Like most parents, my husband and I have each assumed our parental roles. I’m the Mom that requires good grades and clean rooms, reminds them to say “please” as well as “thank-you”, and returns them to their room when skirts are too short, shirts are too wrinkled or hair is disheveled.
Wilson Living Blogs
Blogs dedicated to sharing the Good Life in Wilson County, TN
As many know, what first inspired the magazine were the emails we received each week in response to our “Telling Tales” column published in the Wednesday edition of the Wilson Post.
Our “tongue in cheek” column is about our “normal” life as working mothers and busy wives who go about our days in Wilson county - muddling through it all – but at the end of the day – thankful for every minute of it.
Our favorite part about writing for the local paper, is when we are stopped at the grocery or the hair salon by someone who enjoysreading our columns and they share with us which of them are their favorites.
We will continue to share our most recent tales with you each Wednesday in the Wilson Post. But now you will be able to enjoy your favorites in the magazine.
We hope they bring you a chuckle at the end of your busy day!
Angel & Becky
Pinterest has created a lot of arrogance. Making us think turning an old door into a headboard for the guest room is a piece of cake or turning old wine bottles into tea glasses is an easy task. Over the years, I’ve tried my hand at many things. Sometimes with success-hello boeuf bourguignon and other times, not so much-at home hair highlight. Because we all seem to be in a hurry when it comes to…EVERYTHING, I’ve compiled a list of things you shouldn’t waste your time trying at home! And please trust me on this, I’ve done the leg work. So here it goes:
By Becky Andrews
Pinterest has created a lot of arrogance by making us think turning an old door into a headboard for the guest room or turning empty wine bottles into tea glasses is an easy task. Over the years, I’ve tried my hand at many things. Sometimes with success-hello boeuf bourguignon and other times, not so much-at home hair highlight. Because we all seem to be in a hurry when it comes to…EVERYTHING, I’ve compiled a list of things you shouldn’t waste your time trying at home! And please trust me on this, I’ve done the leg work. So here it goes:
1. Self-tanner. Unless you like to walk around looking like Lindsay Lohan, visit a spray tan booth. And not the machine operated kind. I tried this once and the noise was so loud I couldn’t hear the prompts to turn around. Needless to say I wound up looking like an extra in a revival of The Wizard of Oz.
2. Bikini wax (or any wax!)- This will be short and sweet. Do yourself a favor and invest in a razor, tweezers or get a laser treatment (Although, I’ve heard that is equally painful!). If you insist on it, bring a pillow to scream into and plan on drinking heavily after.
3. Duck en croute. If you aren’t Julia Child or seasoned chef, stick with an easier duck recipe. I was determined to make this one weekend and it took me 8 hours from start to finish. I didn’t even bone the duck. The realization that it was a mistake came when my husband who will eat anything, (Seriously, he’s eaten frog eggs) picked at the meat stuffing and commented on how the pastry shell made no sense. It would have been cheaper to pay someone to cook it for me.
4. Divorce- I’ve not been through a divorce. But, I’ve heard it’s a bad idea from friends who have trusted their post marital future with a site found through the Google search engine. Unless you like living in your car and eating cat food, hire an attorney.
5. Groom your pet- Just because you own a pair of clippers, doesn’t make you a groomer. I tried it once and my friendly little puppy wouldn’t look at me for 3 days. Don’t ever give an Australian shepherd “The Chihuahua.” It’s not a good look.
6. Painting- The only time I ever seriously considered number four. That being said, it’s cheaper and less stressful to wait until you can afford to pay someone to paint for you. This also goes for trying to imitate a painting you’ve seen. I wish I had a dime for every time someone within ear shot has said, “I bet I could make that!”
7. Repurposing ANYTHING but especially furniture-I know the fools on Pinterest make it look easy. That’s because to them, it probably is. I have two ways you can repurpose that old dresser. 1. Give it away before you spend $400 on supplies OR 2. Call my friend Mandy Pryor and pay her to do it. She knows what she’s doing and actually enjoys it.
