The MJ Influence

Like many who were doing the night club scene in the 80's, I danced a lot to Michael Jackson's music. Other than that I can't say he really "influenced" me but he did have a very unexpected influence on one of my offpsring.

You've heard me talk of Mr. Minimal, my giant 13 year old son (almost 6'2", size 14 shoe etc. etc). Like my other two, he has a touch of the performer in him - the Ball & Chain says it's my genes, but he cannot be serious! Me - dramatic? The very thought! Mr. M and the Queenager (3 years older) had the entire performance of Riverdance down pat when they were little. Every time I sat down to rest my weary bones they sprang into action and wouldn't stop until the entire rendition was done!

I remember watching the Jackson 5 Reunion show years ago with them both, and when Michael did the "Beat It' song with all those West Side Story looking dancers, Mr. M leapt up and said he wanted to do that. I explained that they were all trained dancers, and was promptly instructed to sign him up for ballet. (The Queenager had been going for years so he knew the school and the drill.) My huge 7 year old did ballet for two years and didn't give a hoot that he was the only boy in class. He gallopped round like a baby elephant and giving the arm movements just a hint of a golf swing just for fun. When baseball finally proved too much of a clash with the ballet lessons, he sent a tearful letter to his teacher explaining his dilemna - then promptly signed up for tap for a couple of years.

Here he is (was) at that tender age, paying homage to Michael just before bed time :


There was never any danger/chance of him becoming a dancer but I like to think it gave him a broader outlook and turned him into the Renaissance man (as they say here) that he now is. He plays violin, (actually they switched him to viola because his hands are huge) and guitar, golf and baseball. Well-rounded I think you'd call it. Don't get me wrong, he will also sit in front of Xbox or You Tube all day if you let him, and he doesn't move unless he absolutely has to. This summer however, he's being the all-American boy on the baseball diamond.

Stranger Danger

Potty and Frog have recently blogged about the predators who lurk around the Internet, and as a mother of teens who seem surgically connected to the computer, I must reiterate their message.

Anyone with children will probably recognise the conversation that took place in our house tho other night:

So who is it who's coming round?"
"Oh, just a couple of friends." (Said with casual indifference.)
"Who are they? Have I met them?"
S.. and G.. and no you haven't met them."
"Well, how did you meet them?"
"Erm, well I known S.. for ages."
"How come I've never heard of her before?"
"Dunno." (Even more casual tone.)

Pause.

"Hang on a minute. Where did you meet them?"
"Erm..."
"I hope it wasn't in a chat room or somewhere."
"Oh for Pete's sake." (Much rolling of eyeballs.)
"Well?....."

Pause.

"You met them on Facebook didn't you?"
"Not exactly".
"Oh, don't tell me, she's another one of your bloggy friends isn't she?"
"So? What's the problem?"

Isn't it annoying how teenagers can turn into busybody parents when they want to?

Anyway, yes, Brit Gal Sarah and the Hubster dropped by as part of their vacation in Chicago. Unfortunately for them, Chicago resembled a bit of a swampy jungle this week with temperatures in the 90's and very high humidity. It takes a bit of getting used to, and you learn where all the air-conditioned restaurants are.

It's a bit weird meeting people you've only "met" on the Internet. I did it last summer with a group of mostly lapsed northern bloggers, and Hadriana, who blogs when she's not running around being a Roman person and running her new bed and breakfast. On that occasion, I just had to walk into a lovely country pub and look around nervously for other women who were also sitting or standing, looking around nervously. We knew each other instantly even though not a photo had been exchanged. At least this time I had a bit of an idea what my virtual friends looked like, and the fact that they would be knocking on my front door helped.

So, we had a lovely evening sitting outside at the bar/restaurant you can see from my front door, as you can see. We're in disguise though - you never know who might be lurking on the Net.

