This post brought to you by the letter "P"

 ~"Paradise is exactly like where you are right now... only much, much better~" Laurie Anderson

                   P is for plumbing- A year ago I wrote this post...it was all about renovating our house..and about getting a second bathroom. Actually, I have written about getting a second bathroom many times over the years...you might even say that I Perseverated on the Project. Well, I am Pleased to Proclaim that this week I have become the Proud Possessor of a second bathroom-a Porcelain Paradise! Although, I have to say that even though we now have two-my children always seem to know when I am in one of them. It is as if my crossing the threshold turns on some sort of homing device..
"Mama?"....
"I'm in the bathroom.."
"Mama?"
I'm in the bathroom."
"MMAAAAAAAMAAAA???!!!"
"I AM IN THE BATHROOM!" knock knock knock..."Mama? Mama are you in there?"
".....YES."
"But the door is locked!"
"I'll be out in a minute."
"Mama?"
"I. SAID. I'LL. BE. OUT. IN A. MINUTE"
"What are you doing?"
"What do you THINK I am doing????"
"I don't know...what?"
"I'M PEEING!"
"Oh..."
As I forcefully swing open the door..."O.k...what is it that you need so badly????."
"Oh...I was just seeing where you were."

I know that this bathroom phenomena is not unique to my family. In fact, I am sure parents have dealt with this situation since the...way back to the cave man days "Mama?"... "I'm in the bushes..." Maybe even to the beginning of time.."Eve? where are you?"  "I'm behind the tree..." "What are you doing?"..."What do you think I'm doing?" "Can I come back there?" "Go eat an apple..I'll be out in a minute.."

P is for podiatrist. *sigh* Yes, I have a podiatrist.  Due to a series of unfortunate events-or my lust for a potato chip...I have wound up under the care of a foot doctor. He has advised me of all the different torture treatment options he has for my foot...and I..very graciously listen as my eyes glaze over..while I slowly but  figuratively put my fingers in my ears and say "lalalalalalalalalalala".  I believe that he thinks I am a crack head..or mentally unstable....or weird.   I on the other-hand, believe that he has poor taste in footwear. (This is an actual picture from his office-don't they just scream "old and complacent"????)

 Not that he has suggested I choose anything from his cabinet of undesirable shoes....yet.  Although, I probably wouldn't hear him if he did.  Sometimes having to take four kids to any kind of appointment has its advantages. But only sometimes...








P is for Puzzle and Perplex and Promise.  This week, Lily had a brownie meeting. (A younger version of a girl scout)  They are learning Christmas Carols-to sing at the senior center next month. Now, Eight year old girls are lively and energetic...or at least they are supposed to be..So, you can imagine my dismay when I walked in and they were singing these songs as if they were funeral dirges. I mean come on now! Are the seniors at the center already dead?  Do they want to sing them to their eternal slumber?  So....I did what any carol loving woman would do.  I hi-jacked their rehearsal. Me and another mother decided to show these girls what singing was about!  So what if it involved interesting dance moves. We showed them the way it should be done!...much to my Lily's absolute humiliation...heehee  "You are the MOST embarrassing mother in the WORLD!!!"  "Well...not really...there was another mother singing with me."  "I can't believe that you did that to me!!" "Oh come on Lil...the other girls had fun."  "Not me!"  (this from a girl who has absolutely no problem singing at the top of her lungs with me in the car..or at home...or the supermarket..)*sigh*.."Alright..I will never sing like that again." "Promise?" ..."I promise"...She is at that age(between 8 and 30) where she is becoming so very self conscious and self aware-an age where ones mother is someone that should only be seen and never heard... I totally get her embarrassment (and will respect her wishes)  Although, I'm still going to sing in the car .  I just hope that she still sings with me.