8. Make any Disney or Nickelodeon themed birthday cake. Buying a cake pan in the shape of Buzz Lightyear doesn’t make you Duff Goldman any more than buying a pair of skinny jeans makes you skinny.
So before you pick up that pallet of ceramic tile because it’s on clearance, it’s important that you slam your hand in a door and drop a cast iron skillet on your foot. If after all of this you still think retiling the spare bathroom is the perfect weekend job for you and your husband, call me and I’ll give you the name and number of the perfect divorce attorney.
Check out all of Becky and Angel’s blogs on www.tellingtalesblog.com
By Angel Kane
Wilson Living Magazine
People often ask Becky and I how we met. Like many other women, we bonded over “motherhood” when our children attended the same Preschool. Through the years, we‘ve been there as our babies have grown into teenagers and along the way, laughed until it hurt and cried until there were no more tears, always thankful, that there was another Mom out there experiencing the same adventure.
In honor of all Mothers this upcoming Mother’s Day - we bring you an Ode To Motherhood.
Thank You Sweet Jesus for giving me, not one, but two, teenage daughters at the same time. For were it not for them, I:
- Would not to know that Facebook is now for old people, and that anyone older than 22 is forbidden from being on Instagram.
Except for Ms. Jamie, and “that’s just weird, Mom.”
- Would have never guessed that listening to 80’s music is so incredibly painful to the teenage ear that earbuds must be worn at all times while in my car to drown out the likes of Journey and Billy Joel.
“Who are those people? They sound old.”
- Would probably still be trying to hook up my new Apple computer and would have NEVER figured out that the keyboard and mouse don’t need to be hooked up to anything because of this wonderful thing called Bluetooth!
For that one and for their iPad, iPhone and iAnything capabilities, I do thank you, sweet baby Jesus!
- Would still be wearing white Keds.
“Why are you wearing those, you are not a nurse.”
- Would still be able to find my shoes, jewelry, scarves, jackets, sweater, make-up, perfume, brushes, hair bands, curling iron, blow-dryer, shampoo, conditioner and razor.
Madison-Zoeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! It’s just become one word.
- Would have never had to sit through a Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift concert.
And for that one, Jesus, I may never forgive you.
- Would get to eat an entire plate of anything, without someone trying to eat my food, drink my drink, or steal my last piece of chocolate hidden away in the depths of my secret drawer.
- Would not get to be part of the uncomfortable three-some ensemble called a first date.
That one, I’m going to have to go to confession for, Lord Jesus, because I know
You know what I was thinking when I had to partake of that fun fest.
- Wouldn’t be one of the lucky few who get to spend their hard earned dollars in the likes of Forever 21, Altar’d State and Charming Charlies.
“Please, just this one scarf, I’ll pay you back.” Really, how? You don’t have a
job! No, cleaning your room is not a paying job.
- Would miss out on hugs and heartaches, tears and triumphs, late night jokes and giggles and all those moments that will one day be the only moments that matter!
But honestly, Jesus, Taylor Swift? There had to be another way to prove you are a miracle worker.
Remember when we were kids and all you ever wanted was to be treated like a grown up? Grown-ups got to all the fun stuff; drive, go to bed when they wanted to, wear makeup, talk on the phone all night, eat cookies before dinner, date who they wanted, watch rated R movies, and they only talked to their parents when they wanted to. Adults could also curse anytime they wanted to.
Besides religion, politics and sex there’s one more hot button issue that should be added to that list of taboo topics never discussed in mixed company. Not war. Not equal pay. Not even the latest shocking elimination on Dancing with the Stars. Nope, it’s breastfeeding. I understand that because this word actually includes part of the female anatomy some would argue it falls under the ‘sex’ category but trust me it’s shouldn’t.
As the storms were bearing down on Wilson County Friday night, I did what many of you did.
By BECKY ANDREWS
Wilson Living Magazine
It seems like it happens at least once a year. In the middle of gro ery shopping, I find myself in the greeting card isle. On most of the ‘food store’ trips, while passing this section I’ll do a quick mental check list of all birthdays, anniversaries, christenings, and graduations, to make sure I don’t have an immediate need before moving on to the freezer section. I don’t know why. It’s like a strange magnetic force that pulls me in. Before long, I can’t get enough of cut down poster board with kitschy jokes at a cost of nearly 5 dollars each.
