mushy gushy

alright I swore I wouldn't write mushy crap about my kids...the following is close to mushy crap so feel free to click me away.

I was pondering Sunday about how kids enter every little corner of our lives with their stuff. Even when they are gone they somehow leave a little something behind to remind you that they are with you. Every single corner of my home has a token of one of my kids along with every corner of my life.

Examples:

I find two of SJ's favorite books next to the toilet in our bathroom where I keep a pile of magazines (come on we all read on the jon).

Saturday night I'm plagued by a poking sensation while sleeping only to find that I was sleeping with a transformers action figure next to my face. When did it get there?

Folding landry I find a baby sock tucked into my t-shirt sleeve.

There are currently 2 hot wheels cars in my purse...I keep removing them they keep coming back.

There are usually 2 to 3 little rocks in my purse. SJ brings me rocks as presents and make sure I have some always.

This one's a classic: I leave the house for school only to discover at school that I've got baby spit up all over my shoulder. I thought I smelled funny...but didn't have time to investigate..plus going to chem I figured it smells funny in there anyways blame it on the classroom.

Lastly the stepping on the army man around 3 in the morning. I've done this so many times...those little green fuckers get everywhere. It hurts like hell also...for a split second I always think "who the hell left barbed wire just laying around..."

Little reminders of them everywhere...and every time (except for the army men incidents) I am completely charmed by it.



Lately there's been plenty of talk from my girlfriends about menopause. Some are thinking they might start it...some are thinking that they started it. I really paid it no thought till last night I had a very big conclusion. If the girlfriends are talking/thinking about it. The girlfriends are in my age group....then "hey wait a minute...that means it's circling me to..." Suddenly the old hag buzzard is above me waiting to shit on my head. Which makes me what? Pissed at Oprah that's what. Menopause makes me pissed off at Oprah for saying that 40 was the new 20. It is if your Oprah.