Straddling the fence

Fat, Frumpy and Fifty was bemoaning the fact that although she'd just joined British Mummy Bloggers, she felt a bit out of it because her kids are older. (Read her post, it's great.) When you're a mother to teenagers, the concerns of younger kids' mothers seem like a different world. Eg.:

-Don't leave them in the bath on their own (for too long)
-Cook on the back rings of your over top so they can't reach the pans
-Listen for the front door as they (mine) have a habit of running off to the neighbour's who then has to phone to check you know where they are.
-Don't forget to leave a note for and from the tooth fairy when the teeth fall out. Oh, and make sure you remove the tooth too.

You know how it goes. It's all rather sweet. Except for when they give up their naps and start doing really naughty things like covering themselves with the nappy/diaper cream, or emptying the polysterene balls from the bean bag into their underwear and pyjama drawer, in an effort to make you realise that they are no longer tired in the middle of the day.

Me - I'm straddling both worlds at the moment. With two teens and a 6 year old I often feel schizophrenic. One minute I'm warning someone that they'd better not go further than the park and have to be in by 10.30pm, and the next I'm trying to come up with the answer to "Why does the Tooth Fairy need all those teeth?" (She's building a white castle out of them BTW. He doesn't seem to think this at all gross!)

The older two have been warned on pain of death and other nasty consequnces that they are not to "out" the Tooth Fairy, and must not make quotation marks in the air when referring to "Santa". Actually, for the most part they have gone along with things quite nicely although they can be heard from time to time telling him to get out of their rooms, or stop annoying them, otherwise they might have to have a word with Santa. Since he's usually the one making the trouble, I think that's all well and good.

The funniest thing however, is that it takes me about two minutes tops to put Little Guy to bed. When he's tired, he's tired. The other two - oh please. First of all I now have to wait up for them to go to bed. (I would leave them to it, but the fridge door would probably be left open, or even the front door.) Once they're up in their rooms the music goes on, which prompts much hissing from me that their little brother is asleep and I would like him to remain that way. Then there's the thumping around for half an hour before they actually climb into their beds. (What on earth do teenagers do that requires them to walk the length of the Amazon back and forth across their rooms?) Then, just when I think it's safe to try to get some sleep, one of them decides they need something from the kitchen (a long way down) and starts sneaking around the house, making me think we're all about to be murdered in our beds.

Yes, all you mothers of little ones - it's all to come. Mwah-ha-ha!

Urban Cougar of the Month

OK, so you know I wouldn't be able to resist a few lines on Jackie, the Urban Cougar of the Month. Here's an excerpt (with commentary of course) from her Interview:

You say you feel like you're just reaching your prime. What does that mean to you?

When I was in my thirties, I thought my bikini days were over! Now, here I am in my fifties and I can wear a bikini and blow away the majority of girls in their twenties.

You bet you can baby - we don't see many o' them jugs on a woman at any age. Usually they obey the laws of gravity.

At 52, instead of being invisible, I am in the top 1 percent of my age group, and I get noticed wherever I go! This is fun, and was worth the wait!!

Wait - at 52 you're in the top 1% of your age group!? For what!? IQ? Income? Philanthropic deeds? Even if you do mean fake boobie size - how on earth do you know? As far as I remember, there hasn't yet been a Cougar Fake Boob census.

How do you think perceptions of women over 50 have changed?

People like Susan Lucci (who is in her sixties) and Sophia Loren (who is in her seventies) have completely changed the whole concept of being in your fifties.

What - wasn't she asked about women in their 50's? Whatever!

But then, maybe it's the common denominator - the Italian thing! I am half Sicilian, and I must admit, good genes are part of my good fortune!

Oh - the "good genes" line. Very convincing. And obviously you're half ironing board; you are a very thin woman, in the same vein as Pamela Anderson, with big boobs stuck on the front.

Do you feel more empowered now than before? To be sexy, ambitious, to live more fully?

Most definitely! Why? Because I am getting to the point where I just don't care about the opinions of people who don't matter!

Ah - there it is - she doesn't care about the "people who don't matter" - truly a mature mind.

