnake Fries?

2:45 a.m. Flush?


2:46 a.m. Flush again: Hello??

2:47 a.m. FLUSH! WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

4:30 a.m. Contemplate life's greatest mystery: Why does corn look the same coming out as it does going in?

6:00 a.m. Janitor clock-in: I'm so happy to see you! I've had a crappy 24 hours, dude. Whoa, another busload of teenagers? They're the miscreants of bathroom etiquette! Let's just slap a "BIOHAZARDOUS MATERIALS INSIDE" sign on my stall door and call it a day...

     My husband and I recently celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary, but I'll admit, reaching this milestone hasn't always been easy. We've had our share of trials and tribulations that have put our relationship to the test. Yet somehow, we've always landed on our feet and back in each other's arms.

     Since the beginning, my husband has proven that he has the "staying power" necessary to make our marriage work, and that he takes his wedding vow, "For Better Or Worse," very seriously. Obviously trust, understanding, respect for one another, loyalty, good communication skills and patience play a big part in a lasting relationship, but it goes beyond that. In many cases, it's the little things that are the glue that keep a couple together. Forget about sappy Hallmark cards or the wilted flowers from the refrigerated section of the grocery store. If your man is truly in it for the long haul with you, he's proven it by doing some of the following things:

1.) Digging a slippery contact out of your eye when its rolled too far back under the lid for you to retrieve....even though it's 3:00 a.m. and makes him incredibly squeamish.

2.) Goes to the convenient store in the middle of the night to grab a box of tampons for you even though he's the only man in line without a six-pack of beer and a case of Marlboro cigarettes.

3.) Walks the dogs when its raining outside so that you don't have to get wet (or get peed on).

4.) Gives up his tickets to a hockey playoff game to stay home and help you eradicate the colony of lice that have taken up residence on your seven-year-old's head.

5.)  Plunges the unidentifiable thing in the toilet that NO ONE claims is theirs.

6.) Does his best to throw something together for dinner when you've had a bad day and can't move from the couch. The meal may be made with an unearthed, frozen hunk of pork roast that you could have sworn you discarded a year ago, but that's okay, because everything tastes good smothered in ketchup.

7.) Endures watching a girly movie with you and isn't afraid to tap into his feminine side by shedding a few tears during the show (or maybe he's just crying because you ate the last of the buttered popcorn).

8.) Doesn't mind picking up the kids from their after school activities when you're running late. Never mind that he also enjoys embarrassing the kiddos by dancing in his seat when a Pitbull song comes on the radio.

9.) Kills every cockroach and spider you find in the house. This has nothing to do with the fact that your loud shrieks break the sound barrier and cause his ears to bleed whenever an insect crosses your path.

10.) Tells you that you're beautiful even when you wake up looking like an angry porcupine.

11.) Offers to clean the house when you're frantically working to meet a deadline. If he rearranges the kitchen and switches everything around in the pantry, just smile and thank him. Does it really matter if your favorite pasta is hidden behind a large box of mothballs?

12.) Holds your hair away from your face when you're barfing the questionable sushi you had at the all-you-can-eat Japanese buffet he insisted on trying.

13.) Retires to the couch for the evening so that his snoring won't keep you awake. Then again, he might just be afraid that you'll cover his face with a pillow if he snores while sleeping next to you.

14.) Scratches that place on your back that you can never reach when it itches. But don't be surprised if his hand wonders elsewhere during the process. He might have an itch that needs scratching, too.

15.) Lets you drive the newer car in the family while he putters to work in the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car that should have been put out of its misery ten years ago.



     I've heard countless women complain that their men don't bring them flowers or candy to show their appreciation. Ladies, you can keep your roses and chocolates. I'd rather have a man who finds angry porcupines attractive and has great plunger skills.



