Apparently, moths are now attracted to eau du perimenopause

JCK SWORE, and you know how JCK likes to curse, that she would not, could not, should not write another blog post referring in any way, shape or form to perimenopause. However, JCK lost. Alas, poor readers, here we are... adrift... on a sea of JCK's hot flash sweat. Before you venture further, JCK is giving you an Ally Ally Oxen Free. You are free to go elsewhere and read golden nuggets of wisdom and adventure on a wholesome and informative Parenting Blog. You will not find that here today.

Yessiree, Mr. Wilson, THE CHANGE has begun. JCK would say that the stress of THE CHANGE has turned her hair WHITE overnight, but you know that she would be lying. She will say that humor is of the essence in her home life now. That, and sleep. Oh, good grief, here comes Another HOT ONE...is there NO MERCY?! Excuse JCK while she strips down.

Where was she? Oh, yes. Sleep and maintaining a sense of humor. JCK, in pursuit of having an open dialogue with her children, talks about THE CHANGE every other hour or so. JCK's son is now claiming to have hot flashes of his own and JCK's daughter asked her just the other day:

Mommy, what's your favorite kind of hot flash?

Yes. She did say that.

They laughed and laughed, at JCK's expense, including JCK - lest you think she is humorless.

In all fairness, the discussion was about a movie and what each of their favorite moments were. GIRL seemed to feel it was a natural leap from movie moments to her mother's heated moments. Ahhh...the segue.

JCK believes she is emitting a new scent. Just this morning a moth started darting at her. Now, during normal circumstances of a moth darting at JCK, she would only be annoyed, but JCK started thinking a little too much and was righteously OFFENDED. JCK knows that moths are not butterflies drawn to flowers and sunlight. Moths are drawn to musty old closets. Apparently, moths are now attracted to eau du perimenopause. And, to JCK. She gritted her teeth and moved on. The moth dead on the floor. Smashed to bits by the toe of JCK's low heeled fuzzy slipper.

JCK is tired now. Most of the time. It used to be that JCK could get by several days a week on 5-7 hours of sleep a night. No more! By the time it is 8:30pm, JCK drops with exhaustion and often climbs into bed. There is many the time when JCK is tucking in her children that she wishes to curl up right there...next to the adorable cuteness. But, she manages to stumble back to her bedroom and tumble into her own lair. Whether it is to protect her sanity or her vanity, and there is no accident that those two words rhyme, JCK's vanity/sanity dictate that she retire to try again another day.

It is to be noted that: JCK's husband would probably want to debate JCK on the definition of "lair" & that JCK absolutely DENIES that she is a poseur.

Last night was a fairly good night. Only awakening once or twice in her own dew, JCK felt fairly refreshed when she awakened this morning. However, her face appeared to have hillocks under her eyes. Not to be deterred, JCK slathered her anti-PUFF lotion under her eyes. It felt so soothing, she spread it over her entire visage. What lovely oil. mmm.... And then, she realized!@#*^!!?? that she had been smearing anti-frizz hair oil all over her face.

Lest you worry, JCK wasn't that upset. You know... one time, one mistake. Happens to everyone. She's always saying that to her children. Except that she looked at the amount left in the bottle and now believes that she may have been putting this on her face for a few days. Perhaps JCK needs a bit more sleep. She'll need all of her energy to run away from the ATTACK moths...

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this was a completely ordinary morning

JCK believes in being candid and open with her children - within reason and when appropriate. At least this is what JCK strives...for. It is to be mentioned that sometimes this plan backfires and gets JCK in hot soup. Speaking of hot, JCK was driving her children to school the other morning when the following ensued.

BOY: OWWW! My foot feels like it's on FIRE! It REALLY hurts, Mom. OWWWW...

JCK would like to mention that this was a completely ordinary morning in the Motherscribe household. Feet on fire, being brutalized by the fierce seat belt bully, JCK's son is prone to exaggeration. JCK has NO idea where he gets it from.

