Wine Coolers, Axels, & Daily Grind

Indeed, there is something that screams "You live in a safety net!" when you live in a town like we grew up in. Even if our growing up style changed once we left the City Limits, the growing up we did do while there can't be beat anywhere else. I can guarantee that if you had asked us if we liked it then, we didn't. But, as B said in retrospect, it was a beautiful way of 'growing' period. I even use some of the same tactics that were used against me, although explained to me then 'to protect, and help me' these days with my own children. I know when one of my children has purchased jerky from the gas station at lunch time, when one likes someone else and hasn't yet disclosed it to a family member, and if one was off school grounds in a hidden location when they were supposed to be at school. What I now consider a benefit, then I thought was a prison sentence.

Oldest, Curfew Sitation, Wine Coolers
Being the oldest, wisest, brightest, and most sarcastic of we sisters, (Ok, maybe only two out of those four are true) I didn't get into trouble like B. Oh! Wait! Neither of us got into trouble, but she should have! I did go to dances, and to be home right following the dance was the rule. I followed the rule, I didn't waiver or stray from the rules. It didn't help that we lived not far from the school, and our parents and their hawk like senses, listened for the traffic leaving, after a school dance. (I scoff at that word in our lil town, traffic was tourists during tourist season, and High Schoolers leaving a dance. Oooo!) So, if I were later than say, 10-15 minutes past the time the dance was over, I was grounded. Which meant that I couldn't talk on the phone, and pull it 30 ft. away from the wall, and secretly talk to a boy, or go anywhere unless it consisted of school, or sporting event that I was involved in. Mom says she never held to the grounding, but I beg to differ with her on that one. B on the other hand, I think the words were spoken that she was grounded, but the definition seemed to change over the six year difference between us. I have vowed to my children to be as mean to the first child all the way to the sixth child. (It's tough work!) I can remember going back 'home' as an adult and seeing that B was doing things I wasn't allowed to do, or doing them without permission, and calling her out on it. She would laugh and walk out the door! I would make my best pleas to convince my Mom that she should punish her, but she didn't! We won't even talk about our little bro...He's a boy AND is the youngest of the trio. He had a totally different set of rules, they were his own. I kid about it, because I can, it's in the rules of being an older sibling. You gotta get something out of this deal. In a nut shell, I broke the parents in for them. I was so good, that they let the reigns out a little with each of the children following my lead...Truthfully, my Mom would probably say, "You never asked." Uh, you're right, I was afraid for my life to ask. I did get into trouble, my record was not squeaky clean. I got a curfew situation, for sitting in a truck in front of one of the places kids hung out, to talk and flirt, or make plans for these party's that B speaks of...I was out passed the curfew of the City, which was 10 pm. My girl friend was irritated that the officer was questioning us. She mouthed off to him, and asked him why he was bothering us when he could be getting a burglar or something. Great! That's all I needed was to have my parents get a call from jail! BESIDES the fact that, that night she had me sneak out some wine coolers from the garage to the truck...She had a brilliant idea to pour the coolers into these ice cream containers she had cleaned out. While walking through her dark garage, arms full of these coolers, somewhat against my will-even though I was carrying them myself. I dropped a 4 pack on the floor. Her dad flung open the door, and grumpily said "You'd better clean those up before morning, they're going to smell." My friend wasn't in the garage when I did this, and came running back in, I was ready to go back in the house and call it a night. I told her what her Dad had said, she said "Oh, we'll get it in the morning-Let's go have some fun." You see she was the youngest of her siblings...I was the oldest of mine remember...Proof of the totally different rules for younger siblings do exist! We went outside and she did her switch of the wine coolers into the new containers...I mention this because we could have had a minor in possession that night, but when the cop flashed his flashlight into the truck, he saw the ice cream containers...and didn't think anything. What teenagers cruise with ice cream? I don't know...he must not have been from around there?...It's cold even in the summer time there...But, oh well we'll go with it. The officer had dispatch call our parents to get permission to go home. I wasn't in trouble, but I didn't know this. When I woke up I cleaned up the mess in the garage, and stalled going home. I knew I was in trouble...for certain! The Police Department notified our parents that that our probation officer would call. My what? Great! I've got a record now! I'll stay away from home as long as I could, cause if I'm not in county jail, I will be jailed at home once I get there. My Mom was more mad because I hadn't checked in that morning, than for my curfew citation. I bet she would have been pissed, if she knew I had the wine coolers in the truck too. (So, Mom are you mad? I know you're reading this...)