***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? I am thrilled to have my first article featured on Parent.co this week! Check out my funny NEW post on dealing with the dreaded HEAD LICE! Eek! You can read it here: http://www.parent.co/the-5-stages-of-head-lice-from-denial-to-depression/ 

Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Baking In A Tornado. Once a month you have the opportunity to peek into the homes of 17 other bloggers' lives to see what REALLY goes on behind closed doors…if you're into that sort of thing.

Gross stuff is what's always going on around my house. We have no filters for the things we discuss here. If you get squeamish easily, this blog post might scare you off. Consider yourself warned…..


"I ate too many grits and now I have the shits."
"That sounds like a new breakfast cereal---'Grits & Shits'."

"If only toddlers came with remote controls to lower their volume."
"A mute button would work better."

"I must have been living under a rock all this time--I had no idea that duct tape came in colors other then gray."
"Of course it does! You can get it in any color you want, plus a variety of patterns. You can even get Hello Kitty duct tape."
"That's awesome! I can use duct tape instead of wallpaper to redecorate my office."
"Yep. Consider yourself duct tape educated.

"If you don't stop picking that pimple on your face, I'm going to strap a doggy cone-of-shame around your head."

ME: "There's another politician in the news today who got caught in a video sex scandal. Aren't you glad you don't have any videos like that floating around to come back and haunt you?"
HUBS: "I'm not worried---sheep don't have cameras."

"Stop doing rapid fire farts in bed while I'm trying to sleep. It keeps me awake."
"It's no worse than the neighbor's dog barking all night."
"Yeah it is, because yours are 'butt barks', and that's ten times worse."

"We're getting so fat that we're going to need a sidecar attached to our Winnebago whenever we take road trips."

"Forget about a zombie apocalypse survival kit. What we really need is a public toilet survival kit."

"Just saw a cockroach on the ceiling. Time to burn down the house. "

"I hate driving our crappy old minivan. Every time I hit the brakes, it hisses. It sounds like there's a snake coiled under my seat."

HUBS: "I have a GREAT idea for a new invention. You know how some people have large poops that clog their toilets? I think every house should have a special gadget, sort of like a spoon with a long handle, that chops it up before it's flushed. It would prevent clogging and save on embarrassing plumbing repairs. I'll market it as the 'POOPER CHOPPER'."
ME: "Seriously, dude? Why are we discussing this at the dinner table….while we're eating meatloaf?"
HUBS: "I can also invent the 'Pocket Pooper Chopper' which is a smaller version of the original one, for camping trips, sporting events or public toilets."
ME: "You're really grossing me out here…"
HUBS: "I've already figured out the commercial for it----it'll go something like this---'Buy the full size Pooper Chopper and we'll send you a free box of latex gloves. Order now and we'll also send you the Pocket Pooper Chopper for free! It works great for those long R.V. trips!'"
ME: "Okay, I'm not hungry anymore…."


NOW do you see what I mean about not having any filters around this nutso house? Don't delay---go order your Pooper Chopper today!



***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? I'm featured on What The Flicka this week with my 10 Father's Day Fails. You can read it here: http://whattheflicka.com/10-fathers-day-fails/

• He doesn't have a problem with hitting the drugstore in his pajamas at 2:00a.m. for a tube of Monostat and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. He'll grab a six pack of beer while he's there and tell the checkout lady that he's hosting a helluva party.
  
  
• He sacrifices watching the big game on TV to attend the neighbor's bris. For their dog.
  
  
• He loves his in-laws despite their quirky habits of being cat whisperers and food addicts.
  
  
• When our children were young and we couldn't afford entertainment for their birthday parties, he would don various costumes and morph into “Sven The Happy Swede” or “Daffy The Dysfunctional Clown.”
  
  
• He'll eat my Velveeta surprise casserole without complaint even though it tastes like wallpaper paste and looks like a science experiment gone wrong.
  
  
• Whenever we share a double decker fudge sundae, he sacrifices a few calories by saving the last bite for me.
  
