They Don't Make a Cream for That

Don't you hate having to wait an hour or more for a scheduled appointment with your doctor? My sister - AKA Sissy - had to do that this week and woe be to the dermatologist that dealt with her after that.

Sissy was there to get a spot checked on her face. The dermatologist zapped it, checked her out and was done - took about 5 mins. But then, she made a big mistake. The "upsell."

According to Sissy this is what happened (and folks please do not try this at home!)

The dermatologist says to her, "You  know your face is looking bad. We have a laser treatment that would really help or we have a cream that you can use and you'd really begin to see a difference in your skin."

While Sissy is thinking "I only wanted my pre-cancerous spot zapped and no, I don't want your $400 cream." Here's what she actually said.

"I know my face looks bad. I'm 40 years old, I never get enough sleep because I have a baby at home, I work to support my family, and I've just wasted an hour of my day waiting for my scheduled appointment with you. YOU DON'T MAKE A CREAM FOR THAT!!!!"

So true!

Summer Reading List

The summer reading list is always a hot topic (excuse the pun) this time of year. I've seen and heard features on the best picks for summer reading online, on the radio, in magazines, etc. I probably won't get around to reading anything other than my students' papers this summer. But one can dream!

I stared longingly at my bookshelf this week with all this talk of summer reading. I wondered what my choice of books says about me. You decide.

Two entire shelves of cookbooks, including everything Rachel Ray has written. I think this says "I like to eat."

An entire shelf of books about Florida, from back road guides to history. This says "My state is better than your state, waa haa."

Everything Alice Hoffman ever wrote. This says "I could turn out to be a stalker of this amazing writer."

Travel guides for Paris, Florence and Greece. This says "I used to travel to wonderful places, but now I have kids."

A non-fiction book "The Secret Life of Lobsters: How Fishermen and Scientists are Unraveling the Mysteries of our Favorite Crustacean" by Trevor Corson. Again "I like to eat."

You won't find any self-help books. This says "I'm beyond help."

What does your bookshelf say about you?

A Mean Pirouette

Soccer. Wrestling. Swimming. All things at which my stepkids both enjoyed and excelled.

This week and next MiniMe is experiencing dance camp. Tap, Jazz, Ballet, Lyrical. Finally something I know and can identify with.

I hold no illusions that MiniMe will embrace dancing. She's made it perfectly clear this is not her "thing." Which means I also have absolutely zero chance of living vicariously through my daughter. Damn! Isn't that one of the joys of parenthood? Again, I'm robbed.

My stepkids enjoyed competitive sports. I will admit I didn't always understand - the games I mean. I still don't know how to recognize "off sides" in a soccer game. But if they enjoyed it, I supported them.

I myself was a gymnast and dancer growing up. Instead of competitive sports, I was a cheerleader in high school. I can't throw, I can't hit, I can't run. But I can do a mean pirouette. 

So I'm thoroughly enjoying the reports at the end of the day from MiniMe on dance camp. And tonight she came home and showed me some of the dances she was learning. Made me remember all those nights I spent tap dancing in the kitchen. God bless my parents for not yelling "keep it down!" when I was in the middle of a step-ball-change.

Do we all hope that our kids turn out just like us, only better? Or do we want them to become their own person with different interests and abilities. Maybe it's a little of both if I have to be honest. Mostly, I just enjoy seeing her happy. No matter how enthusiastically she can pirouette.

The Unholy Refrigerator

I was recently at the home of a friend of a friend. It's a beautiful home. Well appointed. Smartly decorated. Neat and tidy. Immaculately clean. I was impressed and maybe just a little jealous. Until I saw the refrigerator.

Here's what my refrigerator looks like.

As you can see, there are pictures of my daughter and my dogs. My daughter's school schedule. A funny cartoon I cut from the paper. Some coupons I keep forgetting to use. A card my sister sent me. And this is just the front of the fridge. There's even more stuff on the side.

If you ask me (and no one did, but it's my blog so I'm gonna tell you anyway), this is a normal person's refrigerator. A typical family refrigerator.

