Menopausal Mother

     Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today, five bloggers are inviting you into their lives for a glimpse of what you might see if you were a fly on their wall.

     As my husband's 63rd birthday approaches, he has done nothing but complain about his various ailments. If it's not the carpal tunnel in his wrist, it's his sciatic nerve in the left leg that's bothering him. Some days it's his arthritic knee or his lower spine, which he is certain has a crushed vertebra from 1995 when our son caught him by surprise by launching off the bed onto his back. Recently, the doctor told him that his blood sugar was a bit high too and that he needed to consider a low carb diet. Bagels were once his BFF but now he gets mad at me when I serve lasagna or offer him a banana muffin. He is often cranky and tired---which I understand---but I'm starting to feel like I'm living in an old folk's home.

     In true fly-on-the-wall fashion, here are some typical conversations we have about his health:


"If your back hurts that much, why not sleep with the heating pad on all night?"
"Oh sure, that's not dangerous at all.....a heating pad left on all night, then in the morning it's ashes to ashes...."

"This low carb diet is making me nuts. It was my turn to set up the donuts in the breakroom today, and it killed me that I couldn't eat one. I just started gnawing on my arm."

"I have a bone density test today. At my age, I'm worried they'll tell me I've already been deboned."

"The doctor said I should take CBD oil for my sciatic nerve pain. Does this mean my left leg will get high?"

"Help me unload the groceries from the car."
"That's funny you ask because my arms have been cut off. I can't help."
"What's even funnier is that you're about to have your head cut off if you DON'T help."

"Sitting in the waiting room at the vet's office this morning, I overhead someone talking about a dog with a bad eye and only three teeth."
"Sounds like they were describing you in ten years."


"Wow, the news is full of depressing stories. A white water rafting accident, an airplane malfunction and a carnival ride that broke down, injuring several people."
"Well, there's three activities I can cross off my retirement wish list."

"You know you're getting old when you hear 80's music playing at the grocery store and you think, Hmmm...I need to add that song to my playlist."

"Have you tried that new Facebook face App that ages you by 50 years?"
"I'm turning 63. If I did that app, the only photo I'd see is a skeleton with big eyebrows."


     Well, I for one refuse to let my age stop me (but I'm almost four years younger than him, so it's easy for me to say that). Just ignore my limp when you see me hobbling out of Zumba class, and don't bother looking in my medicine drawer ( I swear, the sore muscle salve and plantar fasciitis pads are his, not mine!!). Age IS just a number, right??

     See that photo below of the secret smile? That was my expression when I recently learned that a personal essay I submitted to the NEW YORK TIMES is going to be published in November!! I've pretty much been hyperventilating ever since I received the news. This is HUGE for me since NYT has been on my bucket list since I first started blogging in 2011. The other site I've coveted for years is McSweeney's, and as you might know by now, they published my first humor piece two weeks ago, so YAY!! My mum knew how important these two sites were to me, and she told me never to give up. Her advice---persistence---paid off. Love you, Mum, and miss you. I just wish you were here to celebrate with me.



Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:
Bookworm in the Kitchen             https://www.bookwormkitchen.com/

1.) The overzealous spin teacher who keeps the thermostat at 85 degrees in a small, dark room that smells of sweat and the tears of unshed Starbuck's calories.

2.) Anyone named Mindy, Brittney, or Gustavo.

3.) The older gentleman known for flatulence problems who stands next to you in yoga class. Move your mat before he goes into the downward dog position.


4.) The personal trainer/health enthusiast/protein shake junkie who calls you, "Bro" and "Dude" during your 60 minute, $85 session.

5.) Excessive sweaters who blatantly ignore the box of antibiotic wipes after leaving a pool of their DNA on the elliptical machine.

6.) Women in Lululemon leggings.

7.) People who "save" their spot in Zumba class fifteen minutes early by leaving a water bottle and a towel on the floor to mark their territory in front of the mirror.

8.) The perky, twenty-something vegan pushing overly priced kale and flaxseed smoothies at the juice bar.

9.) Men who wear toupees and lurk by the inner thigh trimming machine to observe your press and squeeze technique.

10.) The grunting weight lifter who ate two, double-stuffed bean burritos last night.


11.) People who hog the treadmill while reading text messages or taking gym selfies #werkit #fierce #slay #fitbitch

12.) Anyone listening to Miley Cyrus.




Posted by Marcia Kester Doyle (Menopausal Mama) 12/1/17

 
    Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group blog postings hosted by Karen of  Baking In A Tornado. This is your opportunity to get a sneak peek at what goes on behind the closed doors of the writers who are participating in today's postings.