  
• He has plunged our temperamental, overflowing toilet more times than I can count and chased the kids through the house with the dirty, dripping plunger.
  
  
• He doesn't mind being called on in the middle of the night to rescue his teenage daughter when the police detain her for sitting in her friend's car in a baby booster seat without a seatbelt. Yes, she really pulled this stunt.
• He's patient with me when he's feeling amorous and I'm hotflashing like a mofo. Sex is not an option when my lady parts feel like an Easy Bake Oven.
  
  
• He's always ready to protect me from a cockroach invasion. His holster is loaded at all times with a can of Raid on one side and a shoe on the other.

Welcome to another edition of Fly On The wall Group Posts! Today, sixteen courageous bloggers are inviting you into their homes for a glimpse of what goes on behind closed doors.

The fly that has been buzzing around my crazy household this month has seen me go through a roller coaster of emotions---anxiety, fear, relief and elation as the editing process on my forthcoming book, "Who Stole My Spandex?" reached the final stage of completion. A week ago, I left my "baby" in the very capable hands of my publisher. Since that day, the fly has witnessed my nail biting habit in full swing, along with me staring blankly at the computer screen. Yes, the anticipation is killing me. Mark your calendars, folks. Black Friday, Nov. 28 is LAUNCH DAY!

I've been too nervous lately to be funny, but as always, I can rely on my family for humorous blog fodder. Here's what the fly overheard in my crazy house recently:



"We're hopelessly lost. I think my GPS is drunk."

"I would only consider plastic surgery if the doctors could put my food baby belly on my butt. They could call the procedure a 'bellybottomy'."


"Ahhhh…the innocence of youth….when a two-year-old tries to put a dirty toilet plunger in her mouth."

"I'm going to cut you off from the wine now, because nobody sings 'This Land is My Land' or 'Leavin' On A Jet Plane' when they're sober."

"What the heck is this Farmers.com site I keep hearing about?"
"It's a site for lonely dairy cows looking for true love."

"I'm awake, but if you're expecting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, go catch a squirrel."

"You're about to exceed the limits of my Prozac."

"A meal without wine is called breakfast."

"My belt, socks and baseball cap are black. My shirt and my pants are also black. NOW do I look thinner?"

"Whoever stole all of my leftover chicken salad from the fridge is a Motherclucker!"

"I just heard a commercial from a place called Harbour House for the Blind, and they're looking for used car donations. Isn't that an oxymoron…. cars for the blind?"

"I can't stop spilling beer into my mouth."

"What are you--the World Pug Herding Champion"?

"If you keep weary my socks, then I'm going to start wearing your underwear."

"I just burped and farted at the same time. It's called a 'Bart'."

"I know how I can help you sell your book. I'm going to wear an owl costume, stand by the highway with a bag of books and yell, "Whoo! Whoo! Who hasn't read this book?"


You heard the owl, folks. Buy the book on Amazon November 28th! WHOO WHOO!

   Welcome to another wacky edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. 12 courageous bloggers have agreed to open their homes today for a sneak peek into their private lives. When it comes to the insane asylum I call home, I feel the need to post a disclaimer: WARNING! The following conversations may cause bleeding of the ears, hair loss and difficulty breathing.

     If you were a fly on the wall in my house this month, this is what you would have heard:


"I just plunged the toilet. Who wants to lick the black lollipop?"

"If you don't stop singing "Livin' la Vida Loca" in my ear while I'm trying to sleep, I'm going to smother you with my pillow."

"He has an intestine longer than I-95….which explains why his poop is the size of a nuclear sub."

"You told me this spray tan in a can stuff works. So how come I look like a patchwork quilt?"
"Didn't you read the directions? You're supposed to spray it from 6 feet away."
"How is that humanly possible? My arms aren't 6 feet long!"

"You have the memory cells of a gnat."

"I can't sleep with you and the pugs. You sound like dueling snorers."