GIRL-- staring at her brother...perhaps a rolling of eyes.

JCK: (Making her best effort to redirect.) BOY, I think you're going to be all right. You can be like me. I feel like I'm on fire all the time now.

GIRL: You do?

JCK: Yes. You know how a woman can have a baby?

GIRL: Yes.

BOY -- Beginning to nod off, but the fire in his foot appears to have abated.

JCK: Well, when a woman gets older, her body can't have babies anymore and her body gets a little wacky and she gets hot flashes. It's pretty weird, because your body feels like it is on fire.

GIRL: Does your uterus blow up?

Nothing like laughter with your children to overcome hot flash entertainment...

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But, before JCK goes up in flames...

JCK is a bit verklempt. Throw in gobsmacked, with a splash of agog, and you get the picture. This would have nothing to do with her turning 50 next week, or that she recently accepted a full-time job the week before her children started back to school. Or, that her husband has nicknamed her, with affection, Woman on Fire - not for her fiery spirit, but more for the fire that appears to rage on and off within her body day & night. Ahhh...the hot flashes. Ain't life grand?

But, before JCK goes up in flames... she does wish to put down on paper that her children have assimilated into the new schedule of three days a week in aftercare with not only aplomb, but eagerness. Indeed, JCK is now greeted with such effusive hugs and exuberant cries that she wonders why she didn't do this...earlier. It helps that her children are in an aftercare program that is run by an amazing summer camp - young counselors who play and engage the children - rather than sitting back and watching them. But, it is more than that. The Motherscribe Household was ready for the change, and BOY & GIRL are happy.

In fact, the person who has had the hardest adjustment is JCK herself. Can she say...Time Management. She wishes she could, but every time she tries to say it ...she's run out of time. So, JCK asks that you bear with her as she navigates this new path. She longs to be here writing more often, but she's being pulled in many directions. She's turning 50 (yes, she did just say that AGAIN), and keeping her chin up, along with other equipment. It's a losing battle, but she's pretending it isn't. The denial will work for a few more days, but then she'll have to smile, tuck her butt in and give a big whoop! After all, she's worked hard to get here...

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becoming A Woman of A Certain Age

JCK has realized recently that she has an EGO the size of her husband's derriere. This is not to be confused with her husband's actual derriere, which JCK loves, but JCK needed to pull from somewhere, and the state of Utah doesn't sell liquor. And, liquor is well needed for this tirade. At least in thought, if not application.

JCK used to think of herself as someone who was not Vain. But, dear readers, that would be a bold faced lie. And, JCK wants to come clean. At least to you. She's still working on herself, and it looks to be a life long project.

The ego blows up like a big balloon —Delmore Schwartz

Yes, indeed, JCK has a rather large EGO. Her id is BIG. Oh, how JCK wishes ...she could have employed this Egocentric Way of Being back in those days of yore, when she was a young, trembling actress on the cusp of her next Guest Starring appearance. However, JCK bailed out of that life style, citing Audition Obliteration Syndrome. A sad, sad tale, that JCK will not go into at the present time.

Conceit like a high gloss varnish smeared over him —Rosa Guy

Whence did this revelation occur? Well, JCK has been taken down a peg or two, or three, in what she likes to call the PCE (Post Children Era.) This would be when JCK decided to go au naturel and toss the hair dye, embracing her natural essence by becoming A Woman of A Certain Age. JCK wishes to note that before that time, she was known for always being mistaken for someone younger than her peers. Her face a soft oval, at times a bit moony, with eyes, large, innocent pools of hazel. JCK was the one who got carded. For years... Please, hear a *Sigh*... from JCK. Pre-Children, it had its perks. Oh, cruel word - that! PERK.

Looks at herself in the mirror like she was the first woman in the world —George Garrett

Why, just last night, at a school gathering of parents, a friend said "What I really like about this community is that there are so many older parents." JCK SWEARS, on her husband's derriere, that the friend looked right at her. And, smiled.Curse him! JCK returned the smile, albeit...sourly.