So it’s no surprise that on this trip, I again found myself scanning the card section because one caught my eye. It was a quirky, chunky shaped little ditty with an odd punch line. In short, it was the greeting card version of me. And that lead to picking up another, and another, and another. It wasn’t long before, I had cards for each of my sisters, brothers, 3 college roommates, and a get well card for my dad’s neighbor, who I’d only met once, but knew well enough to realize she’d get a chuckle out of ‘Mildred’s’ latest escapade.
I couldn’t stop there. The get well section was a scream. These cards were filled with line after line of bizarre dialogue. I pulled out my phone and started scanning my friends list on Facebook to see if anyone was sick or could use a pick me up. When I got to the C’s, my husband called.
“Hey! What’s the name of your first college roommate’s mom? I heard she just had knee surgery. Do they still live in town?” Silence… Then finally, he replied, “I have no idea who you are talking about. Just wanted to remind you not to forget toilet paper.” Of course! Looking in the buggy, it was clear my priorities were off… A pair of trouser socks, an incredible shade of lip liner, a half-price bag of kit-kats, the latest issue of People and 11 greeting cards. What kind of mother was I? Granted I had only made it down the non-perishables isle, but still.
This display in my cart is why I hate running into people I know at the grocery. Just last week an acquaintance stopped to chat while we were both in the dairy section. For some reason, I felt the need to explain away why I have 5 boxes of cosmic brownies, microwave popcorn, milk duds and a frozen pizza. Because I don’t have a single fresh vegetable or fruit or any re-usable grocery bags, I start to panic. So I start making nervous conversation to distract her from noticing all the empty calories.
“I’m just running a few errands for my sister. She’s got PMS. Not that she’s mean. Just an emotional eater. I mean she doesn’t have a stability problem. You know how PMS can be. She’s not crazy, seriously.” Right before I say, “So what if all this stuff is for me? What if I decide to treat my children to a few unhealthy snacks? Who are you to judge me!” she gets a call and excuses herself from this very awkward exchange and I’m sure proceeds to tell the caller what a nut I am.
Before anyone could see the sad display sitting in my buggy, I put back all the cards, kit-kats, socks and People. I replace them with a jumbo pack of toilet paper, 3 reusable bags and a copy of Us Weekly. It’s called priorities, people! Speaking of, people, this is the Oscar issue, I should get it for research.
Often when I can’t sleep, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and watch television.
So, it was one night this week that I stumbled upon “Doomsday Preppers” a new National Geographic television show.
Within 5 minutes, I was both hooked and…terrified. Apparently, there are all sorts of theories on how the world will end.
As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, I now need to worry about the North and South Pole switching places and tidal waves destroying our world. Or solar flashes from the Sun, taking out the power grid. Or hyper-inflation causing the world as we know it to disappear, causing a run on groceries and the complete destruction of civilized life.
As I watched mesmerized, I came to know that there are people out there called Preppers…who are already preparing for this impending doomsday.
What the show revealed was that in the event of a nuclear holocaust only Preppers and roaches will survive!
And now ME…because I watched the show.
And now YOU…because I’m going to share all their secrets.Stock up on rice, wheat, and dehydrated corn. In a world gone mad, the Preppers advise that these items have a shelf life of 8 to 10 years. That’s right the ultimate carb only diet is what will save the human race. I knew it! Chickens. All Preppers have chickens. Lots of them. Now many of you are aware, I already own these nasty creatures. So, I can check that box right now! And from what the Preppers say, these little filthy monsters are going to save my life should disaster hit. Guns, strings of ammo to hang around your neck, and a camo vest. Apparently, roving bands of your neighbors, who didn’t have the foresight to prepare as well as you have, will be trying to get to your 1000 pounds of rice and chickens. To protect yourself, you will need to dress like you are completely insane and patrol the parameters of your homestead. Your garb alone will scare them. Gas Masks. Because you might as well not even call yourself a Prepper…unless you own one of these. Even if the air is perfectly fine, Preppers intend to wear their gas masks because of their “cool” factor. Walky talkies. So that those of us that survive will be able to communicate with other Preppers. Another box checked, because years ago I bought my girls a set of Barbie walky talkies. I know Becky’s kids have Batman ones. So, thankfully we will still be able to talk daily when disaster hits.