  And finally, P is for patience and persistence ....it is for being pissed off(my dryer broke) and pleasantly surprised.  It is for pacing, pondering and porcelain...and as pleasing as much of it has been-I am ready for this P filled week to be over. I am going to go and enjoy my lovely new shower...perhaps I'll even sing.  I hope that Lily hears me. That would be Perfect.

They shoot (My Little) Ponies-don't they?

  ~"All of us have moments in out lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them"~Erma Bombeck

   My daughters have been tap dancing on my last nerve. When they aren't at each others throats...they turn their attention to me .Let me tell you- it is a sad day when a mother has to hide in the garage-just to get away from her daughters.   "Mama!...Mama?....Mamaaaaaaaa!!!! Zoe's copying me!' "Well you're being mean to me!"  "I am not".."Yes you are!..Wheres Mama?  I'm telling on you!"..."NOOOO!!!!" "Mama!...MAMA!!!!!!???..."  "I'm in the garage."  "Where are you? I can't hear you!!" "I'm in the garage."  After a good ten minutes of not coming for me (which I don't understand- but don't question!...I mean they KNOW where I am...sort of)...they give up..and I have gotten some much cleaning done.  Hey-it works for me!

  There used to be a time when all of there problems were solved with a hug and perhaps a "My Little pony" video.  But those days are long over.  Oh, they still like hugs...it's the ponies that have gone by the wayside. Sigh...no longer can they be appeased by Pinky Pies adventures..or the hi-jinx and hilarity of Tula Rula.  No longer do we hear the ummmm...dulcimer tones of the ponies singing their theme song.  Nope.  The real world and all its drama.(well as much drama as a six and eight year old can conjure...believe me-it is a lot) has crept up on my girlies-and they aren't quite sure what to do about it....neither am I...well, except for hiding in the garage.

  This year Zoe is in school full time. Although she does love going, at the same time,she is quite anxious about all of it.  Social situations...reading..and the dreaded scissors. "Zoe...stop hitting Lily!"..."Well she has all the markers and won't give them to me!" "She doesn't have all the markers.." "Yes she does!"  "No, you decided that you didn't like your markers and threw them all over the floor before we got in the car."  crying now..."Fine! Now no one likes me!" "What? This has nothing to do with liking you..?????" "Yes it does...now you don't like me!"  No Zo...I don't like your behavior right now...but I love you with all my heart."..."Fine! Then I'll never be famous!"..."What???" still crying.. "I'm not famous!"   ..'...Well...umm...what?..What does being famous have to do throwing your markers on the floor?" "It's a secret."..."I'm really confused...you threw your markers...hit Lily..and you're crying because you aren't famous?"  "Well..WELL...famous artists know how to use scissors!!!"  Are you as confused as I am? This is NOT typical behavior for my girl...But as they say  "Life imitates art"..sigh.but in our house..Zoe imitates Lily...

 My  Lily has undergone a major transformation this past Summer.and it would appear (from what I have heard from other parents) that she is not the only one. EVERYTHING is a battle...a struggle...a fight. From the time she gets up in the morning-till the time that she goes to bed.  I really think that it would be worth the Discovery channels time to film a documentary on this phenomenon. You know, there is a very good reason why eight year old girls don't have children-simply because they would eat their young.  My girl has gone from joyful to incredibly anxious in just a few short weeks. All of a sudden her friends have become enemies...and social status is everything. The world as she knew it is upside down and she doesn't quite know how to handle things.  Besides pick on me.  I'm doing my best to teach her how to survive adjust...and for the most part she listens.  It really is a terrible time for her-and I worry that I'm not as helpful as I could be. It is just so hard difficult hard when your girl is hugging you one minute and yelling at you the next. I am so not looking forward to adolescence..