My vanity [after hurtful remark] like a newly-felled tree, lies prone and bleeding —Carolyn Kizer

However, JCK, of The Hopelessly Vain Club ...is going to have to give IT up. Throw it down! Her perch has rusted out, and JCK's plumage is a bit dull. She could dye her hair again. Give in to the masses. Yet, this reeks of desperation, and JCK is wont to appear desperate. After all she has her PRIDE. And, it wouldn't really change anything. Except her hair.

Conceit grows as natural as hair on one’s head; but it is longer in coming out —Bartlett’s Dictionary of Americanisms

JCK has always liked to cloak herself in other characters - whether on the stage, or in life. Writing provides a delicious way of darting out to the edge and coming back, gleefully filling her head, and heart, with choice tidbits of adventures yet dreamed. Yet, sometimes she wishes this age thing was a character she could discard as easily...

JCK wants to fight the good fight. To rage against the Machine that states that Women of a Certain Age are invisible in society. As if...they have nothing to offer. JCK thinks this is bogus and unjust and hits close to the bone.

Vanity is as ill at ease under indifference as tenderness is under a love which it cannot return —George Eliot

There's just this small problem. We age. All of us. And, JCK is no exception. She's going to have to truly embrace her whole being, inner and outer. Or...be doomed to the 2nd half of her life being a washed up, sad sack. Poor, poor JCK? Say it isn't so!

JCK could turn this around. JCK could be a trend setter. JCK just needs a little...time. STOP the grains of sand...falling, down...down! Alas, no! Time marches on. And on. And...so ON. Yes, JCK will fight the good fight, as soon as she thinks up a great name for her cause. If you know any Women of a Certain Age who like to sip tea and contemplate life in the fast lane, do send them JCK's way. She'll be glad to liven up their tea with a bit O'whiskey...



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JCK wishes to thank the Online Dictionary for displaying the brilliant witticisms from so many greats.

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She'd need a lot of moisturizer just to make it through breakfast

If there is one thing that JCK wishes she had more of... it would be sleep. A commodity that never seems to be obtained at Casa de Motherscribe. Sleep is one of the keys to longevity, youthful appearance and ...patience. JCK strives for all, but sometimes falls short.

JCK can occasionally get away with Feigned Alertness, when her son sits in her lap reading to her from his LEGO magazine...the adventures of Fire Face - or some such. All JCK can remember is that it was clearly a tyrannical, metallic, lunatic creature that appeared to be drooling fire. BOY read 8 pages to JCK, while she tried not to drool herself... as she dozed.

But, there are times when taking a cat nap on the couch is not an option.

BOY: Mom, can you have a baby when you are 99?

JCK: Nope.

BOY: Why?

JCK: Because women's bodies reach a point where they can't get pregnant anymore.

BOY: Well lizards can! And, they can live to 160!

JCK didn't pause to get her fact checker. Instead she pondered the life of the female lizard. And, JCK was glad to be human. Because if JCK lived to 160? She'd need a lot of moisturizer just to make it through breakfast. Let alone a frolic in the sand with a centurion lizard...

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JCK is a bit adrift as she makes her way...

JCK believes in the power of chocolate before noon. Especially if the night before included a Jack O'clock segue. Yes, a sippin' whiskey followed by a chocolate slider cannot be topped right now. JCK needs her courage. Be strong, JCK! Be strong...

You see JCK is approaching a birthday year that has a 9 in it. And 9s have not been kind to JCK's being. In fact, there is not a birthday in her life that contained the number 9 that JCK can smile and say...oh, joy, now that was a GOOD birthday year!

Instead she remembers...

The year of turning 9, two schools (from Connecticut to Somalia), and too many introductions for a shy girl. Yes, JCK was once shy. Prone to the innocent blush, bane to her growing up existence. This was before fishnets. Thank the LORD.

