Germs

I hate germs.
I'm sure they hate me too.
The germs and I each have our little battle plans and have to outsmart each other on a daily basis.
They sneakily follow me around and try to make me puke, snot or die all the time.
But I boldly try to wound them with counter attacks of Vitamin C bombs or hand washings that send them to their chlorinated, watery deaths or arieal attacks of Lysol spray.
I also avoid sick people as much as possible.
The aversion to sickly humans is not nearly as bad as it once was when my 4 children were young.
My goodness, unless you have had multiples of children you have no idea of the terror a sick person near your family can bring.
When one child got sick, then you just had to clear your schedule and just wait for the next and the next and the next and then quite possibly the parents to come down with it too.
My oldest missed 57 days of first grade because she had to catch everything that the other children had and then bring it home to share with her family.
So missing a lot of school was not a problem for the younger kids when they started to go, and our family has now built up a resistance to a myriad of germ soldiers.
All this to say that I spent way too much time dealing with germs in my life and now I hate them.
So what did I do when my sick grandson came over today?
Well there's a germ war on so I lathered him with soap and water, put new sanitized germ killing clothes on him, put a face mask on him and me and then quarantined his little self to the Pack and Play war barracks.
.....NOT !!!.....
I hugged him, held him, played with him, tickled him, shared my breakfast muffin with him, kissed his little face and head way too many times and pretended that germs don't even exist.
Who am I ?
Where had my battle plan gone?
All thought and reason went out the window when that toddling, smiling, loving, curious, babbling, adorable yet sickly Trojan Baby filled with germs came to my house.
He was feeling kinda puny and had no desire to be sanitized and disinfected.
He needed some Pookie Love and attention and there was no denying him.
Germs may not know it but Pookie Love is a powerful, purifying antiseptic in the game of germ warfare and I've got stockpiles, battalions and arsenals full of that stuff and germs that mess with my grand baby will receive no mercy.
Love that boy!
Can you tell?


Pookie's weak spot in her war against germs.


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Thanks for reading my blog!

Mother's Day Guilt.

I am a horrible daughter.
These last few days I have been trying to figure out how to get out of driving down to see my mother on Mother's Day weekend.
The problem is that I already mentioned to her that I was coming and it is a scientific fact that elderly people need things to look forward to.
I know this 'looking forward to things' thing is true because my mother told me it is and because I can't just tell her I don't want to come visit after all.
She raised me and kept me from extinction so as old as I have become I should consider myself fortunate to still have a living mother!
And I do...
But I just saw her during Spring Break when my son and I drove down for the weekend.
My son only agreed to go visiting during his Spring Break because my mother's neighborhood had free drinks and a wet t-shirt contest.
Just kidding.
We drank fresh orange juice from the trees and swam in the lake with our clothes on.
Really though, he's a good son who hardly gets to see his only living grandparent and fresh orange juice is a powerful motivator to young people.
ANYWAY, when we saw her I couldn't help thinking to myself that she is really old now and I should visit more often.
So I thought I should bugger down there for Mother's Day and enjoy my mother while I can.
I also thought to myself that it's important to visit because I haven't seen her on Mother's Day since I became a mother myself 3 decades ago.
And I haven't.
Except for last year on Mother's Day.
AND the year before that.
Criminitly!
How could I forget that?
Well:
1) I'm old now.
2) They were only considered vacation visits in my mind because my family started vacationing very close to where she lives.
3) Forget what?
So now it's gonna be 3 years in a row of Mother's Day visitation.
What a doofus I am.
So now my intent to make this big sacrifice of missing my own Mother's Day, with my 4 fabulous babies and seeing my mother as if I hadn't done that in years, is now a bust.
No sacrifice now at all, except for the gray cells that killed themselves when they found out that they were confined in a doofus head.
I'm sure there is a mass exodus of gray matter with every decision I make.
But it's too late now to change my plans.
I even got 2 new tires and an oil change so it would be a stress free weekend.
At least mechanically, because stress is like a food group to my mother.
She eats up the stress and drama of helping people live their lives according to her rules like alligators eat small dogs.
If there were calories in shaming and reproach, then my mother would be obese.
But she is actually tiny and cute and.....my mother.
She normally reserves this negative behavior for her family only.
So I have learned the cues that make her judgment avertible and try to be the best mother I can to my own children by avoiding her chosen 'mothering techniques'.
So now you know why I was trying to avoid a Mother's Day visit, but am going anyway.
I must make the trip because of the overwhelming guilt of not going to visit enough if she dies by next Mother's Day and because of the need for wet clothes and fresh orange juice.
Just kidding.
I'm bringing a bathing suit.


Lake Swimming


Fresh Orange Juice.

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