  For the most part, my girls do get along.  Seeking each other out to play..sing really loud...run around like wild women. Their bond is magical. They will spend hours together thinking up adventures for their latest obsession.  "Littlest Pet Shops"  Have you seen them?  Small, plastic-large headed oddities( in the shape of various animals) with enormous eyes.  My girls think that they are cute..I think that they are trying to kill me. Really I do!  I keep finding them in strange places...the top of the stairs...the bottom of the tub....my instep at three o'clock in the morning. I can't tell you how many times I have tripped over, knocked in to, or sat on top of one of those enormous headed bits of seething evil. Far too many to count!  Sure, I could blame my girls..could say that they just hadn't cleaned up after themselves..But-they insist it isn't them. So, the only conclusion I can come to is that "Littlest Pet Shops" want me gone...You don't believe me do you?  You think that I am exaggerating... Well, this morning, I walked out my bedroom to find this outside of my door. All of

them just sitting there...watching...waiting and watching.  I fear my days are numbered.  Please let me know  if you have any words of wisdom or advice. If you want me- I'll be in the garage.

Tumultuous times and other tails....

~“There's a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.” ~

― Dorothy Parker

When last I left you- I was stuck on the couch watching countless hours of mindless television (As a rule, I generally don't watch much t.v.-I thought that it was because I am way too hyper to sit still- but after having watched seemingly endless cycles "America's Next Top Model" I changed my mind... ) in a huge and heavy cast..In other words...life was just no fun..neither for me or the herd.  Since then I have gotten rid of the cast (for now)...all of the herd are in school full time..Sammy..I mean, Sam has become a teenager..And we recently celebrated our eighteenth anniversary. Oh..we also have mice.

  School started off like it does every year.  Everyone excited about seeing their friends..wearing new shoes...using new lunch boxes. But, after the first week (which was only three days long) Sam asked if he could be home schooled next year, the girls hated their new shoes (shoes that they had spent the entire summer begging for..really expensive shoes that light up when they move causing the parent who ties them (me) to have blinding headaches-or burnt retina's..really-they ought to have seizure warnings on these shoes) and Oscar..well Oscar-was Oscar..recess is still his favorite part of the day. This year, the school district changed its entire format..from the way that they teach to how they test. These changes primarily effect Sam more than the others...and Sam just ADORES change-not.  He is a teenager now-or as he likes to say "A young man"..and times are not the easiest for him. My boy young man works so very hard-so I'm hoping that things calm down for him a bit. Because home schooling is so not an option! I mean I JUST got them ALL in school full time! I would make a terrible teacher..we'd probably wind up watching "America's Next Top Model" all day.. It would be a terrible thing.

   The beginning of the school year also brought about the dreaded IEP meetings(cue screams)  For the most part, they went o.k. We got the services that we needed-the kids are set for the year. There were however, a few glitches...minor snags...things that you might say.. royally pissed me off. Oscar needs occupational therapy. It isn't something that we ask for because we are bored..or have nothing better to do. In other words, we don't gleefully rub our hands together chortling   "Hee hee! Lets think of ways to make the school pay for things that we don't need!"  No, we request these services because our son requires help with his fine motor skills. Crazy-I know! Which leads me to a topic I think needs addressing.  "Things that special services coordinators should NEVER upon pain of torture, NEVER EVER say to a parent of a special needs kid."  1)" Maybe it isn't O.T. that he needs...maybe it is his stimming that needs to be addressed"  2) "Sure it is nice that his friends accept his stimming now-but it won't be so cute when he is an adult" 3) If he were in a Autism School they wouldn't let him get away with stimming."   I stated quite firmly (but *sigh* not as coherently) to the special needs coordinator "Firstly, he isn't in an autism school-he is here. Stimming isn't your problem to worry about. He works exceedingly hard at controlling it in class-he does a great job. Furthermore,  He is MY son-It is MY job to help/decide what is best for him in the world." Just as a heads up to any coordinator reading this-if a child's entire team (teacher, aid, O.T., speech therapist and service coordinator) says that said child NEEDS a specific service.-it might be worth your while to actually listen-(especially if you have never met said child) instead of trying to think of excuses ideas in order to save the district money. It doesn't make you look very good...and well...you know...appearance is everything. *sigh*

