Tent Camping!

I won't be blogging for the next several days because once or twice a year the family wants to go to a campground for a wonderful few days of sleeping on the ground in a cloth hut that smells like mildew with a rock in their back all night. Or my favorite, the tent is on an incline and I must decide whether I want to sleep with my head higher and feel like I am going down a slide all night or my feet higher and feel like I am being dragged by my feet across the dirt like a caveman would do his wife if he wanted her to get in the kitchen and cook! Wait there are more joys to this. There are the bathrooms that smell like the old girl scout latrines you loved as a child. There are the cold showers that are usually not so private! There is always the redneck family next to you that is up fighting all night. Last time we went to Trout Pond the family next to us {and I use that term loosely} got mad at the grown drunk son and the 60 year old father decided that although he couldn't turn him over his knee anymore that he could sock him in the face and bloody his nose! Then there is the cooking over the fire and having ash all in your food from the wind whipping around. Although you're bored stiff, I'm not through yet. This is my vent remember. Don't forget the lovely bond with nature at its best with gnats swarming around your face, snakes lurking under every rock and the fact that you picked the campsite where the camp mascot {a skunk} will be visiting each evening! We went camping once back when we had a pop-up camper--so much better {I say that tongue in cheek!} Let me give you some advice. If you wake up in the middle of the night needing to relieve yourself of the 50 glasses of sweet tea you drank that day trying to keep yourself hydrated from the 150 degree heat of the day--Don't, I mean don't try to straddle a plastic solo cup in the middle of the bed with your husband sleeping next to you. Let me tell you when he decides to roll over just as you think you have accomplished your mission without a hitch, you fall , solo cup spills and even the sweetest husband doesn't like being doused with 32 oz of warm urine at 4:00 in the morning while he's sleeping! O.K I'm no idiot {some would disagree with this.} I learned my lesson. Next time I woke up with this same predicament I decided that although I didn't want to hike the 6.4 miles to the nearest stinky latrine I had to do it. I finally get there and go into a lovely stall {don't they ever think of decorating those johns} and just as I sit down to relieve myself of the 50 glasses of sweet tea that I have drank that day--------a snake crawls into the stall with me! Did you get that-A SNAKE CRAWLS INTO THE STALL WITH ME! I have to stand up on the toilet, pull up my drawers, lean over and open up the door and jump over the snake to get out of there and run back to the campsite! Now, husbands aren't to fond of being awakened at 3:00 in the morning with you ranting breathlessly something about a huge snake in the bathroom and you have only rid yourself of 8 oz. of your sweet tea consumption and need him to go back with you and GET THAT SNAKE OUT OF THE BATHROOM!!!!!!!! We return and husband dutifully removes said snake from bathroom so that his wife can finally get rid of the rest of the tea-no pun intended! My husband still laughs at this incident and insists that the snake was 6" long. He called it a baby snake but let me tell you one thing I learned from dear ole dad, A snake, is a snake, is a snake! And, when one is staring you in the face sticking his tongue out at you at 3:00 in the morning when you would rather be sleeping under a cardboard box in NYC than being out "under the stars" as my family likes to call it , well 6" looks like 6 feet! I asked my husband if I didn't whine all weekend if next Sat. we could do something I wanted to do. He sweetly said yes! After a minute of thought, I asked if he would be bringing duct tape as my mouth may need some assistance. He replied yes like, "why haven't I thought of this before!" I then asked if a sigh counted--no comment. How about a moan? He winked at me and said, "Honey, your pushing it."

Southern women

Blogging really helps you talk out your thoughts. I am even getting back to being a little more like myself. Yesterday a man whipped out of a shopping center in front of me on the main road and came within 6" of ramming the side of my van. I just looked at him, smiled, waved the it's OK honey wave, and then said out loud, "Bless his little heart, must have his mind on something else." This is a far cry from the ravings of a mad woman several weeks ago. I'd like to clarify something. I know I talk often about being a southern belle. I am proud of my heritage but it runs much deeper than that. A southern woman has something to be proud of. A southern woman loves her God, her country, and her family. A southern women can always be counted on to take a dish to someone grieving the loss of a loved one or take some flowers by a friend to cheer her up when she's sick or down. A southern woman never takes her family for granted. She adores her hubby, her children, grand-children, nieces, nephews and any little child needing a mother. A southern woman loves holidays or any excuse to gather those she loves around her to nurture them. A southern woman always honors her father and mother and her elders in general and teaches her children to do the same. She knows the importance of a thank you note and always has a kind, cheerful, encouraging word for the down trodden. She can't look the other way when there is a tear in someones eye even if they are a total stranger. If she's outgoing she'll go right up and ask "what's wrong honey?" If she's shy she'll say a little prayer in her heart on their behalf. She wants no part in mistreating a human being or an animal. She loves with her whole heart and soul and it shows. You don't have to be from the south to be a southern woman. You can be one if your from Minnesota to Maine, Canada to Buenos Aires, or Iceland to Siberia. Are you a southern woman? You should be proud!