"I'm not eating possum meatloaf. I know we're broke but we're not THAT broke!"

"I can't drink Celsius on road trips without making a ton of pit stops. That stuff goes straight from my mouth to my urethra."

"The family that gets pink eye together stays together."
"We have to….we've been quarantined."

"I feel so fat that I could tuck my feet into my butt and roll into the room."

"You know you've had too much to drink when you accidentally pour your cereal into the dog's bowl and add milk."

"Don't ever use menthol lube unless you want a campfire in your pants. My nether region feels like it has third degree burns."

"Why is our granddaughter locking herself in the dog crate?"
"Unless she starts barking or lifting her leg on the furniture, I'm cool with it."

The refrigerator is so packed that I'm afraid if I pull anything out, I'll cause a food-alanche. "

"When is the last time you washed the minivan? There are cobwebs all over the back."
"Leave them there. People will think I'm driving Spiderman's car."
"No, they'll just think you're a grumpy old man driving a dirty, outdated, mommy mobile."

"His gas clouds are so bad they singe my nose hairs."
"What do you expect from a kid who leaves the bathroom smelling like butt road kill?"

"You're going to tell your mother that I'm the one who came up with all that gross stuff in your last blog post, aren't you?"
"Of course. I don't want to shatter the illusion of being the perfect daughter. I'd rather she believe that all the grossness comes from the shallow end of your gene pool."
"At least mine doesn't empty out into the raw sewage plant."


     Congratulations! You survived another edition of Fly On The wall. Just be sure to check the shower drain tonight for hair clogs.



***WHERE YOU CAN FIND MORE MENOPAUSAL MOTHER FEATURES THIS WEEK:  "One Size Fits None" on the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop  http://humorwriters.org/2014/05/21/one-size-fits-none/
"Father's Day Fails" at Humor Outcasts  http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/fathers-day-fails/

PLEASE BE SURE TO VISIT THESE AWESOME BLOGGERS PARTICIPATING IN TODAY'S GROUP POSTING!

     Meno Mama is spending the holiday with her crazy family at the nuthouse, so in the meantime I wanted to leave you with a funny guest post I wrote a few months ago for my gal pal Stephanie over at http://whencrazymeetsexhaustion.com. This is a memory from a long time ago…one I'm not too proud of but fortunately am able to laugh at myself for doing the things that I did back then. What can I say? I was young and stupid at the time……



We planned it for months. It was to be the birthday party to end all parties. I bought a beautiful, white silk pantsuit with lace and hand sewn seed pearls on the front for the momentous occasion. The bar, disc jockey and baby sitter had all been reserved, along with a food and decorating committee. On THE BIG DAY, my brother surprised me with a bottle of Dom Perignon ( nectar of the gods) and my husband had a brand, spanking new minivan delivered to our home. It was the perfect day….and I don’t do well with perfection. Because somehow I find a way to screw it up. Two hours before the party started, The Hubs was in the driveway signing the papers with the car salesman. The cold bottle of Dom was calling my name from the refrigerator. I drank the first glass while I finished putting on my makeup. I drank the second (and third) while I was curling my hair. By the time I was pouring my fourth, The Hubs finished the deal and handed me the keys to my new birthday present. I didn’t eat before the party because I’d been dieting so that I wouldn’t look like the Michelin Man in my white pantsuit. I think you know where I’m going with this: champagne + empty stomach = TROUBLE. By the time we arrived at the club, my nerves kicked in at the prospect of hosting a party for 50 people. I quickly marched up to the bar to place my order. My brain started screaming, “NOOO!” the minute my mouth shouted ,”Sex On The Beach!” I NEVER drank that cocktail combination! Someone slipped the bartender a few extra bills to make the drink stronger for the birthday girl. Yeah, like I needed that. I pinched my nose and chugged the drink to calm my nervous excitement. Oh vodka, you fickle bitch, convincing women they can move like a pole dancer on the floor to any pulsating beat from a DJ’s sound system. The siren song of alcohol warped my perception, leading me to believe I was as sexy as Cat Woman in a snug, white pantsuit. I sidled up to every male in the room (including the janitor and a skitterish waiter) like a wolf in heat. The Hubs was busy playing host and didn’t seem to mind that his wife was quickly turning into a party train wreck. That evening, 20 years ago, is still a blur to me. I remember stumbling through some horrid line dances and stepping on many toes. I never got to blow out the candles or taste the birthday cake because I was too busy ralphing up Sex On The Beach in the toilet. My beautiful, white pantsuit turned into a Jackson Pollock painting with red cranberry juice splatters all over the fabric. I DO remember my sister and my best friend holding my hair out of my face so that I wouldn’t wake the next morning with puke-encrusted strands. It took several men to carry me down a flight of stairs to the minivan and believe me, this scene was nothing like Madonna’s “Material Girl” music video where all the male dancers are carrying the sexy, writhing singer down the stairs. Oh, I was writhing all right; writhing in agony because my stomach had not finished giving up the ghost. I learned the next day that everyone happily carried on without me and (thankfully) no lap dances were performed. After I woke from my alcohol induced coma with a headache reminiscent of electro shock therapy, I crawled to the phone to start my long list of apologies to the guests. Moral of the story: tequila might make a woman’s clothes fall off, but Dom makes me dumb and vodka makes me vampy. Next time I’ll wear camo to the party to hide my upchuck imperfections.