So how much crazy are you if you have absolutely nothing stuck to the front of your state-of-the-art stainless steel refrigerator? I stopped feeling unworthy of a Better Homes and Gardens type life in this friend-of-a-friend's home the minute I saw she had absolutely nothing on her fridge. Not a single magnet. Not a photo. Not a "to do" list. Not a recipe. No photos of her family. Nothing! Not even a fingerprint.

I found this so odd, actually disturbing would be more like it, that I began to wonder if she had frozen heads in the freezer. The head of the last person who gave her a magnet for her refrigerator, for instance.

The Return of Florida Native Mom!

Captain's Log Stardate 2012.6.7

It's been nearly a year since my last blog post so I kinda felt like I should start this one with some sort of significant log-in. Not a Trekkie fan? How about this.

Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been 10 months since my last . . . blog post.

While I'm not a Catholic, I survived 12 years of Catholic school so I think that gives me a pass on mocking the confessional.

Speaking of confessions, I have to confess I have missed my blog. But I've also had major writer's block. That's because 10 months ago my whole world changed and it's been hard to find my voice. Namely, my cast of characters changed. Beloved moved on to greener pastures. The Big Kids have all left the nest. It's just Mini-Me and me, Florida Native Mom, left to wander around this big house. But as Mini-Me said when all this change went down "Mom, it's like a new adventure."

Thus the Star Trek reference.

I would say I'm now boldly going where I've never gone before. But truth is, I've been divorced and a single mom before. So it's kind of like being stuck in a time warp and not in a Rocky Horror Picture Show kind of way.

But now I'm ready to come back to the blogosphere and be my same old wisecracking, sassy self. So here goes.

Florida is home to some weird people. Maybe THE home to weird people (myself included). After living here 40plus years, I thought I'd seen everything. Turns out "thought I'd seen it all" is not a phrase you can ever use in Florida. A few weeks ago, I saw a man riding a moped. Not a scooter or a motorcycle, but a 70s era moped. Big deal, right? Only he had a huge cage strapped to the back with his Macaw in it. A man and his Macaw on a moped. At least I hope it was his bird and he hadn't just swiped it! The bird wasn't crying "Help!" so it was probably all on the up and up.

Wish I had a picture to share but I was just too flabbergasted to react quickly enough, and despite the fact that it was an old moped, that guy sure did move! Leaving me without an opportunity to stop and get a shot.

I would have loved to know where they were going . . .

What does your family look like?

Stuck in the parent drop off loop this morning at MiniMe's school, we're behind one of those cars that has their family represented in stickers across the back window.

 I say to MiniMe, "You'll never see stickers like that on my car. I guess I'm just not that kind of mom."

MiniMe says "Yea but if you had stickers that showed our family they wouldn't look like that. The two boys would be fighting, the dog would be scratching his fleas, you'd have a glass of wine in your hand and Dad wouldn't be in the line-up because he'd be out riding his motorcycle."

Which gave me the giggles!

Leave Me Alone?

I was riding my bike yesterday morning when I spied a man playing tennis . . . alone. It struck me as funny that he'd be out hitting tennis balls on the court by himself because tennis usually requires at least 2 players. Now I know he was probably just practicing his serve, but you can see how this would strike me as unusual. Then again, I was out exercising alone myself - but I was on a bike, which doesn't require a partner.

This reminded me of something my friend's son recently told her. He said "Mom, I'm glad I'm an only child," which made her happy since there would be no other buns springing from her oven. MiniMe was an only child until she gained step brothers and a step sister. She loved it when the "big kids," as she called them, joined the family because I think she was a little lonely.

The reason I think this is because she used to play hide and seek with her guinea pig.

When she was about 2 years old, I got her a guinea pig. She and Sugar were inseparable. She would go out to the front yard and "hide" the pig behind a tree or in her wagon. Then she'd come back to the front porch to "count" (which at that age she only knew her numbers up to about 5) and then go searching for the pig.