   
     Things have been pretty busy here since January, but rather than tell you all about it, I'll SHOW you what the Doyle family has been up to. If you've been reading my Fly On The Wall posts on a regular basis, then you know there's never a dull moment around our home. I am blessed with a loving, crazy, close-knit family that enjoys being together and having fun. These photos tell it all:






Ringing in the New Year with close friends and family. The evening would not have been complete without a champagne toast, some booty dancing, and a surprise appearance by Olaf the snowman. Um, yeah.....don't ask.....



My daughters and I are sticking to our New Year's resolutions to get in shape and stay that way with the help of our awesome Zumba instructor. Nothing like a vigorous dance workshop to sweat off the holiday pounds. And God knows I had a LOT of cookies and egg nog to work off.



I finally completed something on my bucket list: a trip to Disney World to celebrate my granddaughter's fifth birthday. We made some incredible memories that I hope she'll always remember and hold dear.....because I certainly will.



Check number #2 off my bucket list: For years I have wanted to raise a pug puppy, but never had the opportunity, until recently. This beautiful, furry ball of love was adopted by us just a few weeks ago. Say hello to Yoda, the little boy who melts my heart (and destroys my shoes). He's the best cure for depression! Yoda always makes me laugh because he's such a little stinker, but I love him to bits. Our two, adult pugs are still confused about his presence and wondering when his real parents will return  to pick him up. Sorry guys, but Yoda is here to stay. #MyForeverPup



This photo is blurry for a reason. My daughters and I were laughing too hard at our annual Super Bowl party. Did I watch the game? Nope---just the commercials. But I had more fun goofing around with my girls. Super Bowl to me is synonymous with chicken wings, chip & dip, and unlimited desserts. That's okay though, because everyone knows that calories don't count during the Super Bowl weekend.



After all the excitement, it was time to wind down with a visit to our favorite local park----Morikami Japanese Gardens. It's our little slice of heaven on earth that we can't live without. We're lifetime members, because the beauty and serenity of Morikami's zen gardens center us after a hectic week.  It has nothing to do with the fact that their cafe also makes the best tempura I've ever eaten....and I'm totally addicted to the stuff. Maybe calories don't count in Morkiami, either.



Check #3 off my bucket list: Seeing Andrea Bocelli in concert! My daughter and her boyfriend surprised us with the tickets, and we were thrilled! It was a lovely evening with dinner on the water in Miami, and then being treated to hours of superb music. Best Valentine's Day gift ever!

     Up next: we're off to the local Renaissance Festival, so you know there's going to be some unusual photos in my next FOW post.  Didn't I tell you Doyles like to have FUN?



Cluttered Genius                            http://www.clutteredgenius.com      

 My favorite part of the gym is Zumba class. I love to incorporate dances moves into my workout because it tricks my brain into thinking it's 1978 (I'm always looking for a spinning disco ball and John Travolta in a white suit).While I'm not crazy about ill-fitting pants that scream, “Camel toe alert!”, or women in booty shorts playing beaver peek-a-boo, I still have fun doing my disco moves. The problem is that all that salsa music makes me hungry for Mexican food and margaritas. So what do I do? Head for the nearest taco stand and make my viking ancestors proud....one chimichanga at a time.



***Want More Meno Mama? This week I was featured for the first time on Boomeon! I'm dishing on what it's like to go from an empty nest to a full house. You can read it here: http://www.boomeon.com/posts/from-empty-nest-to-full-house

Welcome to another group posting of Fly On The Wall! Thirteen brave bloggers are once again inviting you into their homes for a sneak peek at what goes on behind their closed doors.

This month the fly got dizzy trying to keep up with the Doyles. We've been celebrating lots of family  birthdays in October and having a wee bit too much fun. I'm enjoying a mini stay-at-home vacation while my editor finishes tackling my Spandex book. We're in the home stretch and things are about to get REAL. Did I mention that I'm scared to death? No worries---it's all good. Next month I'll be sharing some exciting news, so stay tuned, my friends.

In the meantime, I have some snippets of conversations that were heard by that nosey fly when he was buzzing around my house. Here is some of what he overheard:



"Zip Lining gives you the world's worst wedgie."

"I think there should be an Octoberfest every month. Novemberfest, Decemberfest, Januaryfest…."


"Whenever I take my laptop outside, I can't Wi-Fi.  All I get is the spinning wheel of death on my screen."

"You need to do something about that loose toenail. It looks like a tortilla chip on your foot."

"I hate dieting. My stomach is so hungry, it's eating itself."

"Who left that nasty turd bomb in the toilet bowl?"

"Pretending I'm a pleasant person all day is exhausting."

"If it walks out of the refrigerator, it's well past its expiration date."

"If God wanted me to touch my toes, He would have put them on my knee caps."

"You know that saying, 'When the shit hits the fan'? Why would anyone want to throw poop at a fan?"

"Of course, the garden looks great…..I'm the plant whisperer, after all."

