Showing posts with label Real Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Real Parenting. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Mom Speaks

 

 

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Wake Up and Smell the Sexting, Parents! by Kristen Thompson-Riley





I will get some criticism for writing about this, but it’s important for all parents to hear. And when I say "All", I mean ALL, even those with babies and younger children. You need to know what is in store for you, because it’s only going to get worse.

Sorry in advance, kids. To parents, you’re welcome. Listen up!

My boys would probably say I’m a bit crazy when it comes to their phones and iPods. Maybe not even "a bit", but just downright crazy. I have reason. I have multiple reasons. I have 4 reasons ranging in the ages of 10 to 19. While I try not to invade privacy, these are my children and I have the right to invade. Anytime. Anywhere. Anyhow. When they turn 18, I stop invading. Yes, my 19 year old is now breathing a massive sigh of relief, but it doesn’t mean he can act-a-fool without getting feedback.

Cell phones are a blessing and a curse. I grew up without one. My kids have a hard time believing that I made it until I was 20 before I had a cell phone. And then it was their dad’s bag phone. My first official cell phone was the monster that had a 20lb battery attached and looked like a VCR with an antenna stuck to the side of your face. I carried that sucker proudly around in my purse (leaving no room in my purse for anything else, mind you). And when I’d get a call, I’d excitedly heave it out of my bag, screw on the antenna, press on the green button 15 times to answer it and stand against a window for reception. Once the call started, I knew I only had a select few minutes to chat because cellular phone charges were highway robbery. I think my first plan was in-state only and it charged me per minute during the day, but it was free nights and weekends. By the evening or weekend, I was so tired from carrying it around, I’d just tell people to call me on my house phone anyway.

I’m almost 40 and have been active in the last 20 years of cell phone evolution. The plans are more reasonable, and the phones are small and lightweight, so one would say that it’s improved since 1993.

This "one" would say No, it hasn’t….

I’d like to rewind cell phone technology back about 10 years with, still, the better plans, but the simple flip phone. No texting, no apps, just calls. Remember that time where you actually used a phone to call people? There’s a concept, kids! I could go on a tangent about how much more personal and important it is to actually speak to a person, but this is not my rant today. My rant is focused elsewhere. I’m here to enlighten my fellow moms and dads on apps these little things our kids say "Hey, Mom can I buy such-n-such for 99 cents?" And the parent busy with something else acknowledges and may or may not make a mental note of "Junior just downloaded the game, SnapChat". Guess what, mom. SnapChat is NOT a game. And, guess what else? Most of the "dangerous" apps are FREE!

I had a MySpace page before my kids even knew what it was. When my eldest turned 12, he asked to have one. His dad and I reluctantly agreed under several stipulations: We set it up with kid controls. We knew the password at all times. And we would be checking it. Weekly. Daily. Whenever we damn well pleased. Then Facebook came along and Myspace disintegrated into cyber air. Like the rest of the world, he migrated over to Facebook, as did I. Same rules applied. Then Twitter came along. Kids left FB in their dust. This mom opened a Twitter account. Instagram followed. Mom followed. Notice the trend? But then things got tricky. Some of the open forum format changed to apps that you’d have to be invited to, to apps that were just between two people, to apps that take a quick photo and within seconds it disappears in cyber space to never be traced. That app? Snapchat. While I could somewhat regulate social networks (and sometimes not successfully. Mom-stalking isn’t fool proof), these other apps had this mom stumped. While investigating on what I could see, I was dumbfounded by some of things kids were posting for the world to see. Where are these kids’ parents? Do they know? Do they care? Am I breaking a Mom to Mom unsaid law by not informing them? I WANT to know. You better tell me, fellow parents! I will knock a Mann kid out. Look, I’ve seen things my kids have posted that have made me go "Woah! Oh no he didn’t!!". They have had posts removed, comments removed, pictures removed, accounts deactivated, phones taken, iPods taken, phone service disconnected. Yes, we went there. They know what is acceptable and what is not. Simply put:

If you post something that you’d be embarrassed for your Mom to see, don’t post it." THAT’s my rule. Like or not, you break it, we’re going to rumble.

