The male of our species do not change. It's Jeff Foxworthy, I think, that has a bit in his routine about what a man think about. And he tells us...." I'd like a beer, and I'd like to see something nekkid". (For those of you who don't know, this comedian is from the south. In the south they don't run around "naked", they run around "nekkid")
But south, north, east or west- men don't change.
A square dancing club came in one night to the assisted living to entertain the residents. Since most had gone to their rooms, I went and let them know that the dancers were here, would they like to come watch. One of our gentlemen residents- I'll call him Bob, -as a matter of fact, I'll call ALL the males I talk about here "Bob"- anyway, when I told Bob that the dancers were here, he asked what kind of dancers. I told him square dancers, he replied that he 'guessed not'. But added that next time we should get strippers in- he'd be right there to watch, and he bet another resident, Bob, would be to watch too.
So, ladies, let this be a warning to you, even when they are too old to cut the mustard, ya still can't make nothing out of 'em but a man
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
TCB
Takin' care of buddies. We all want someone to take care of us. We want to be loved and cherished and appreciated for what we do for our friends and families. We don't want medals, but we want to know that the chicken soup when you were sick was welcomed. BUT problems seem to arise when the usual care-giver is in need of caring, or both halves of a couple need caring FOR. That seems to have been theme in my life for the last month or so, and I'm REALLY tired of it.
Normally, I can park the sick kid in my bed, with the TV remote and whatever he feels like eating or drinking, check on him every few hours from work, or home. Or have some sort of supper cooked and in the fridge ready for the microwave for when Mr. Man gets home and is cold and hungry, and I'm in bed. Normally, I'm not the one who needs caring.
This semester has not been normal. Due to bureaucratic miscommunication and quitters at work, I found myself going to school full time AND working full time..... and part time. Many things were let to slide at home (it's a really good thing my children know how to cook and do laundry), and in my relationships. I think I texted my children more than I actually spoke to them this past month. Mr. Man would be crawling into bed when I was headed off to work, and I would be crawling into bed when he was getting up to go to work. About a month ago, I ended up working 48 hours in a row, then jumping in a private plane (no headphones) to go off for our fun adult weekend with 2 other couples-- I was a major mess. I was ready to collapse, literally. I REALLY needed to be taken care of. I was dropped off at the hotel (with the luggage) and I asked Mr. Man to bring me back something to eat, and just leave it on the dresser, I'd eat when I woke up.
I woke up just 3 hours later, but no food...... I called him, and he was out having a good time and told me they hadn't come back, so he hadn't brought me anything. That went on for several more hours. I'm not sure what I was angry about- that he didn't take care of me, that he didn't read my mind, that he didn't put my needs before his or those of the people he was with, or that he was out "having fun" while I was playing the waiting game at the hotel.
Thanksgiving saw about 20-some family members all together, and someone brought a virus. Because on satuday, MANY of us were sick, in about 4 households, at least 9 of us were sick- and I haven't talked with 3 others who were there to see if they were sick. So once again, I needed some caring, and all I got was sick family members.
I think I"m gonna write to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Pope, and the Patriarch of Constantinople to rewrite the marriage vows so the only ONE person is allowed to be sick or in need of care at a time. Wonder who I would write to about mind reading.
Thankfully, I have had some awesome friends who, knowing I didn't have a working stove for about the last month, sent over meatloaf, banana bread, shredded beef, and a casserole so we could just throw in the microwave. I also have some awesome friends who understand my somewhat sick, somewhat off kilter sense of humor. My friends have truly kept my cheese on my cracker this semester, and I love you all!!!!!!!!!!!!
Normally, I can park the sick kid in my bed, with the TV remote and whatever he feels like eating or drinking, check on him every few hours from work, or home. Or have some sort of supper cooked and in the fridge ready for the microwave for when Mr. Man gets home and is cold and hungry, and I'm in bed. Normally, I'm not the one who needs caring.
This semester has not been normal. Due to bureaucratic miscommunication and quitters at work, I found myself going to school full time AND working full time..... and part time. Many things were let to slide at home (it's a really good thing my children know how to cook and do laundry), and in my relationships. I think I texted my children more than I actually spoke to them this past month. Mr. Man would be crawling into bed when I was headed off to work, and I would be crawling into bed when he was getting up to go to work. About a month ago, I ended up working 48 hours in a row, then jumping in a private plane (no headphones) to go off for our fun adult weekend with 2 other couples-- I was a major mess. I was ready to collapse, literally. I REALLY needed to be taken care of. I was dropped off at the hotel (with the luggage) and I asked Mr. Man to bring me back something to eat, and just leave it on the dresser, I'd eat when I woke up.
I woke up just 3 hours later, but no food...... I called him, and he was out having a good time and told me they hadn't come back, so he hadn't brought me anything. That went on for several more hours. I'm not sure what I was angry about- that he didn't take care of me, that he didn't read my mind, that he didn't put my needs before his or those of the people he was with, or that he was out "having fun" while I was playing the waiting game at the hotel.
