Five Against One x 2 - OR - Drowning In Testosterone

Testosterone at the Lake.....

I've always maintained that "God Loved Me More" because he chose to give my hubby stronger and faster Y chromosome swimmers.  While my stand has always been that I would have been in jail early in the parenthood phase of my life had I been "blessed" with a daughter.  I now believe, that while I never ended up in prison, I'm likely to end up in the crazy ward.  But that is a story for another time.

I keep thinking at some point these wonderful testosterone makers "TM's" (including my hubby and all those 5th sons I've got) would one day wake up and realize that I'm outnumbered.  It's a medically and psychology proven fact that men and women process differently, react differently, act differently, respond differently.  Throw in fluctuations in blood sugar on my part and it's an open free-for-all.  At some point I had hoped that these TM's would attempt to see things from my perspective.

That has been pretty much a pipe dream.  Well actually, Genesis, (nickname for #1 son) came the closest to being able to see things from my perspective.  But that was only because he was in a multi-year relationship with a South African princess, who was from an all women family.  She made sure to point out on several occasions what my mindset was and where I was coming from.  He was completely baffled and when he asked me about it, and I concurred, he was totally amazed.  Now that that relationship has ended, I'm pretty much back to square one.

One summer weekend we actually ended up with "baseball free".  I'm still not too sure how it happened, but I find it better to not question certain things in life. I've learned to just enjoy them!  So with this "free weekend", I thought it would be fun to go to the Lake of the Ozarks on a little getaway.  After all 5 out of 6 Baker's enjoy fishing.  One Baker Boy is all about it, as long as something is on his hook, besides bait, in a matter of five minutes and continues to do so for the remainder of the fishing experience.  If not, he's good to go read.

I personally find that with a family our size it is much more comfortable to get a condo or a house as opposed to renting two hotel rooms.  (HomeAway and VRBO are two of my favorites!)  I got online and luck and the cosmos were with me, as I found a perfect house, on the water no less!  This place was huge....  So me being the idiot I am, who thinks "the more the merrier", told everyone that they could each invite a friend.  The night or so before we were ready to leave on this fun filled getaway, everyone told me who their friend was that would be joining us.  Number 1, 2, 3, & 4, and then my hubby pipes in and says, "oh, I invited my brother too".  I was dumbfounded! Really?!  Seriously?!!!  When I said everyone could invite a friend, I really wasn't thinking about YOU.  "I" am your friend!!!  Too late now, the deed had been done.

So yep, there we all were, me and TEN testosterone makers.  The big house was not feeling ALL that big once everyone got there and spread out.  The downside of renting a house or condo is that with the exception of some nice tropical rentals, they do NOT come with cleaning or cooking staff.  Don't jump to any conclusions!  I did NOT have to do all the cooking and cleaning.  As a matter of fact, all the boys (sans the brother-in-law) all pitched in and helped.  I went to the grocery store (the Laurie Market loves to see me coming!) and made our purchases for the long weekend.  (Remember with 10 TM's, there wouldn't be enough room in the vehicles for food and their cloths and sports/fishing equipment.)

They grouped up and all took turns making breakfast.  Then the other group would cleanup.  I whipped up sandwiches or burgers for lunch and then the tag-team approach would work again for dinner.

Sounds rather idyllic, right?  And it was, except for two things:  1) the brother-in-law didn't lift a freaking finger the entire long weekend (To the extent that the boys were talking about it and apologizing for his behavior.); and 2) I spent the entire long weekend with ten crotch grabbing, scratching fools.  And the worst part was they don't even realize when they are doing it.  I know they all spend a lot of time on the baseball field, but come on man!!!

It really got the best of me when I was sitting in a chair on the dock fishing and reading (yes, I multi-task....  it keeps me from getting bored!) one TM walked up to ask me a question and BOOM right at my eye level, he grabs his junk.  When I point out that he really didn't need to hold on to it, as it wasn't going to fall off his body and get lost, he just chuckled (but didn't let go).  A while later a couple of TM's walked up and again, in my general eye level vicinity, BOOM.  Yep there were a lot of hands holding or adjusting junk.  I then let go with a sermon as to WHY I didn't want to see it anymore.....  I then left my chair to go inside and cool down.  I could hear the murmurings as I walked away.  The general gist of the conversations were, "What's wrong with her?".  "Why did she just lose her chit?"

