The Whimsical Musings of the Great Hoo Hoo

My beautiful Princess granddaughter – Denelle- loves to sing & dance.   It doesn’t matter where she’s at, when she hears a song she loves playing over the loud speakers, she’s transformed into her own world where nothing exists except the music.  She’ll stop whatever she’s doing & burst into song and usually a dance to accompany it…. totally oblivious to her surroundings.

Technorati Tags: birthday, chuck e cheese, miley cyrus, party, song

It was such a beautiful fall day… brilliant blue skies, not a cloud to be seen and temps in the mid 60’s… that a friend of mine & I decided to meet & go for a long, slow walk. It was such a lovely time getting caught up in each other’s lives that before we knew it, an hour had gone by and we were back at her house. We said our goodbyes with promises of future walks together on the good days left & went our separate ways.

I arrived home moments later ravenous not only from walking but from not taking the time to eat all day so I put a plate of leftovers in the microwave & opened the fridge to grab something to drink with my dinner. As I glanced around the almost empty shelves my eyes lit upon a small pint of Dean’s Holiday Chug – eggnog flavor. I had been slowly sipping on it for the last 2 weeks so as to not absorb all those empty calories in one sitting & there was about ½ cup left. “Perfect companion to my evening meal,” I thought.

So I whisked the bottle off the shelf just as the microwave was signaling my supper was done reheating and tried to flip the large white cap off of it. It would not budge. I grabbed the bottle with both hands & used my thumbs to try to pry it open but again, to no avail. “This is CRAZY” I said to myself… “I know I’m 51 and not as strong as I use to be but come on!!!” I walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up the dish towel to try to use as leverage to get this stubborn cap loose & failed. I set the bottle on the table and slumped into the chair and my eyes welled with despair as I surrendered to the idea that this is the point I’ve arrived at in my life. I live alone & I’m aging and there’s no one to help me get the caps off the jars in my old age.

I sniffled for awhile, shoulders sagging in total defeat & then my tears began to dry up and my vision became clearer. I switched my focus from inside my miserable head with future visions of calling 911 to help get the cap off my mayonnaise jar back to the present moment & the challenge of my eggnog nemesis. Slowly a thought began to form in the depth of my foggy brain & I squinted my eyes to bring the cap into sharper view… it was then that I realized it was a twist off and not a pull off! Emergency averted I twisted off the top & sat down to a hot meal with a delicious drink to wash it down with.

My grandson Michael ( 10 ) lives in Virginia Beach so I seldom get to see him but every summer he spends about a month up here in Ohio. When my granddaughter Denelle was born (Michael’s cousin), there was an instant bond between them… I swear, the best of friends & the worst of enemies – you should hear them bicker!!!

Here are some pictures of when Michael got here in Ohio in June and he & Nelle saw each other for the first time since Christmas. They missed each other soooo bad. This actually brought tears to my eyes.

We’ve been talking about it for weeks, trying to prepare my 2 year old granddaughter Denelle for her yearly visit with Santa Clause at the mall.  The first year she was only 9 months old and wasn’t really fully aware of what was going on around her. The second year went a little better… she saw Santa sitting there in his red overstuffed chair but she refused to sit on his lap.  This year her Mom Jenny and I decided to talk this up to generate some enthusiasm for the upcoming event.  And it worked!  Or so we thought.

We got to the mall around 2 in the afternoon and made our way over to where it was all taking place.  The line was long… so very long… but what did I expect for the Saturday before Christmas!  But hey, tis the season and so we have to wait awhile till we moved to the head of the line.  My son Ray and other daughter Amber were waiting there with us so we began to chit chat as we slowly made our way towards Santa.  Jenny then thought that since our wait was so long, she would have time to run over to the Build A Bear center to purchase part of Nelle’s Christmas present so we encouraged her to go, get it done and she assured us she’d be back in time to see her daughter get her picture taken with Santa.

It didn’t seem like much time had passed before I realized we were almost at the front and Jenny had yet to return from shopping.  I was getting a little nervous and unbeknownst to me so was Nelle when she realized Santa was within yelling distance.  Suddenly she asked me if she could go on the choo choo train ride and I said of course we could, as soon as we were done visiting Santa but then her smile quickly faded and she grabbed my left hand with both of her little ones and squeezed it tightly and through clenched teeth said…  “I DON’T WANT TO SEE SANTA, I WANT TO GO ON THE RIDE!”

