Menopausal Mother

*Meno Mama is working on a special writing project at the moment, so I wanted to share one of my favorite guests posts that I wrote last summer for Penny Roach (in case you missed it) over at http://momrantsandcomfypants.wordpress.com.  I also have a new post up this week over at In The Powder Room.  Wanna know why Meno Mama can't fly? EVER? Check it out at: http://www.inthepowderroom.com/read/me-time/2013-11-mile-high-club-not.html  Enjoy!!

      I have been grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of introducing you to today's Wacky Wednesday Writers guest. I found Deb of http://www.justkeepinitrealfolks.com awhile ago after she left a comment on my blog. When I hopped over to her site, let's just say there was some jaw dropping involved....and a LOT of laughter! This lady has a warped and wacky sense of humor, which is why I appreciate her so much. Her blog posts are totally relatable and although they often make me blush, I like the fact that Deb is always "just keepin' it real" on her site. I'm betting that you'll love her, too. Do yourself a favor and visit her blog for your daily dose of laughter....you'll be glad you did.

   
     I recently celebrated (or mourned, depending on how you look at it) turning another year older. For me, birthdays represent the milestones that measure how far I've come in life. It's a time to reflect on my past and to look forward to my future.
     Birthdays are also a slap-in-the-face reality check that I'm one step closer to getting my AARP card in the mail. Pretty soon I'll be pricing Hoverounds and buying clothes made for comfort rather than style. Velcro and elastic waistbands work well at this age, as do one-size-fits-all outfits. I can rock a housedress, especially if it's in a splashy flower print.
     There are other changes that come with age that are not so much fun. The mind is willing but the body is not. And the body has the last laugh because aging is a twisted cosmic joke....or a really bad form of karmic retribution. I'm noticing more and more physical deficits as each year creeps by:

Loss Of Vision:  My eyesight has steadily decreased over the past few years. Pretty soon I'll need glasses with the magnifying power of the Hubbel Telescope.

Arthritis:  I pop Ibuprofen like candy and need to soak in a tub of Bengay every night before bed.

Hearing Loss:  I've been trolling Ebay for an ear trumpet now that my hearing is shot. My family is
already annoyed with the amount of times I ask, "Huh?" and "What?" I can't hear much of anything. Unless, of course, someone is offering me cake....then I can hear just fine.

Fatigue: I'm tired of being tired. I've been drinking so much caffeine lately that my bladder has become a Starbuck's Drive-Thru.

Low Sex Drive:  Forget the Kama Sutra. The only thing happening in bed is the missionary position and my spouse asking, "Are you still awake?" in the middle of it all.

Osteoporosis: My bones have become more fragile and I bruise faster than a banana. At this rate I'll need to invest in hockey goalie gear so that I'll be safely padded against possible fractures as I walk from the sofa to the refrigerator.

Gas:  I used to clear the dance floor with my disco moves. Now I clear a room with my flatulence.

Dental Issues: If I chew caramels at this stage of the game, I'll end up with lock jaw or a few missing teeth.  My gums have receded so far that I have teeth twice the size they used to be.

Memory Loss:  Wallet, keys, reading glasses....these items love to play hide-and-seek with me on a daily basis. I've either got a gremlin in residence who takes sadistic pleasure in hiding my belongings, or I killed too many brain cells playing quarters during my college bar hopping days.

Wrinkles: I'm a fanatic about using serums and face creams with a high SPF. Even so, I am unable to prevent the laugh lines that are forming deep ravines in my skin. My biggest fear is that I will end up with a face that resembles that shriveled apple left in the back of my refrigerator produce drawer since 2011.

      I've accepted the fact that I'm getting older and that at the end of the day my body feels like it has been through a rousing game of Whack-A-Mole. But I have also
found the silver lining to aging: Retirement, cruising the countryside in a new RV, watching the grandkids grow up and giving my adult children a few gray hairs of their own. It's also a great age to say, "I told you so...", and if I'm really lucky, I can use my AARP discount on an industrial size bottle of fiber pills and orthopedic shoes.
     Shuffleboard or bingo, anyone?  