Multi-tasking!

Have you heard about the woman from MN that delivered her baby behind the wheel while driving 70mph to the hospital! She said she just put the car on cruise control and delivered her 8 lb baby! I vote we make her an honorary southern belle. Tara herself couldn't have handled that situation with more spunk! She must be a multi-tasker is all I've got to say. I can't walk up stairs and chew gum at the same time. I'm really serious about this--just ask my family. I actually had to drop out of band in the 9th grade because we took up marching. You see you're suppose to march, count out your steps, play your instrument and breathe at the same time. Who ever came up with that idea? I had the breathing down. I was eventually able to play {although I use the term very loosely} the clarinet at the same time. It was adding the marching and counting that was way to much to ask! We went out on the side of the school, took our places, and had to play and count out 29 steps turn right etc. I knew my limitations but decided to give it the old Tara try. Start walking, counting, playing, 29 steps-everyone turn right I turn left! O.k. I was right in the first place. I won't play I'll just count and march. Worked I could officially count and march and just hold my fingers still on the top of the clarinet. Until Mr. English {the band teacher} notices that I'm not playing and calls me out in front of the whole group. O.K. I've got to actually play this thing. Play horn, march, count, everyone turns left--I turn right! I can see the handwriting on the wall. I sign up to switch to P.E. which let me tell you with my uncoordinated self wasn't any better than band. I look back now and think that they really should have had more options for girls-I mean really! The guidance counselor could say, "O.K, I see hear you can't walk up stairs and chew gum at the same time and we also know that you can't walk across an empty room without tripping over your own feet . We're going to label you special needs. Let me see what options do we have for your elective that you can handle. AH, we have Shopping 101, Eating a bag of Lay's potato chips without stopping after just one, Flirting 201 {I see your already advanced in that area.}" Would have made junior high a whole lot easier! Now in my defence of band, I realize what with all the resources we have now to find out that many people have phobias about certain things that I had a very natural phobia that highly interfered with my being able to play the clarinet! I was afraid that it would make me bucked teeth. There is a name for every phobia so I am sure there is a name for this one also! Nowadays we understand things like that. We know that some poor souls have a fear of water {aqua phobia.} Now we wouldn't insist that they be on the school swim team now would we? A kid with Mysophobia- the fear of germs- would have some allowances to leave class a little more than other kids to go wash his hands. We understand these things now and we work around them. We're compassionate and progressive in our thinking! Remember the term "No Child Left Behind?" But in the year 1975 you couldn't just walk in your counselor's office and say, "I'm afraid that I can't play the clarinet in band because I have this phobia that it will make me bucked teeth. Sign me up for Shopping 101." By the way if anyone out there knows the correct term for fear of a clarinet making you buck teethed I'd like to know. It's always nice to be able to make your phobias sound more scientific!

Kids!