Then there was 19. College drop out. Acting school. Life of hard knocks. Too many donuts, and massive amounts of food, stuffing down that awkward addition of another 9.

So, 29. Single in L.A. Acting. Not much. A dearth of good men. Time to reflect back and look forward. The LaLa was not full of many hahas.

At 39, JCK found herself married and apparently... barren. IUIs. IVFs. Zeros... The nest was empty. Just what is it all about, anyway?

.........and then yes, 49 will be slapping JCK across the face on Sunday. She is stunned from the pre-whiplash effect. Her life IS full. Two children who make her heart sing. But, she has helped them into their little people canoes, and they are paddling on their own now. They still return to shore, need her, always will...yet, they have strong limbs and sometimes don't even look back to wave.

JCK is a bit adrift as she makes her way... to her **GULP** 50th year. JCK needs chocolate. JCK needs whiskey. JCK needs to think about herself, as a separate being. And that is very hard... Especially when her fishnets are starting to droop.

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It is the puerile age where we again become adolescents

We erect walls around ourselves. Each year they grow higher. An illusory protection. But, there is always that day. The day when the walls come tumbling down, because we realize that we've been holding them up...alone.

Loneliness. All of us experience it. Sooner or later, it arrives on our doorstep. Creeping in like a cold, wet fog or slamming into us unexpectedly, the burden and weight of it boring deeply into our core.

When we are young, we assuage our loneliness with things easily obtained. Seeking the warmth of our parents' bed, stuffing ourselves with anything sweet... Later we slide into a drink, or find our own version of Ecstasy - our limbs wrapping greedily around a lover... and man-made concoctions dissolving on our tongues.

Middle age. It is the puerile age where we again become adolescents. Because we see that there IS an end. And we're half-way around that final block. Yet, we continue to eat from the bountiful plate of denial. And we are scared. Shitless.

Loneliness knocks perhaps loudest now. What do we do? How can this be? It seems a wicked, noxious beast...a cruel joke, to feel loneliness when our lives are seemingly full with family and friends. Yet, needs change. Now we look in the mirror and perform a pas de deux of avoidance with the stranger looking back at us.

Who are you? And what have you done with me?

What we choose to forget is that we aren't that other person anymore. We have evolved. Yet, how tempting when someone comes along who sees us as "we used to be." Who can resist that?

Perhaps we don't see the red flag. Perhaps we choose not to see it. Waving wildly above the frantic sea. We get in the boat with an attractive stranger and paddle out. Toward the vortex. Why? Why do we even get in the boat?

Because if we don't feel alive again, we will die? Because the loneliness of not getting in that boat, turning our back on the adventure that beckons... and walking back home is too painful to contemplate.

Why don't we reach out and take the hand of a friend? We can't. The risk is too great that others will view us as broken, unsure...weak. Instead, we experience both the fear and the conceit that no one else can possibly feel like we do. So, we paddle alone, battling waves that grow increasingly larger and harder to manage. Until we...capsize.

If we're lucky, we make it back to shore without drowning. But, sometimes others are left to clean-up the wreckage on the beach...

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JCK would like to dedicate this to all those who feel lost at sea. You are not alone. And to her husband, who always keeps a lifeboat handy.

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Painting "The Last Ride" by Chuck Gumpert.

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JCK will never give up chocolate & whiskey for Lent...again

Having given up alcohol for Lent, JCK was cautious in accepting a glistening, salt rimmed margarita on Easter Sunday. Why not? Lent was over. Someone made it for her. It looked refreshing, seemingly weak. She had 2.

Yet, the headache that assaulted JCK the next day was so severe... you'd think she was back in the 80s, having survived another night of tequila shots and dancing on the bar at Wilson's restaurant on the upper west side.

It's not fair this aging business. Not fair, and painful to boot.