At dinner time when I was seated at the table and the TM who was getting ready to take a seat next to me "adjusted".  I called a meeting to order immediately.  I informed them that they were so complacent and laissez-faire about it, they really needed to make some changes.  (I cringe at the thought of their dates or girlfriends or people out in public having to witness this spectacle of the testical.) I told them that for the remainder of the weekend, every time they grabbed, scratched, or adjusted, I was going to grab my boobs with both hands.

Yepper, pretty silly to think that would embarrass any of them.  Needless to say, by the end of weekend my "girls" had quite a workout.  And the reconditioning was for naught.

In conclusion, if you see any of my birth sons or my fifth sons or ANY man for that matter out in public, grabbing, scratching, or adjusting - do NOT blame their momma.  I'm sure she diligently tried, but we're only human.  Some things are out of our control!!

Davis Tears Syndrome

Davis Tears SUCK, sometimes!  If you come from the Davis side of the family, you have a 95.9% chance that you are going to suffer from the debilitating condition termed Davis Tears Syndrome.  It causes you to cry over a myriad of situations and scenarios.  It doesn't differentiate between anger or happiness.  It will hit you for either or both.  This definitely is NOT a condition that lends itself to fair fight arguments either.  It's hard to make a valid point when you are having to do so through a stream of pouring tears.  And when you're already a sensitive person and you suffer from Davis Tears Syndrome....................

I never really thought much about Davis Tears Syndrome.  I've always had it. You just accept it and go about life.  We used to laugh that I had gotten it from my dad.  He and I used to cry while watching old Shirley Temple movies, or listening to music, or watching a stupid Hallmark commercial, or reminiscing about loved ones who had passed on.   You can imagine what it's like when something REALLY unsettling occurs!  I never thought much about it growing up, it just was.  My Grandfather Davis also suffered from it.  I remember walking out of the last movie we ever saw together, "Savanna Smiles".  My Gram was exclaiming what a nice movie it was and my Grandpa was shaking his head in agreement as his hankie was blotting his red rimmed eyes.  And me, I was just a snot drenched mess.

Now remember, I mentioned earlier that the tears flow for happy, as well as joyful, exuberant, sad, and mad and angry and hurt.  Or a combination thereof. Case in point: My wedding day was one of the most wonderful days of my entire life.  I was marrying the man of my dreams.  I could not have been more thrilled! As my father and I stood alone in the back of the church waiting for our music cue to start our walk, I looked him in his tear filled eyes and that started me going.  And when I say going, I mean going......  From then throughout the ENTIRE ceremony.  I'm talking through all the Who Do's,  I Do's and We Wills. Through the kiss and the Mr and Mrs introduction.

Following the ceremony, our entire wedding party stood in a receiving line on the steps of First Presbyterian Church to greet everyone leaving.  This is also the time that my hubby was getting to meet most everyone in attendance for the very first time. (Remember, I'm STILL blubbering - those Davis Tears are still flowing freely!) It was at this point that a sweet little old lady, she must have been one of my gram's friends, leaned in for a big hug and whispered into my ear, "Honey, are they making you marry this young man?".  Startled and more than a bit in shock I responded, "Oh my goodness no!  Why would you even ask such a question?". Her response, forever branded in my brain, "Well honey, I've never seen a bride cry throughout her entire ceremony.  It got me to thinking that maybe they were forcing you!".  I then quickly told her that I suffered from Davis Tears Syndrome and I cry when I'm incredibly happy too.

It wasn't until I connected with my cousin Melissa (thank you Facebook!) that I found out that Davis Tears Syndrome runs rampant in our family.  And that the Ben Davis portion of our family was not the only members to actually call it Davis Tears!  It permeates our entire trunk and all the little branches of our entire family tree. While I've never actually seen a Coat-of-Arms for our family, I'm thinking the design would have to incorporate the outline of the great state of NC, the mountains of the aforementioned state, a symbol for family and most DEFINITELY giant teardrops.

