Thanks Mom

  

It's Mother's Day and I would like to officially thank my mother.  I have so much to thank her for.

She carried me around in her womb for nine months and then gave birth to me.  Having given birth three times I know this is no easy task.  I am sure it was even harder in 1972 working on your feet all day as a nurse.  I like being in this world, as crazy as it is, so for this I thank her.  She also supplied all my basic needs- food, shelter and water.  Today I think we sometimes take those things for granted, but we shouldn't.  I want her to know that now I know that those things don't just appear.  She had to work for them.  While I am very grateful for having a childhood that all my basic needs were met, I am most grateful for the things that my mother taught me.  Here are just a few.

#1 When faced with a unpleasant task don't put it off.  Put on your big panties and just get through it.  My mother used to tell us she didn't understand the language "whine".  We could whine all we wanted but it wasn't going to get us anywhere.  Even if something hurt you just needed to grit your teeth and push through. This life lesson has really served me well, especially when dealing with children's vomit and explosive poo. One of my doctors loves to tell the story of the time my mom (who was his nurse) helped with a small procedure on me at his office.  It was painful.  Really, really painful.  As she held my hand, stroking my head she said "suck it up Meghan, you can get through this".  The doctor still to this day tells me how strange it was to see his nurse who was known for offering so much compassion to his patients just basically told me to get over it.  What the doctor didn't know, is that if my mother had acted any differently not only would I be in the same amount of pain, but I would have been terrified that something was wrong because she was coddling me.

#2 If you say you are going to do something- do it.  My mother is a woman of her word.  Let's say you are fighting with your brother in the backseat of the car and your mom says if you don't stop she is going to stop the car and make you get out.  Most kids know their mom is not serious.  My mom was serious and Graham and I learned the hard way.  Standing on the side of the road outside the car.  Now, she let us back in pretty quickly, but when she says something, she is serious.  But more importantly, you can rely on my mother to do what she says.  No matter what.  If you ask for her help and she says yes, not only will she help, but she will go far beyond what you expected her to do.

#3 Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make you feel better.  My mother is a firm believer that the longer you sit and wallow in your pain the harder it is going to be recover.  I think that is why she liked working in the recovery room at the surgery center.  When you are coming out of anesthesia all you want to do is sleep and the nurses are yelling at you to wake up.  They are making you sit up and drink something.  They know you don't want to wake up, but you have to.  My mom knows that you always feel better if you get up, take a shower and do something.

#4 Take pride in how you look. We butted heads on this life lesson.  A Lot.  Over the years my definition of taking pride was much different than my mothers.  One thing we always agreed on is a you should pull an outfit together with a statement piece, we just had differing opinions on what the statement should be.  She was really not fond of my black Depeche Mode, Smiths, and INXS t-shirts  and she just shook her head with my thick wool socks and Birkenstocks.  My mother would never ever in a million years leave the house without lipstick.  I don't quite live up to those standards, but I do think that it is ridiculous to go to out of the house in your pajamas.  I mean really people, it takes less than a minute to throw on some pants and a t-shirt.  I am not typically a judgmental person, but if I see you in public in your pajamas all I can think about is the fact that you haven't changed your underwear and I think that is gross.  I hate pajama day at school and I make my kids wear clean pajamas that they have changed into when the dreaded day occurs.

#5 Life is better when you are not afraid to step outside your comfort zone and not take yourself so seriously.  My mom has had so many friends throughout the years.  She has surrounded herself with friends from all different walks of life with different backgrounds, interests and lifestyles. She is not afraid to try something new and out of character.  I remember my mom going to see the Rocky Horror in the 80's and a drag show in Key West. She took me to see Madonna and U2 in the '80's.  She shocked us all when recently she got not one, but two tattoos.

These are just a few life lessons that I learned from my mother.  The most important one is that I learned she is always there for me, no matter what.  Thanks Mom.

Punch

I am on a mission and I need some help.  I want to bring punch back.  Let's just say I love punch.  We always had punch at parties when I was growing up.  There are so many things about punch that make it fabulous.  

First- the color.  Who doesn't like to drink pink, or orange, or green! 