  So it has been a tumultuous beginning of the school year..Although it hasn't been all bad.  Sam-my wonderful boy young man, has turned thirteen! I still can not believe I have a living breathing teenager.  Why If he were a houseplant-he'd have been long gone by now. I mean, no matter how well I take care of my plants-they all eventually wither and die.  Thankfully, I am so much better at child rearing than gardening. The same goes for marriage.  Omar and I celebrated our eighteenth anniversary last month. (Same day as Sam's birthday). After eighteen years, four kids, three dogs, three cats and numerous "fixer uppers"...we still really like each other.(Love is a given-I'm madly in love with my husband..and he with me) We certainly have had many an adventure- although we've had more good times than bad.. it only keeps getting better and better...well, with the exception of the mice. Which brings me to the tail end of this tale of tumultuous tails...

  We seem to have acquired some mice. Now, we live in an older house (132 years old)..and older homes, much  like older people can have "issues".  One of our homes issues is that every fall, all the neighborhood mice, looking for a winter home-think our house is the place to be. I disagree. Strongly.  In fact, I disagree so much that in a preemptive strike/forewarned is forearmed sort of way (remember-experience is a mother) I set out six glue traps...kind of like little  unwelcome mats for our mousy friends.  Well...yesterday morning...much to my horror..I found one little mouse stuck on a trap...and yet the persistent little guy(I think it was a guy-definitely not looking) insisted on dragging his mousy self across the floor in an attempt to escape. All while he was still attached (quite firmly) to the trap. EEK! He was so intent on making his escape-that my presence didn't appear to bother him at all. He just looked at me(with disdain) as he dragged his little mousy self across the floor.  He even posed for this picture.  See the attitude?  The contempt? The utter disregard for my mental well being?  I immediately did what any other savvy and sharp minded person would do.  I went upstairs and woke Omar up. Who promptly rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  But I was insistent! "You must get rid of the mouse" I proclaimed.  "I'lldoitlater.." he mumbled..."I can't relax while he drags himself across the floor!" I yelled.."I'll take care of it when I get up..." he sighed.."It's freakin me out!" I cried..I began to jump on the bed.. fiercely and with great emotion.."I'll do it now" he said resignedly..As he got out of bed and down the stairs..

Moments later, he "disposed" of our little friend.(you can see why we have such a great marriage. Teamwork!)  The problem is..well, remember I set out six traps?  One was "disposed" of..that should have left us with five. Much to my dismay...I can only find four. Which means that there is a mousy somewhere roaming my house attached to a glue trap! ICK!!!!!  We have looked EVERYWHERE...well..Omar has looked everywhere..I assisted..giving him suggestions of where to look...from another room. Ah  teamwork. It is the basis of a happy marriage.

  So, another school year has begun. Halloween has come and gone...and soon it will be Thanksgiving. For as tumultuous as times have been lately-I really can't complain. I have got great kids and a fabulous husband. All together- a wonderful family.  Mice not included.

   

 

 

When you give a mother a potato chip....

  It has been a very busy summer for us here. Between family trips, summer rec and swimming-there hasn't been a whole lot of time for writing.  I do have quite a number of half finished posts in my drafts file-I just haven't had much time or patience to finish them.  You'd think that because of recent events-(ESPECIALLY because of recent events) I'd have written post after post. Because I have had nothing but time on my hands...You see, for the past three weeks, I have been stuck at home-actually more like stuck on the couch..STUCK ON THE COUCH and at the total MERCY of my four children.

