I miss my kids

It was April the last time I saw my beautiful Courtney, and my Stephen is in Houston.  While I’ll get to see Courtney at Thanksgiving in New York, it will most likely be Christmas before I see my son.

I miss my kids.  And it’s my fault.

When I was raising my kids I used to tell them that after high school they could go anywhere.  That was the time for them to see the world – there’s more to this life than Oklahoma.  I love the Sooner state, but I wanted them to have a choice – to see what was out there and then make the choice as to where they wanted to live.  If all else failed, they could always come home.

I admit, I was trying a little reverse psychology, and it didn’t work.  I thought if I told them to go, they would choose to stay.  I was wrong.

And now, as the holidays approach, I start getting sad.

That’s to be expected.  But I’ve also reached a place in my life where my kids are happy and they don’t really need me as much as they used to.  Whereas before I would get at LEAST one call a day from Courtney and a call or two a week from Stephen, now I’m lucky if Stephen has time for me once a month and Courtney does good to have time for me once a week.

I understand that they are living the lives I raised them to live, but I didn’t know it would hurt so much.  I LIKE my kids, I LOVE my kids, and I MISS my kids.  I spent 25 years being their mom, and now, they don’t need me.

So I’m baking.  I’m sending them all the goodies that they can’t get anywhere else.  I’m tempting them, enticing them, bribing them – whatever it takes – to remind them that there’s no place like home.  Caramel popcorn, fudge, party mix and puppy chow – all their favorites.

If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change anything.  I know they’re living the lives they were intended to live.  But I would suggest to other moms out there – make home the place that nothing can compete with.

Or, just drill it into their little minds that Mom always comes first.  Period.

Guilt works too.  That’s my next approach.

Stupid empty nest…

Oxy Moron

As far as I know, I haven’t been invited to a homecoming dance and I don’t have a biology test in the morning.  But my face seems to think otherwise.

I have zits.  Plural.  ZitSSSSS.

My chin looks like a small cluster of stalactites have started growing in the southern hemisphere and just northeast of there, I have what appears to be a small mountain range forming next to my nose. I’ve been avoiding them all week.  I thought if I ignored them, they would go away.  Until today.  I was applying makeup when I noticed that I kept turning my head to the right and making sure my chin was in the downward position so I could focus on my good side.  Stupid 15X magnification mirror!

Adult acne.

Two words that should not be in the same sentence.  Puberty occurred 35 years ago and it appears that someone forgot to send an invitation to ACNE, so after stalking me all these years it finally caught up to me.  Now it knows I’m post menopausal and I won’t have a clue how to get rid of it.

Fortunately, thanks to the divine virtual world I’ve uncovered a cure…or at least what I hope is a cure.

Apple cider vinegar.

Last month I had ring worm.  After Tom took away the hair brush I was using to scratch myself, I consulted the various medical discussion boards and found out that bleach will take away the itch.  To my relief it worked.  I spent 6 weeks smelling like a hospital, and in spite of the layers of skin I lost and the extensive plastic surgery I’m going to need, I got rid of it.

Now I’m emitting the aroma of salad dressing.

Yep.  My husband is one LUCKY man.

Uninvited guest.  Initial conclusion.  Going nowhere.  Civil war.  Great Depression. Bad luck.  Same difference.  Strangely familiar.  Silent scream.  Perfect idiot.  Problem solved.

Dumb blonde.  Almost exactly.