When you're out, do you notice young men checking you out all the time? How does that make you feel?

Yes, of course I do. But not as much as I notice other women checking me out. Any attractive woman knows what I mean.

Yes, they're wondering how much you paid for them, and if they're going to stand the test of time.

I find it funny. Any time I enter a room, there is always a woman who thought she was the hottest one in there. Then I walk in, most often at least 20 years older than her, and she has to check me out - wondering how old I must be - checking to see if my breasts are bigger than hers, etc. At my age I can laugh at this. It's actually entertainment for me and for the person on my arm when I walk into the room.

And believe you me, it's pure entertainment for the rest of the room when they see you teeter in, on the arm of the red hot (sexually confused) 20 year old. Love is blind, as they say.

You mentioned you're a workout fanatic. What do you do to stay so sexy?

Back when I was working out at home, I used to do 1000 crunches a day. Now I have a gym membership, and I alternate between lots of different machines, along with cardio. I'm not one of those people who loves working out - I just love the results! My favorite part of the workout is when I have my gym bag in my hand and I'm on my way out the door!

So erm, what were you saying about genes?

Are there other things you do to stay hot and young at heart?

When you're tiny like I am,

Did she just say that? Give me a break - next it'll be "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful". Anyway, carry on love,

..it never really feels like you're getting old. I'll always be a "little girl." I will forever shop in the Junior Department. My mother is well into her eighties and still shops there!

So at 5'7" and an average size, I am destined never to feel young again? Might as well throw the towel in now.

Other than that, I highly recommend lots of good, red wine! One of my favorite wine sommeliers claims credit for my youthful appearance.

Crap - I'm drinking Pinot Grigio. No wonder it's not working.

Any words of wisdom for your fellow cougars out there?

Listen up girls.

Just remember to have fun. When all is said and done, you might very well end up with someone closer to your own age, but that doesn't mean that you can't learn something from the young men who will come into your life along the way.

Oy, oy, oy.

.

Purr!

So I was out the other night with four "girl" friends. Very unusual for me, although we are out of school so I don't have to get up quite so early.

Anyway, we got out of my friend's car and were walking to the entrance of the Wit Hotel. (Just as an aside, (Sarah), the Wit is a brand new hotel with the best rooftop bar I think I have ever been too. Fabulous.) It's on State Street in downtown Chicago, and at 7pm, there were a fair number of people around. Next thing I know, some guy leans out of his car window and shouts "Hey, cougars!"

I was livid!

To me, while it puts me in the company of Demi Moore, Jennifer Aniston and Michelle Pfeiffer (in her new movie, "Cheri" at least), I admit I bristled at the nomenclature, however complimentary the intention may have been. After all, if you Google "cougar" you will see that the slang meanings include:

"An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man." I WASN'T! I was looking down to make sure I didn't catch my heel in my wide trousers, so why anyone might have thought I was "on the pull" is beyond me. Unless I look permenantly desperate?

On the other hand, (she says, striving for balance in this rant), cougars are also described as-

"Women usually their in 30s and 40s, who are financially stable and mentally independent and looking for a younger man to have fun with." Hmmm, I'm still not happy, and totally confused by the mentally independent part. Answers on a postcard please.

But wait for it. What would an urban phrase or trend be without:

- the handbook - "Cougar: A Guide for Older Women Dating Younger Men". Admittedly, it came out in 2002 so the term has taken a while to really catch on, but it's all there if you're interested.

- the reality TV show seen on VH1 in May 2005. In "Kept," a group of 20-something American men competed to become an escort to Jerry Hall, 48,for a year. To be honest, it didn't receive much attention over here; perhaps they should try it again now that the term has really taken off.

- and of course, the web site. www.urbancougar.com - no less! Go on, have a look, it's hilarious. They even have a Cougar of the Month. Junes' cougar is Jackie, a rather well-stacked, I mean preserved, 52 year old who has this to say:

“I know where I came from, what I've been through, and how I came out of it, and it has made me the strong person that I am today! You can't possibly know what that means when you're 25, and I think that is what makes older women very appealing to younger men. You can't buy that in a bottle! It takes years to develop.”