  Oh, it started innocently enough. There was a request for snacks.  Now, having grown up in a house where the word "snack" was..well almost considered a sin (my mother did not believe in eating between meals.) If you insisted that you were hungry, her stock answer was to "have an apple"..an apple.   O.k. fine-apples are good..but come on!  When you are outside with your friends and they are all eating a variety of salty or sweet treats...you kind of feel deprived..sitting there with your slightly bruised apple..It led to an adolescence..a CHUBBY adolescence of indulging in candy and snack cakes.  So,  I decided to do things differently with my kids.  A couple of them are very picky eaters. We are talking a menu of about five things   So, if any of them request a new kind of snack or junk food. I let them try it.  Funny thing is-because I am open to having junk in the house...they choose yogurt or granola bars as equally as they choose chips or candy.  Except maybe for Oscar-who would live on "Flavor blasted Gold Fish" if I let him.  But that's another story.

  Anyway, there I was in the kitchen getting my girls their requested potato chips..when I noticed the front of one of the kitchen drawers was very loose. sigh..Alright..I didn't just notice it...it has been loose for months..and I had been meaning to do something about it...eventually..I happened to notice it was "more" loose than it had been.  "Lil..don't touch that..it looks really loose".."It's o.k. Mama..I'm just fixing it.."  "No honey, I think we need Papa to take care of it when he gets home" I also happened to notice that the potato chips looked really good...extra crispy and a little burnt around the edges..so as I was stuffing a handful into my mouth Lily said.. "No..really Mama..I can fix it.." at that moment BAM! the drawer front came down like  guillotine on my naked foot. I fell to the floor...bits of chips and expletives spewing simultaneously from my mouth.  A potato laden stream of curses that would make anyone blush...if they understood what I was screaming. Scaring the crap out of my daughters...especially Lily who felt horrible about it.  So of course my first (coherent) thought was to try and comfort her.."It's o.k. honey...sometimes people yell scary things when they hurt themselves...I'm sorry I scared you..it was an accident..I should have fixed it months ago..it isn't your fault.." I even tried to "walk it off"...big mistake. Because here I am three weeks later stuck on the couch looking like an extra from "Star Wars"

Oh it hasn't been all bad...my kids have all been extra "helpful"..it's just that they tend to get easily distracted..Like when vacuuming-it is amazing how clean a 12 inch space can get when you don't actually move the vacuum from the place it is standing....Or folding laundry-"Oscar, why is the laundry in a twisted pile on the table?" "You told me to put it there.".."O.k...but do you think you could fold it?" "Sure Mama.."  and off he went..away from the pile of laundry .. Thankfully, Omar has been able to take a few days off here and there-so things have been getting done.  Although he thinks it is absolutely hysterical to leave advertisements for elderly exercises and scooters where I can find them..sigh...in the basket of my kneeling walker.
  I have to say that although it has been hard-the herd has done pretty well.  Sure, they still ask me for everything that they need (even with Omar sitting right next to me) but they have also been forced into doing some new things. I can't really complain that there is peanut butter all over the kitchen-because Oscar decided to try and make his own lunch...or that there are crumbs everywhere-because they have all learned to get their own snacks..or laundry piled on the table-because they all now know how to run a load-AND put it in the dryer.  Sometimes I take on too much.  Not because I don't think my kids can do anything...sigh..but because I like to do things my way. I just didn't realize how much that could hold them back-stop them from trying.

  I have an appointment with the doctor next week.  Hopefully I will be done with this cast.  As Sammy so aptly put "I'm getting kind of tired of your broken foot" sigh... Necessity is a mother...on so many levels....just don't feed her potato chips.

So many kids...so little time...

  It has been quite the busy summer so far...I only have four kids-but right now it feels like forty..So, to all my blogging and reading friends-I am not ignoring you!! I swear!  I'm hoping to have a few minutes to write later this weekend...AND some time to visit all the blogs that I enjoy so much.. I hope you are all having wonderful July's. I look forward to catching up with all of you.

Recalculating...

~"Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell"~Emily Dickinson

 When I was a little girl, my parents had one of those large cabinet stereos. The kind that stood on four legs-with a turn table on one side and a place to store your albums on the other. On the bottom right hand side of it was a little red indicator light. I used to lie on the floor and try and stare into the light-because I thought that there were tiny people behind it, making the music and I wanted to see them.  I don't know where I got this idea-but, I always did have an overactive imagination..At least that's what my imaginary friend Gengi told me at the time..