My parents did allow for me to go to a couples party once, since parents were there. We 'watched' movies, and sat all cozied up with our boyfriends. We ate snacks, held hands, kissed, and then some couples made plans for after the party, for a real party. I had to go home. So, there Mom I did ask to do something and I give you credit for allowing me to attend. Dang it! Why didn't I push the limits! I could have been having a Red Solo Cup experience, or tire burning, or some other type of excitement stored in my memory bank, like B! I guess it allows for me to make up for the times I didn't, and I can take risks now...Look out world-I'm here!

Cruising Main
I too had an experience that involved my boyfriends vehicle, me driving it, and my parents. Well, my parents issue that they would like to be known a "a concern" was that they didn't want me to drive his truck. I didn't find the 'concern' to be, well as concerning. I drove it anyhow, it was 'cool' to drive it, and I felt special in some sort of High School girl dating a boy kinda way. Well, we were out 'tooling around' or 'cruising', I believe it there were two girlfriends and myself in the cab of the truck. My boyfriend was out of town at a football game, and he had left the keys with me so that I could take it. We were listening to music, and giggling like girls and talking about boys...and going from one end of town to the other end, and repeat-several times that night. We were ironically in front of the Auto Wreckers of town and something happened. Metal was scraping, and the axle ended up on the ground, at the front of the vehicle rather than the rear...we were dead in the middle of Main...well a smidgen off to the side. I hadn't hit anything? I have no idea what had happened. But, we all looked at one another, and didn't know what to do. If you knew our town, there isn't the hustle and bustle of people on foot. But, for some reason, a man was walking with a brief case near where we were. I'm sure as we were inspecting Main and the debris of bolts, and shards of metal, and pieces of the truck that were in the road...bent over like non mechanics trying to put it together in our minds...we were a sight to see. Remember, this was before cell phones. So, the man came over to us, and bent down with us...looked and said, "Looks like the axle fell out at the transfer case, there must have been a crack or something. Here's my card, if you need more help." I remember thinking who the heck is this, and why would I need your card? I'm not only busted by my friggin parents, but my boyfriend is going to kill me. Some high school boys helped us push it to the side of the road, and then we got a ride to the High School parking lot, because as the bus would return the football players to the school-Someones truck wouldn't be there. I left a note on another boys truck that his truck broke down, and was in front of the Auto Wreckers. Then I proceeded to go home and face the first wrath, the parents. I walked in and they were on the couch watching a movie. I was home earlier than was expected. My Mom made a comment about me being home early, and asked if I wanted to watch the movie with them. I sat down, waiting an eternity (3 minutes or so), then I broke it to them. I asked if I could talk to them, and my Dad sighed the 'sigh' and gave the 'look'. I then told them that I know I wasn't supposed to, but I drove my boyfriends truck and then it broke down, and I left him a note on someone else's truck. I got a lecture on the reasons of their 'concern' had now come to fruition, and that they didn't have the money to pay for the truck's repair, and so on and so on. I was grounded. I went to my room, and cried, at some point I fell asleep. I awoke with my eyes glued shut from the tears, and eyes so puffy I had to feel my way out of my room, because the slits that I did have, wouldn't allow enough vision to make it based on sight. I used the restroom, and was committed to get back to my room for my self sequestering of the remaining High School Years...before I made it back to my room. The phone rang, and it was my boyfriend, my Mom had answered, and she said I needed to talk to him. I reluctantly got on the phone, and he then proceeded to tell me that he had anticipated that, the transfer case was going to crack at some point, and that it wasn't a big deal. WHAT! NOT A BIG DEAL! I didn't know if I should feel relieved or upset he hadn't told me of the possibilities...and probability that it could happen while I was driving-Thus I'd have made the decision to not drive it-Right! Wrong, who would I be fooling? I would have driven it anyhow...flowers were delivered to my house that afternoon, and an apology...I only wonder what my Dad and Mom thought. It wasn't discussed ever again.

