I threw out my back picking up a child. Being an older mother sucks.

He was hitting his brother as they were standing on chairs at the kitchen counter while I was trying to do something, I forget what.  It was something important like paying bills or calling clients back.  I picked him up and turned to the right to put him on the floor and that’s when my back spasmed and I spent the rest of the day high on Aleve and muscle relaxants.  Washed down with a swallow of peppermint schnapps, because it was the only thing I could reach where I was stuck in the kitchen crying.

It hurt so bad it make me want to throw up.  The kid is almost 5 and 42 pound.  I used to be able to throw a bag of dog food that size over my shoulder and walk half a mile to the car in the Walmart parking lot.  Not anymore.  One tiny child and I’m crying.

By late afternoon I was feeling a little better until Gina called and said I sounded drunk.  I explained that I was more tired of the pain than drunk.  And not drunk, but waiting for the pills to wear off because I had been useless all day.  By evening it was better and I thought maybe I would survive.

Until the husband said “You shouldn’t be picking up children, you’re pushing 50.”

Then I just wanted to smack him across the face, which took my mind off my back.


The 10 Worst and Best Things about being an older MOM of babies (and having adult children at the same time)

I saw this list on Huffington Post Today:  The 10 Worst and Best Things about Being an Old Mom.  Some of it made me laugh because I am 46 and have a 4 and a 3 year old.  But some of it is too politically correct when having toddlers as an old Mom is not nearly so CLEAN.  And some of it doesn’t quite fit my life as I also have an 18,20, and 21 year old.  Two separate families.  22 years of children or pregnancy.  15 more to go.  That makes me feel tired.  I should go lay down.

So here’s my own version of this list:

10 Worst Things:

  1.  A couple of people have asked me if the older boy is my grandchild.  First I snicker and say, “No, and he has a younger brother too.”  And sometimes “I call them a medical malfunction” or “birth control doesn’t always work” or “I’ll be one of those 65 year olds who have a surprise pregnancy.”  Most often though I snort through my nose and say “The girls won’t be having babies because they were RIGHT THERE (and gesture toward my vagina) when the boys were born.”  I am not sure if the laughter is because it’s funny or uncomfortable to talk about my vagina.
  2. Small font.  OMG, yes.  I can’t read anything without looking under my glasses and finding the perfect distance from my face.  There is also small print in video games and on cereal boxes and the boys want to know what EVERYTHING says.  Or where it was made.  I gave up and now I just make shit up.
  3. I have to take care of myself because the moms at the preschool ARE MY OLDER CHILDREN’S FRIENDS.  And when the grandparents of the preschool kids are doing the pick up I fit right in.  I also pride myself on throwing the little one over my shoulder while dragging the other out of a snowbank and dragging him to the minivan.  Then I take ALEVE when I get home and find my heating pad.  But for a good minute there I looked amazingly athletic.  I will be doing my retirement party with the little one’s high school graduation party.
  4. I went to my doctor last week because my hair is falling out and I feel like shit.  Perimenopause and two babies has thrown me into an unbalanced hormone hell.  I also can’t do all nighters with sick babies.  There are days when I have more patience, but never as much energy and so it evens out.  I can’t imagine how I stayed home with 3 little ones and now I make excuses to go to work to sleep on my office couch.
  5. I haven’t been able to sit and read a book during the day in 21 years.
  6. I haven’t been able to poop without having a conversation with someone in 21 years.
  7. I never did get to travel and party.  Now I’ll be 62, broke, broken, and want to nap.
  8. I have no retirement.
  9. I get up early with babies who want me and stay up late with teenagers/young adults who want me.
  10. I do not want to be a grandmother.  I’m tired.

Ten Best Things:

  1. I have lots of things to whine about.  And I love to whine and then laugh, which makes people think I’m cheerful but it’s more of a laugh because you don’t want to cry kind of thing.
  2. I have an excuse to not exercise.
  3. I like to send the girls out with their brothers so people will think they got pregnant in their teens.  For some reason that is funny to me.
  4. I have all the kid books memorized so I don’t actually have to read Green Eggs and Ham.  I can recite it from memory.
  5. My boys will be unique because I find the things they do hysterical, like playing with their penises, licking the table, or mispronouncing words.  I see no reason to fix any of this.  My kids can paint their nails or dye their hair blue and I just don’t care.
  6. They don’t make me younger.  They make me older.  Everything pops and snaps and sags and is gray.  But I have lost the ability to care.  I wear yoga pants and plaid shirts to pick them up.  There is a sense of freedom in that.
  7. Sympathy from other people.
  8. Gifts of alcohol from some of the sympathetic people.
  9. People don’t ask me to volunteer for things.
  10. The only way it keeps me young is that I know the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and I get to play with cool race tracks (which I didn’t get to do as a child) until I need help getting up from the floor.