To add insult to injury, while valiantly giving up chocolate & whiskey for Lent, JCK inhaled so many carbohydrates that she believes her legs and arms have become their very own risotto.

JCK will never give up chocolate & whiskey for Lent...again. Not if she know what's good for her... Small things like Jack and chocolate caramels make her blood sing.

So, what's next for JCK?

Ushering in JackO'Clock to celebrate Daylight Savings? Yes... But, there's more! JCK's plan includes: Low starch. Moderate chocolate. Minor alcohol. After all, JCK believes in balancing all the food groups...


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Photo courtesy of Google Images.

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And then the Doctor reels backwards toward JCK's open chart and double-checks JCK's age.

JCK has been getting kicked in the GUT lately. As in...Major Gut Kicking. Kick her to the curb, down the drain...kicking. It all started a little over a week ago at the Urgent Care facility down the road. JCK had ventured there in a state of pain, accompanied by her stalwart companion, her husband, E. JCK had been feeling like crapola. You see, the flu had begun to set in and there was such a strong pressure upon her chest that if she didn't know better...she would have thought her breasts were being flattened by an elephant. She was at the Urgent Care facility to rule out pneumonia. As it turned out, the chest x-ray revealed a clean chest cavity, void of any bacteria or other such matters. But, we're getting ahead of the story...

Apparently, chest compression pain is taken seriously. JCK was ushered back to a room quite quickly, after the initial questioning by the nurse. JCK then waited some...time before the doctor knocked on the door and came into the examining room. He asked the usual questions, listened to JCK's heart, looked in her eyes, ears and throat, etc., etc.

Doctor: When did the chest pressure begin?

JCK: Last night. Yesterday afternoon I started having a cough and then the pressure feeling began in my chest. Now my back hurts when I cough. My 4 year old daughter woke up yesterday with a high fever.

Upon JCK's revelation of having a 4 year old daughter, the doctor's eyebrows lurch up past his hairline. And then the Doctor reels backwards toward JCK's open chart and double-checks JCK's age.

STARTED LATE, DIDN'T YOU?!

JCK manages a weak smile. JCK knows she looks a little grayer than usual. She was feeling so badly that she didn't even bother to throw on a little blusher or lipstick. She is....a bit drab. The grey turtleneck doesn't help. It only appears to heighten the washed out look she is sporting. Almost like ...cloud cover.

But, JESUS! Isn't this L.A? Older parents abound here. It is almost de riguer, for God's sakes. Well, apparently not according to Doctor Ageism. It is almost as if he has uttered TSK TSK.

Doctor: You are still getting your periods?

JCK: Yes. I'm FUCKING FERTILE FRIEDA, baby! (Note: JCK did not say this, but she likes to think she did.)

Doctor: Is there any possibility that you could be pregnant?

JCK: No. None whatsoever.

Doctor: Tubes tied? Birth control pills? Knife taken to your husband's privates? (Note: The good doctor did not say this, but JCK likes to think that he did.)

JCK shakes her head...NO.

Doctor: Well, I don't like to take any chances. I'm going to have you do a urine test before you have the chest x-ray.

JCK: Oh, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! (Note: JCK also did not say this, but she likes to think she did.)

Conclusion: JCK was not suffering from pneumonia or pregnancy, but apparently is fucking old.

Because....

Today, JCK went to the park with her children and some friends. JCK was sitting on a bench for a moment to watch her children frolic in the California sun.

Little Girl: Whose grandmother are you? Whose children are your grandchildren?

OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!

On most days JCK feels very good about her silvery mane. Her mantle. Her au naturale coiffure. It suits her. It is ...freeing. She will probably never go back to dyeing it again. It is a pretty color and she gets compliments on it frequently. By women. Not, apparently, from men and children. However, there are moments like these in which JCK has serious DOUBTS about her ability to ward off this commentary on her AGE. And the wisdom in choosing the silver streak lifestyle. Luckily the moments usually pass. It's just that...this time...it's taking her longer to get her groove back.

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