Of course I don't believe that anymore! I mean, I have an MP3 player and there is no way that many people could fit inside of it.  BUT... I am starting to wonder about our GPS system.  I bought it two years ago as a Christmas present for Omar.  He does a bit of traveling for his work...AND because no matter what..whenever we go someplace new with the herd-we ALWAYS get lost.  ALWAYS.  So I thought it would be a good idea to have one.  I named ours "Sheila"..she has an Australian accent (which for some reason amuses me)  Sheila for the most part has become a wonderful addition to our family.  Very rarely has she ever made a mistake i.e. directing us to drive into a field..or down a dead end street. She usually gets us to where we are going in good time...Until last week. I'm not quite sure what has happened-but..*sigh*  Sheila seems to have lost her mind.

  We were on a mini family vacation-a weekend getaway.  A friend was celebrating a birthday and invited us to his party.  It was a pretty straight forward trip-about a eighty miles or so straight down the coast.  We knew how to get there-it was when we got into town that we needed directions. I plugged in the address of the hotel and hit "go". THAT is when things got crazy.."In zero point three miles, turn right on Bow street." We got to Bow St. and made a right. "RECALCULATING"...Recalculating? Hadn't we turned where she told us to?.."In point one miles make a right on Maine st"..So-we made a right.."In point three miles make a right on Ocean st." so we turned right on Ocean...""In zero point three miles make a right on Bow St."..What...didn't we just do that?  I wasn't about to argue with Sheila.....so we made a right on Bow St. "RECALCULATING" ..Huh? "In point one miles make a right on Main St."  But we just did that!  Again...not wanting to argue with Sheila..we turned where she told us..three more times. Until finally I had had enough. You have to understand-I am not a violent woman by nature..but it was pouring rain and pitch black outside.  I had been in a car with four hungry tired children for over two hours.  I was a tad bit on edge..so, when Sheila RECALCULATED and told us to make a right on Bow street again...I lost my temper...I smacked her the GPS-yelling.."Whose RECALCULATING now Bi**H??" and shut her down(none too gently ) Oh how powerful I felt!  But then..(because we were hopelessly lost-and the herd was stunned by my outburst) *sigh* I rebooted her..put the address in again..and arrived at the hotel five minutes later. It wasn't anywhere near on or around Bow St...or Main..or Ocean..

 At the end of the weekend, when it was time to go home..we thought that we wouldn't need the GPS -as we now knew (really well) the way out of town.  The only problem was that I NEEDED coffee-badly.  So we plugged her in and programmed her to take us to the nearest coffee place. She led us the correct way out of town..so far so good..she informed us that a coffee place was less than a mile away..great..right?  Except that Sheila, instead of leading us to the coffee shop-directed us into the parking lot of an orthodontist ...and then to a flea market...and a furniture store... I don't understand it.. could  my GPS be holding a grudge? RECALCULATING our relationship?  Kind of makes me rethink the possibility of tiny singers in stereos...kind of...

  This past week seems to be all about recalculating. Our cat Joe has disappeared..vanished...poof..he's just...gone. I find myself at a loss as to what to tell the herd. . They have of course noticed his absence-Zoe especially..and I don't know what to tell them.  There was no sickness..no signs..no body..he just up and vanished.  What do you say to that?.  A year and a half ago, when both my father and my sister died-it was simpler .. Sickness, age..those things are easier to explain. Death was not unexpected.  I could prepare them, talk to them.  Joe's disappearance has thrown us all..I hate to admit it..perhaps because I am not ready to accept it myself-but, I told them that he probably decided to take a trip, or have an adventure...I don't have it in me to tell them that he is probably dead..because they will want a reason..an explanation..and I don't have one. It has been a week now..and I keep expecting him to come in the window..or find to him on the stairs waiting for me to walk by so that he can stick his paw through the railing and grab me..I miss my sweet boy.