This leads me to alerting parents who are unaware of the unsaid convenience of, not only texting, but sharing pics, videos, etc.. I’m not aiming usage of these at just teens, but sadly preteens and children under the age of 10 as well. Many times they stumble upon something innocently, whether it’s their peer cursing, borderline inappropriate content, and even outright TRASH. My 10 year old has a texting app on his iPod. He is not allowed to have a phone, but we agreed to let him have an app to text me, his dad, his brothers, and his stepparents. If he wants to call a friend, he can use my phone. He also has an Instagram account where photos and now videos are shared. I can see who he follows and what they post. I’ve unfollowed a dozen or more of his older brothers friends unbeknownst to him, because of their inappropriate posting and language. I am THISCLOSE to deleting everyone but family and his 10 year old friends. My 13, 15, and 19 year olds have/had KIK, vine, snapchat, ooVoo and the usual suspects Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. At least if you’re going to let your children have these apps, be informed:


Facebook and Twitter are social networks. If you don’t know what they are, you need to be hit on the head with a hammer. Both social networks have Inboxes. Check them regularly, parents. Don’t assume your kid is making great decisions if you don’t see anything on their "Wall". Word to the wise, have them access Twitter from your iPhone and now ALL notifications come to you automatically, even inbox messages. Know their passwords. Always.


Instagram: Pros fun place to share videos and photos. No inbox feature, so everything is "out there".

Cons if you don’t keep up with who your kid is following, you’re being naïve. My 10 year old has 13, 15, 19 year old brothers who all have friends with Instagram accounts. The chances of him seeing or reading something above his 10 year old sweet, innocent brain are great. Know their passwords and check Followers and what they post. Regularly. Unfollow, delete, block, unfollow, delete, block. Repeat.


Vine: Don’t let the description "The best way to share life in motion. Create short, beautiful looping videos in a simple and fun way" mislead you. These looping videos can actually be a lot of fun to share. My oldest son has made some hilarious ones, but vine does not regulate Rated G vs Rated X. If your kid has a vine account or follows someone who posts vine videos, WATCH THEM. Vine doesn’t know or care if it’s a 21 year old adult or an 8 year old kid on the receiving end. And remember, even if they don’t have the Vine app, if the person posts them to Twitter and your kid follows them from their Twitter account, they can watch them there.


KIK: Instant Messenger. Basically if you don’t know a person well enough to know their phone number to text or call them, you can KIK them. My mindset, if you don’t know them "that well", you don’t need to chat with them about anything. Ever.

User Reviews on Google for KIK:

"This app is awesome and cool my kik is ________. Kik me no guys jst girls from Detroit. I’m 15. Hit me up." - I purposely did not post this person’s KIK name, but I can tell you if I see my 15 year old’s KIK name on FREAKING GOOGLE for someone to "hit him up", he’s going to get "hit up" alright. Hit right upside the head with his iPhone before I crush it into 10000 pieces. And who’s to say this is a 15 year old kid and not some 42 year old creep living in his mother’s basement preying on young girls? Yes, I may have watched one too many episodes of 20/20, but that shit is real, folks!

"Definitely a great app if you don’t like giving people your number. It’s just like texting someone. 27 year old woman looking for friends. KIK is _____________."

What if that 27 year old woman "looking for friends" is KIKing your 11 year old son?

I will say KIK isn’t horrible if you manage it and know who they’re talking to.


ooVoo: "ooVoo video chat gives you two things no one else can" (now THERE’s a wide open statement) "Free multistream video calls with up to 12 people at a time along with unsurpassed stability and quality." This is the equivalent to FaceTime for iPhone users, and Skype. Be the mom or dad peeping over from behind the dresser to make sure there’s a recognized person on the other end. And they are age appropriate. And clothed. Better yet, pop a squat beside your kid and say "What up, home dog?" While it may deduct a few parental cool points, it’ll start to deter the caller to have these ooVoo conversations for fear she’ll have to speak to your super embarrassing mother.