So if you suffer from this condition, welcome to the family!  Somehow, somewhere we must be related.  And don't worry, Davis Tears Syndrome is not fatal.  Just remember, you need to keep yourself hydrated,  you'll never know when the next bout will seize you.  :)

Hot Babe in a Bikini......

Out of the mouths of babes.....  Well, once they were babes.  Sweet, cute, adorable, precious little ones who loved and idolized their momma.  Now they are grown (sometimes stinky, sometimes hairy) men, whose brains forget to filter thoughts before it exits their mouths.  They can put their proverbial foot in their mouth as effortlessly and quickly as I can put a Hershey Bar with Almonds in mine.

Case in point, I'm on a new Lifestyle Change Journey ~ courtesy of my new endocrinologist.  It's not just a dietary change.  (Which is pretty significant since I have had to give up: dairy - ALL dairy - except for a little cheddar cheese now and then, flour, corn, soy, - almost the entire starch family - soda pop, no carb/low carb)  I am changing how, when, and what I eat.  As well as how, when, and what I do to exercise - daily.  I'm now taking yoga and cardio classes and am trying to find a local tai chi class.  (If you know of one north of the river in KC, let me know.)  Now back to the point.......

Because of this new Lifestyle Change I am utilizing all my resources to help keep me in line and able to achieve this endeavor.  I post LIVE FB feeds. Because I have been asked to.  That's right, my path has inspired others to make modifications in their lives as well.  I have a handful of "friemily" (friends who are so close that they are your chosen family) that I have on speed-dial.  When I'm standing on a carb ledge and ready to jump, they calmly talk me down.

Positive reinforcement for me comes from verbal feedback from friends, the way my clothes fit, what the scale shows, and photographs.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not jumping for joy with current photographs (that will come in time).  I'm talking about photographs pre-my loving sons.  You know before they absolutely destroyed my body (with my permission).  And here is where paragraph one ties into this long winded conversation.  I pulled out a photograph that I really liked from years gone by and put it on the refrigerator.  I'm putting a pic of my fridge below so you can tell that this photograph wasn't the only one front and center. My fridge looks rather chaotic but it's covered in LOVE.  I know where this special pic is and it positively reinforces my food selection before I open the door.

Needless to say, one of my sons (I shan't say which one as he is still recovering from the trauma) sees the new pic on the fridge and says, "Wow, who's the hottie in the bikini?".  I think he's kidding, so I respond with "Really".  He says, "Seriously who's the gorgeous girl?".  "ME!!  It's ME son!!!"  And that's when his mental trauma begins.  "Oh my gosh, the girl, the girl I thought was sexy was my mom.  ARGHHHHHhhhhhhh".  Remember paragraph one?  "... brains forget to filter thoughts before it exits their mouth".  Who the heck did he think I had put on the fridge?!?!  Needless to say, the picture immediately came off.

For now I'll stick to positive reinforcement from my friends.  But this is fair warning to ALL my SONS.....  One day there will be a NEW CURRENT photo of me on the refrigerator, in a bikini!!!  BE PREPARED

Inga Schvinga

Once again, reality busting chops is far funnier than fiction.  The year is 1998. The Baker family has made the move north of the river to a bigger house.  The actual distance from our first house to our second house is 16.1 miles.  In hind sight, I find it rather sad that I keep in contact and visit friends in Decatur, Al (682 miles away) and Allen Park, Mi (747 miles away) more than I do with friends 16.1 miles away.

My hubby had decided to do a bit of landscaping at the new house.  He had already brought one load of decorative landscape bricks in our van and decided another load was necessary.  He sent me on my way to pick-up the second load but not before he admonished me to be exceptionally careful, as the weight load was rather excessive and the springs on the van might be compromised if I drove too fast.

On my way into our new subdivision I had the mispleasure (yep, new word) of pissing off a new neighbor.  I could tell by the way she stayed 3/4" from my back bumper and the eye piercing glare she was shooting my way because my tortoisesq speed was not to her liking.  I really thought she was going to clip me when I turned into our cul-de-sac.