"Note to self: Just because the zumba teacher is twerking in class does not mean that I have to. My back will never be the same."

"Stop rubbing my leg with your wolverine toes."

"This house runs on love, laughter and chilled bottles of wine."




***Want More Meno Mama? This week I was featured on Midlife Boulevard where I'm talking about the "vulture years."  You can read it here: http://midlifeboulevard.com/embrace-vulture-years/ I also have a post up this week at Humor Outcasts---more funny facts about being a mid lifer years. Get your chuckles here: http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/born-this-way

     The editing process of my book is coming along nicely. We've been making some major changes to the manuscript, so it's taking a tad bit longer to than expected.  I want this book to be perfect for my readers, so I'm going over every word with a fine tooth comb. It will be worth the wait, I promise.  We're finishing up on the feedback from our beta readers, and then the manuscript will go through one more round of edits before going to print. We should be done (hopefully) within 3-4 weeks. I'll probably be completely gray by then or even bald, and I'm pretty sure none of my clothes will fit since I've been living on a diet of Nutella and popcorn (too busy to eat right). I'm going to need to double up on Zumba classes before I start my book tour---otherwise, I'll be wearing muumuus to the signing events.

     While you're waiting for all this fun stuff to happen, I'm sharing one of my favorite posts that was featured at In The Powder Room last year.  Those of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning know what an animal hoarder I am, so I think you'll enjoy this post!

     Welcome to another crazy edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado.  14 brave bloggers are inviting you into their homes today for a sneak peek into their private lives. Come buzz around my home (a.k.a Nutsville) to eavesdrop on my family weirdness. Beware: your ears might be burning after you read some of our conversations.
     If you were a fly on the wall in my house this month, this is what you would have heard:


"You're an emotional hurricane leaving a trail of Nutella jars and empty wine bottles in your wake."

"I'm not sure that steak-on-a-stick you ate at the festival was really a steak."
"You're right. It tasted more like German-Shepherd-on-a-stick."

"The world just gave me protein. I swallowed a large bug while I was out riding my bike."

"Oh look! The dog is dragging her butt across the carpet. If she picks up enough dust particles, I won't have to vacuum. She's a pug butt Swifter."

"Hangover is such a harsh word. Let's just say I have the wine flu."

" I wanted a poop supporter, not a fecal friend."

"I'm so full from your cooking that I can't find my navel anymore. I think my stomach has grown a worm hole."

"There is nothing more awkward than having to hold hands and 'partner up' with a sweaty stranger in Zumba class."

"I'm not doing this upcoming road trip unless the doctor doubles up on my meds."
"Oh great, that's all I need----a wife in La La Land flirting with dementia."

"His snoring is driving me crazy. He sounds like truffle-sniffing pig when he sleeps."

"I'm not listening to you. I've retreated into my blogger bubble."

"You would have made a good pirate."
"Why? Because of my thirst for rum?"
"No---because of the grunting noises you make when you eat meat….and the fact that you haven't showered in three days."

"There's just something wrong with a dog who licks his genitals, then turns around to lick your face."

"I think it's time to go shopping. My underwear drawer looks like it has been ravaged by moths."

"There's a fine line between my love for food and not wanting to get fat….but sometimes that line gets blurred."

"My liver better hurry up and regenerate because I've been drinking a lot lately."
"Sprinkle Miracle Grow on it. Better yet, start a liver harvesting farm: cornfed and hormone free."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear your mother dropped you on your head when you were born."

   
You heard it here first, folks. It's official. I'm living in Nutsville and there's no escape. Got a jar of Nutella you can spare?



***Other places you can find Menopausal Mother this week: Got writer's block? Read: http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/pigs-poodles-and-possums/ Are you a Facebook fossil? Read: http://humorwriters.org/2014/03/15/facebook-fossil/   Check out my interview with Kathy Radigan of My Dishwasher's Possessed at: http://mydishwasherspossessed.com/2014/03/marcia-kester-doyle-menopausal-mother-getting-possessed-kathy-dishwasher/

For more laughter, please visit all the bloggers participating in today's Fly On The Wall group posting!