And last, but certainly not least, SnapChat. Don't let that cute little ghost fool you. The official description says "The fastest way to share a moment on iPhone". Pictures/videos are created, an alert is sent to the receiver, they watch it and within 10 seconds it’s gone. No record, no trace. Parents, THINK ABOUT IT.

Snapchat is bad news folks. My advice is to delete the app if you see it. Period. If they have an iPhone and want to make a video, they can with the iPhone camera or now they can do it on Instagram, which has supposedly regulated their site not to post inappropriate videos. We shall see….

A new app is released quicker than you can blink. And I find that if weren’t for my parental stalking, I’d be completely clueless to all the new ways kids are connecting and sharing information. There are tons I did not cover, but these are the teen faves. The fiancé and I have 4 teens with smartphones, and 2 ten year olds with iPod touches. 6 multiplied by these apps equals A LOT to keep up with. (Ok, 5 since my oldest has graduated to a non-stalking mom. My eyes are still open in the public forum). In this day and age, we, as parents, have to look out for our kids and for each other. I seriously long for the day that my biggest parental concern was cars coming down the street while they rode bikes. I could see in clear view the danger. Technology blinds us to danger, a danger of kids growing up a little fast, knowing more than they should at a young age, and exchanging inappropriate information for it to only *POOF* disappear within a 10 second window and we are none the wiser. Don't be the parent who thinks "My kid would never do that."

Get wise.

I’m the unpopular mom who takes her kids phone and iPod at bedtime (even during the summer) and plugs them in my room. As recently as last night, I got the big SIGH when I asked my 13 year old for his phone. When he’s 18, he can vine, snapchat, tweet, and kik until hell freezes over. He just better hope it doesn’t cross a public forum that I see it. Just because they are bigger, doesn’t mean I still won’t knock a Mann kid out.

I now stand to be on the Most Hated list by kids because of this blog, but as I’ve seen many post on Twitter after saying something painful, but true:

#sorrynotsorry

Note: I have now started a series on Parenting and Social Media due to the increased interest in Kids and Social Media. Please keep checking back for weekly updates. Here is Part I:
http://bloodsweatcheers13.blogspot.com/2013/09/required-license-to-tweet-part-i.html



 

Amazing & Affordable Prom Dresses by Susie Jackson



Picture
I love this dress!

 

Reprinted with permission
 
I have a teen who has longed for the day she attends a prom or dance. She thinks that is going to be the it moment of her life! She is excited about formal dresses! She can't get enough of looking at them and dreaming. I can't blame her they are fun to look at but a lot of times when I see the price I gasp with disbelief in shock.

You know what I mean moms?! But recently, she saw with me the
DressFirst.com web site and fell in love. As a mom I have always since she was young, taught her how to be a lady and be modest. I love the dresses they provide at DressFirst.com because they are so pretty yet cover up! These dresses are dreamy and they offer a grand selection! I think one reason girls love dresses like this and long for the events they can wear them to is because it makes them for one night feel like a true princess. But we know they all truly are anyways! Right moms!

Now what's great about these
prom dresses is that you can wear them to other events besides the prom. You can wear them for formals,dances,balls or other special events. They even offer wedding,cocktail,bridesmaid & evening gowns. They provide discount prom dresses for any budget. Right now for a limited time they are even offering free shipping, now how can you beat that. The web site is easy to use and understand. Now I am not afraid of the price when my teen finds her prom dress when that day comes! Here below of some samples of some of my personal favorites. Aren't they gorgeous dresses! I love the colors and cuts. Simple & elegant. They do offer more flashy if that is your flare too! 
Picture   
 
 












Visit Susie at her blog: Homemaker-Mom.Blog.  Susie reviews products with her 'Homemaker Seal Of Approval'. She also shares frugal tips and her homemaking journey.
Please note, views/photos in this article were made available by the guest blogger.   The owner of
'Renew the Woman In You' receives no compensation from items or information provided in this article. 
  Please contact Renew if you believe any violations (including copyright) have occurred. 