And our conversations will go something like this:
“What are you doing?”
“Stringing ropes of ammo. What about you?”
“Eating dehydrated corn. I’m still trying to figure out how to turn wheat into bread. Do you remember how they did it on that show?”
“No, I fell asleep during that part. Where’s Jay?”
“He and his mother are wearing their gas masks, running around the parameters of the compound. They are loving every minute of all this! Where’s Brody?”
“Ever the optimist, he is outside again, holding his phone up to the sky, desperate to see just one bar.”
“By the way, have I told you how much I hate your guts for saving my life?”
“Tell me about it. There isn’t a day that goes by that I wish I had just watched QVC that night!”
My youngest is mad at me… again. When we pulled out old family movies and started the stroll down memory lane something (or someone) was missing. We watched my oldest coo, eat solids, laugh, roll over, crawl, walk and fall all for the first time. Halfway through watching his big brother delight at the ape at Animal Kingdom came the first, ‘Hey! Where am I?’
While the sounds of his big brother jumping in a swimming pool shouting out, ‘Look daddy, I fimmin (swimming)’, Jackson pulled the covers over his head saying with certainty, ‘You don’t have any tapes of me, do you?’ As if I don’t feel guilty enough for not breastfeeding him, now I’d have to live with the fact that we forgot to document this precious little boys monumental steps. How could I? I swore I would not be one of those parents. You know the ones I’m talking about; the kind who document every milestone of the 1st child and forget about the second, third and fourth. The kind of parent who completes the ‘My 1st Year’ baby book for the oldest and ‘forget’ about subsequent children. The kind of parent who can tell you exactly how much the oldest weighed at birth but doesn’t remember the day the other children were born… You know, like my parents.
Being the 4th of 6 children the only evidence that I even existed was my birth certificate. There was one snapshot of me when I was a baby with my dad’s mother holding me. Before I submitted that photo for the yearbook my senior year in high school, my older sisters warned me not to since the baby in that picture was actually my oldest sister. It wasn’t until this moment I realized what a genius my mom was. We almost had Jackson convinced it was him I was holding in a swimming pool. But then my husband-who was operating the camera-started saying, ‘Good job, Jacob! Show the camera how you can swim to mommy.’ Jackson was crushed. But before I could say, ‘You will be the first to get a car, Jackson’ he pointed at the screen and said, ‘Who’s the fat girl holding Jacob.’ I let him have that one.
What were we going to do? I didn’t want this to be one of ‘those stories’ kids tell their friends (or therapist) when they reach adulthood. As the youngest, he already feels slighted because he doesn’t have an IPod or cellphone. Would we be forced to hire baby actors and shoot pseudo family movies so our oversight wouldn’t confirm Jackson’s belief that he was somehow switched at birth?
Luckily we found one. It wasn’t of his first steps or laugh but it was still perfect. When it started a little bespeckled boy of 2 years old sat on a plane with his Lightening McQueen slippers on. We all looked in awe at this little boy. I remembered that little boy who insisted on wearing those house shoes everywhere. As the video rolled we watched that little boy who had the chubby face of a toddler but eyes wise beyond his years. And for the first time since we started this stroll down memory lane Jackson was content as he stepped out from his big brothers shadow. He was satisfied. When the tape was over he looked at me and I prepared to hear him say how much he loves me and daddy.
“Where’s the one of me at Disney World?”
This could get expensive.
In particular – my family’s laundry.
We are a family of five, but some days I feel there must be 55 of us living in this house, given the clothes I am constantly washing, folding and putting away.