***BIG NEWS FLASH*** You are looking at the NEWEST weekly contributor at In The Powder Room! My debut article is up over there, and I would LOVE some comment love and Facebook shares. Thank you!! http://www.inthepowderroom.com/read/me-time/2013-10-why-i-hate-horror-movies.html

      I'm doing the happy dance today on Wacky Wednesday Writers because I have one of my favorite funny bloggers guesting on the site! Please welcome Stephanie from http://whencrazymeetsexhaustion.com! Not only do her Facebook statuses and blog posts keep me in stitches, this girl VLOGS and the camera just loves her! She is beautiful, sweet and funny, and I adore the way she expresses herself. Hey, she's an English teacher, so you KNOW her writing is good! Stephanie has a large following already and I predict a LOT of success for this talented lady. Please welcome her to Meno Mama's site and share some comment love!

1. Turn Signal. Let’s break this down: a signal is an indication that something is about to happen. A turn is a change in your car’s direction. As such, a turn signal should be an early indication of a car’s deviation from its original course. So, please, please: use your turn signal. And I don’t mean just as you’re about to make your turn; I’m talking about far enough in advance to let those behind you know you’re turning. Otherwise, I will be all up in your ass. And by in your ass, I mean in your trunk because TURN SIGNAL.
   
   
2. The Yield Sign. This is a tricky one. It’s not quite stopping, yet it’s not quite going. We should rename it the “take a look before speeding through it” sign. Maybe then people would understand what to do once they’re face-to-face with that confusing upside down triangle.
   
   
3. The Turning Lane. I personally love me some turning lanes. They’re super convenient and allow the flow of traffic to keep on…well, flowing. Unless, of course, some stupidface doesn’t know how to properly utilize the turning lane and comes to a full stop in the regular lane of traffic causing my blood pressure to push through the car roof and explode onto the pavement. I mean, really, is it so difficult to merge 5 feet over to make your turn? If you’ve answered yes to that question, punch yourself in the face and put your license in the nearest paper shredder.
   
   
4. Pulling Out. Did you just giggle when you read “pulling out?” It’s okay, me, too. Anyway, this is pretty subjective. When are you far enough away to effectively pull out in front of another car? Here’s a general rule of thumb: if you pulling out causes the oncoming car to slam on her brakes and scream curse words to the universe, you’re probably too close for the successful pull-out. That said, if you do somehow manage to get on the road without me rear-ending you, for the love of all that is holy, DRIVE. Don’t slow down and sight-see. Don’t decide at that moment you have to fiddle with the radio dial or find your cell phone that probably went flying into the backseat as a result of the high rate of speed with which you cut me off. DRIVE LIKE THE WIND because I am behind you, under the assumption that you are trying to tend to an emergency situation where you will save someone’s life. Why else would you be driving like such an idiot?
   
   
5. The Speed Limit: Unlike the topic of pulling into traffic, the speed limit is much more objective. As in, it’s explicitly stated so follow it. I admit it: sometimes I speed. Yes, I exceed the posted speed limit and no, I’ve no particular place to go. I’m not perfect. But know what I don’t do? I don’t ride the car in front of me tighter than a pair of hip-huggers whilst traveling the legal rate of speed. Why? Because I’m not a douche. If you’re in that big of a hurry that the speed limit doesn’t apply to you, buy a helicopter and piss off.
   
   
6. Stoplights: Another admission: sometimes I look forward to red lights so I can finish jamming to a song before reaching my destination or <GASP> check my email on my phone. But I am well aware of my position at the red light, and fully anticipate that sometime in the near future it’s going to…say it with me…TURN GREEN! And if you’re anything like my 2-year-old, you understand that green means GO! So, go. Seriously, GOOOOOOO! Quit filing your nails, picking your nose, or texting your BFF. You can do it, put your back into it, and GO.