 

Monday, December 30, 2013

Why Can't I Just Shut Up 2

A sequel to the last post.  This target: husband. 

I really can't remember the details, but it was bedtime, and I was furious!  I also remember, whatever my husband did to make me mad, he was more than aware of, and apparently quite willing to agree. 


However, he thought a simple apology would do it.  So I got the old basic type.  Then he rolled over, and instantaneously began to snore.  Meanwhile I stewed on my side of the bed.

This was not over. 

So, I poked him awake.  Told him how and why he ticked me off.   He apologized again, rolled over and began to snore. 

So, I poked him again.   This went on about six times!  Seriously. 

If he could fall asleep that easily, he really wasn't getting the just of my anger: he really did get or care why I was THAT mad.


So, I poked him again.  This time he turned on the light, sat up, looked right at me, and said:

"Okay.  I'm listening."

Then, he ruined it, by adding:


"Well, I better get this over with.  It's my fault.  I screwed up, and I'm never going to get some sleep if I don't let you yell at me."

Actually, I laughed.  It wasn't really funny.  I was still mad and probably should have been insulted.  But the truth is, he called me out.   When I am really, really angry,  (See: Why Can't I Just Shut Up.) I don't shut up.   It's like a broken dam.  Water furiously rushing out, cutting, carving, barreling with angry menace, until finally the water becomes part of the quiet flowing stream.  And life hopefully returns to normal.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Why Being A Mom is Worth It

Note from my son 7-year-old son (translated as best I could)


Dear Mom and Dad,

You have guided me through life.  You have always been there for me my entire life.  And, Dad, you have always been my buddy my whole life.  And you are the only boy there for me when I need you.  I love you, Dad.

Mom, you have done everything to make life better. I love you mom.  If it wasn't for both of you.  I wouldn't be here right now.   I love you Mom and Dad.  You are the best parents.  Anyone would want you for parents, but you guys are here.  You are loved most with us. 

From Mom and Dad,

Because of you, I am home and I'm where I'm supposed to be with you guys.  I'm home.




How was your morning?

My laundry room as of 7:15 am

 
Please note all of the things I have done wrong between 7-7:30 this morning--per my teenage daughter:

1) I did not wake her up (Why would I? She has an alarm clock AND her light was already on)

2) I did not find her a pair of socks

3) I did not grab her boots

3) I did not put her backpack in the car for her (I did make her lunch and put that in the backpack.  Thankfully, she will be at school when she opens it, and  not able to complain directly to me that I ruined her peanut butter sandwich.)

4) I did NOT throw all of the clean clothes from the dryer on the floor.  (She was kind enough to do that.)

5) However, it was my fault she did so, because I do not wash her clothes fast enough (3 loads a day is obviously not sufficient).  Nor did I take the clothes out of the dryer, fold them, haul her basket up to her room, and put them away for her.  Thus, she could not find the shirt she was looking for.

6) Apparently, at the bus stop I did not let her out at the exact spot she wanted me to, even though her "designated spot"  is where the bus parks.  Should I mention the bright flashing lights quickly taking over our car?

7) Last, but only because she's off to school, and definitely not least, I'm quite certain she believes it's my fault that I gave birth to her.  Because, without a doubt, I am responsible for giving her all the undesirable qualities she will possess today.  

Yes,  I still love her!
 

Crying Kids? Encourage it.

 
 
 
Well, maybe not always.   Crying for attention, show or just plain whining, isn't quite what I'm referring to.
 