I snapped my head around to bark out orders to Amber…”Quick, text your sister & tell her we have an emergency… there’s a meltdown in progress at the North Pole!” and I watched as her fingers flew over her phone’s keyboard.  Within moments Jenny was walking briskly back to where we were and began to comfort Nelle.  Again we tried to hype it up, telling her how Santa was going to bring her presents while she slept on Christmas Eve but first she needed to tell Santa what it was she wanted for Christmas and so Nelle began to recite a small list of what she wanted as I counted on my fingers to distract her.  PHEW… meltdown aborted!  Or so we thought.

It was now our turn to enter the magical wonder land & have our visit with Santa Clause.  We all whipped out our cameras cause we were allowed to take additional photos of our own as long as we purchased something from them.  I dropped my coat on the floor and turned to focus the camera in the general direction of where they should be when I noticed Nelle had a white knuckle hold of Jenny’s shoulders and her legs tightly wrapped around Jen’s waist and her eyes were wide with fear.  We desperately tried to convince her that it was ok - we wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, Santa’s a good guy! but she’d have nothing to do with it.  Her uncle tried; her aunt tried; her 9 year old cousin Michael tried… heck, even I tried but to no avail. 

You could hear a collective weary sigh from all of us as we picked our coats up off the floor, stuffed our cameras away in our pockets and turned towards the exit in total defeat. Then one of the elves came up with the brilliant idea that maybe Nelle would be less afraid if we took a group picture of all us with Santa.  Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea and so we posed.  For 9 pictures!  Someone was either blinking or looking the other way or in several of them Nelle was scowling & giving the camera man “the stink eye.”  We were just about to give up once again when Jen had a heart to heart talk with Nelle saying… “Look, unless you say ‘cheese’ we’re going to have to sit here next to Santa for a long, long time so just smile & let’s get this over with!”  and Nelle said “Ok” and so we all sat up straight, looked straight at the camera with our eyes wide open and said “CHEESE” and it worked!  Hallelujah… a Christmas Miracle had taken place before our very eyes.

As we got up to leave, we thanked Santa for his patience and Nelle decided she wanted to give Santa a hug.  So Santa held Nelle and the camera man got ready to take another picture when Nelle realized what was happening and reached for her Mom.

. . . . . . maybe next year!

Yeah, sure . . . I’ll admit that I can swing either way.  There have been glimpses of wisdom that I have shared with those I hold close & then there have been those moments where something spew forths from my mouth much like the lava flow coming from an erupting volcana which causes others to look at one another – one eyebrow raised – questioning my sanity.  Hey, I’m a package deal made up from the good, the bad & the ugly.  Love me as I AM please.

I made an appointment a month ago with my favorite hair salon – Hair Plus – for a consult on what to do with my ever frustrating mop.  I told the stylist, Sheila, that I was about to turn 50, I wanted something new/different/stylish/easy to manage and my hair had become anything but!  I told her once a year when I get my income tax check back, I have a spiral perm put in and then a few months later I have it colored & highlighted.  I had so much damaged hair that I was entertaining thoughts of shaving it all off.  I then asked her to take a real, close look at my hair & share with me suggestions on the steps I needed to take.  It took about 30 minutes, but we can up with a game plan that we both agreed on & I scheduled an appointment for a week later.

On the day of the appointment, I walked in feeling slightly nervous but mostly excited about “the new me” that this brave lady was about to undertake.  No pressure here.  For my peace of mind, I asked her to go over the game plan AGAIN with me… wanting to make sure we were both on the same page. To my relief, we were.  And so I took off my glasses & laid them on her work station, giving over total control,  trusting that she would work nothing short of a miracle.

First we shampoo’d & deep conditioned then I needed to sit under the hair dryer for a little while cause you can’t apply dye to wet hair.  While sitting there squinting at a magazine up close ( I cannot see anything without my glasses ) the desk receptionist walked over to me & was playing with the dried out, frayed ends of my hair & cracked a joke about it.  I didn’t think it was very funny, even if I did agree with her opinion.  Soon Sheila came over to lead me back to her work station to begin coloring my hair. We choose a warmer brown then I usually wear adding some red to it because it seemed like fun!  When my hair was covered she led me over to the dryer again to wait out the 25 minutes for the color to take.