Dances, Teenage Years, & the Bump & Daily Grind of Parenting
School dances were fun, and I have been going back to remember how much fun I had, as I watch my own children who have attended, or are attending dances in their school careers. I have even chaperoned a dance or two in my parenthood lifetime. I remember that the most explicit things to worry about during my school dance experience was that of lyrics that implied about the act of sex, or kissing, or women. Or that the common 'boner' was active during a slow dance, and at times petrifying. If you can picture in your head, I'd be slow dancing from the waist up...and dancing with enough space to allow for the growing problem from the waist down. Don't forget a quick prayer in my head would be said, that the song would end-any-time-SOON! I used to wonder what it would be like to be raised in the 50's with sock hops and somehow doubt that kids these days wish they were raised in the 80's like their parents. I can't for once imagine the kids that I see dancing these days, they put Dirty Dancing to shame, allow for a moment the thought of dancing like their prehistoric parents of the 80's. When did that all change? Where was I for that? I must have missed something. I didn't get the memo. I feel like I might repeat some of the phrases that my parents, or grandparents used...Holy Buckets! I think that it's more applicable 'these days'! I've caught a few kids having intercourse on the dance floor, that's sex people with two boys and a girl. They grind, and I'm not talking about coffee. The boundaries of my slow dancing days are long gone, and I'm saddened that there's 'no boner'. Their innocence is lost, there aren't any lines drawn in their heads, to respect themselves. It is definitely difficult to raise children, and teach, guide, and set some boundaries for them the respect of themselves...as they are up against challenges that in general terms today's society allows by what is considered acceptable. I know that I'm doing my best and that what I do instill in my own- is to respect themselves and others, always. There is no exception. So far, keeping the open communication between them and myself has paid off. But, with the topics of dances and attire that young ladies choose, 'in my day' a hooker would have worn. I believe that it's we as parents who initially set the guidelines and show them that beauty is much further than the length of their legs, or the sex appeal that a 14 or 15 year old can project, or how much cleavage is exposed. I guess I am dating myself...but, to what era? We set ourselves up for disappointment, failure, and unnecessary pain for ourselves and more importantly our children if we choose to turn the other cheek. I have definitely been one who has called another parent, spoke to them in person, or sat in a room with another's child to talk about a serious subject matter with a set of parents because their child was too afraid to talk to them alone. The difficult subject matters that sometimes parents turn the other cheek, rather than talk to their child makes for it to continue. I have had talks about 'a' pubic hair Yes, that's a single hair. A teen was excited at a study group I held for a group of boys. A week or so earlier I had talked to them about hygiene-deodorant, the changes in their body, and girls. I guess he felt compelled to share that 'it happened', he got one hair. Try to keep your composure on that one, somehow I did. I've explained 'blow' jobs. I have explained, that you don't 'just blow with air' on 'it'. You laugh, but I've been in these situations. I will never, lie, cheat, or steal for anyone...and all of the kids that I know, are aware of this...and because of that, I have had to deal with some serious, silly, whole hearted, and teen challenges of today's world. I wouldn't have it any other way, they have to have someone to go to. I'd rather they know the truth, than try to figure it out on their own, or create their own definition. I do let them know that I would help them speak to their parents, and have done so. Difficult, very difficult-But, worth it all in the end. Parenthood, nothing prepares you for it, and it's ever evolving. Let me text you next time to explain. No, I'll facebook you. Facetime is always an option...I'm sure glad there's no Youtube video of either B, nor my driving the boyfriends vehicle, and going viral. I think it's tough to be a teen these days with all of the social networking. If I could say one thing, it would be to stay connected without social networking with our children. Connection and communication is becoming a lost art, and it is so important. I guess it gives the 'boner' option a whole new meaning?


Love Deeply, Live out Loud & Live your Dash,
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Red Solo Cups

T and I grew up in a small town, lets call it FB.  When I say small, I mean population maybe around 5000 people when we were kids. You learn a lot of life's lessons differently in a small town than say someone who grew up in a big city.  Now I'm not saying one is better than another, but what I can say is that I am glad to be a part of the community we call "home."  However, as a teenager, I may have begged to differ with you. 

If you didn't know what you were up to, someone else most likely did.  One of the side notes of growing up in FB, is that some residents had little to do in their personal lives and made it their mission to meddle and share what "Sam Smith was doing last night."  I think that the gossip may have had it's advantages as well as disadvantages.  Our Mom was a school bus driver and knew a lot of the school aged kids, their siblings, their parents, their grandparents...which meant she almost always knew before we did, what we were up to.

The Senior Ball was coming up, when I was 16.  Underclassmen could attend and I was looking forward to it.  My boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I were planning on going to the dance for a short time and then "head out" to a friends house afterwards for a party. Our friends lived North of town about ten miles.  If you haven't been to a high school party in FB, you may have missed out.  A party usually consisted of lots of lifted trucks, a pallet or tire fire, beer in red Solo cups, and people of all ages.  They would be at a persons house, or most often held at places called "Top of the World", "Sherwood", or "The Bark Dumps."  At these parties, commonly you had the high schoolers, the just out of high schoolers, the few siblings of high schoolers that may have been in middle school, and don't forget the dogs that hitched a ride in the back of someones truck. These parties included locals with nicknames that referenced fruit, bodily functions, and others.  It was a sight to be seen and you were bummed if you missed a Saturday party "Out Sherwood." 