 
However, crying emotional tears (genuine frustration, anger, sadness) is very healthy and important--even for boys!  Your moody teen?   The perfect example of someone who should be allowed to cry--and often.  (Just think back to your pregnancy and those wacky fluctuating emotions.)

Research shows emotional tears release harmful chemicals and stressors from our bodies. They also contain natural endorphins, painkillers and antidepressant chemicals.   For more detailed information visit: Go Ahead and Cry

Thursday, December 5, 2013

How 'My Plan to Teach My Kids Responsibility' is Working:

http://renewthewomaninyou.blogspot.com/2013/11/a-little-help-around-here-please.html

Sadly these are NOT before pictures.

They are AFTER.

If by chance, you would like to try this method….or more likely just want to know what I’m referring to, click here. 

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Depiction of a Mother Deflating



 

 
 
 
'Nuff Said

 

Why Can't I Just Shut Up?

 
 
You'll see a lot of articles in this site about parenting, written and researched, by me.  I even try REALLY hard to practice what I preach.  I even believe I'm exceptionally patient (on most days, of course) with my family. 

However, despite following some of the basic rules you'll soon see in this website: such as "You Don't to Yell to Get Your Kids to Listen;" "How to Improve Your Listening Skills;" and even an article on how to get kids moving the first time you tell them to; I admit I often fail.  And not just a little, but BIG time. 

My daughter described my reaction as an analogy to a popular kid's game with a hungry pig who loves hamburgers.  Kids take turn stuffing hamburgers down the pig's throat.  Five hamburgers.  Ten. Fifteen.  I'm not really sure what the maximum is, but that's the whole point of the game.  Eventually the pig's belly explodes and all the hamburgers come flying out.  It usually takes a lot of stuffing, before the major pop.  That's ME.

So, last night, I popped, EXPLODED, then popped and EXPLODED again.  In fact, I think I did this for a good hour.  

I have really great kids, really great!  (Don't we all?)  But lately, they don't hear me speak, even when I follow all the rules of the parenting articles I create,  like looking right into their eyes when I talk, having them repeat my instructions, etc.  

I must sound like the parents on Charlie Brown. Surely this is what they hear: WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH, WAH.   
(And why didn't any of those parents ever have a real voice???)


But, I digress.  Well, one wonderful daughter in particularly, a high achiever, perfectionist, etc.  really doesn't like chores. Yeah, I know, who does?  She will do anything to get out of them: procrastinating, forgetting, suddenly feeling sick, begging for  more time, misunderstanding our request, you name it.  However, she is so consistent in this matter, my husband and I own a crystal ball.  

The hamburgers went flying!  Unfortunately, instead of remaining calm and simply getting down to business with a brief explanation and a reasonable consequence.   I gave her every chore I  could think of, including cleaning her sister's room (gross), and any attitude gave her another full chore.  That consequence, hey, I'm okay with.  But unfortunately, I followed her around repeating myself, in a VERY loud voice, how angry I was.   Easily for an hour (gulp).  That's the sad part.  

That type of behavior on my half is not constructive, nor is it a positive teaching method.   So, I must try harder the next time to squeeze my lips tight before a single hamburger gets shoved into my mouth; make my request; and if it's not fulfilled grab a seat on the couch and relax, while the offender cleans up the mess.


FYI:  One of her consequences: folding all of her sister's clothes and fitting them back into the drawers.   Honestly, looking at her sister's room, that probably was punishment enough.   




 

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Truth Be Told

 

I once told my lovely 10-year-old that she looked just like me when I was her age.   Oh, how pleased I thought she'd be.  After all, I was seeing a part of me blooming right in front of my eyes, bringing forth memories of my own childhood.  
 
She didn't quite agree, however.   In fact, despite my love for her, and motherly need to protect my offspring, I almost (extremely briefly) considered opening up her car door (yes, we were driving) and giving her a--well, a SHOVE to the gravel (in my defense we were moving very slowly, and the dirt was relatively soft).
 