25 minutes later it was back to the wash bowl to rinse, shampoo & rinse again then back to the dryer. A little while later she led me back to the work station where she began to add the highlights, layer by painful layer ( my hair was extremely long, curly & ultra thick – I can see all the stylists cringing whenever I walk in to make an appointment to have anything done to my hair ) all the while exchanging pleasant chit chat…’how’s your family? great, how is yours? wonderful, so & so is just learning to drive, how scarey is that!?! oh you don’t need to tell me, I think I started having heart problems when my middle child was learning to drive’…. and before you knew it, it was time to sit under the dryer again allowing the highlights to set in.  A short while later it was time to rinse & shampoo again & then back to the station for the “big cut!”

I felt a little shakey inside, having had long hair for many years, would I like it shorter?  I shared my fears with Sheila & she said she would start out slow, only cutting off a little at a time & I could inspect it & decide if I wanted more taken off.  I thought to myself…‘this is silly! it’s ONLY hair. it will grow back no matter how short it ends up.  quit being a baby & GO FOR IT!’ and so I said to her, no – that’s ok, cut ALL the dead, damaged hair off & whatever happens happens.  Then I closed my eyes, feeling the pull of the comb as it stuggled through the masses of curly, thick brush and I heard the gentle snip of the scissors.  Over & over again.  To take my mind off of what was happening I started up our conversation again and she asked me if I had any new plans for my 50th year… any changes I wanted to make, places I wanted to see, etc… and so we light heartedly bantered away for awhile.

I then turned the topic to wanting to set up appointments for me and my two daughters to have a ‘girls day’ of pedicures & manicures & asked her to remind me to purchase gift certificates when we were done.  She thought it was a lovely idea of getting together with my daughters for a spa day!  The desk receptionist walked over & was leaning up against the wall adding to this discussion when I mentioned that I was thinking about getting my eyebrows waxed.  I told Sheila that I had never had it done before but it seemed that whenever I plucked I always ended up with uneven eyebrows & I didn’t like that they weren’t symmetrical.  The receptionist casually said…‘well, back when I was in beauty school our instructor had something very important to say that I have never forgotten…’  My stylist & I stopped talking in mid-sentence & our eyes locked  in the reflection of the mirror.  I imagined we were both thinking the same thing at that moment… that whatever the receptionist was about to tell us would be wise beyond wonders and we would question how we ever made it through life this far without know this!  We both leaned in a little closer so we wouldn’t miss a word she said & I swear you could have heard a pin drop when she continued…

‘ My instructor said that your eyebrows are not twin sisters but more like siblings.  They will never be identical nor should you attempt to make them look that way.  They are meant to be individual, unique brows. ‘  The phone suddenly rang, jarring us out of our mystical reverie & the receptionist headed back to her desk. I leaned back into my chair while Sheila put the finishing touches on my new hairdo & then I put my glasses on.  ‘HOLY MOTHER OF GOD’… I thought.  This is absolutely amazing! I looked beautiful.  Look at all those curls & waves… the color is superb! the highlights perfect!  I was more than satisfied… I was born again!

I walked out of Hair Plus feeling like a million bucks!  Not only did I look better & feel better, but I was carrying with me words of wisdom about my brows that I would not soon forget.  Life is good!

*And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.*  –Anais Nin

Do any of us really have control over our lives?  There are times when I use to think so.  One area I believed we had total control of was our morals, values & principals.  I mean that’s what makes us who we are, right?  I sit here shaking my head in sadness over the way I use to be.  Over the reality of how I must have hurt some of the people around me.  Who was I to feel so righteous?

I have learned that life is ever changing, evolving, morphing us into new directions – adventures!  Life does not stand still. If it did, we would stagnate.  Oh yes, I agree that change can seem frightening at times.  In a dysfunctional sort of way we become comfortable within our discomfort.  It’s a familiar state of being… something we can count on day in, day out especially when we feel that we can’t count on anything else. There is the knowing that tomorrow will be mostly exactly the same as today and I know that I can survive that as I’ve done a hundred times before.

