Mid-Shore Life

by Shalagh  Hogan

Postponed once by a snowstorm, my ladies luncheon was now mere days away.  I was seated on the kitchen floor, paintbrush poised in mid-stroke for a second coat on the woodwork, when my husband strolled in and remarked, “We should have people over more often”. I was caught in “hurry up and renovate my real estate” mode.  Why do I do this? Do I throw a party to complete unfinished projects? Or do I need an excuse to start new projects? Do I seek my guest’s approval or do I hope to avoid their pity?  Either way, my to-do list becomes a “Ta-Da!” list when “company’s coming” is written on my calendar.

 Suppose your mother-in-law accepts your casual offer to host a Thanksgiving dinner, as mine once did.  Moments prior, you could stand to live in and look at your home. Yet sudden panic will give you hoity-toity-3D-designer-vision. You’ll see the ugliness of it all. To avoid your imminent shame, you’ll need to make immediate and confident decisions everywhere.  You will make a note to rent a steamer to remove the obnoxious wallpaper in the dining room. Your keen eye will see the dangling wires from a hole over the dining table and the bucket in the hallway under the mysterious drip. Your new facial tick will kick in. Humbug your sweetheart’s ego. You will now be so ready to hire an electrician and a plumber.  

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

I can count the number of actual vacations I've taken in my lifetime on one hand.  Recent years the count goes down to one finger! It seems "Vacation" has become synomonous with visiting relatives, or working around the house.  Now that we're self-employed "weekends" have virtually disappeared, as well.  We're always trying to do more, and there's ALWAYS more to do.  A vacation seems as realistic as a self-cleaning refrigerator and self-emptying trashcan. (and if you find one of these treasures - LET ME KNOW!)

Turns out - it doesn't matter how much WE want to WORK! Our wonderful, complex bodies know what they need - and are in a position to get it! This past week, for example, my brain went on vacation - without me.  It did NOT request vacation leave - nor leave a contact number! I hope it's having a wonderful time, exploring new worlds and new civilizations. Yeah - since I'm stuck here - brainless - I've been filling the hours with Star Trek re-runs. Luckily, I had to wait around anyway - for the Sear's repairman. Our BRAND NEW hi-tech washing machine is broken.

So I sit here, waiting for the repair-man in my crumpled, slightly stinky shirt. I'd like to write something catchy, inspirational and memorable. Uh........nope. I've got nothin'.  Hopefully, my brain will return soon - refreshed and ready to take on the world!

And I hope it brings me CHOCOLATE!!!

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

Let's hear it for nursing mothers! We who bare all {grin} for the sake of our children! While my ta-tas are now retired from public domain (and insured by the post-nursing necessity of industrial strength ta-ta holders), I fondly remember the seven years of Godiva-ish freedom nursing provided.

I'm sure experts' question the transformation of shy girl guarding her budding bosom to relaxed Earth Mama, indifferently plopping her babe's dinner onto a table in a busy restaurant.  Turns out there is a natural transistion - although not all mamas experience all stages!

The Turtle: This one's easy to recognize - she's purchased the pastel tent that hides everything from the neck down, fiercely shouting to distant passer-bys "I'M NURSING BUT YOU WON'T SEE ANYTHING!"  She might be found hiding in a rest room, perched uncomfortably on the handi-capped sink as she feeds her wee babe. The $35 Hooter-Hider (aka - tent with a view) is perfect for those in the Turtle stage!

Fortunately, by the time child #2 comes along, the turtle emerges and finds less bulky ways to care for her young!

It's another rainy day on the shore - will it ever end?

Great day for the children's book "Have you Ever seen a Duck in a Raincoat" which teaches children about animals by relating to human behavior. (but really - I was sold at the title!)

The Mid-Shore counties are under flash flood warnings AND coastal flood warnings - so drive carefully! Be especially cautious when driving into water-covered roads - you don't know how deep the water may be!

Stay safe! And keep on treading water - the sunshine should return by the end of the week!

By Cyndi Paxton Johnson

I never knew the meaning of COLD until I moved into a 1900’s farmhouse.  I’ve spent the last seven years building up an impressive collection of double-lined pants, fleecy pajamas, thick wool socks, and triple-weight sweats.  When the temperature dips below 20 I’ve been known to wear them all simultaneously – to bed.  Then I burrow under sheet, normal blanket, electric blanket, quilt THEN down-filled throw.  I am one WARM, snuggly woman – even if I do need 3 pairs of socks to stay that way! 

This year we moved into another house – no more drafts blowing through the walls. I was excited to finally, finally be warm through-out the winter. One problem solved.

That was my first mistake – thinking everything was perfect.  That small piece of conceit awakened Mother Nature – who has serious control issues. 

Exhibit A: the coldest, snowiest winter in fourteen years.  (I’m choosing to take this as proof we did the right thing moving out of the 1900’s house – or we would be five human popsicles right now!) Still – this much snow is guaranteed to make even the warm blooded go diving for extra blankets.

Unless, of course, you’ve reached THE AGE.

Exhibit B:  I speak, of course, of peri-menopause – and the infamous hot flashes.  It started quickly – Mother Nature is one pushy broad.   I was snuggled deep in my heavy pj’s, socks and multiple blankets.  This was good. Then….without warning…it was TOO MUCH!  The down comforter hit the floor first. The electric blanket was turned off and shoved aside.  The two small dogs, snuggling for warmth, were kicked unceremoniously to the floor as sheets and blankets billowed with as much air as the Flying Nun’s wimple.  The husband’s hand, usually enjoyed for its heat source (as well as the mushy love stuff) suddenly became a branding iron, trying to imprint itself upon my hip.  (and if he complains to you about my pushing him away – remind him he’s just lucky he didn’t wind up on the floor with the dogs)

Ok Mr. Weatherman - this is getting ridiculous!!!  [confession - NOT my picture. Found at www.jeffsundin.com/fishing_pictures_2005.htm]

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

One of my dearest friends had a birthday earlier this month - and I wanted to write a column about true friendship...sappy, emotional and dripping with heartfelt tears. Then this friend - we'll call her "Judy" - wrote me about one of her adventures and I immediately remembered that friendship is NOT about the sappy tears - it's about laughing through them.