 
Why my reaction?   Not only did her face turn sour, she also made a statement, and I quote:
 
 
"But, I don't want to look like you! 
You're old!" 

 
SO..............
 
Never ask a child if they like your outfit, your hair, your makeup.  Don't ask if you look old.  Don't ask if you embarrass them.  Don't ask if they enjoyed the song you sang to them.  Don't ask them for a kiss. Don't ask anything if you don't want their version of the truth. And if you don't believe me, try it.
 
 



Sunday, November 17, 2013

You say potato, I say computer


My daughter called me a computer potato.

I guess that’s equivalent to a couch potato.

How embarrassing.  To be called out by my daughter.

In my defense, when I spend a half-day at my computer, I’m actually interrupted every two minutes by one of three kids, and, whenever my husband returns from a business trip, he becomes a major offender.  So—inevitably 30 minutes of computer time typically translates to five minutes of work success.  

I try to get my work done at bedtime.  Can you see three kids in one bed (yes, even though my oldest is a teenager)? I actually think it’s an excuse to stay up late.

Ho Hum. I guess she’s right.  Time to peel the potato. 

Ouch. The bad jokes are coming.  Yep, time to give up.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Family RULES!

 
MY HOUSE, MY RULES

How to Get Out of Making Dinner





I'll be the first to admit it.  Dinner wouldn't be such a bad thing, if it wasn't a requirement every single night.  Night, after night, after night. If you have picky children like I do, it's even more irritating.  Surely, I'm not the only mom who has slaved (yes, slaved, I'm calling it like I see it) over a hot stove, to have not just one or even two kids complain, but every single one.  And worse, if I'd truly made what their father and I would have preferred (something containing more than two ingredients) I would actually get to enjoy the meal myself. 


Here's the Mom Wants A Life answer:


1)      Teach your child how to cook:  microwaves and toasters are relatively safe, right?  And they make decent toasted cheeses, bagel pizzas and cheesy quesadilla.


2)      Declare a cereal night:  My kids absolutely love cereal night.  Unfortunately, this option only works when my husband is out of town.  For some reason he doesn’t find joy in fine cereal.   Please be aware, there are rules to cereal night: the kids must choose a relatively healthy variety.  (Tips on what a healthy variety looks like: the cereal is typically a toasted brown  (no vibrant colors), the box is free of cartoon characters or Disney stars, sometimes dried fruits or nuts are included, and the milk in the bowl stays white. 


The best part about cereal night is that you can add a dessert if you'd like.  Choices include, but are not limited to: Captain Crunch, Fruit Loops, etc.  (Tips on what a dessert cereal looks like: it contains any or all colors of the rainbow, the front of the box looks like a children's TV show, any fruits included are man-made, and last, the liquid in the bowl no longer resembles milk after the first bite.


3)      Once a week, Introduce your children to the RAW diet:  Remind them, and yourself, how healthy raw is: Grab a plate and pick out two servings vegetables (uncooked of course,) two services of fruit, and for protein a handful of peanuts or almonds. Voila.  Three minutes from fridge to table, and zero guilt.  Add a slice of bread, and you've covered the best of the food pyramid.  


4)      Casually mention to your neighbor how much your children rave about her (insert whatever meal your neighbor has just prepared).   Immediately add that you simply have not been able to replicate said dish to the perfection she has managed. Innocently ask, "Can my kids try a few bites so they can tell me what's missing?"  Proceed to hand her a large plate for each hungry child.


5)        Repetitively tell your children they already ate.   After the tenth protest that they have NOT eaten dinner and are starving, reply: "Of course you had dinner (describe last night's dinner in detail). You're not really hungry, you're just tired.  In fact, you're soooo tired you can't even remember eating dinner."  Send them to bed.