Back to my story, and the party...So I asked my parents if I could stay the night at our friends house.  I purposefully left out the part about my boyfriend going to stay out there too.  Somehow, some way, my Mom knew better and allowed me to go "out" to the friends house but definitely not stay the night.  My guess is that she had heard somewhere that there were going to be more than just girls staying out there.  I will never know, but most likely it was one of her "sources".  I did go out there after the dance, and we hung out, the guys drove their trucks through a mud bog and there was a tire fire, good times!  Looking back, the enviromentalists would have keeled over if they knew how much smog the high school kids were causing with their weekend parties!

I didn't get my drivers license until I was 18.  My take on it was that I didn't have a car anyway and between my boyfriend and best friend I always had a ride so why bother?  Well to set the scene, my boyfriend always drove lifted trucks, that usually had a stereo you could hear from three blocks away at least.  One of my friends had ridden somewhere with us at one point, and said she felt like she was getting a "back massage" from the booming speakers behind the seat.  At this particular time, he was driving a bright yellow lifted 1978 Ford.  He had taught me how to drive it, and I had convinced him that I could take it to school after lunch and bring it back afterwards.  A few of my friends and I were loaded up in his truck, deemed "the yellow banana", and headed back to the high school.  As we were driving onto one of the side streets..who do we see!?  My parents!  Man, I was busted.  You couldn't miss his bright yellow truck for anything.  I just waved and continued driving to the high school as quickly as possible.  When I got home, I slinked in with my head down and waited for the reeming of a lifetime.  My Dad said, "What's your problem??"  I told him I knew that they had seen me at lunch.  His response was, "I don't care, just get your license!!"  Now tell me, if you lived in a big city, what would the chances be that you would see your unlicensed teenage daughter driving anywhere?

As an adult I recognize the numerous benefits of raising our children in a small town.  Besides knowing what your children are doing "most of the time" by networking with other locals, you also make close friends that you have for life, you learn the values of creativity, and using your imagination when growing up and playing outside.  You appreciate the simple things.  If I said I didn't love visiting the city I'd be lying.   I love the hustle and bustle, the many restaurants, music, and shopping.  But when it comes down to it, I would prefer that we raise our son and daughter in a similar environment that we grew up in.  If they experience a few tire fires in the woods, and drink out of a few red Solo cups we will have to learn how to take each situation as they come.  But I wouldn't trade the advantages over the disadvantages for anything.

Embrace Your Sparkle,

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Bodily Functions-A read for women, more than likely

Well, if this didn't catch your eye, then I don't know what else would. We are all raised with the appropriate guidelines for manners on farting, burping, poop & pee issues. But, as we develop past our own childhood and experience intimate encounters, parenting and the such...The issues reappear at a different level. How do I explain this one? Here are two stories and a collection of 'information' that might help you out with what I'm trying to say...

Three Holes are Better than Two
Hmm, I won't name names but if the two others who were there at this experience have big enough balls to say anything -kudos to you. Let me set the scene. There were three adult women on a hillside. The topic came up about tampons, and let's call it 'proper changing'. A comment was made by one of the women that she hated to change them every time she had to pee. I asked her why she had to change it if she peed. Her reply was that to the tune of having to pee around them, and it's gross to leave them in. Well, I stopped in my tracks and looked at the third ADULT woman to get some assistance, only to have her nodding in agreement with the first woman. I asked the ladies, "How many holes are there down there?" Quizzically, they almost in unison answered, "Two". I gasped in disbelief! "Two? I fell to the ground in laughter. It probably wasn't a time to laugh, but a time to educate...so, I laughed then educated. To this day...it's one of my bodily function top ten stories. In person...it's a dousey!
Moral of this story: People teach your children anatomy. Children pay attention in class when you're taking sex ed, or health. Read the insert of the tampon box, there's a diagram.