It seems that it never ends and it goes something like this:Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Tell my kids to clean their rooms. Scream as loudly as I can. (Dog hides. Kids scramble.) There is now the perception that rooms are being cleaned. In reality, all three are stuffing clothes in drawers, under beds and those pieces of apparel which can not be stuffed are put in the dirty clothes hamper. Ask the children to bring me their dirty clothes. Ask the children to bring me their dirty clothes. Scream as loudly as I can. (Dog pees on the carpet. Kids hide.) Advise my husband how much I despise his dog! Husband coddles his shaking dog and asks children to bring down their dirty clothes. Children simply do as they are asked. My blood pressure goes to stroke level as I begin pulling clothes out of the hamper that I know for a fact have not been worn this week, this month or even this year! Advise husband that I refuse to be “the maid in this house, find your kids and punish them!” Husband disappears into his office with the dog, who by now is a nervous wreck! Kids go to the movies with their friends. Clothes are washed and dried in my fancy washer and dryer. (The ones I bought because it they had all those cool options – but three years later – I have only used two of them – wash and dry.) Pull out all the clothes from the dryer…load after load…and lay them on my bed. Saturday night…too tired to fold…move them to my chair and ottoman and watch my shows. Notice that none of the “Housewives of Beverly Hills” seem to do laundry – ever! God says Sunday is a day of rest, and I’m not one to mess with the Big Guy. Monday. School, work, after-school activities, homework, dinner, clean up, fall asleep on the recliner while trying to watch my other shows. Tuesday – Friday. More of the same. But the pile has miraculously decreased as the children pace back and forth all week to the chair looking for uniforms, socks and pajamas. Saturday morning, advise everyone that “someone better help me put up all these clothes that have sat here all week!” Children and husband mutter something about wishing they lived in another kingdom. Go upstairs to put up children’s clothes and see the condition of their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Tell my children to clean their rooms. Dog knows what’s coming. He runs for cover.
By BECKY ANDREWS
Wilson Living Magazine
I knew it when I married him. I knew that when it came to romance he was more Ralph Kramden than Casanova. Truth be told, my husband has never changed. He is who he is, and that’s what I love about him. While I can be a bit wishy-washy, he makes his mind up and never questions the decision made. So why am I surprised that he’s STILL not a hopeless romantic and just “hopeless?”
I notice it more now than ever, because we are trapped in the busyness of life. With two careers, two children, three pets, three sisters, two brothers, one mother-in-law and one father-in-law, there doesn’t seem to be enough time or energy to devote to our relationship. Since the vision of ships passing in the night insinuates romance, I would say we are more minivans stuck beside each other in the car pool lane.
Not being an athlete, I’ve spent most of my life…in the stands.
When I was younger, I remember attending my brother’s soccer games. And it went something like this…
We’d walk in. Dad would pay for Mom and I. Mom would find her spot on the bleachers. Dad and I would sit three rows behind her.
I’ve hit mid life. While my older sister disagrees saying she’s not even mid life, I know it’s here. I can feel it in my bones, in my digestive track and I can see it in the crow’s feet once thought to be laugh lines. I seem to be traveling fairly rapidly up the metaphorical hill so that one day I can dig my heels in to prevent from sliding down. It appears that not only is my age increasing in years and months but the cost to keep those years and months not too noticeable is increasing as well.
We are at the beginning of a new year which can be very symbolic. It’s like you’re given a fresh start. The slate is clean and this is the year to complete a project, start a new job or lose weight!
Wilson Living contributor, Roy Harris gives us a guideline of how we can use our time wisely in 2012 in his piece, ‘Tag You’re It’. We won’t give away details but most of our staff has already started following Roy’s advice on making 2012 the best year yet!
If you have a New Year’s resolution to lose weight (and honestly, who doesn’t!), check out Style and Trends Editor, Erin Brown’s suggestions for cool workout gear that will keep you stylin’ while you sweat. Erin gives excellent advice. Would you like more attention from Erin? You can get information on her personal styling services by emailing erin@ wilsonlivingmagazine.com.