O.K. I was a little worried about how my children were going to react to my blogging. You know telling everybody my business and their business too! Well they have been surprisingly supportive. I actually talked to Megan {the middle child who lives in TN} last night and she was really concerned about me. She sympathizes with the empty nest syndrome and is worried about the mid-life crisis thing. She asked me so many questions and gave me some great ideas on what to do with my life now. She was way better than that $85.00 for 15 minutes woman I went to see. Guess I need to buy her a pair of shoes! Then I talked to the oldest daughter Jenny--she too was extremely supportive and said, "I think blogging will be good for you." Are these my children? I thought that they would die of embarrassment. I was so afraid to tell them that I actually kind of whispered that I was blogging kind of like you would tell your best friend in her ear that you robbed the 7-11 at gunpoint last night of a box of Twinkies, a National Enquirer and 25 lbs of M&Ms! Well anyway the jury is still out on my 22 year old son. In yesterdays blog I mentioned something about not changed so often underwear. I feel the need to explain further lest he hits the roof, ties me to all my shoes to weigh me down and then deposits me in the local pond! First of all he was a preteen--this alone explains a lot! Secondly he was led astray buy a grown-up. Some guy {you'll know it was a guy when you hear the story cause a woman would NEVER think this way} anyway this guy told him it was actually possible to get 4 days of use out of a pair of underwear. First day you wear them the right way. Second day you flip them around backwards. Third day you turn them inside out and wear the crotch in front. Fourth day you leave them inside out but wear them backwards! My son told me this with a look of awe on his face that looked like he had discovered the theory of relativity! He said the guy said he learned it in the military. Am I the only one who is thinking THIS IS WHAT THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IS TEACHING OUR BEST AND MOST COURAGEOUS AT BOOT CAMP! Well anyway now he shouldn't be mad cause I explained the whole underwear thing right? Back to the kids, I guess we can say that they have turned out pretty great! Not that there weren't moments mind you. I encouraged creativity in my children. I taught them to find things they liked about themselves and "revel in them." I also taught them that if it was something that they didn't about themselves they they could change. They could do anything they wanted to do! Sometimes I think I may have taken it a little far. All three of our kids had imaginary friends. Imaginary friends can really perk up a household I can tell you. Jenny had David and Jim. She painted the living room rug when she was 4 while a babysitter was supposedly watching her. Next morning at breakfast she informed me it was David that did it. I said, "Well DAVID knows better than to ever do that again doesn't he?" To which she replied, "Yea, he wanted to paint the walls but I wouldn't let him!" Megan's imaginary friends were Mungey and Petesy! The biggest argument I ever had with a 3 year old was whether Mungey could have his own cheeseburger at the drive-threw at McDonald's. Megan--"Mama, Mungey wants his own cheeseburger!" Me--"I'm sorry Megan but you will just have to share your cheeseburger with Mungey." Megan, "But mama Mungey wants his OWN cheeseburger or none at all." Me, "then Mungey will just have to not have a cheeseburger won't he?" Megan, "But mama, you always said that it was rude to eat in front of other people!" This is where my patience wears thin. "Meeggggaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn, Mungey is perfectly welcome to visit anytime in fact I love Mungey, but I draw the line at buying him his own cheeseburger!!!!!" Benjamin shared Mungey and Petesy with Megan. He also had "Claw." Claw lived under his bed and protected him from monsters. Doesn't every little kid need a "Claw" sometimes? Anyway, we survived our children's childhoods. They've never given us the least bit of trouble-well much anyway. They've never done drugs or come home drunk. And we were never called to school because of a problem. Wait a minute, I take that back. I was called to school when Benjamin was in kindergarten. It seems he mooned someone on the playground! After I revived from fainting the teacher said, "Now Mrs. Montgomery this is not that uncommon for a child his age." NOT THAT UNCOMMON! I'm thinking seven generations of southern belles just rolled over in their graves! I could hear it now some sweet little ole lady in Heaven saying, "I heard it through the grapevine that my great, great, great, great, great grandson has just exposed his rear end on the merry-go-round at school. What is that world coming to!" Seems he has some kind of quirky underwear thing going on too"{Sigh} Kind of gives new meaning to the word merry-go-round doesn't it? I calmly asked my son later {after I had fainted several more times} what ever possessed him to moon someone on the playground. He said, "John told me to do it." Oh, well that explains it all! How could I have been so silly! John TOLD you to of course!" Then I think I probably said the old southern favorite that you are not allowed to be a parent until you memorize, "And if John told you to jump off a bridge would you do it?" My husband was always told "a cliff" but hey this is my blog! All in all I think they turned out to be some pretty incredible people! And that goes for my son-in-laws and Benjamin's girlfriend also! Aren't we lucky?