  So, it looks as if I, like Sheila am going to have to recalculate. Figure out what to tell the herd...find a way to explain the unexplainable....and definitely look into getting a new GPS.  

Firsts. lasts....everything...

~"How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart."~William Butler Yeats

  The lovely and wonderful Looking For Blue Sky has tagged me in a meme about "firsts". I think it is nice when a blogger friend wants to know more about you.  After reading her "firsts" I have no doubt in my mind that I would certainly enjoy chatting with her over coffee..or wine.

   It's funny, but at this time in my life-I am more apt to remember my kids "firsts" more than my own.  I do remember some...you know, the basic "firsts" everyone has.  But there are others...frightening ones, that are branded on my brain.. Doesn't it seem the most memorable "firsts" appear to be the kind where you think to yourself "Well, I'm never going to do THAT again"...First times can be life changing..lovely to look back on...or in the case of some of mine...scary...

 Like the first time I saw my Grandmother naked...it was a total accident. I happened to see her as she was getting out of the shower.  I was seven and she was about eight hundred or so.  I'm still not quite sure what it was that I saw-but it looked like she was wearing FOUR wrinkly... pendulous ..masses of flesh.. slowly swaying with each ponderous step she took. She was a heavy set woman.  That experience marked me..Perhaps it is the reason why I have always been adamant about exercising my arms AND wearing a supportive bra....Or the first time I had to make the sacrament of "confession" at church.  I was in fourth grade..and really DID NOT want to do this...Yes, penance was an issue. As was the fact that I was not as innocent as people thought.    So in order to get out of this...I did what any sensible child afraid of hell (and priests and nuns) would do...I pretended I was sick and stayed home from school. I was pretty proud of my quick thinking- I thought that I was in the clear...until the next week when those of us who were absent-had to make it up. GASP!  I remember dragging my feet as I made my way  in to the confessional booth.  I knelt down and said "Forgive me Father for I have sinned...this is my first confession"....and then proceeded to lie my way through it. I made stuff up. There was no way that I was going to confess to a priest that I had" stolen a" Playboy" magazine and set my brother up by leaving it in plain view for my mother to find in his bathroom"...or that" I had carved the same brothers name into our dining table"..or" eaten all the chocolates he had to sell for a fundraiser." (My brother was a great source of torment for me-and although I may have only been nine..I was very good at subtle revenge)  I'd probably still be doing "Hail Mary's". 

 Thankfully, those firsts were also lasts...I don't have too many of them...I think. Not all of them were scary- I do have firsts that I can look fondly on...or at least not cringe too much at..

  I remember my first real kiss..his name was John..we were twelve..and the only reason my mother let me go out for pizza with him was because he said that he wanted to become a priest. I think he told many mothers this..because, he kissed a lot of girls.  I remember my first record album-Aerosmith, "Toys in the Attic" My brother Ned gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday..(Being the youngest of six kids, I inherited lots of albums from my siblings..but this was the first one that was mine). My first job was at Roy Rogers family restaurant. I had to wear a very short frilly skirt, an off the shoulder blouse and a cowboy hat.  Times have indeed changed.  The first time I got "tipsy" was with my best friend Ursula..we drank "Southern Comfort" simply because Janis Joplin had . To this day, I can not stand the smell of it.     The first time I met Omar..it was love..well really..lust at first site..I don't know what it was, but I KNEW that I had to have that man- and as we have been together almost twenty years..I would say that it worked out pretty well..The lust  love has grown even stronger .

  So there you have it...some firsts that were lasts..some firsts that I can recall fondly..and some firsts that have lasted.  Now it is my turn to tag some others...I choose-
Jazzygal
Jen
Holly
I know that all three will make me laugh...and with four kids home with me and Summer rec not starting till next week...I NEED to laugh!