Christmas with Mom

The following is my entry for the 100 word contest “Christmas with Mom” – share a Christmas memory.

It’s that smell that brings it all back. Some heady combination of pine tree, cinnamon candles and cookies. The feeling in my stomach of anticipation so strong that I can’t sleep. I sneak from my bed and watch her sitting by the Christmas tree – its multi-colored lights, and the crackling fire are the only lights in the room. She hums a carol softly to herself and I feel warm and safe as I tiptoe back to my bed.
This Christmas, she’s in a locked ward and her memories are lost. Sometimes she doesn’t know me – but I remember.

Fan does come from the word “Fanatic”

I think I am the only person who feels sorry for Mariah Yeater, the young woman who has claimed that Justin Bieber fathered her baby, in a bathroom backstage after his concert in Los Angeles last July. First of all, this girl was 20 years old and …this is key… she was at a Justin Bieber concert! That is incredibly sad, whether she was there by herself or whether she was babysitting a bunch of 11 year olds and left them unattended while she had sex in the bathroom with Justin.
Now I don’t think she really did have sex with him – but she does. “She believes Justin Bieber is the father,” her lawyer told Chicago TV channel WGNtv on Wednesday. My guess? A 20 year old girl at a concert, perhaps had imbibed something which affected her judgement. You think? Now add in a guy, say…one of the maintenance staff at the venue or, even better, a creepy young man who has enhanced his slightly similar appearance to Justin’s by clever use of hair products and large sunglass. This guy follows the Justin concert schedule and for the price of a ticket is able to hang around near the stage doors and entice young women into thinking he is the real deal. Perhaps Justin’s management even pays him to act as a decoy to enable our young star to disappear into his limousine unmolested at the end of every show – which is what he maintains he does after every show.
Young female fans are particularly vulnerable. From the girls swooning over Sinatra at the Paramount in 1952, to the girls screaming at La Guardia as the Beatles arrived in 1964, to the hordes of screaming girls who trampled me in the summer of 1976 trying to get close to, wait for it, the Bay City Rollers. Good Lord. I get it, I really do. It’s fun to have a bigger than life idol that you can spend lots of time and money on. Hey I’ve been to more than 15 Springsteen concerts – but that’s different. It’s Springsteen for heaven’s sake!
Robert Pattinson, of Twilight fame (did I have to say that on today of all days with Breaking Dawn Part 1 opening in just a few hours!) has been approached by hundreds of girls asking him to bite their necks. It freaks him out, as well it should.
So, while the young mother in the Bieber saga has dropped her lawsuit, her lawyer says she intends to pursue it privately. I have to agree with Bieber’s spokesman Matthew Hiltzik who called it “sad that someone would fabricate such a malicious, defamatory, and demonstrably false claim”. I think it’s even sadder that this chick had sex in the bathroom with some guy after a concert – whether it was Justin Bieber or not.

To Sleep…perchance to sleep a little more

People have been talking about sleep a great deal this week, as everyone deals with the time change. Fall back is better than Spring forward, as everyone knows that more is better. There are less problems in the Fall with the extra hour than in Spring when the loss of even that one hour of sleep can be quite dangerous  with more industrial accidents and heart attacks.  Apparently, the biggest danger of the darkness coming earlier is that more pedestrians are struck by cars. Be careful out there.
Sleep is a commodity whose value can’t be measured, and we are only somewhat able to ‘put some in the bank’ to save for a later date. When I was first home with a new baby, numerous people told me to be sure and ‘nap when the baby naps’ but of course I was an idiot and used those precious few quiet hours to cook or clean or probably other time wasters. I wish I could get them back.
Now I believe I have taken napping to art form. It starts with a bedroom that is kept very quiet and cool. Then you add blackout drapes so that your room becomes a soothing cave. Now add a bed that, even after many years, you STILL gasp in appreciation every time you lay down on it. It was ridiculously expensive and worth every penny. And get some really good bedding – after all you spend a huge percentage of your life in that bed – splurge a little.
The final touch is ear plugs. Now you can’t be irresponsible. I didn’t start using them until my youngest was able to look after herself. I would wait until I heard the door of her coming in after school and then insert the ear plugs and remove myself from consciousness.
My kids learned that the edict “don’t wake Mommy up unless you are bleeding or on fire” was an absolute. I believe I contributed to their negotiation skills by having to solve who actually gets the last cookie, or whether it’s Power Rangers or My Little Pony on t.v. all by themselves.
When people who didn’t know me very well would call, the kids would tell them that Mommy was sleeping. “Is she ill?” they would ask – the poor, unknowing, terminally awake ones.
For many people, napping is a luxury relegated to vacations – their weekends too often filled with numerous chores. Remember, lots of things can be done early in the morning and late at night. If your body’s natural rhythm wants you to take a siesta in the middle of the day don’t fight it. I used to nap when I worked full time – I would sleep on a couch in my boss’s office or doze in the car on the way to meetings. Admittedly, I had very understanding employers. Falling asleep in the middle of a meeting was frowned upon – but I got pretty good at faking that I was awake. (tip: if you are roused in the middle of a meeting, or behind your own desk, simply frown and shake your head – often they assume you were deep in thought).
Menopause tried to screw with my sleeping patterns. Along with the hot flashes came the absolute inability to sleep. This brought on my husband’s comment “My wife is hot – and crabby!. Bless you hormones. Your long term effects may be detrimental to my health but I no longer feel like I’m going to run anyone off the road so it’s a trade-off I’m happy to make.