 
Got Dinner? Quick & Easy Recipes
 


Got Dinner is an affiliate ad. If you purchase a product from this link, I could receive a small compensation from your purchase. For more information click Renew's Disclosure page.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Have You Ever Felt Like Bolting? Just Once?


Running Away

I escaped.

      To the Save-Mart off I-275.

      So early, that only one other car, a vintage Cadillac, had taken up residence in the handicap spot.  I drove into the slot next to it, my tires slicing through the fat blue line.   I could’ve picked something farther away, a space that gave my legs an early workout.  But I figure I get enough exercise giving Jimmy horsey rides and keeping Lilly away from all the no-no’s in our house.     

            The van sputtered when I shut it down.  With over 187,000 miles under its engine, what did I expect?   That Cadillac seemed half a length bigger than my ride and looked in better shape despite its age.   I bet the owner didn’t spend 18,000 miles a year driving kids to and from school or running errands for everyone else who worked during the day.

            A service bus pulled in, halting with an earsplitting whoosh and harsh grinding noise.   One by one, several seniors stepped off, slowly with bent knees and backs, grasping the metal bar with their entire weight.  The women were clad in pretty pastels, some with pants shifted up to their chest.   The men wore polyester and plaid.           
            I cursed myself for judging.  Heck, they had more freedom than I did.  It didn't seem fair though, that I’d have to wait another thirty years to get a lousy 10 percent of my grocery bill on Tuesdays.

            The money!  The plump cream envelope stuffed with Scott's cash stuck to the crook of my thighs.   I counted the hundreds, all 20 of them, plus one $50 bill.  I snagged the $50 and returned the rest, tucking the entire stash beneath my seat. 

            The door shimmied open and protested again when I tried to close it.  It slammed shut on my pinky. “That stupid--”         

I glared into the backseat, my eyes adjusting past the gray window, one booster on each side, Lilly’s infant carrier squeezed into the center. I sighed with relief.  No need to fret over my poor choice of words.   Scott had the kids.

      I had left my husband butting heads with Jimmy over breakfast cereal and chasing a naked Lilly around the coffee table, her favorite overalls tangled up in her stubby legs, trailing like a loose tail.   We’d argued over what to do with the money, so Scott was already sulking for lots of reasons when I grabbed my purse and keys. Jimmy had licked the jar of peanut butter clean.  Lilly was out of diapers.  Truthfully, I just wanted out.   Scott had a day off today.  When did I get one? 


A seagull swooped down and hollered at me.   Underneath my right foot was a pink, swirly mess, like liquid cotton candy.  That’s what he was after, the gook beneath my shoes.  He could have it.  All I wanted was the cart on the other side of my car.
Someone got in my way, slid his glossy red convertible into the spot right next to my cart.  He was handsomely tan with clean cut hair and big brown eyes rimmed by long lashes; so I forgave him.   His silk suit shimmered in the sun as he grinned at me.  I knew he wasn't flirting.   Married with children is easy to recognize.  It's written all over my car, my clothes and lack of makeup.  Plus it's spun around my finger in gold.        

His smile made me feel good anyway, even when he took my cart away.

It was a bad one.  The front right wheel was stuck.  The cart wobbled as he pushed it, the errant wheel catching sideways on the cement.  When he disappeared through the automatic glass door, I was grateful not to have to listen to the horrid sound anymore.  

I glanced at his car, envying the light-beige leather that soaked up the morning sun.  He kept the car clean.  No sticky wrappers or half-eaten apples stuck between the seats.  Must be a lease, I figured.   Good for two years.

I pictured my version of his girlfriend: all six feet of her, blond hair and fresh face, the faint blue-eyes I’d always wanted and no responsibilities.  She was free.  Still, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd get traded-in in two years too.