At First I thought that Donald Trump was making me lose my hair . . .

But then I remembered that I have been this stressed out about life before and not had hair fall out in clumps.  Maybe shed more than usual, but not in clumps.

It’s been happening for 3 weeks now.  It slowed down for a while and then last night I had Child #2 look for bald spots and she found twice as many as before, but I also think she pointed out the same one three different times.  She also pointed out places it is just thinning.  And told me to change my part or it would show.  Also, some spots have stubble and are growing back, but the big bald spot that I found first, right in the front in my hairline is smooth and has no sign of hair growing back EVER.

This is when I freaked out and spent the night wondering how sparse it will get and when I should just shave it off.  Also I look terrible in hats.  And my face is not made for baldness.  I would have to tattoo hair on my bald head.  Or buy a wig.  But then I’m so clumsy and scattered it would be halfway off my head all day before I would notice.  And if I go to see my doctor, will she find the cause or will she say she has no idea.  And if they take my thyroid out will I be out of work long because my husband can’t carry us, so I’ll have to go back to work with a big bandage around my neck and tell people not to freak out.

I didn’t sleep well last night.

I called the doctor’s office this morning and they are closed.  Because it’s the one day of the year that I need them.

Weird head buzzing and feeling like falling over, humming in ears, anxiety, blood pressure spikes and head rushes. I figured it out! Perimenopause has hit me like a brick wall only a brick wall doesn’t move so I must have run into it when I wasn’t looking.

The longest title EVER but I have trouble thinking so I can’t make it any better.  One other reason I haven’t blogged much in the past 2 years (besides the working and babies and lack of free time) is that I would only be whining about my health and how bad it is and all the doctors I’ve seen, one of which told me to chew gum.  I don’t want to be a whiner.  I am a whiner.  I know that.  I don’t want to be a WORSE whiner.  But I’ve figured it out and I am mostly just angry right now.  I know why I’m ill and crazy.

It started with an ear infection but after that was treated my ears still buzzed.  I went to four doctors, including an ENT, who said their was nothing wrong and no fluid in my ears and the ENT told me to chew gum which only made my jaw all creaky.  The dentist said to stop doing that.

Then I got pregnant again completely accidentally on an IUD that didn’t exist.  And I chalked all the weird head shit up to pregnancy.  Well, I had him in December and since then all this weirdness has gotten so bad that I’ve gone to the ER twice and my family doctor and gotten prescriptions for everything from pain meds to Atavan.  I think the ER dr. thinks I’m crazy and having panic attacks even though I told him I’m a therapist and although I’m stressed I know what a panic attack looks like.

And then I found this wonderful post: Does anyone peri have this weird head feeling? on a gardening site and it is EXACTLY WHAT I FEEL LIKE so much that near the end of the comments I started crying, which is also something I do a lot these days.  I was probably in perimenopause when I was pregnant and crying over Grey’s Anatomy, but now I cry over episodes of LOST I’ve already seen.

Yes, when I move my head it feels like my brain shifts and my eyes take a while to catch up.  The top of my head hums and feels like it’s being electrically shocked. Noise makes it worse.  My blood pressure has always been incredibly low but now spikes up to 165/89.  The doctors don’t even mention that.  I feel like I might fall forward at any moment, like the floor is squishy when I walk on it.  I have so much trouble processing thoughts.  And I do feel anxiety about these things happening to me every day, sometimes all day long.  It’s not really vertigo or being dizzy.  It’s different.  I’m off balance.

Most sites don’t list ALL the symptoms of menopause.  This one at Healthline is the best.  It would seem that instead of hot flashes I have weird head shit.


They did a catscan and MRI on my brain!!!!!!!!!!  They told me nothing was wrong with me.  I thought I was going to die.  I thought I had lost my  mind, which I think I have, but the buzzing is too loud to know for sure.  Do they think I’m too young????  I’m 43.  It starts now and it goes on for 10 years and there’s no cure.

I gave up coffee yesterday and that just made me crabby.  And I gave up wine for a day and I just felt depressed.  I got some exercise jumping off playground equipment and now I ache all over.  I’m just going to have to live like this and read that site every once in a while to remind myself that I’m not alone and that getting older SUCKS ASS.

If you see a woman in her early 40’s who is anxious and depressed and losing her mind, please be kind.

And oh, by the way, I’m still fertile as HELL.