Stephanie loves words, hates math, and has a penchant for making people uncomfortable with her honesty. An English teacher by trade and a smack-talker by nature, Stephanie’s family often tires of listening to her speak. Fortunately, her blog,WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion, affords an acceptable medium to verbally vomit all over the Interwebs. She has written other stuff for different sites, but no one cares. You should be her pal on Facebook and Twitter because that’s what a decent person would do.

   
Welcome to another Fly On The Wall group challenge, hosted by karen of http://www.bakinginatornado.com. Thirteen bloggers are participating today to give you a glimpse into their private worlds. This month, that pesky fly crashed my birthday celebration and aimed right for the coveted birthday cake. I swatted him away from the sugary confection, but this is what the uninvited guest overheard:

     "Isn't it great becoming a year older? You recognize all the music playing in elevators and mysterious skin tags show up in your arm pits."

     "How would you like to spend your birthday?"
     "Tipsy shopping and drunk eating, of course."

     "The rabbit just peed all over my foot. Do you suppose that's his way of wishing me a happy birthday?"

   
 "You'd better stop poking fun at me for getting a year older. I have BIG plans for you."
     "Oh yeah? Like what?"
     "When you turn eighty, I'm going to strap you into your wheel chair with duct tape, slather you with peanut butter and sunflower seeds, then leave you out in the backyard all day to become a human bird feeder."

     "The first person who buys me adult bladder leakage pads for my birthday will be placed on pug poop patrol for an entire month!"

     "There will be no talk of corn porn on my birthday."
     "Why not? Don't you want to be 'buttered up' on your special day?"
   "Oh gawd, I'm living with a pack of neanderthals."

     "It's pretty sad that I can sum up the past year of my life in five words: wine, Nutella, squirrels, blogging and menopause."

     "I think you'd better slow down on the partying. It looks like you've either jammed or broken your finger. Do you need to go to the emergency clinic?"
     "Are you kidding? I can't do that. You were just there to have eight stitches put in your hand. That doctor is going to look at our double injuries and think, 'What have you kinky-ass people been
doing?'"

     "What are your plans for your birthday?"
     " Cleaning up the chinchilla's poop."
     "My, you lead a glamorous life."

     "I already know what I'm giving you for your birthday: a coupon organizer, miracle wrinkle cream made from goat pee extracts and a lifetime supply of ibuprofen."

     "I'm so sweaty in this dress, I have to wing out my thighs."

     "Go ahead and eat the leftover grounds from your Turkish coffee. I need you to stay awake tonight for the party."

     "You're lucky---you can eat as much cake a you want because you have the metabolism of a gnat. Mine, on the other hand, is more like a turtle's. In this case, slow and steady does NOT win the race."

     "What? No sexy thongs for a birthday gift?"
     "Your butt floss days are over. But I WILL buy you a case of dental floss."

     "Did you give the pug your birthday dinner leftovers? He just farted and I swear it smells like Cantonese shrimp."

     "Nothing is worse than waking up with a hangover. I smell stale garlic and rum on my breath. I need a mouth douche."

     "Leftover birthday cake and ice cream at 7:00a.m. It's the breakfast of champions."


     The night of my birthday celebration, we closed down the restaurant.....because folks, that's how we do birthdays Doyle style!



****NEWS FLASH**** I have more, exciting news to share with you! Meno Mama is once again honored to be a contributing author in another newly released book, Sunshine After The Storm. It's a collaboration of stories from parents sharing their stories of pregnancy and infant loss. The book is beautifully written, providing hope and support to grieving families. It is currently available through Amazon.com. Order your copy today!





     Please be sure to visit all 13 bloggers participating in today's Fly On The Wall group challenge!

http://BakingInATornado.com                                     Baking In A Tornado

       Welcome to anther edition of Wacky Wednesday Writers! I am thrilled to introduce my new guest today, Kristi Campbell of  http://www.findingninee.com. I found Kristi last year through mutual blogging friends who told me about her awesome writing skills and asked me to check out her site. I'm glad I did. Kristi has a wonderful, quirky sense of humor and some hilarious illustrations to accompany her posts.
       There is also a poignant side to many of Kristi's blog posts. She shares her perspective on what it's like to be a special needs mom, and these entries often leave me in awe of her courage and strength as a mother. She also features writers on her Our Land series, which she describes as, "a place where empathy and wonder rule."
     I am proud to call this talented writer with such a beautiful heart my friend. Her post today had me laughing out loud after I read the very first few sentences!! She is discussing something that we tend to obsess about way too much in our home. I'm not going to tell you any more than that--you just have to read this post and see for yourself. Hilarious! Please be sure to check out the latest blog posts on her site and leave her some comment love while you're over there!

