“Misty water colored mem-reeeeees light the corners of my miiiiiiiiind”

Like any mother I don't like to see my babies suffer. Nevermind that my babies are (mostly) grown people who can and do make their own bed decisions and should have to lay in it deal with the consequences.


My step mom likes to tell me that if you do help them too much you rob them of their memories.

Hard times are usually the ones we remember most.

Unless you're like me and like to block all that crap out.

I think my rose colored glasses fit me perfectly.

My sister Susan can always be counted on to jog my memory about our growing up years.

When I complain about a kid of mine skipping out on doing their chores or not getting the concept of saving or paying bills Susan reminds me that the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree...

"Don't you remember?" Susan will ask "that whenever you owed mom money you would tell her she couldn't get blood from a rock"

"And when she asked you to clean your room, you'd hide all your junk in the closet or under the bed and then call her in and show her what a wonderful job you did."

"You're lucky mom let you live to see adulthood."

A bit before Daddio and I married my mom made a move to Arizona. We'd all been invited to join her and her husband. When we balked at leaving our "oh so very" established lives she said "you can stay in the house and pay the bills if you don't want to come".

Well that sounded like one hell of an adventure and we took her up on it.

And while we loved the adventure often times were tough....really tough.

A strange thing happened during those times, I came to the realization that sometimes you can get blood from a rock.

So Susan reminds me of a time when a desperate time called for a desperate measure.

We really were dirt poor early in our marriage and for a short time right after our wedding my sister lived with us. One day not long after our wedding she was in the bathroom and started hollering for me to bring her some toilet paper.

We had not one square.

“Ok, how bout some tissue?” she asked.

“Nope” I replied.

”A paper towel?” she pleaded .

“We're out” I reported.

“Wait a minute” I yelled outside the door…I just remembered, I had a whole bag of leftover tissue flowers that you shape like an accordion and puff out, the ones that we’d put on our” Just Married” car.

I banged on the door, it cracked open a bit and her skinny arm poked out, palm up. I placed a couple of the flowers in the center of her hand and closed her fingers around them.

She screamed when she saw what I’d given her.

"Hey" I said "they even have a little string on the bottom to make them easier to hold."

“Freak” she yelled.

We used that bag of flowers to wipe our cans for at least a week…before they ran out my dear sister suggested that they shouldn't be kept in a paper bag on the floor, so she found a pretty basket to put them it.

She always was the classy one.
 

Coupons???? Off with her head.....!!!

Last week Daddio offered to take me on my grocery rounds. This usually means a trip to the fruit market and to some kind of large grocery store. I had an awesome coupon for Meijers. One of those “use the pharmacy, get twenty bucks off deal“, so to Meijers it was.


As usual the place was packed. And I should know better that when poor Daddio starts to complain while still in the parking lot that maybe I should limit my trip to a loaf of bread and some milk.

I poo-pooed my gut warning and stupidly proceeded.

"The walk of the living dead" he growled, barely missing hitting a wide fannied woman wearing dingy white polyester pants and carrying six black garbage bags filled with plastic returnables.

He found a space about a mile from the entrance. "A walk will do us both good" he said in defense of his crappy choice.

I think he does this on purpose, he knows that if I were driving, we'd go round and round and round until one of the first parking spots opened up.

I don't care if it takes thirty minutes to find that perfect spot, and I usually don't realize that I've gone around so many times until I notice my gas gauge starting to go down.

"Mom, I'm getting dizzy" the kids used to say. "Please…pleeeeeeeeeeeease just pick a spot."

Inside the store Daddio went for a cart and he didn't even flinch when his mitts grabbed the dirty cart handle.

I shudder to think of all the E.coli he's probably just touched.

Oprah once did a show about E.coli and the places where it can be found.

Believe it or not public toilet seats don't have a ton of microscopic poop on them.

Bowling balls and shopping carts were found to be much worse...yuck

I've not stuck my fingers into a bowling ball since I saw that show.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same about shopping carts. Therefore I'm forced happy to use the sani-wipes the store provides.

Daddio gave me the evil eye as I searched (in vain) for the alcohol wipes.

"Forget it" he barked "I don't need those things."

"You're going to get sick" I warned.

"That's why I have such a superior immune system" Daddio brags "I'm not scared of germs."

Daddio doesn't really understand how aggressive one needs to be to successfully navigate a Meijer store on a Sunday after church.

Trying to be mannerly gets you nowhere besides stuck behind a lady with a coupon filled shoe box, six unruly snotty nosed children and two full carts.

Or an old gray buck carefully studying the entire 129 different varieties of Campbell's soup looking for Mrs. Grass chicken noodle.

Arrghhhh.....

So as Daddio (beginning to look brain dead) waits behind the gang, I scurry ahead grabbing items as I go.

Needing to get some tomato sauce for spaghetti I stop when I see Hunts Sauce and begin searching for the big cans.

Of course, as usual, they only have the eight ounce size and all of them seem to be dented.

When he catches up to me Daddio gets perturbed watching me feel out each can trying to find an uninjured few.

"What the hell does it matter?" he asks "just grab a couple."

I'll be sure to remind him of this little exchange a couple of days from now when he is suffering from stomach cramps.

We make it to the check out with me knowing that I certainly have forgotten something...you can't shop properly under that kind of pressure.

I choose a good lane and place our groceries onto the belt. Daddio was in front and didn't know what to do when the cashier passed him one of those grocery separating bars like a baton in a race.

"What?" he asks, holding it in the air "Do I run with this thing?"

When the cashier is almost done ringing our order I see that there is a great possibility that I may be able to use my $6.00 off $60.00 coupon as well.

I started getting giddy.

$26.00 off my grocery order!!!!

When the total hit $60.53 I almost screamed "BINGO", but for Daddio's sake I just stood mute and handed the cashier the coupons.

A little history here, over the years Daddio has gone to the grocery store once, maybe three times by himself. The couple of times that he did was because I was totally unable...I had a day old newborn at home or I was projectile vomiting and had a temperature of 103.

So only when he HAD to, did Daddio ever step foot into a grocery store.

I always gave him coupons and good directions about using them.

The following day I'd find them in a soggy ball at the bottom of the washing machine.

When I handed the blob to Daddio he'd just shrug and say "I forgot."

That was not a truthful statement...Daddio would rather hang by his earlobes than use a coupon. Using one is like asking for charity. Stealing money from the cashier's pocket. Trying to redeem a clam shell from the Great Depression....

He was beyond horrified when the cashier swiped my first coupon and the machine did nothing.

She swiped and swiped.

Without even looking I could feel Daddio pain.

"Buy any alcohol?" she asked.

If we had Daddio would have cracked it open by now and would have been in a much better frame of mind.

"Nope, no alcohol" I answered.

"Ohhhh...it doesn't count your bottle deposits" Miss Cashier finally figured out, "You need to buy something else."

Daddio's embarrassment and the line behind us was growing by the minute.

"Gum!!" I yelled "I'll take some gum."

Since the people behind us in their impatience had invaded our personal space, I couldn't reach the gum display and had to ask the cashier to choose a pack.

The first pack didn't cost enough.

"Okay, two then" I told the cashier who obviously is also a Libra and was having a hard time making a choice for me.

"ANY KIND" I yelled "ANYTHING!!!!"

The second pack didn't do it either.

"Charge me for two eight packs of Pepsi, I'll run back and get another." I suggested.

Finally, the machine took the coupons.

I sent Daddio and the other groceries to the car and I ran to the back to get my extra eight pack of pop.

It was a long walk which gave me plenty of time to plan my defense.

I was mighty tempted to ask the cashier for that baton and directions to the nearest exit.