The Universe has a way of changing us.  You don’t believe me?  Ask yourself this… and I don’t need to know the answer… are you the exact same person you were 10 years ago?  20 years ago?  30 years ago?  Do you look the same?  Have the same belief system you had then?  I know that I’ve changed in countless ways and I’m happy to say a lot of them are for the better.  Here’s an example:

A very long time ago, when I was in my teens and then through my 20′s and into my early 30′s, I use to be what is known as a Pro Lifer.  I firmly believed with all of my entire being that no one, under any circumstances, should get an abortion.  I was adament about it even going so far as to wear the tiny feet pin on my smock label at work to announce to the world around me… “I believe in life!”  I am ashamed to say that I had no compassion… no sympathy for the young girls I worked with who found themselves young, single & pregnant & were considering abortion as a way out.  I felt such anger!  How could anyone ever consider ending an innocent life that did not ask to be put in this position to begin with!!!  Wow, my eyes fill with tears over the memory of that.  When these beautiful young girls who found themselves emotionally hurting, were reaching out for advice – guidance, I was preaching ever lasting hell & damnation to them.  Unbelievable.

Then something happened to me in the fall of 1999 that shook the earth beneathe my feet, turning my world inside out & all of a sudden I didn’t know what I believed anymore.  Early one morning, my bright & beautiful 17 year old daughter called me from school and she was crying.  Never a good sign when your teenager calls crying so I immediately went into ‘panic mode’…  what’s wrong? are you hurt? why are you crying???   Through heavy sobbing my daughter told me that she was pregnant.  Pregnant!  Ok, someone pinch me please… I’m having one of THOSE dreams again & I’m really not liking it thank-you-very-much!  But no – oh no - my precious baby was telling me that she was having a baby.  My body began to shake… I felt dizzy, slightly nauseated… this can’t be right!  My daughter is a senior in highschool while attending her freshmen year of college, making plans to become a well known surgeon.  There’s no plan for a baby!  Where do you see “get pregnant at 17″ written in the dang script?!?!

When I hung up the phone I sat down & cried the entire day away.  I could not stop the flood of tears… believe me, I tried.  Just when I thought I had run out and I had pulled myself together, my heart would break wide open with the most horrendous pain I ever felt & the tears would pour forth yet again.  What were they thinking… were they thinking at all!  Children.  Young love.  What do they know!  I gave myself a few days to get myself together and then I sat down with this precious child of mine and said…”Amber, tell me what you’re feeling; tell me what you’re thinking; share with me everything that is going through you.  And I held her hand, looking deep into that young, confused & frightened face and I forgot all about me & how I was feeling.  This little girl with the big heart was hurting and what she needed now was unconditional love & understanding.  My mind began to drift back to the night I came up with her name.  I was 6 months pregnant with her and had just gotten off work at 11 p.m., and I had arrived at the babysitters house to pick up my 3 year old then go home.  As I walked up the sidewalk leading to the front door, I looked up at the sky which was showcasing a hundred million diamonds. So pretty, I thought… so beautiful is that amber color of light.  Amber.  Amber!!!  That’s what I’ll name this baby of mine, after the color of the stars in the universe! I smiled, slowly bringing my attention back to the situation in front of us and as I listened to everything that was going through her mind, it began to dawn on me that no matter what choice she made – whether she aborted the baby, gave the baby up for adoption or decided to keep the baby – I would support her 100%.

The next day while I was at work ringing out the customer’s groceries, I happened to look down at my smock & noticed that I had lost the pair of little feet I’ve been wearing for 20 years.  How odd, I don’t remember hearing anything hit the ground… hmmmm, I wonder when that happened!  But you know what?  It really didn’t matter that they were gone.  I didn’t feel the same as I did just a few days ago & they no longer symbolized who I had now become.  A Pro Choicer.  And who really knows if that is how I will always feel about the subject.  Life continuously changes… and so do I.

Oh yeah, on July 17th of 2000 my beautiful baby grandson was brought into this world & I was blessed enough to be a part of Amber’s labor coaching team.  As for her ruining her entire life?  Not even close! She is a full time RN at Cleveland Clinic and she works part time in the Thoracic Open Heart unit too. Her dream is to become a Life Flight Nurse & I’ve got a feeling that she will too!

Technorati Tags: Baby, Change, Love, Pro Choice, Pro Life