The good thing about this game of hide and seek was that you could put that pig someplace and come back an hour later and she'd still be there. She never moved. So I wasn't worried that Sugar would somehow escape during this game. I think secretly MiniMe hoped the pig would run and find some other hiding spot because that would have been more fun. But that was a dependably unmoving pig.

I'm Not That Kind of Mom

I write a monthly column for a local parent magazine. However, what I write is more like an Erma Bombeck column because I offer no real advice or useful information, just observation and satire (kind of like this blog only much more sanitized). I leave it up to the other writers who are parents to provide parenting tips and advice.

So my deadline is this week for the Back to School issue. I'm stumped. I've done Back to School columns several times. So I go to Facebook and ask my "friends" to give me some ideas on what I should cover in my Back to School themed column.

It was hilarious! The suggestions I got were all well-meaning and actually good suggestions. But I couldn't help thinking "Do these people know me?!?"

Since my loyal readers of the blog know that I'm a slacker mom who has a free-range parenting style, I thought I'd share some of the suggestions I got and what I thought about each.

Suggestion No. 1: Write about non-traditional school options like homeschooling 
Me: Homeschooling? My goal is to get my daughter OUT of the house. I happily pay my school taxes and then some for the saving grace that is someone else dealing with her 5 days a week.

Suggestion No. 2: Ways you can help your child's teacher like buying supplies or helping out in the classroom.
Me: I buy plenty of supplies for the classroom every year and don't mind doing so. But I've learned to stick to the supply list ever since those little child-sized straight jackets I sent were not well received. As far as helping out in the classroom, see my answer to question number 1.

Suggestion No. 3: Recommend that parents let their children ride their bikes to school this year. The kids will get exercise and the parents can save money on gas. 
Me: Now, this is an idea I can embrace! I'm an old fashion parent in that I DON'T think my child will get snatched if she plays in the front yard without me watching her every move. However, I can only imagine how much hate mail the magazine would receive if one of their writers actually suggested that parents not only let their child walk to a bus stop, but actually (GASP!!) ride their bike to school (I mean, that's actually beyond the cul de sac!). The editor just doesn't deserve to attract the ire of the helicopter moms.

By the way that last suggestion came from a friend who has no children.

I'll let you know what I come up with.

The Notebook

"I found the notebook Amy wanted," my favorite middle stepson tells me yesterday, very proud of himself. Amy is a girl who is a "friend," who everyone else knows is just in love with favorite middle stepson. He chooses to ignore this fact.

Why does Amy need a notebook, I ask.

"Today's her birthday so I got her the notebook. I found it at Wal-Mart."

Is this some special notebook?

"No, the MOVIE. She wanted that movie The Notebook, so I got it for her birthday. We're having a birthday party for her tonight."

Have you ever watched The Notebook, I inquire.

"No, but it's probably some sort of chick flick, right?"

You're not going to like it. There are no zombies and no aliens.

"Great," he says with a sigh. "Does anyone get punched?"

No, no one gets punched.

One Legged Chicken - The Other White Meat

Beloved, MiniMe and I went to my mom & dad's place in St. Augustine on Sunday for a cookout. For all of you who don't know, and for those of you who do - a reminder, I'm a vegetarian and have been for about 4 years. However, I NEVER ask anyone to cook anything special for me, nor do I ever say anything if we're at someone's home for dinner and it's a Meat-A-Saurus meal.

Back to my story.

We get there and my mom says "We're having ribs and I bought chicken for you since you don't eat meat."

Here we go again. After 4 years, my mom still thinks that if she serves me chicken or turkey, that's vegetarian.

MiniMe looks at me with an expression that conveys "Am I missing something here?" Go ahead, I tell her, you explain it.

"Mimi, chicken is meat, mom doesn't eat meat."

"You don't eat chicken? Well I thought you ate chicken?"

I say to MiniMe "Give her the 2 and 4 leg explanation."

MiniMe recites my mantra "Mom doesn't eat anything with 2 or 4 legs. Chickens have 2 legs," and smiles because she's getting to "correct" an adult.

"Well!" my mom huffs, "This was a one-legged chicken so I guess you can eat it!"