(FYI-If you haven’t checked out Dreams Boutique located on the Lebanon Square, you’ll want to stop in to pick up pieces of their ultra-cool workout line Marika. Let’s face it, when you look good, the gym can be a little more bearable.)
As some of us prepare to start a new diet plan, this may not be the best time to bring up our Food section. ‘Dining with Doc’ gives us his review of another fabulous local eatery you might not know about.
As the New Year starts, we want you to own 2012! Shake things up! Complete that to-do list, take a class, play board games with the kids, give more (time, money, resources) to those less fortunate, take your children to help at Joseph’s Storehouse or the Nashville Rescue Mission. James Cash Penny, the founder of JC Penny Department Store said it best, “How can we expect our children to know and experience the joy of giving unless we teach them that the greater pleasure in life lies in the art of giving rather than receiving.” Let’s carry that spirit of giving and volunteering into 2012
Until next time, keep reading!!
As I sat with friends at dinner on New Year’s Eve, the conversation turned to Caroline’s mother’s heated mattress pad.
“She just loves it. Turns it on about an hour before bed and hasn’t missed a night in years.”
The New Year’s Eve festivities continued, but for me, the idea of a heated mattress, seemed outstanding, unbelievable …. and completely unfathomable that I had never heard of it before!
I liken it to when Bill Gates first saw Steve Job’s iPod!
End of the year means lots of things to lots of people.
In the Kane household, it means…check ups. From the adults, to the kids, to the pets – everyone gets their annual physical right before the year ends.
And in our household, we are firm believers that doctors are on a need to know basis.
That’s because I have every intention that one of my children will one day be President. And as we all know, when that time comes their medical records become public.
My husband and I have been married 17 years! Truly amazing…given we are complete opposites.
I’m the type who never puts the cap back on the toothpaste, wipes the fog off my window shield with my hand, the only place I ever show up on time is court … and that’s because jail scares me, and believe letting my kids eat cake for breakfast makes me the best Mom in the world!
My husband, on the other hand …well, let’s say is a little more rule-oriented.
Have I told you about my new home? Oh, it’s to die for!
It’s about a year old, has heat and air, wall-to-wall carpeting and great acoustics. It’s a little on the small side, but that just means less space to keep clean. Did I mention it has 360 degree views, large windows and a skylight?
Most evenings you can find me in my new home, playing on my phone, flipping through Pottery Barn catalogues and drinking Dunkin’ Doughnuts coffee. And sometimes, if you look closely through the windows, you may even see me ….banging my head …repeatedly…against the walls of my new home.
No worries though – it doesn’t hurt – the walls are made of fake leather.
Oh, wait – did you think I bought a new house? Oh, no – I didn’t buy a new house. I mean, what’s the point, I no longer live in a house.
These days - I just live in my car!
I always knew my kids were busy, but all of a sudden, with one in high school, one in middle school and my youngest, who is determined to play every sport known to man, I spend my evenings from 3 until 9 – driving around town, dropping them off, picking them up and ….waiting…..waiting….waiting for them to be done!
There is simply nothing more exhausting than ….waiting. It’s like my life is wasting away right in front of me. It’s like someone is slowly, slowly, slowly torturing me. It’s like….
To which my husband responds, “You should take your work out clothes and go for a run while you are waiting.”
To which I respond, “%#&*^!!!!!”
Otherwise known in husband/wife speak as “Thanks for the advice, it’s so kind of you to pass on your words of wisdom to me.”
So, as I am writing this article, it is 7:05 at night and I’m sitting in my “home.” I’m waiting for my oldest to finish her tennis lessons, my son is at soccer and my middle one is in the backseat doing her homework, while eating chicken nuggets. And just about then, Becky calls me,
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“I’m living the dream, how about you?
To which my dear friend responds, “Oh, yeah me too! I’m at a Jacob’s basketball game in Clarksville, Jackson forgot his homework, the concession stand won’t accept credit cards and my mother-in-law drove with us.”
And that’s why I love Becky. She always knows exactly what to say.
Thanks, Becky for your words of wisdom!
And, of course, heated seats and satellite radio…do help ease the pain…but only ever so slightly.
by Angel Kane