Author Archives: Michelle

Anxious Mothers of Adult Children

Posted on by under Anxiety

As an anxious mother of adult children, I don’t want to worry all the time.

I hate worrying. I loathe working through anxiety every day. It’s exhausting.

If I had known when my kids were actually kids, that I’d worry more about them as adults, well..then..it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. I am who I am.

Now that they are all adults, brand new worry categories are being created all the time.

I can barely keep up.

At the moment, I am living through one of my least favorite events to worry through.

Our baby boy went to Detroit this weekend for a music festival.

It would take me an hour to list all the specific things I worry about when he goes off on one of these jaunts with friends. And that doesn’t even include all the fucking COVID worries.

Joey is completely understanding of my anxiety and knows I’m probably going to check in. That, however, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be a little asshole about it.

Friday evening texts:

Me: Hey sweetie, let me know when you get there.friday night text messages

Joey: We are being inducted into a gang right now.

Me: Cool! Hopefully that includes facial tattoos.

Joey: They cost extra.

Joey: Can I get 30 bucks?

Me: Venmo?

Joey: They only take MoneyGram

Me: Dammit.

Saturday mid morning texts:

Me: So, did you get that tattoo then?

Joey: I got two.

Me: Is one of them a heart with the word mom in the middle?

Joey: Yeah, the artist was dyslexic so it just says “moo”.

Me: That made me snort.

Sunday afternoon texts:

Me: If the artist was dyslexic, wouldn’t the tattoo still say mom?

Joey: Yes, I thought about that later.

Me: Moo is funnier.

Joey: Agreed. Suspended disbelief to make the joke work.

So, as of right now, Sunday afternoon, I believe he is safe. He gets back home tomorrow. I’m not going to text again. I’ll see him when he gets here.

I mean, for all that is holy, I’m not a helicopter mom or anything. Mostly.

Sort of?

In any case, this works for us. I get proof of life and he gets to hang shit on his mother. Not going to lie, I mostly look forward to these exchanges because he always makes me laugh. The little asshole.

 

 

I Try To Be Helpful

Posted on by under Humor

Thanksgiving was a whirlwind.

We had all of our kids and grandkids, my parents, daughter-in-law and her grandparents. 18 people in all.

It was amazing, exhausting, and destroyed my back. And apparently, my right baby toe.

On Saturday, we tossed the leftovers in the freezer and went to the Smoky Mountains to spend a few days with our mountain friends.

Lizzie, AKA Mountain Girl, prepared a crown roast for our dinner. I didn’t have to lift a finger, which was convenient, because my back. Damn.

On Sunday, our friends, Lizzie and Ruel (AKA the Bass Player) have band practice with the drummer of The Madison’s, Lee.

Only they call it Church.

I went to Catholic school and went to church every morning before class.

Church in the mountains is way better.

After band practice, we got out the leftover roast and turkey for dinner.

When we were finished, I went to the kitchen to put things away. Lizzie was in the next room, but couldn’t see me.

Me: Okay, so I’m putting this leftover meat in baggies.

Lizzie: There’s a marker on the counter. Just label the bags.

Label the bags? That’s not how leftovers work. You put leftovers in bags or bowls and then put them in the fridge and leave them there until they could win a blue ribbon at the county fair for grossest thing on the planet. You throw that away to make room for the next science fair project. 

Except that bag way in the back. The one just out of reach. You can’t remember what it is, something from the fourth of July maybe? Anyway, at this point, you’ve gained respect, if not reverence, for the thing shoved way back on the bottom shelf of the fridge. 

You should go ahead and get that. Seriously. What could be unleashed could make COVID look like a stubbed toe. 

Not to negate the misery of a stubbed toe. Even though I have no specific memory of injuring my toe, I have apparently sprained my baby toe. It’s been angry and purple for days. I think it’s trying to abdicate.

But I digress. 

I grabbed the marker and wrote “meat” on the bag.

leftover meat

Me: Okay. It says “meat”

Lizzie: You have to be more descriptive.

Me:…

Me:…

Me: “Tasty meat?”

Lizzie:…

So, on the next bag, I wrote: Meat Part II. Make Soup.

leftover meat in a clear plastic bag

Me: Okay, I labelled it and left instructions.

Lizzie: Thank you!

The only thing left was the turkey. What is there to say about turkey, just days after Thanksgiving? What could I possibly put on a baggie that would not just be redundant?

So, I labelled it “This is clearly turkey.”

leftover turkey in plastic bag

Me: Turkey is labelled and put away.

Lizzie: Awesome. Thank you!

Me: It’s weird you label your leftovers.

Lizzie:…

Me: You’re never getting a blue ribbon.

Lizzie: I blame you for that.

Me: I blame you for the Delta variant.

Lizzie: Goddammit Michelle.

Lizzie: I blame you for auto tuning.

Me: It’s still weird that you label your leftovers.

So, it goes without saying, that it was a perfect weekend. I had a hard time returning to work. It seemed so silly when there were pretty mountains just a few hours away. Well, 4 hours and 35 minutes away. If I’m driving. If Randy’s driving, then it’s more like 5 hours and 20 minutes away.

We’ll just call it an even 5.

I guess it’s time to jump into the holiday season.

I’m going to bake some cookies next weekend. Perhaps, learn what a sugar plum is. I mean, I assume it’s the obvious, but I’ve never had one, so who knows?

I hope you are all safe and well. I hope your meat is properly labelled. And if not? I hope you win a blue ribbon.

 

 

Here We Go

Posted on by under Family

Skidding into the holiday season!

We’re going to have all the kids and grandkids together for the first time since 2019. Throw in my parents and we’ll have 16 people in our house soon.

Randy and I are looking forward to it, and freaking out a little bit. We’ve grown a bit reclusive.

Fortunately, everyone in our family, except the baby, has been vaccinated and there is no dissent over whether or not COVID is real. Go Us! We’re all taking rapid tests just before to make sure. Still, it feels weird to have a gathering.

I’ve only gotten some preliminary stuff done and my back is already super pissed at me.

So, I’m taking a break to talk to you guys for a minute.

I decided to put up a bigger tree this year, since the grandkids will be here. I want everything to be festive.

So, I did this:

But that wasn’t quite right. It was missing something. And you could barely even see the poor Weeping Angel at the top of the tree. So, I added a bunch of candy canes and a shit ton of lights.

Still. No. Still missing something.

Obviously, peacock feathers. Obviously.

Now, the tree is done.

I hope you all have a nice holiday and that you are staying safe.

I hope, if you celebrate Thanksgiving, that your gravy is lump free and your mac and cheese has the perfect crust.

I hope you see people you love.

I hope you spend a lot of time laughing. And eating dessert. Laughing while eating dessert.

But be careful. We don’t want anyone choking.

You’d be surprised how many people die every year at Thanksgiving because they started laughing just after popping a bourbon ball in their mouth.

I mean, if you find “zero” surprising. But it’s possible you know. Is anyone even tracking the Thanksgiving/laughing/choking on dessert issue?

Get your booster!

Other holiday posts:

Creepy Tree O Creepy Tree

From 2013, Well, It Ain’t Ozzie and Harriet