Thanksgiving saw about 20-some family members all together, and someone brought a virus. Because on satuday, MANY of us were sick, in about 4 households, at least 9 of us were sick- and I haven't talked with 3 others who were there to see if they were sick. So once again, I needed some caring, and all I got was sick family members.
I think I"m gonna write to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Pope, and the Patriarch of Constantinople to rewrite the marriage vows so the only ONE person is allowed to be sick or in need of care at a time. Wonder who I would write to about mind reading.
Thankfully, I have had some awesome friends who, knowing I didn't have a working stove for about the last month, sent over meatloaf, banana bread, shredded beef, and a casserole so we could just throw in the microwave. I also have some awesome friends who understand my somewhat sick, somewhat off kilter sense of humor. My friends have truly kept my cheese on my cracker this semester, and I love you all!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, October 20, 2008
LIFE isn't for sissies
I've thought several times of starting a blog, but only now have actually done it. Welcome to the debutof my blog. What to call it has been a bit of a dilemma, I am an estrogen island in a sea of testosterone (3 sons, no daughters, 1 husband, no wives)-- but I am also a night shift worker at the local assisted living-- but I am also a teacher. OK, I WAS a teacher, now I am a student- teacher and teacher wannabe until the great state of redneck decides I have paid enough penance and $$$ for letting my license lapse while I stayed home raising potentially productive members of society. So for now I substitute and study and stay up nights for the old folks.
Now, THAT is a roller coaster ride too, let me tell you. My nice little part time 8 hour shift job became a full time 12 hour shift job about the same time my full time teacher classes started getting hot & heavy. And trying to schedule subbing and student teaching into this mess has been very entertaining- and I don't mean that in a good way.
Once when I was not checking the schedule CAREFULLY, I found myself driving 40 miles to student teacher thursday morning, home to change clothes (OH- don't forget crossing the time zone change each way), bopping up to the assisted living for the 12 hour overnight shift, home friday morning for a hour or so cat nap- up and dressed to sub at school (here, not in the other time zone- thank you Baby Jesus in the Manger)- home after school for a 2 hour cat nap- then back to the assisted living for the next 12 hour overnight shift. I think a deer could have jumped in the back seat of my car on saturday morning, and I wouldn't have noticed it.
I've been doing this night shift thing for almost a year now, so I can handle the up-all-night thing (fond memories- and some not so fond memories- of college days), but the working for 48 hours straight is nuts!!!! YES, my fault- but when you have college costs (me and the first born son) and 2 in braces, .... well.... I learned a long time ago, "sah-blah-nuits", or as we say in English "this, too, shall pass"
Back to the naming of my blog- well, there were so many aspects of my life, and life in general, that were/are going to make an appearance in my mental meanderings, so many varied experiences, both mine and other folks, that I decided that "Tale from (insert special aspect here)" was just too limiting and a friend has already taken "Life is not for sissies" (yes, I KNOW it's "THIS life..... " I was making a point, heifer!) I needed another thought.
More mental meanderings kept me in the same thought-- old age isn't for sissies, motherhood isn't for sissies, teaching isn't for sissies, whatever you are into at a quality level isn't for sissies.
Indeed Life is not for the faint of heart- You aren't getting out of it alive.
So there you go, the blog has been named- You don't get out alive. Tales from the life of a wife, mother, and general crazy woman.
Now, THAT is a roller coaster ride too, let me tell you. My nice little part time 8 hour shift job became a full time 12 hour shift job about the same time my full time teacher classes started getting hot & heavy. And trying to schedule subbing and student teaching into this mess has been very entertaining- and I don't mean that in a good way.
Once when I was not checking the schedule CAREFULLY, I found myself driving 40 miles to student teacher thursday morning, home to change clothes (OH- don't forget crossing the time zone change each way), bopping up to the assisted living for the 12 hour overnight shift, home friday morning for a hour or so cat nap- up and dressed to sub at school (here, not in the other time zone- thank you Baby Jesus in the Manger)- home after school for a 2 hour cat nap- then back to the assisted living for the next 12 hour overnight shift. I think a deer could have jumped in the back seat of my car on saturday morning, and I wouldn't have noticed it.
I've been doing this night shift thing for almost a year now, so I can handle the up-all-night thing (fond memories- and some not so fond memories- of college days), but the working for 48 hours straight is nuts!!!! YES, my fault- but when you have college costs (me and the first born son) and 2 in braces, .... well.... I learned a long time ago, "sah-blah-nuits", or as we say in English "this, too, shall pass"
Back to the naming of my blog- well, there were so many aspects of my life, and life in general, that were/are going to make an appearance in my mental meanderings, so many varied experiences, both mine and other folks, that I decided that "Tale from (insert special aspect here)" was just too limiting and a friend has already taken "Life is not for sissies" (yes, I KNOW it's "THIS life..... " I was making a point, heifer!) I needed another thought.
More mental meanderings kept me in the same thought-- old age isn't for sissies, motherhood isn't for sissies, teaching isn't for sissies, whatever you are into at a quality level isn't for sissies.
Indeed Life is not for the faint of heart- You aren't getting out of it alive.
So there you go, the blog has been named- You don't get out alive. Tales from the life of a wife, mother, and general crazy woman.
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