***Please check out my pugalicious Christmas card to all of my dear readers today over at In The Powder Room! http://www.inthepowderroom.com/read/home-time/2013-12-doyle-nut-house.html

   
 Welcome to another edition of the Fly On The Wall group challenge, hosted by Karen of http://www.bakinginatornado.com  13 bloggers are participating today and inviting you to catch a glimpse of what REALLY goes on in their homes when they think no one is looking.  But the fly knows, and he's here to give away all of his secrets.
     When the fly came to my house this month, he saw what makes me happiest: time spent with my family and the freedom to blog about them. I love the quirkiness that runs in our gene pool and have always taught my children to embrace their inner weirdness.
     If you were a fly on the wall at my house, you would have overheard some of these oddball comments in our home:

"Close your mouth while you're eating. You sound like a cow chewing cud."

"I can't eat my scrambled eggs by the window anymore. The pigeons on the sill think I'm eating their cousins."

"Any teenager who sprays Axe throughout the house deserves a good throttling."

"When the office pooper takes a break, everyone knows it's goin' down in toilet town."

"I just burped up a piece of chicken and re-chewed it. That was my after dinner snack."

"I saw lots of spandex camel toes at the gym today."

"What are you doing with this fossilized granola bar in your purse---saving it for the zombie apocalypse?"

"For Christmas, I'm going to ask Santa for an artificial urinary sphincter."

"The pugs are tearing the sofa pillows apart!"
"Ahh….but the entertainment value of a pug tug-of-war is priceless."

"I gave you the energy drink so that you'd be pumped up to do yard work, not play air guitar with a rake!"

"Got a new bag of nuts for you, son."
"Are you saying I need to grow a pair?"

"I was on a safari in the bathroom and I just spotted a South African toilet snake."

"Nutella is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
"No….just fat."

"This coffee doesn't work for me anymore. I think someone is punking me by filling the pot with decaf."

"I tried to hide the Halloween candy but our son is like a drug sniffing dog when it comes to chocolate."

     Hope you enjoyed your little visit to Happy Town, where toilets require a double flush and the air smells like Axe cologne.  Be sure to stop by and visit all of the other bloggers crazy enough to share a  personal slice of their home life with you!


***Check out Meno Mama's weekly post over at In The Powder Room. This time I'm talking about what makes a friend your BEST friend! Click on the link: http://www.inthepowderroom.com/read/me-time/2013-11-12-reasons-best-friend.html