Sugar Cones on My Plate

My mom could be mean.

I don’t think she meant to be but she would say things that would strike fear in my soul and make me quake and quiver.

“You are going to be just like Aunt Lorraine.” Now how many Aunt Lorraine’s could you have in a family? I got lucky, I had two. And neither of them were good candidates to emulate.

My great-aunt Lorraine was an unmarried, manly looking, high school music teacher. Can we say spinster? Yeah. She never married and I never, ever heard of her ever having a boyfriend or sex partner. She was married to her “career”.  Hindsight, I think she played for the other team but could never act on it. Damn Catholicism! She was a great person and really cared about her students and lived with my Great Grandma until my aunt passed away.

So when my mom said that I was going to follow after Aunt Lorraine, it couldn’t happen. I have no musical talent whatsoever. I cannot sing, I can’t play any instruments. Oh, and I was just a teensy, eensy boy crazy.

Oh, okay! Jeez! A lot boy crazy!

Seriously though? My musical talent? Worse than none.  Singing to JC when she was 2? She would cover her ears and say “Stop, mommy! Don’t sing!”

So I really didn’t think my mom would think that would be her, right?

Then I looked to the other side of the family, to my other Aunt Lorraine. This option scared me the most. Let’s just say the boob gene was very strong on her side of the family. And this thought terrified me even at an early age.

See, I was in 4th grade when my girls started to develop. Try being the first girl in your class to get boobs. And to top it off, my mom was against buying me a “real” bra! My first bra was this lycra, stretchy piece of shit that didn’t do anything but make them look like cones. I could have dealt with Madonna cones but these were mushy sugar cone boobs. Yeah, nice visual huh? You are welcome.

Really mom? What was your problem with this? I dreamed of buying one of those bras from the JcPenney Catalog with the little pink flower at the X between the cups. But no…that never happened. Maybe she was on to something though. The first girl to get one of those bras in my class is now reportedly a dominatrix madame in NYC. Something to think about. Probably has something to do with my obsession with cute bras to this day.

Back to Aunt Lorraine’s boobs. It was a big thing to go to their cabin in the summer. We always had a great time there. And you know what? They had a sauna. We are Finnish in heritage. We love our saunas! Saunas are best in the nude. In case you didn’t know that.

One beautiful Saturday afternoon, my cousin Patty and I were running around the yard at the cabin just being pains in the asses to our brothers and we see her mom go into the sauna. Kids are voyeurs. They like to spy on people. So what do we do? We sneak up to the window, crouched down so nobody can see us. Especially her mom. The last thing we want to do is get caught spying on someone in the sauna.

Kneeling under the window, snickering. We slowly straighten our legs, turn out faces towards the window. Cup our hands around our eyes so we can see in.

Scarred for life. I still get scared just thinking about it.

Was this what my mom was talking about? Is this what she meant when she said I was going to be just like Aunt Lorraine? Had she seen this before? I think hard. No, there is no way she could have known. Right? Why would she ever wish that on anyone? To wish that on anyone was horrible. But then, my mom was the original sassy bitch and this just proves it.

Please take it back mom…please? I will be really good. I won’t bug my brothers. Anything! Just don’t say it again. If you don’t say it, it won’t happen. I will do all the laundry, the dishes. I will clean the floor by the toilet. Anything.

Dinner plates.

Nipples the size of dinner plates. Fucking dinner plates! You could have had a 3 course meal on them and had room for dessert. She had the most massive boobs ever. They were real. Real big, real weird and really, really ugly. They had to have been at least KK cups.

You can understand my horror when I had boobs in 4th grade. when I was a C cup in 7th grade, I was even more mortified. Mortified that I was destined to be like Lorraine. So scared that I actually learned about breast reduction and plastic surgery using encyclopedias.

Just. In. Case.

I wanted to be prepared.

Just in case I grew to have dinner plate nipples.







Moving Day ~Finally

After a couple of false alarms, moving day is officially today.

All of the stars have aligned, documents have been signed, and it is a done deal. JC is moving today.

We have yet to see her apartment as she did this all on her own. Oh, we know where it is and approve of the place but we haven’t had to do anything other than work out a budget to make sure she saves enough for Fall tuition and can afford rent and food. The important stuff.

We went shopping last night. Our contribution is all the paper goods and cleaning supplies. It doesn’t seem like much but the other parents are doing the first week’s grocery shopping for them. She stole took a couple of bath towels, wash cloths and is taking the toothpaste from the bathroom she shares with her brother.

Into the cart went gallon size shampoo and conditioner.

“It says it has 125 washes in it. That will last me the entire summer!” Ulterior motives.

What I hear?

“I won’t have to buy my shampoo and conditioner.”

Razors? Into the cart. And not the cheap ones I buy either. They were the expensive 4 blade ones that I only dream about. I say nothing, but plan on stealing taking one when she’s not looking. Shhh….she will never notice.

So, after work tonight, her bed gets moved. I am waiting to hear her hauling the bins out to her car. I will have to shut my office door so I don’t hear it. If I don’t hear it, it’s not real.

But I know it is. I keep reminding myself that she will be back in August. Have I said that before? I know. I have.

Emotions are going crazy. I am happy, sad, proud, worried, scared.

Let’s be honest. I am terrified because DB is still around. We have talked and I have prayed that she sees him for what he is. I have faith. I have to.

I must be more accepting of this whole thing. There are good things to come out of this.

She will learn what it is like to be a partial adult. She will be budgeting more, paying for more things on her own and not having us there for everything. It will be good for her.

And it will be good for us. We can start to let go.

Oh and the best part? Nobody will be downstairs directly under our bedroom *eyebrows raised, giggling*.

If you know what I mean!

And you thought I was too sad to be sassy! NEVER!

P.S I will have a guest blog over at No Longer Quiet on Friday. It is my first and I am honored to be chosen. Head on over there today to take a look-see. He is great!

Spreading Her Wings

It is Spring. It is a time for renewal. The dirt of winter gets washed away by the rain to be replaced by the brightness of the green grass and the scent of the newly blossomed flowers. The deer are having their babies, the birds are building their nests. The seasons are changing.

It’s happening all around us. Even if we don’t want it to.


My JC is moving out next week. To her own place. With roommates.

My fledgling child is striking out on her own. If only for 3 months, she says she will be back in the Fall.

The seasons are changing and I am not sure about it. The roller coaster of emotions is toying with me.

I am happy.

I am happy that she is going to be trying her hand at being an adult, paying rent, grocery shopping, having to do her own laundry and have a budget. I am excited for her to not have to worry about waking us up when she comes home at 1 am, and that she doesn’t have to hear us harping on her to help with the dishes after dinner.

I am scared.

I am scared that she will fall and she won’t ask for help; and I won’t be there to see the signs, gently pick her up and make it all better. I am scared that she will subsist on ramen noodles and frozen pizzas. Even worse, skip meals. She is too thin already.

I am terrified.

Terrified that her douchebag boyfriend (I will call him: DB)will have more influence over her life decisions that should be her’s to make and no one else’s. Not even her parent’s. I am terrified that her birth control doesn’t work and she gets pregnant by DB, making him a part of our lives forever. Terrified that his lifestyle will become her lifestyle.

Most of all, I am hopeful.

Hopeful that she learns to fly solo. Hopeful that we have instilled the values to keep her on the right path. I have to believe that she will realize that she, alone, is in charge of her destiny. I am hopeful that she knows just how much her mom and dad love her, support her and that we will always be here for her. I hope she knows that she can reach out for help and that I will be right there to keep her steady. I will  be her gravitational pull if the carousel of life starts spinning too fast.


She is learning to fly.