Poop Blooping
Many, wait ALL of my friends have heard this story...It's actually requested from time to time. I was traveling with my two oldest children and first husband. We were in Yosemite and ready for a huge hike. In typical mother preparation for the out of doors, I wanted to make sure that everyone had used the restroom before we took off. My husband at the time took our oldest son, and I took our daughter. I don't like the thought of germs. Yes, I know they are everywhere! But, it was at my encouragement that I expressed the need to not breath during her time in the mock facade of a restroom. It was an upscale outdoor commode, in a Yosemite kinda way with real walls and sinks with freezing cold running water, soap, and the 'blue' room outhouse type of toilet, with the piles of poop, and pee in the 'hole'. Since we were starting early in the day there was no waiting, no line...How lucky. Let's just hope that hardly anyone had used it for the day. Not so lucky there, but oh well, I'll hold her above and do the hoover technique I had mastered. We went in a stall and I held her suspended above the 'hole' with verbal instructions to not touch anything, don't breath, and to let me know when she was 'all done'. This is where it gets a little hard to express the difficulty that then followed. Basically I was loosing my ability to hold her suspended for the time she was requiring. I'm sure the fear of falling in, alongside my demanding instructions to not touch anything or breathe...possibly were a bit overwhelming for a almost 5 year old who had to go poo poo. My knees were quaking ready to collapse, and sweat was dripping down my forehead, my then sweet coaxing of "almost ready honey-don't touch anything-don't worry I won't drop you-please don't breathe-it's okay sweetie take your time-yes we'll wash your hands when you're all finished words of support weren't going to cut it...Besides the fact that I was certain that now people had infiltrated the stalls surrounding us and they were calling the Rangers to call CPS, some crazy lady is in the stall with her child telling her not to breathe...As I'm concerned about the germs, CPS, and washing her hands afterwards, the quivering and shaking of my legs were definitely noticeable on the richter scale...reading a whopping 8.0-At least...and then it happened. It happened as this concern of dropping her washed over my mind...and I ducked my head to regain composure and strength to hold her above-suspended, the poop...the poop it dropped at this same point in time...it fell rapidly into the blue stuff and other Yosemite enjoyers matter....It blooped right into the blue stuff and then...AND THEN-can you picture this yet? It splashed right onto my face. Yes, I did just type that, and YES this is a TRUE story. Oh, if I could only give you the visual of exactly how I felt and what I thought at that moment of my demise. I was positive I would be blind in the morning. They would have to surgically remove my eyes. I would have diseases I could not get rid of. I as calmly as I could...moved at the speed of fast to the lovely cold running water to wash the blue stuff off of my face and figure out how I would live past the next five minutes. My poor distraught daughter, repeatedly said, "I'm sorry Mommy, I'm sorry Mommy!" The people who now were in a VERY long line for the bathroom were wondering why I wasn't incarcerated, as they had NO idea what had just transpired...I exited the 'bathroom', to find my then husband leaping from granite boulder to granite boulder with our son. He saw this almost recognizable look on my face of fear and asked what was wrong. I couldn't contain myself and replied with urgency and an over the top volume problem with "I....HAVE....EVERYONE IN YOSEMITE's ....FECAL..MATTER ...ON...MAH.....FACE!" Of course he did not have a clue what had gone on in there...But, he offered to take me back to the car, where I then squirted antibacterial solution in my eyes...and continued like a trooper on the 8 mile hike, and with every step taken with the brisk air on my eyes, I was reminded of the possibility of what had happened and that I probably damaged my daughters remaining years of using public bathrooms, forever!
Moral of this story: Use the butt gaskets. Wash with soap. Go behind a tree. Never squirt antibacterial solution in your eyes. Breathe while pooping, it might just help it come out faster.

Motherhood and Bodily Functions
Tell me where it is written that you will do some if not all of the following: hold poop of another's in your hand, get poop on your hand and God knows where else if there's a blowout diaper. You will pick boogers out of someone else's nose, and not have a problem with it. You will manage when another throws up and somehow get an iron stomach if they're your own child...but, if someone else does it-gag til there's no tomorrow. You will fart and be called out in public by someone who you're trying to teach manners to example, "Say excuse me Momma, you farted." Who tells you while you bring your child in the stall with you to use the restroom your child informs all of the other bathroom goers, "Good job Momma, you pooped, I can put a sticker on the calendar when you get home." Do you stay in there until you think that everyone who's heard that leaves? Do you wonder if they would recognize your shoes, if they saw you out in the store? How about you will have a youngster in the shopping cart and turn around from choosing the best, non bruised apples to find that your son is smoking a unwrapped tampon. Then be more concerned with where he learned about smoking, than with the fact that he just pulled the harpoon out and mocked the act itself. You will not be embarrassed one bit, if your child stands in the shopping cart with a full cart I might add at the cashier-its our turn to put our stuff on the conveyor belt and then pay-yelling at the top of his lungs "Poops coming out of my butt! Poops coming out of my butt!" because you're potty training and your trying to get him to the nearest bathroom, so that he can put a sticker on his calendar when you get home. So you dart down the aisle, after permission is granted by the cashier, and a torpedo rocket poop is protruding out his terry cloth undies...Who tells you this is going to happen? Who tells you the truth? I just didn't read that in any of the books! Not one!
Morale of this story: Just ask, I'll tell you...otherwise, who will?

Love Deeply, Live out Love & Live your Dash,
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