   
 It starts with a glance in the mirror or a family picture that has been plastered all over Facebook. Yeah, that one of you stuffing half of a red velvet cupcake into your mouth.  Even your long lost relatives who are sheep herders on another continent are sharing and commenting on that picture: "Awww...look how much she's GROWN over the years..." This is fine if they're talking about a five year old, NOT a middle aged mother.
     My wake-up call hit like a clap of thunder thighs the day I uploaded some pictures taken from our local renaissance festival.  Who was that chubster in the blue gown next to Mr. Robin Hood-Wanna-Be? Oh yeah, that's me...wait, WHAT? Okay, I'll admit I've been a little heavy-handed with the desserts lately. And the frappuccinos. Those pesky, two-for-one sales at Wine-Mart haven't been doing me any favors, either. But what am I supposed to do when there's an industrial size jar of Nutella in my pantry, just calling my name? You could spread that stuff on styrofoam and it would still taste good.
     Upon closer inspection of my physical flaws in that traitor I call a mirror, I knew I had to get myself back into the svelte clothes growing cobwebs in the back of my closet. I joined an all-female gym, but quickly realized that my workout clothes from the Richard Simmons era were sadly outdated. I needed a new gym wardrobe, but me visiting a sporting goods store for clothes to sweat in is a perfect example of an oxymoron.

     I made the mistake of inviting The Hubs along to help me choose my new gear. He was a little TOO  enthusiastic at the prospect of his wife getting back into shape. I roamed the aisles until I found the women's workout clothes section and stopped dead in my tracks. Who were these manufacturers kidding? The "large" tops were the size of small sausage casings. I'd be lucky if I could stretch the shirt to fit one arm. Further down the aisle I came across a row of "grande" tank tops. In white. I envisioned a fat polar bear wearing a pink headband and hopping around the gym floor during Zumba class. I shuddered.


     And then the unthinkable happened....every chubster's worst nightmare. My brilliant Hubs was  across the store in the men's department. He held up an armload of colorful tee shirts and shouted, "Hey Hon, you need a larger size? I found a 2X in the men's department that might fit you!"  I should have slapped a muzzle on the man during public outings years ago.
     I quickly grabbed a few pairs of yoga pants and some tee shirts with motivational sayings on them such as, "Just Do It" and, "I like to lick cake batter off beaters" (No wait---that was for something else!).
     Not willing to suffer alone, I convinced one of my daughters to join the gym with me because misery loves company (and paybacks are hell). We spent our first few, torturous days with a personal trainer to learn how to use the weight equipment. But mostly we learned how not to grunt too loudly like truffle sniffing oinkers or sweating too much like two sumo wrestlers in a sauna.
     The day of our first Zumba class, I surveyed the group and was pleased to see a nice mix of ages and body types. Women's shapes are often compared to certain fruits---apples, pears, oranges...and the occasional grapefruit. I was in the midst of a fruit salad ready to learn some sexy Zumba moves. Music with a heavy, Latin beat reverberated against the walls and we began hopping around the wood floor like Mexican Jumping beans. I tried to concentrate on the dance steps but my mind kept wandering....a typical defense mechanism against the extreme pain I was in from my workout with the trainer. My thighs were so sore that I'd been forced to walk around with a full bladder all day just to avoid squatting over a toilet seat. Rather than listening to the Zumba instructor, my mind was swept along with the cluttered debris of A.D.D. ----random thoughts scurrying through my brain like rapid channel surfing through 450 television programs:

     "Drop it drop it low girl....drop it like it's hot....oh yeah, I got this booty shakin' thing down....wait. Why isn't my butt moving like everyone else's? And what's that popping sound in my lower back? At least I'm rockin' these new, neon green Nikes....actually, they kinda look like twin sand barges in the ocean. Uh-oh.....should have worn some Spanx. My junk is jiggling in all the wrong places. I swear I can still see those damn cupcakes sitting on my hips, mocking me. Crap, it's hot in here. Hot flash hell. Hard to breath. Heart, don't play me like that. I'm not dropping dead in Zumba class! It would scar my daughter for life. Hey, where did she learn to shake her ass like that, anyway? Probably snuck out of her bedroom window to hit the dance clubs all those nights I thought she was snug in bed. Umm...am I in Pole dancing 101 right now? And who's bright idea was it to place mirrors around this brightly lit room? I'm so pale I look like I've been cohabiting with family of moles.
OH HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! Is that what I think it is----camel toe? I need new pants!! Hey, what's the food channel doing on the gym TV? They should be showing infomercials for weight loss supplements or....ohh, Paula Dean is making smothered pork chops with gravy....do I have any pork chops in the freezer? Wait---what fresh hell is this---more squats? Yoo-hoo teacher, I'm dying over here. I'm not gonna Busta Rhymes---- I'm gonna busta femur. Oh great...now I'm sweating so much my makeup is running down my face
. I look like I belong at a KISS concert. Whoa! Paula Dean is baking a chocolate marble cake! Are you kidding me? She needs to get over here and do this freakin' Zumba class!  Huh? Cool down time already? You mean we're done? I made it! I didn't die on the Zumba floor!"


     Its been a few months now and Meno Mama is getting closer to brushing the cobwebs off her skinny clothes. I'm droppin' it like it's hot in Zumba class without feeling a heart attack coming on. The only thing I need now is new tee shirts from the sausage casing aisle....or maybe just some cupcake batter.....