Next- the fact that it is like getting dessert before dinner.  How often does that happen?  And it has sherbet in it.  Sherbet is lovely and as I get older and more lactose intolerant it is becoming even more lovely. Yes, I know it has some cream, but not as much as ice cream so the hangover isn't as bad.  Also, I can send my BFF the English Major into a complete tizzy by calling it sherbeRt.  Owen said it right when he called it her trigger word.  

Punchbowls.  Punchbowls are so pretty and so impractical.  It is like a deviled egg plate.  It only has one function.  Punchbowls (and deviled egg plates) spark joy in me and I will fight Marie Kondo if she says otherwise.  (just kidding- who would fight Marie Kondo- she is so adorable and really my zen hero).  My mom has a gorgeous Candlewick punch bowl with matching cups and I am publicly stating that it is mine.  Hands off Graham!!!!

Lastly- HELLO!!!- FROTH!!!  Gorgeous, lovely, foamy froth that you can slurp off the top, or try and tilt your cup just right so you save it until the end and then go hide in a corner and try and lick it all out without getting it on your nose.  

Can I say it again- I LOVE PUNCH! While sherbet punch is definitely my favorite, I am also a fan of the clear sparkly punch made with juice and ginger ale.  Bonus if there is fruit floating in it and OMG if there is a molded ice thingy with the fruit frozen into it.  

Now- let's talk about adult punch.  You may be shocked, but I love adult punch too.  My only request is that if there is adult punch and there are kids present, there should be two punch bowls. It would just be mean to drink punch in front of a kid and tell them they couldn't have any.  

So let's all say it together- We Love Punch!  We WILL Bring Punch Back!!  We can do it.  We can do it for our kids.  I don't want my kids to miss out on this glorious decadence that eats up all my weight watchers points for a day.  We can all agree on punch.  Maybe punch will be the thing that brings us back together.  We can all wear creamy orange hats that say MAPA- Make America Punchy Again.   

Grandpa's Tattoo

This past weekend my dad, my brother and his wife, my cousins Jason and Ness and their respective spouses, and I spent the afternoon at winery.  My grandfather used to spend quite a bit of time at this particular winery- The Quarry Hill Winery and Orchard when it was just an Orchard.  In addition to going there to buy fruit my grandfather would walk the orchard after it rained and search for Native American Arrowheads.  I never went with him, but I can imagine him walking up and down the rows. 

As we raised our glasses to toast him the stories started to flow.  My dad told us stories of spending summers on the boat.  He told us that many times as a kid he would go to sleep at the Beaver Park Yacht Club in Lorain and wake up in Put in Bay.  He could only imagine that probably somebody who was several cocktails in would say- "Let's go to the islands" and they would race over.  Dad loved summers on the lake.  He was pretty much left to his own while his parents partied the summer away. 

My Grandpa always had a very special way of saying things.  For instance, when we weren't moving fast enough for him he would yell- Do you want a size 10-1/2 boot up your ass.  Sure, he could have just said get moving, but then how would I remember his shoe size.  He was not a fan of facial hair.  Instead of saying you need a shave, he would say why cultivate on your face what grows naturally on your asshole.  We never had to worry about knowing how he really felt that is for sure.

Whenever we start on the Grandpa stories inevitably the poem comes up.  It starts "There was a little bird, no bigger than a turd..."  Grandpa would say that and never continue.  He would promise that one day he would finish it, but not until we were older.  He never told me how the poem ended.  I believe he eventually told Jason, but Jason was holding on to the secret.  Well thank goodness somebody invented the internet because otherwise we would never know. 

There was a little bird,
No bigger than a turd
Sitting on a telephone pole.
He ruffled out his little neck, and he shat about a peck
As he puckered up his little asshole. Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole,
As he puckered up his little asshole.

Grandpa sure did use the word asshole a lot.  Grandma did too, but when Grandma said it she was talking about a person.  Grandpa was actually talking about anatomy.  (see we got science lessons too)

The best story of the day was when I asked my dad if my Grandpa had a tattoo.  I couldn't remember if he had one or not.  In my mind it was an Anchor, but i just wasn't sure.  My dad laughed.  He said don't you remember when Grandpa would ask if you wanted to see his tattoo?  If you said yes he would lift his shirt exposing his un-tattooed torso and point to his belly button.  He would say, I used to have a Hula Dancer but now she is faded and all that is left is her asshole.  I can never look at a Hula tattoo the same again.