Empty Nest Syndrome

I am learning more about myself each day that I use my blog as a therapist. I think one of my main problems is that I am suffering from empty nest syndrome. I have two married daughters. One thank goodness lives in town with her husband and my 2 grandchildren Corben and Madilyn. The other is married and lives in Knoxville TN-seven hours away! That's where my little grand-daughter Rosie lives. We still have one child at home. He's 22 but with work and school I see him about 2 hours a week. He's around just long enough to make a mess and eat us out of house and home. He's my baby. I still try to get him to sit in my lap and give me kisses and hugs. Twenty-two year olds frown on this. They don't understand that once they're your baby they're always your baby. We do have a great relationship. We tease each other constantly and have the same wicked since of humor! However there are times that I would like to have an old fashioned Biblical stoning. When their brother was in trouble when they were little Jenny and Megan always said, "Can we watch?" So I guess I would have to invite them to the stoning also. He went through a stage of laying around in his not changed very often under-drawers on the couch with his only exercise the movement of his thumb on the remote control. Occasionally the only sound emitting from his presence was one I can't talk about and the question "Mom can you bring me a coke?" I began to have nightmares of an elderly man {with me still his more elderly mother} still laying on my couch gathering dust in a pair of Depends undergarments stuffing his empty coke can under the sofa when he was through with it so that he didn't have to get up and walk 10 feet to the nearest trash can! Thank goodness he grew out of that phase. I was beginning to think that there was going to be a shallow grave in the back yard and it wasn't going to be me! I use to love it when school was out every year and we could look forward to a long fun summer with the kids. I never dreaded school being let out however I am sure that I was the original model for the Staples commercial o the parents skipping down the aisles singing while they are buying school supplies! I remember setting up the pool on the back patio in Louisiana and filling the pool with water. Now the problem was that the water was really cold so I had it figured out that it took 27 large pots of HOT tap water to balance out the coolness of the hose water. So 27 times I would go from the kitchen sink through the 25 ft. long living room, across the foyer and through the 3rd bedroom which had a patio door, dump the water and return for more. I thought that I was being such a wonderful mother. My mother had a different philosophy about child raising. If it was trouble she didn't do it. Now I love my mother dearly but her favorite word was no. You could ask her ANYTHING and the answer would be no. "Mother can I breath?" "No you may not!" My father always has and always will say "Yes." You could say "Daddy, can we go out and play in the street and dodge in and out of speeding traffic?" Long silence, compassionate look on face, "Well I guess so honey but be really careful." As a result of this my sister and I spent a great deal of our Arkansas childhood sitting on the front porch waiting for the yes man to get home! Then bless his heart when we took off we left him having to deal with the no woman and us running amok all over the neighborhood or dodging in and out of traffic. I digress again {ADD+ dumb blond+no common sense will do that to you.} Anyway, one of the hardest things in life is letting go of your children when they set off on their own. We spend all their growing years in sacrifice, encouragement, teaching them to be independent grown-ups some day only to ball our eyes out when their gone. I can't even figure this out. One day I'm so happy that that our son is still at home and the next day I am considering putting an ad in a foreign country newspaper for a mail order groom! "Who's this a picture of mom?" " That's your new wife to be in Russia. I have your bags packed, new underwear {don't want to start out on the wrong foot with the new wife i mean that's the least i can do right.} "And by the way clean out those 38 cans of smashed coke bottles that you threw under the couch before you leave!"

Another mid-life crisis clue.