 




     Whenever I see a drawing of a bird, I think of my sister. Cherie had a fascination with birds and an encyclopedic knowledge of every species. She worked at a wildlife center and fostered the injured birds, but she had a particular fondness for the birds of prey. She took beautiful photographs of hawks, eagles and owls, and sketched them every chance that she had.  Her artistic skills were impressive, and whenever I studied her drawings, I felt more than her admiration for these birds; I saw a desire to share their fierceness, beauty, strength and freedom.

     Like a phantom limb, I still feel her presence here and an ache deep in my soul, hollowing me from the inside out.  When I close my eyes, I see her standing at the top of Beartooth Pass in Montana. She waits beside a meadow patchy with snow, a camera dangling from her hand as she gazes up at a cloudless sky in search of eagles. She turns to me, grins and aims the camera. I try to smile but my eyes burn from the snow's glare. The light is blinding.  My breath is shallow in the thin air, as if I am breathing in broken glass.

     Her ashes now drift across that meadow. I remember smoothing the white hospital sheets that covered her still form and thinking of that snow.

     I see her now in the hazy dreams of midnight where hundreds of
photographs fan across the years, breathing life into memories of her that still linger here:  horseback riding through the rugged mountains of Wyoming;  tears shimmering in her eyes at the Wagner Opera;

laughing with the sweet juice of bing cherries on our lips at the Pike's Place Public Market in Seattle; her radiant grin the first time I saw her holding her newborn son; the quiet reverence we shared in the butterfly garden when hummingbirds hovered above us; jumping in puddles up to our knees and knowing how silly we looked---two young women dancing  in muddy water while a storm raged around us. So many nights when I was young, she'd steal me from sleep for a drive along the beach. I curled beside her and watched the stars race past our window like silver glitter scattering across a black velvet sky. I had always thought she was racing against the moon. And I never knew why.


     My sister had an eating disorder. She was killing herself slowly, and I didn't know how to stop her. No one did. She wore her loneliness and disappointment like a heavy winter cloak, and I stood by helpless as the light in her bright hazel eyes dimmed to gray. A storm was raging inside, but she was no longer dancing in its rain. Something had broken inside her, leaving her heart cracked in too many places. She became like the wounded birds she once cared for.


     When the call came, I raced down darkened streets, saw the moon spin past my windshield and wondered if she remembered its pale, yellow face peering above the ocean's rim so long ago.
     Cherie was already in the deep sleep of a coma when I arrived at the hospital. I touched her cool hand and felt her standing at the foot of the mountain. Monitors then screamed their flatline goodbye and I knew she had already taken flight like the eagles.

     I drifted for hours, suspended between anger and guilt. The tiles on the hospital floor were cold against my cheek like snow; like the brisk air that had stung my face on the top of Beartooth Pass where I knew she had gone.


     I never said I was sorry. I stood at her funeral and delivered a eulogy to a crowd that needed to hear that she lived a beautiful and graceful life. And I was a hypocrite because I knew far better than that. She had been dying inside for years, and no one could save her.

     An autopsy report claimed that my sister died from pneumonia with a heart three times its normal size. Obesity does that. I prefer to think her heart was large because she loved so much.
     What I never said, never shared, was that morning after she died, a Red-Tailed hawk circled my yard and settled in the pine branches above me. I looked into his dark, unwavering gaze and saw my sister watching over me.
     Her ashes, now swirling over a snowy mountain top in Montana, will never settle. They'll twist inside my grieving heart until I feel the last breath of winter.