Inside the store, the cool air prickled the hairs on my skin.  I bypassed the carts and reached for a basket.  Beside me a wispy white-haired grandpa scrutinized the packages in the diaper aisle. I’m only five-foot-five but towered over him like a tree limb.   I grabbed Lilly’s size 3’s, tossed them in my basket and scurried away.  Finding the peanut butter, Scott’s favorite snack bars and a handful of other necessities took me close to forty- five minutes, even though I knew the layout of the store by heart.  Why should I rush?

“Paper,” I said to the bagger.  I liked the cardboard smell and rough hewn fibers of the bag.   He gave me plastic anyway.  My order took two bags and came up to less than $20.  I handed the cashier my crisp $50.  She gave me back the wrong change.   I was tempted to keep it, but this was a small town with small paychecks.   The woman had string-bean hair the color of a bleached shirt, a missing front tooth and smelled of stale cigarettes.  She frowned at me when I handed her money back, but by the end of the day I figured she'd be relieved to have her drawer come up clean.

Back at the van, I checked on my own stash.  My heart pumped blood through my eardrums until I knew it was safe.

Next stop? The bank.  That's where the money belonged until Scott and I agreed on which bills to pay first. 

I fingered the cash again, rubbed my tips along the soft fiber.  Over $2000, the biggest bonus Scott had ever seen from the plant.  I slipped the envelope beneath my seat, took a swig of the Coke I'd splurged on at the store and gagged on the sugar overload.  My $1.25 impulse buy, just because I could.  After all, the kids weren't here to beg for a sip, and another and another.  I took a second gulp, gagged again and capped the bottle.  Jimmy would get the soda after all.

On the highway, my van took flight--to its maximum capacity of 72, anything over that and the metal shook.  I whipped passed trees with multi-colored leaves, gold and green, crimson and jade, orange and yellow, signs of seasons passing here in Michigan.

The warmth of the growing day increased the van's temperature.  I rolled down the window and sucked in fresh air.  Another luxury.   The gust would have frightened Lilly.  The wind whipped my hair into my eyes, scratched my split ends against my forehead. 

A Jeep Wrangler flanked my left side.  College boys, I guessed, since every available space in the Jeep had been taken up by clothesbaskets, stuffed garbage bags and plastic cubes.  Their music pounded through the passing wind.  One kid held his tanned arm out the window and tapped on the roll bar to the stereo's beat.

I'm glad I couldn't find their station.  I'm not that young.  My music's part of the oldie’s repertoire now, easy-listening.  That's fine by me.  I turned up the volume, bobbed my head to the rhythm and mouthed once-forgotten words.   Lilly would've screeched in competition. And Jimmy? Complained enough to make my choice of music undesirable. 

But this morning was different.

I was free!

With a stack of cash.

Hadn't I passed the bank exit over a mile ago?

I lifted my foot from the accelerator, slipped into the slow lane, but changed my mind just as quickly.  I white-knuckled the wheel and sped up.   Overhead an emerald sign hailed Toledo, the first major city outside of Michigan, the first city I'd encounter if I were on my way to Florida.

How quickly would my albino skin tan these days? Would my hair turn the golden blonde of my youth?

I turned up the music, gulped more Coke. 

On the seat beside me, rest Lilly's checkered blanket.  I reached for the soft cotton, rubbed the material against my cheek.   The fibers smelled like cookies and lavender baby lotion.  My maternal breasts swelled and tingled at the nipples.   I wondered if Jimmy had eaten his breakfast or Lilly had been caught yet.  In the mirror, empty seats followed behind me. 

Another sign for Toledo loomed ahead.   To the right-- an exit sign--a way home. Both beckoned me.     

Twenty yards.

Ten. 

Five. 

Free.  My foot tapped on the accelerator.  With money.

I jerked the wheel to the right, slowed down the van, my tires catching gravel as I snagged the exit just in time.  The envelope slid out from beneath the seat and landed at my heel.  I eased it back with my shoe.

Off went the radio.  Up went the windows.  My hair returned to straight and ragged.  
            At the bank, I'd count the money again.

            On my way home.