20 Ways to Tell When You Are Too Old To Have Another Baby

  • When you can breastfeed the baby without picking him up off the floor.
  • When you have trouble getting back up off the bathroom floor after giving him a bath.
  • When the cracking of your ankles wakes up the baby as you try to sneak past him.
  • When you haven’t pulled an all-nighter in over 20 years.
  • When your children’s friends have babies older than yours.
  • When you are already wearing stretchy pants and 18 hour bras.
  • A year before your oldest child leaves the house.
  • When you have already begun thinking about how much social security you’ll get if you retire early.
  • Six years after your doctor calls you middle-aged.
  • Six years after your first hot flash.
  • Any time after you wake up in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat.
  • When you’ve realized that you don’t want to clean up after pets anymore.
  • When you can’t even get your own body off the floor without grunting.
  • When tossing keys to your child pops your knee out of place.
  • When you have given up shaving your legs more than twice a year because bending over makes your hip sockets snap.
  • When you avoid the optometrist because at any second you could need bifocals.
  • When your life already revolves around trying to be regular.
  • When you don’t know if the prune juice is for the baby or for you.
  • When you let other people carry him because your arms are too weak.
  • When you are so blind that you automatically put your glasses on to comfort him in the dark in the middle of the night.

Why I never shop at Sierra Trading Post and why there are so many spelling errors in this post.

I should start with the most important thing:  why I am trying on the last computer in the house.  Haley’s laptop.  Mine is at the apple repair shop in Billings waiting for someone to care about it.  The desktop is a pile of doodoo ever since one of the kids downloaded my webfaces and no matter how many times I scan and take it off and put it in a locked chest and throw it out into the street it keeps coming back and taking over my house.  Kinda like the kids.

So I’m down to Haley’s ACER laptop with the huge keyboard and screen with nose prints all over it.  There would be more jelly on the keys if she wasn’t worried people would touch it while she’s in the kitchen and so she leaves it under the mound of clothes on her bed because NO ONE wants to touch that!

I guess there are no spelling errors in this post because I am too OCD about that and I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, not even after drinking all the chocolate espresso wine I bought at World Market yesterday.

I am still sighing from my visit to the Sierra Trading Post Memorial Sale for Midgets and Giants.  I was looking for shoes.  I wear mine out and my feet start rolling outward and I walk swinging my feet out and back in order to compensate and then I feel like everyone is watching me walk from behind and wondering if I’m mentally retarded.  I guess I should be more worried that they’re looking at my sagging child-created buttocks.

But ANYWAY, Sierra Trading Post had Size 7 and below and Size 10 and above, so nothing at all for NORMAL SIZED FOLKS.  The sales guy looked at me like there was a decision to be made.  Did I want to squeeze into a 7 or stuff kleenexes into a 10.  I walked out.  Or more like tried to walk like a normal person out the door and not trip anyone with my swinging gait.

I blame them for the snickers I imagine in my head.,

Birthday Post

Years ago I started a birthday tradition for myself.  I think it was the year I gave up on my idiot exhusband and bought myself presents and made myself a cake and sang to myself as I ate it alone.

Since then I have found great enjoyment in doing the most pathetic things I can think of on my birthday.

This morning started at 3 a.m. when I found my 16 year old sleeping on the couch with the television on some infomercial.

You’d better get to bed before your mother finds you here, I leaned over her and said softly.

I was sleeping here so I’d be the first one to wish you happy birthday, she said with great cheer as she shuffled off to bed.

Then at 8 a.m. I warmed myself a cup of left over coffee and sat my butt in front of the television to watch Justin Bieber on the Today show.  Just as he started his first song I felt the need to use the bathroom and although I vowed that I could hold on until his song was over, I ended up running to the bathroom and coming out just in time for it to end.

Someone in the audience held a sign that said It’s my birthday! and I absolutely love them for being my twin and for being as obsessed with Justin Bieber as I am.  Maybe it was Miley Cyrus because she’s my twin too!

I was going to head up to our drop in day center at work to have a Thanksgiving meal with the clients and staff, but ended up last minute shopping at Walmart and still somehow forgot minimarshmallows and orange juice so I have to go out again.

Then Haley and I made pie, but even though I said clearly on the shopping list when I went with Nick:  Chocolate pudding, NOT INSTANT.  He still got instant.  And graham cracker crusts.  I called him to find out where he’d hidden the pie crusts (in the garage in the supercooler, duh) but decided not to complain about instant pudding until he got home for lunch, but he didn’t show up.

Meanwhile the youngest came home 3 hours earlier than planned and the middle one said she’s making up missing gym days, although it’s the half day before Thanksgiving break so I sincerely doubt she’s actually there, but is instead at City Park with the druggies.  I will be stalking her in half an hour when I run to the store again.

Oh, and I forgot about the rabbit.  The cute little bunny who pooped once in every 5 square foot area of the carpet and then peed on the couch.  I was on my hands and knees chasing her under the kitchen table.

My birthday is about halfway over.  My gut hangs over my jeans.  I used the wind as a hair dryer.  And I can’t even get drunk.