The next morning was Sunday, the hubby was up bright and early working on the front yard.  I had a couple of minutes to kill before our 8 month, 4, 6 & 8 year old sons were up and at it.  So, I decided to go out and visit with the hubbster while he piddled about.  Needless to say, when I made this decision I was still in a man's seersucker bathrobe with my hair piled high up on my head.  I grabbed an old folding lawn chair and promptly plopped down close to the weed pulling man. He took one look at me, laughed, and stated the new neighbors were going to think the Beverly Hillbillies had moved in.  Needless to say, I went inside and cleaned up.

After picking up the kiddos from school on Monday, I noticed the car in front of me entering the neighborhood had the woman in it that I previously detained.  I thought now was a good opportunity to introduce myself and apologise for my original speedless infraction.  (Not to worry about looking like Beverly Hillbillies, I was in a linen short set.)  She pulled in her driveway, opened the garage door but did not pull in, nor did she get out.  I exited by van but was leary about walking up on her.  After all, I didn't want to scare the bejesus out of her.

After a few minutes wait, I was finally able to catch her eye.  She gave me a big smile and got out of her car.  She greeted me with a very thick Scandinavian accent, thus the nickname "Inga Schvinga" came to life.  "Oh, I'm so glad you made it.", she stated.  I shook my head a bit and indicted I was her new neighbor and introduced myself.  She requested that I follow her to the back yard, when I asked why, she said that is where the area was that needed work.  When I questioned what "work" was needed, she laughed and said the "the gardening of course".  And that point I stopped and said there was miss in communications.  I reiterated that I was her NEW Neighbor......  And wanted to introduce myself and apologise for going so slowly through the neighborhood two days before.

At this point she turned her cute, perky head to the side and said, "So you're not the mexican gardener?"  "No", I said.  Just your new neighbor.  She asked what number I lived in.  I told her.  She said, "Oh, that's McX's place".  I indicated that it used to be, but that we purchased it, so now it was ours.  She then said, "Oh, so your husband is a doctor".  "No,  McX was a doctor, my husband isn't".  She then questioned how we found about the house if my husband wasn't a doctor.  I informed her that our real estate agent found the house for us.

She then shifted gears and said, "I know where you live now.  I know, I know..... but you must not.  You can't run a business out of your house."  I said that was fine, as I didn't have any business to run out of it.  And she said, "Well a daycare is considered a business". I agreed that a daycare was a business, but since I didn't have one, it wasn't a point of contention for me.  She then told me, "Yes, you do!  I've seen ALL those kids in your back yard".  Completely stunned, I started laughing and said those aren't DAYCARE KIDS, those are OUR kids! She said they can't be all ours.  She said she had seen me in the back with what had to be 5 or 6 kids.  I tried to assure her that 4 were ours and 2 were the next door neighbor's (whose shared gate opens up into our back yard).  She looks at me in complete disbelief and says, "So you don't have a daycare?" and then without skipping a beat says, "Would you be interested in taking care of my granddaughter?  My daughter needs help from time to time and I'm too busy to do it".

Seriously folks!!!  This is the conversation that went down.  When I quit choking on my tongue and my laughter died away,  I thanked her for asking but declined any future babysitting gigs.  I told her I had to get home and feed all my boys a snack and then climbed back into the van to hurry home as fast as I could.   I felt like I had been in a crazy, neverending nightmare.  Much like Alice in Wonderland.

When John got home from work that night, I informed him that it didn't matter how I dressed.  The neighbors didn't think I was the Beverly Hillbillies.  Instead, I was the mexican gardener who ran an illegal daycare.

Years later after most of my friends had heard the story, I was sharing it at the neighborhood pool one evening.  One guy with a very robust laugh couldn't contain himself.  It was at that point he said her name was in fact not Inga but rather XX.  He got a kick out of the story and I didn't feel bad for sharing it as everything I said was the God's honest truth.  It was then a couple of months later that she and I had occasion to be at a ladies neighborhood tea.  At one point she came up to me and introduced herself to me and then said that her husband had shared with her my story.  She lifted her head high and said it had NEVER happened.  I just smiled.

Inga Schvinga and I know the truth of that day and what transpired.  Or maybe, the entire conversation was simply lost in translation.

Aixerona - I'm the poster child!