I'm a town girl. Always have been and thought that I always would be. When I was a child my sister was always begging our parents to move out in the country. Jut the thought made me start crying hysterically and begging for mercy! Yes, I was the original drama queen. Well not the original-I believe that was Eve. Can't you just see her in the garden talking to God. "But that ugly ole snake just kept on after me {sniff, sniff.} I tried to say no and he's just so pushy {throw hand up to forehead.} Besides I'm just not myself today and you know I have a sweet tooth and there is no such thing as chocolate yet {swoon.} So anyway the thought of living in the country has never appealed to me. Nine years ago we built our dream house. We being my sweet little ole husband of 30 years who by the way is slightly worried {I only say slightly because my husband doesn't worry about anything} about my recent erratic behavior. Guess where he wanted to build it. Yep out in the country on 5 acres. My first thought was we have a quarter of an acre in town and you can't stand the upkeep of the yard here so what are we going to do with 5 acres! My sweet little ole husband said, "Oh that will be different when we are in the country." Now this is where I made a tactical error. I assumed that since my husband grew up on 136 acres in the country and had wonderful memories of going to his grandparents weekend farmhouse for family gatherings that this meant that the mere thought of living and breathing country air would make him nostalgic for bush hogging and "taking care of the land." What I didn't know was that he meant "when you live in the country your in the country so you can just let the land go to pot." Not literally mind you-been there done that! We had a rent house in Shreveport, LA 25 years ago. I single mother and 2 teenage sons were renting it. I should say destroying it for free as they hardly ever paid their rent. My husband felt sorry for her. He kept thinking about me and the 3 kids alone and needing help. He even bought a lawn mower for her 2 teenage boys so that they could mow lawns in the summer and help their mother out financially. But they preferred to knock holes in the walls and spray paint devil worshipping symbols on our back patio. Well she calls one day and asks if she can grow some little ole herbs in the backyard to sell at the weekend farm markets. We said sure you go right ahead darlin. To make a long story short when they finally moved out we had a backyard full of over my head marijuana plants. You should have seen the frenzy of my staunchest Republican in the south and and my southern belle self out there frantically trying to get rid of the largest pot farm in LA history. Well I digress. Anyway my idea of 5 acres in the country was something like the grounds at Martha Stewart's place and his was a wildlife preserve in northern Virginia. Neighbors don't take to well to a wild and I do mean wild life preserve in Virginia. I've always wanted to be a Martha Stewart that usually turns out to be a Lucy Ricardo! Anyway, after 9 years in the country lately I've been like loving this stuff. I walk my land like a pioneer women. I'm whipping this acreage into shape. I'm thinking about some cute little ole chickens in some Junior League style coops named Hilda, Helga, Honoria, Hedy and Hortense. Now I know I've flipped. Once again unusual behavior for me. I know this must be a mid-life crisis because why else would I have a complete personality change! The mere mention of a farm animal use to get a big "EEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!" from me. I am even considering keeping bees! My family still hasn't gotten off the floor laughing at that one. I have the desire to live dangerously! Since I'm a Christian, Republican, totally uptight southern belle I have few outlets that are acceptable. I'm allergic to bees. My husband has thought of me trotting down to the beehives with my epi pen in hand. I've never been one for living dangerously. The most I've ever bucked the system is fixing Taco Soup too many times because it was so easy when my husband had said "Enough with the Taco Soup already!" My husband didn't actually say that. He would have said, Honey, do you think maybe you could find another recipe for soup. I'm getting a little worn out on that recipe and your such a wonderful cook." So here I am feeling like the biggest boob there ever was with a wonderful husband and grown children and 3 precious grand-children because I am going through a mid-life crisis and want a little daring over the edge excitement in my life. I think that I'll go make some Taco Soup.

Is this a mid-life crisis?

O.K. I know the term is highly over used. I guess a mid-life crisis is anything from feeling a little blue to boarding up the house, taking pot shots at passing automobiles and winding up on CNN. Well I have just diagnosed myself because of certain behavior that I will go into later and the fact that the only time I ever went to a psychiatrist I was charged $85.00 for 15 minutes. Blogging is cheap therapy! I have recently displayed what I shall call uncharacteristic southern belle behavior for me at least. First offense, I told my son-in-law that he was full of it and I don't mean Twinkies! Now I am one of those love each other even if you don't like each other kind of moms. You know encourage each other--if you can't say something good don't say anything at all sorts! Yeah, you go right ahead and stuff those negative feelings kind of mom. So telling my son-in-law that he was full of "it" was definitely a warning sign. Offense number 2, I got bad service at a TGIF's and actually reported it to the manager! Not of course before I came home and asked my son who is in management if I should or not. But I actually complained to a boss! I have had some rotten service in my life but I always make excuses for them. You know they are having an off day bless their little hearts-when your from the south you say a lot of bless their little hearts! I am 49 years old and have managed to never complain to a manager in my life. Next I went to a shoe store and heard the clerk yelling obscenities and I actually insisted right there that they call the manager. Now I know that I dislike foul mouthed women and men too for that matter but I have never gone ballistic over it before. One thing after another of these out of character moments and I have decided that I definitely have a problem. I just wasn't raised like that! Southern women are gracious, thoughtful, kind and well full of it! I have always been so proud of my southern ways, accent and traditions. And so since I don't want to pay an absurd fee to vent to a therapist who will just go out and buy the cutest little shoes you ever saw with my money, I have decided to blog and buy shoes for my self!