I’m getting all Martha Stewart crazy with my bad self today. Not only did I label my totally organized cabinet, but I’m preparing for our road trip down south.
I. Am. Preparing. I don’t even know myself anymore!
I’ve always admired prepared people; I’ve just never been one of them, but I’m changing my ways, getting older and wiser and all that.
I now have plastic containers (yes, I know they kill all things living, but sometimes you have to take risks) filled with strawberries, grapes, baby carrots, chunked pieces of cheese. Slim-Jims, crackers, pretzels, and assorted nuts and seeds. There will be no stopping for junk food/fast food on our trip. We will eat healthy and live long. Well, as long as it takes for our plastic containers to kill us.
I’m so impressed with myself right now. It’s like I don’t even know who I am. I bought drinks and everything. I went to bed one night, a girl who flies by the seat of her pants, and woke up a responsible middle-aged housewife. Who did this to me?
I just hope this alter ego sticks around long enough to organize the laundry/mud room. I fear I’ll wake up tomorrow and dump everything out of my containers so I feel more at home. Can anyone relate?
I’m a little mentally weary from all this washing, sorting, organizing, and chopping (cheese). I doubt both sides of my brain are communicating clearly. One side of my brain is probably trying to overthrow the mature alien invader. I can’t say I blame that side, because I’m even annoying myself.
Anyway, this weekend was my mom’s birthday – a BIG birthday, like a super-sized, grande, bigga-licious birthday. I can’t give away her age, but let’s say it’s not twenty-nine, no matter how much denial you embrace.
I happen to think birthdays should be celebrated at any age. I mean, who cares if you’re all wrinkled up and you need a cane to walk, it’s an excuse to eat cake and get presents. Who doesn’t like that?
So we went down and spent the weekend with my mom, who does not have wrinkles and does not use a cane. Just want to clarify before she kills me. She does have a cute new hairdo though, which I failed to photograph.
As much as I love birthday presents, I couldn’t think of anything really special to get her. I already made this ginormous photo collage one year. My mom is stuck with it forever, because although I don’t care if she trashes it, my son does. No grandmother wants to insult her grandson, so I figure it will clutter my mom’s house for another twenty years or so. Instead of another useless gift, I assembled a board of facebook consultants. You should try this when you have a big decision to make. Your friends and family are very wise. Tap into that resource. It’s free.
My friends decided I should get my mom a Keurig. Good idea, huh? I would never have thought of that.
The other night when I was wrapping this big box, my son looks to me and says, “Maybe you should ask grandma to put this in her will, so you’ll get the coffee pot when she dies.”
NOT a good idea!
“Please don’t speak of that idea again.” I told him. “You never put a person in their grave on their birthday, especially such a monumental birthday as grandma’s. Never.”
Then I penciled it into her living will.
Thank God my mother has a sense of humor. I wouldn’t want her face her own mortality every time she wanted a cup of coffee.