I still think I'm offended though!

Competition Time

There's a funny piece on PowderRoomGrafitti about the French obsession with post-natal/partum perineal health. Naturally, I have a tale to tell on the subject, which is swear-to-god true:

Last year, I went to an "event" with friends. I think it was called, "Sex, Chocolate and your Pelvic Floor". Obviously the title was intriguing enough to get me there. Now, as many women may know, it is extremely important to keep your pelvic floor muscles as strong as possible – unless you want to be peeing every time you sneeze. The organization sponsoring the event was almost entirely devoted to this medical issue, and very serious about it obviously.

With champagne glasses in hand, we sat down to listen to various speakers talking about our nether regions, surrounded by anatomically correct posters of giant vaginas. One speaker, a sex therapist, produced what I first thought was a satin hot lips pillow. When she began using is to demonstrate sex toys that also double up as vaginal muscle strengtheners, I quickly saw what the cushion really was.

Towards the end of the evening, the hosts began calling door prizes using our coat check tickets. Of course, the two friends either side of me won gift certificates to fabulous lingerie shops/stores. I never win anything, but then they called my number. "Ooh great", I thought with glee, "My undies are all gray. I could do with some new knickers/panties".

I should have been suspicious when all the gynecologists in the room were pointing at the goody bag coming my way. “What did I win?”, I excitedly asked. And yes, I had bagged the ultimate door prize – “Myself; Discover Feminine Strength”. A pelvic muscle trainer (batteries not included), complete with a complementary one-on-one Total Control session. The box includes 1 personal trainer (presumably non-human), one vaginal sensor (non-latex), one replacement vaginal sensor (don’t ask), a travel bag and toll-free helpline assistance. Can you imagine the conversations going on at that help desk? (The best suggestion in the comment box wins THE prize.)

It seems what you do is insert the “long thing”, which you are then required to squeeze several times with your internal pelvic muscles. If you have never done this, it's like stopping your pee mid-flow to hear which child is screaming at the top of his/her lungs. But that’s not the end of it. The “long thing” is attached to a monitor which registers your efforts, so you effectively receive a digital report card. Not sure if this grading system reports back to a central office somewhere, but the kit has a money-back guarantee of “daily strengthening in a short, five minute session”.

Needless to say, the box remains unopened. As I said, I'll gladly give it to the funniest comment here. The certificate for the one-on-one session expires in July thank goodness!

PowderRoomGrafitti

Announcing the launch of a brand spanking new web site - PowderRoomGrafitti.

PowderRoomGraffiti has evolved in response to the exasperated sighs of women across the globe.

These women are friendly, articulate and curious about the lives of other women.....but they are bored of celebrity trivia, weight-loss tips and media bitch-fights.

Their lives are busy dealing with careers, partners, children or ageing relatives.....but they are tired of being bombarded with advice and urged to try harder.

They want to get the best out of the lives they have chosen for themselves (or somehow ended up with).....but they are no longer the stars of their own show.

PowderRoomGraffiti highlights the varied lives and experiences of these women and amplifies their voices. Our global community is the perfect place to share laughs, honest views and opinions in a safe and supportive environment.

We invite you to become part of that community by contributing an article or video, posting a comment, participating in our Debates and polls, or providing a recommendation.

When you join PowderRoomGraffiti and offer your perspective, you will be helping another woman find her own.

At PowderRoomGraffiti we tell it like it is, and we hope you will too.

If you need further encouragement, I am one of the Grafitti Artists along with a few other familiar faces, including the lapsed, but hilarious blogger Drunk Mummy.

Check it out.

The Good Wifes Guide,- Final Act

I hope you all took notes as there will be a quiz in the next few days. And I also hope that the men in your life are having a more relaxing, pampered time at home. I take all the credit.