Wow, that was a longer break than I realized.  It really makes me feel loved to receive so many notes TELLING me to get back at it.  Thanks y'all!!!

Erma Where Are You?

We all have one kind of skeleton or another in our closet.  This one of mine didn't come to life until after I had our first born.  Prior to that I didn't even know it existed.  While I'm not making light of eating disorders, people have to realize there are many different kinds.  And that leads me to say: Hello, my name is Michelle Baker and I suffer from Aixerona. These days the airwaves, social media, television media, print media, schools, and counselors are all talking about body image issues, disorders, and the diseases associated with them.  We all know their terms, for the most part.  But you NEVER hear about "Aixerona".  It might be because I coined the term back in 1989.  That would be the time period after I gave birth to our firstborn, but surprisingly the 79lbs that I gained didn't miraculously disappear the way it surprisingly arrived. 

I am the opposite of anorexic.  When I look in the mirror, I think, wow - looking good!  I can see myself from all angles and think - and SEE - I definitely look good.  On some occasions I've even seen myself as DAMN GOOD. And that image stays in my mind, until I see of PHOTO of myself. OMG!!  What happened?  I know when I left the house I was looking FINE.  

I'm not sure how or what happens when the camera snaps.  What scientific process occurs?  How can I instantly be transformed from "Wow" to "WTH"?  

How do I deal with my disorder? Well, I've found the only way to combat it is to stay out of photographs. That's why you will almost always see me on the other side of the camera.  And IF you do see me in a photo, I try to position myself crunched in the middle or better yet in the back row. (And that's a rather tough feat when you're a healthy 5'3" tall.)

Example: That's me in the far back to the right of my friend the bearded pirate.
(Pre-Blonde)

In the end it doesn't really matter where I show up in a photograph as long as my family and friends want me around and in their photographs.  I'm extremely blessed.  I'm very happy, healthy, and who knows what the future brings......

There will always be haters. You just have to remember your self worth is only dependent upon your SELF!  And I look like a million bucks (in a non economic downturn, strong dollar economy kind of way)!!

Right on Target... Really? Target?

I was catching up with a wonderful mom of one of the University baseball boys.  What the devil, I'm telling a true story and she's precious, so I'll use her name - Shoko.  She resides in Tokyo, Japan. Yes, as amazing as it sounds, there is a young man who traveled from Tokyo, Japan to play baseball and attend school at Rockhurst University, smack dab in the middle of the great US of A.  I got acquainted with Shoko about this same time last year.  Her son is her only child and her pride and joy.  He got the baseball bug at a young age and he contaminated his mother with his baseball infection.  Shoko loves everything baseball.

She said she was so excited that our second son started the sports media for the university.  Instead of only being able to watch game stats on the computer, she has been able to listen to play-by-play and color commentary.  And as a bonus, depending on where they are playing, sometimes they have a video feed of the game in realtime too.

Sadly, I was out of town when Shoko arrived to Kansas City.  And as Murphy's Law would have it, nothing worked out as she had planned.  She learned the night before she was leaving Tokyo that her son (a sophomore) was finally asked by Coach to travel with team on an out of towner.  This trip was to Kenosha, WI.  She found out it was about an hour plus from Chicago.  After unsuccessfully attempting to change her flight to arrive in Chicago instead of KC, she looked into renting a car and driving to Kansas City.  When she found out the distance was 8+ hours she decided against that as well.  She confided that she was worried that she would take a wrong turn and there was no telling where she might end up.

She is one of the most positive people I've ever had the pleasure to meet.  She was sad not to be able to change her plans but was excited that she was soon to depart for her week in KC.  She said that she was going to see all the exciting things KC had to offer while her son was gone on the baseball trip.

She had prepaid and planned to stay at a "very nice" hotel for the beginning of her trip and then later in the week she was moving to a very cut rate, clean but no extras hotel.  Thinking that as she was arriving right before the weekend, her son could come and stay at the hotel with her and they could enjoy the indoor pool and all the incredible amenities.  But baseball changed those plans too.  Shoko was determined to make the most of her time alone.