Judy is Murphy's Law Poster Child - if something can happen it WILL happen to her. I've seen her wear bird crap on her head in the Inner Harbor and toilet paper on her shoe in a Baltimore courtroom. We once shared a home we affectionately referred to as "Hell House" - but that's a different story.  This is a Judy story - and it's 100% true. I wouldn't believe it if I saw it in a sitcom - but from her I can absolutely see it happen.

Pour yourself another cup of coffee, sit back, and meet one of my bestest friends:

Cyn, I have a new story for you regarding how I know God sits up at night just to think of things to do to me for His entertainment.

It was the Friday before my birthday and I left work early to run a few errands before I picked up my daughter up from the MARC station. I was sooOooOoOOOOoooo excited to have a few hours to call my own. So I went to the bank and then I went to pump gasoline...Well, they had some new nozzle that I obviously had trouble working and the gasoline squirted up and saturated the top half of my pants - from my waist to the top half of my thighs...Great!

So I went to ask the gasoline attendent for some water and paper towels and he did not speak english. Finally I got him to give me some of the paper sheets by his sink. So I went outside and thought, "Great...I'll just soak them in the dirty car wash water on the ground." (If I would have known what was coming I would have paid to run the car wash and just ran through it myself)

So I think..."Damn! Do I REALLY want to give up what precious little free time I have and not run any errands before I get J or do I just go to White Marsh and buy a new pair of jeans?" And that is where the adventure began...

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

Every year I have the best of intentions - I dream of pumpkin cookies, fantastic costumes, a terrific party, good friends and great times.  And every year Halloween descends and finds me scrambling for costumes, buying cookies and breathing into a brown paper bag. (and no...I'm not freaking out because it's Halloween - I'm freaking out because EVERYONE knows Christmas is only 2 weeks later - or at least that's how it seems)

Last year my son dressed as a red ant. He needed a sign to tell people this - because it wasn't apparent from his red pants & sweater - even after we added an extra set of arms! I'm trying to convince him to go this year as an annoying 8 year old - he already has the perfect costume!

This year we're in the middle of moving and are yet again pumpkin-less. We do have the spooky CSI house thing - if you count the sudden last hurrah of nine million flies! But it's NOT the Halloween of my dreams.

I suppose dreams are good - they give us a reason to try harder. Meanwhile - if you see my kids on Halloween wearing trash bags w/ real trash glued to it - please be kind!!! (and send extra chocolate home for me - I'm particularly fond of peanut butter cups!)

Meanwhile...there's always Next year!  Happy Halloween!

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

Motherhood is the most amazing experience on earth (not having left the third rock, I can't speak for other places).  I am constantly amazed by the intricate details of life that non-parents would never, ever consider.

Take bathrooms, for example.

For most of us, a bathroom is a simple necessity of life.  Though we prefer to use private facilities, we will, when necessary, seek out the public restroom. For kids - using a new and different bathroom is like a mini trip to Disneyland (and much more affordable).  I expected to spend the toddler years in more public bathrooms than I knew existed - and was not disappointed.  Indeed, with three children we spent more time in restrooms than we did in the stores or restaurants! In fact - we ended up deciding WHERE to go by choosing the best bathroom!

"I'm NOT going to that McDonald's near your parents - the bathroom is filthy!"

"NO! We can't go play at the Burger King playground - they don't have a changing table!"  (this was a NEW BK north of Frederick, complete with playground. I asked the OWNER why there wasn't a changing table in a CHILD friendly restaurant and was told they were "too dirty". I threatened to change my baby's diaper on their front counter, but never got up the nerve to follow through!)

Turns out that high-end malls have the best bathrooms - and the most! Since they also have awesome play areas and multiple book stores it was a perfect family destination for a couple with three kids aged 3 and under.

Then we moved to the country. No malls - but LOTS of cornfields. We started carrying a child's potty chair in the back of the van, complete with plastic grocery bags to line the pot. We had to pull off the road more times than I can count - but it worked. I was VERY excited when the last child became school age - no more traveling potty chairs!!

Turns out their fascination with bathrooms - and need to use bathrooms frequently - did NOT change. The kid's are now 8, 10 & 11 - and I STILL spend more time looking for bathrooms than I spend doing laundry (which might explain why I'm dressed in mis-matched stripes).  Just yesterday we visited Grandma - 75 minutes away. Knowing my children, I made sure they all "went" before we left. [for those without children - this involves telling EACH child at least three times, then quizzing them, then sending them AGAIN (cause they failed the quiz), quizzing again, Repeat until all three kids answer affirmatively.  (don't worry if they don't have shoes - they're only going to Grandma's).

The QAC Fair hosts a Rodeo the final Saturday. Everyone should experience at least ONE rodeo - here's ours!

by Cyndi Paxton Johnson

I live in the country, surrounded by farm animals and miles of corn and soybeans. I lived in New York City for close to a decade, surrounded by concrete, steel and six or seven million people all wanting to live on the same three square miles. For the remaining years I existed in Suburbia, complete with strip malls, parking lots and overprotective mothers. My point being – I have not lived an isolated life – I’ve been around. I didn’t think there was much left on U.S. soil that could surprise me!

And then my family attended our first rodeo.