Happy Fall?

   I have all the motivation of last week's pancakes to continue adulting. It's nothing new, certainly. You'd think I'd be relieved that it's fall. My daughter is back in school and I have regained a bit more freedom. There's some mommy guilt over not living La Vida Facebook, as I call it. We did manage to get her to the beach for one week this summer. We still managed to swing Summer camp. It was rough when camp ended and the last few weeks were slow for us. I'm guessing the problem is isolation.
    We don't have a large family and there aren't a lot of kids in our neighborhood for her majesty to play with. The other issue was that we do not have any pets for company. Too many of our friends have allergies and frankly, l barely have my husband housebroken. I'm drowning keeping up with our house as it is, I can't imagine having to vacuum like a nut on top of it and adding vet bills to boot. Someday there will be a dog in our family, but my ADD kid has to get a little older and more responsible.
   We, as a family, are also still recovering from the massive depletion of our savings that resulted from a year of cobra payments. We didn't just scrape the bottom of the bottom of the barrel,  we were starting to see through it. Here's what's wierd. I have been fighting a lot of Mommy guilt for the Summer despite the fact that it would have been so much worse for us had we not lived the way we had these last several years. It's yet another example of guilt defying common sense.
    The fall is really a nice time of year, if I could just relax and enjoy. That seems to be about as easy as leaping over a tall building with a single bound for me. I'm guessing the biggest stressor is getting my ass back to work. The substitute teaching gig last school year wasn't pretty. There was no training and I got thrown into some really tough rooms. I also haven't noticed any aide jobs up yet. I didn't , and still don't feel prepared/qualified to teach a full day flying solo. What do you do when your school district could care less?
   I freaked out a lot last year. I could really use to learn how to keep my trap shut. You get mighty comfortable being home as long as I have. I need to put some "Professional Teacher Pants" on. Unfortunately,  I'm finding out that I have a lot of company. This whole lack of training thing is apparently par for the course in substitute teaching. What's also scary is that I haven't actually taught a class yet. I signed up to try it in a coteaching classroom. Oddly enough, it's one of my daughter's teachers from last year. Stay tuned.......

The Malfunctioning Gumball Machine

   I have reached that "certain age" in which the hormone fairy has waved her magic wand and frequently I don't know what the hell is going on. Welcome to the malfunctioning gumball machine portion of the program. My body used to be some shred of predictable every month, or at least understandable. Now, despite my calendar tracking, I'm still clueless. Some months the eggs come down, some months they don't. Place your bets, folks! I don't wear white pants because they're too risky. I didn't bother with them even when I knew what to expect since I'm too lazy to coordinate underwear when I'm trying to get the hell out of my house.
   Irrational moods are par for the course, as long as I remember to step back and remember whose fault this mess is. I blame that b**ch the hormone fairy. What's funny is that things could be a lot worse. I have not had my first hot flash yet, they can be handy in the winter, I've heard. My friends have told me that I don't look my age, thank God! I know some of it is lucky genetics but I'm guessing that the rest of it is hard work. My current theory is that as long as I keep working out like a nut I can fool my body into thinking that I'm younger than I really am.
   That's peachy for the physical end of things but it doesn't help the cuckoo's nest upstairs. I get to feel the beginning of the downhill slide to old ladyhood. I'm  pretty sure my brain will remain in denial until they close the lid. Pictures of myself seem to be the only things that show me the truth of how I actually look. I hate those bastards.
   I've also found that the older I get, the higher maintenance I become, and the less I feel like doing said  "maintenance".  The various hair that needs to be dyed and/or plucked, the seemingly permanent fanny pack that's impervious to situps, and sudden need for push up bras while other body parts have decided to start jiggling are just part of the fun.
   It's getting harder to be around younger people because I'm so much obviously older that I'm invisible. If my ego wore pants, they've been kicked. Allegedly I have plenty of company. That's true in a general sense. The actual depressing reality is that there are fewer and fewer of us as the years roll on and we weren't a big crowd to begin with! Halloween is becoming a way of life as we approach the age of the funeral. JHC, could this get any more cheerful?!?! While I'm on this side of the daisies, I should probably consider expanding my network. Yes, dear reader, I will have to become more extroverted to find more friends. Perhaps there's a Facebook group for bitter, sarcastic, fellow malfunctioning gumball machines, or I could start one. Who's with me?
   P.S. Get Off My Lawn!!!

Old Fart"s Lament

Not long ago, this body was young, 

No stretch marks, no scars, there was nothing but fun.

It could run, jump and climb, twirl, bend and flex,

Can’t do those things now, without sound effects.

It needs glasses to find glasses and is frequently sore,

the brain often asks, “What’re we in this room for?”.

The hair on the roof is thinning and grey,

and the pipes either leak or back up every day.

The ears, which can hear, don’t like today’s tunes,

‘so called’ lyrics when they get it, still seem like runes.

The stomach hates spices, the liver can’t drink

the colon is due for a check up, I think.

To the shop for repairs! Is it deemed cosmetic?

Insurance said no, you’re stuck feeling pathetic. 

Squinting eyes can’t read texts without a translator,

it’s phone is turned on, now it needs a third grader.

We’re surrounded by bodies with young, perky asses.

You’ve still got it, you’re still hot! but it’s only in flashes!

Some parts are sagging and others won’t work

The mouth spews lines from its parents - that jerk!

Frequently, sometimes loudly, it emits putrid fog

Better lay off the broccoli, we don’t have a dog 

Childhood punishments have now become aims,

Going out? No, thanks, this body naps just the same.

The brain ignores all, says ‘We’re fine! Keep trying!

The body says ‘You’re f**king crazy!!, I’m dying!’

The neighborhood pharmacist knows it by name,

There’s a new, growing copay for each ache and pain.

Aging’s not just a pain, it’s a pantload of ills,

It’s expensive, frustrating, and tough without pills.

This body is like an old building my friend,  

The tenant’s long gone and the sign says ‘condemned’.