I wish I had video so you could see the excitement on her face when she told me of her weekends adventures.  She visited: 1) the P & L District, 2) Aquarium,  3) Union Station, 4) The Kauffman Center, 5) The Nelson-Adkins Museum, 6) The Kansas City Zoo, and 7) the shopping mecca of KC - The Plaza. She said she really didn't feel like shopping while she walked through the Plaza.  I would think that living in Tokyo, you would have lots of opportunities to shop Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and their rest of their expensive hoity-toity cousins.

She said that the greatest place she visited, and the one she spent the most time at was - (the anticipation should be building right now) - TARGET!  She said, "Oh Michelle, it is amazing.  You wouldn't believe all the things they have and the prices are incredible!"  She said that the shampoo she spends $19 dollars on in Japan for a tiny bottle they sell at Target for $2.49 for a HUGE bottle. She was in awe that you could buy cans of olive oil that sprayed. She was so enthralled she bought three cans to take back with her. She said she spent hours walking up and down every isle, mesmerized by every product and price.

I couldn't help it, I laughed my behind off right there in front of her.  She was so very sincere and serious about how incredible Target was.  Of all the incredible sights she had visited, Target was the MOST favorite of her KC destinations.

She said her son took her out for a regular American breakfast.  I'm thinking something along the lines of:  IHOP, Corner Cafe, or one of the little dives down in the hood.  But once again, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  She said, "Michelle, he took me for a wonderful meal at Quick Trip".  (For readers outside the Midwest area, Quick Trip would be along the lines of 7-Eleven.)  She said she had the most wonderful hotdog.  She couldn't believe all the vegetables they had available to go on the hotdogs too.  She giggled and said, "I have to admit the jalapeno and cheese hotdog was my favorite".

I am now falling out of my stadium seat laughing.  I made her promise that next year she'll 1) stay at our house instead of a hotel; 2) let me to take her out for a REAL authentic American breakfast; and 3) allow me to take her to SUPER TARGET.  I'm figuring it could be an all day affair.  It's a good thing that they have a little "cafe" there, we'll probably be there for a meal too!

Target......... Who would have thought?

I thought I was the giver, not the recipient.

A few years ago, I loose track of time - it could have been ten years, Donna, Kim, and I went to lunch at one of my favorite places in Kansas City ~ The Webster House.  I've been going there for well over 17 years. It has morphed over the years from a mostly antique and home accent mecca that served a fabulous "Ladies Lunch" to The place to go before or after a performance at the Kauffman Center. When we went, it was still the fabulous Ladies Lunch place. (Any southern woman knows exactly what I mean be that definition too.)

We were there to celebrate one of our birthdays. While we were sitting there chatting and laughing, I noticed three little old ladies sitting a couple of tables away. They were almost a duplicate of our table.  They were chatting and laughing and having a wonderful time.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of them.  I had already mentally determined which one was the older version of each of us.  I finally had to share with my friends what was going on.  Now we were ALL mesmerized by the trio of "old us".

We continued to enjoy our birthday luncheon, but every so often we caught each other sneaking a quick glance at the other table.  When our waiter arrived with the bill, I requested the bill for the other "girls" as well.  After all they had truly added to our birthday celebration and I alway get a warm feeling whenever I can do a random act of kindness.  I requested that he not tell them who had bought their lunch until after we had left.  Well, leave it to a man to NOT do as requested.  He spilled the beans.  On our way out, the "girls" stopped us and thanked us profusely for treating them.  They then admitted that throughout their lunch, they were enjoying watching us.  We reminded them of themselves years earlier.

When we asked if they were there was a special occasion, they shared that in fact they were celebrating a birthday.  The six of us erupted in laughter.  We then stood there for about twenty minutes chatting like we had just met up with cousins we hadn't seen in years and years.  Not a single one of us worried about what the other diners might think of our raucous discussion (my grandmother would have fainted in embarrassment of our behavior).  The leader of their group requested that I give her my name and address, and of course I complied.  It was about a week later that I received my first letter. She filled me in with deeper detail of the "girls".  The youngest was 79 and the oldest was the one celebrating her birthday at the tender age of 90.  She thanked us profusely for our kindness and requested I drop her a note now and then.

All three of them have now gone on to a better place, but I shall keep all their memories with me.

Remember, you never know what side of the observation table you're sitting.