Where was I? Oh yes, just couldn't resist discussing the final bullet points. Some of you may not be able to post a comment, having collapsed on the floor; others may think that this could not possibly be anything other than a figment of my imagination. I regret not.


- Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through during the day. I don't complain if he's late home for dinner, as long as I get notice. Staying out all night - at what point am I supposed to not only "not complain", but also not call his cell phone, and possible the police ('cause he never picks up) to check that he hasn't met with some terrible fate? What kind of wife goes to bed without at least finding that out? And let me tell you, doing either of the above without fair warning will indeed be "minor" compared to what he will encounter when he drags his sorry ass through the door.

- Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Ladies, can you imagine the look on a husband's face these days if we did this. The Ball & Chain would probably check to see how much Pinot Grigio was still in the bottle, then ask the kids what on earth they'd done. And let me tell you, the only one going for a lie down when he walks through the door is ME!

- Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice. Ask my kids. I always speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice. Outside of the house, that is.

- Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him. Oh, so that would include not asking him to check the directions when we leave for a baseball game in a new baseball park. Or perhaps not asking him to double check the measurements for the shelf that came down on my head, before he leaves to buy the wrong size replacement. The second part - about him being the master of the house, and me having no right to question him? La-la-la-la - fingers in ears. Can't hear you.

- A good wife always knows her place. Indeed. That would be (in no particular order), anywhere in the Caribbean; at the bar in the Four Seasons downtown; in the bath- with no little people shouting under the door; as far away from the kitchen as possible.

If you want some good family entertainment in your house, print off the above guidelines and stick them on the fridge door. My how you'll all laugh!

.

Coming Around Again

Have you noticed how some of the 80s fashions are being seen again? Not quite the Madonna-esque bits of lace hanging everywhere, and more kohl eye liner than the Ming Dynasty, but there’s definitely a hint. If you did it the first time round, you’re probably not able to blithely don your old rags without some moderation. For me at least, it has to be worn differently once you reach a certain age.

Take the resurrection of skinny jeans, which initially caused me to consider a sack cloth as an alternative. Being an apple shape, my legs can still take it, but since there’s more torso these days, a long sweater or jacket is required to balance things out, and definitely chunky boots instead of ballet flats. Posh Spice once said that you shouldn’t wear skinny jeans with flats because they make your legs look like golf clubs, and for once the wee lass was right on the money. And no matter how trim a forty-something is, there’s no mistaking the 40-something derriere. Skinny jeans require a skinny bum. End of discussion.

Then there’s the long top and leggings which reappeared last year. Never having embraced this outfit first time round, I didn’t even think about it this time. Why emphasize thinner legs and a larger bod with that little number? Anyway, it always makes me look like I’ve just given birth. Well, not literally, but like I’m not quite back into my normal clothes. Oh wait, I’m still not back into my “normal” clothes.

And what about the tops slashed and hanging off one shoulder. Initially I thought this was death to older boobies, given that you can’t really wear a bra, but since the fashion is to layer at least two tops these days, some vintage women can actually carry this one off. Although most of us require substantial support to keep the girls aloft, and braless isn’t really an option, (or shouldn’t be, an option), the first layer can easily be a tank/bra if you can get away with one. The thing to avoid is having the inch and a half wide bra strap showing. If you’re ta-tas are large enough to need the industrial bra, then don’t go showing the straps unless you’re at your mammogram appointment.

This year I’m seeing the return of harem pants, another trend I avoided like the plague. I accept that they looked good on a limited number of genetically blessed individuals (usually being paid to wear them in the glossier magazines) but on most people they looked utterly ridiculous. Hang on though, - even though a baby with a full load looks more graceful than harem pant wearers, aren’t they just the outfit for hiding a sagging bum? Hmmm. Might be worth at least trying some on.

Whether your fashion icon of choice was Madonna, the Bangles or Duran Duran, the question remains – What were we thinking? Sadly, at the time, we all thought we were IT, and our clothing was out there and edgy. But looking back folks - WTF?