I’m two years in. There’s no going back now.

Those who know me well know that time travel makes my brain throw up.

This is why I don’t have a DeLorean with a flux capacitor in my garage. And for all of you embryos saying “Wha???” do me a favor. Go rent Back to the Future and at least try to pretend that we had electricity and running water in the eighties.

My aversion to time travel is also why I don’t currently reside on a mysterious island with hatches and smoke monsters and hot, sweaty men with six packs in their abs and a bespectacled, dethroned leader whose face has OPEN CAN OF WHUP ASS HERE tattooed on it.

Well, that and the fact that I’m not a size 2 and wasn’t home the day Lost producers called me.

Stupid doctor appointment.

But, sometimes I need to turn back the clock, like when I allowed my best friend Traci to perm, color and highlight my hair on the same day, or when I voted for Ross Perot or when I bought a tankini. When stuff like that happens,  I tell my brain to suck it up and then I run super fast around the world in an attempt to reverse the earth’s rotation and get a do-over. Sometimes this works but more often than not, especially since I hit my forties and my knees developed an allergy to movement, I typically last about 2.4 seconds before collapsing in my driveway from exhaustion, forcing my neighbor to drag me inside lest our property values plunge all the way to Antarctica.

My last attempt was par for the course which means that the last twenty-four hours, which I’ll refer to as YESTERDAY, actually happened and thus, I turned fffffffforty …

ffffffooortyyyyyyy -tttttttt ………..



I said it.

And it only hurt a little.

Actually, it hurt bunches but no one likes a drama queen.

In my fffffffforty-ttttttttwwwoooooo years of roaming this planet, I’ve assembled quite a plethora of useless knowledge and experience and I thought I’d share both with you today. Because why should I suffer alone?

So I present to you:


Stuff that took me 42 years to learn


  • I could lose 30 pounds with diet and exercise but my hips aren’t going anywhere without divine intervention and a U-Haul.
  • I could Fedex his head to Tanzania and Nate’s body would still manage to snore from 1:00 a.m. until 3:30 a.m., out of sheer spite.
  • A universal remote.
  • I can convince my eight year old daughter that a fat old man in a red suit spends one night out of the year zipping around the entire world, unseen, in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, squeezing his girth down a billion or so chimneys, leaving gifts that were crafted by his height challenged roomies wearing funky shoes, which gifts were specifically made to look exactly like the things she picked out of the Target catalogue a month prior. But if I want to convince her that  48 ÷ 6 = 8, I’m going to have to wait until the second Tuesday of next week.
  • Football season last 13 months out of the year. Fourteen if your team makes the playoffs.
  • It’s not whether you can live with him. It’s whether you can live without him. This is crucial to remember when he turns up the TV so loud you think the space shuttle is landing on your head.
  • It’s not the number of days you spend alive. It’s the number of days you spend living. Therefore, I refuse to give up bread, pasta and potatoes just so I can be miserable and thin. I will eat them until I am plump and happy and adjust the appropriate buttons and zippers accordingly.
  • HDTV was invented by a man as an excuse to buy a 54 inch TV.  No woman I know sees the value in being able to count the exact number of pores on someone’s face.
  • Men need a place. Women need a reason. And an eighteen inch wide perimeter around the wet spot wouldn’t hurt either.
  • The reason why people look at you funny while you shimmy to Dancing Queen by ABBA in the check out line at Wegmans is not because you’re making a spectacle of yourself. It’s because they’re wondering if you’re looking at them funny while they shimmy to Dancing Queen by ABBA in the check out line at Wegmans.
  • The expressway exit you’re looking for is the one in your rear view mirror.
  • Getting your husband to ask for directions to the Grand Canyon is like asking him to fork over his penis. Getting him to admit he’s actually lost is like asking him to fork over his penis but not before sprinkling it with glitter, wrapping it up in a bright, red, shiny bow, placing it on a silver platter and presenting it to you while singing karaoke to Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina.
  • My forties would be a hell of a lot more fun if I could live them in the body I had in my twenties.
  • Life is but a perpetual series of period underwear, interrupted by the occasional thong every so often just to keep it interesting.
  • Motherhood won’t come with combat pay, no matter how much you lobby for it.
  • Gravity and my boobs are not unlike my children in that they refuse to listen to me, no matter how loud I yell at them to knock it off already.
  • Raising a teenager is like slamming a bowling bowl against your cranium until you pass out. It’s gonna leave a mark but, with any luck, you’ll be brain dead and won’t notice.
  • Now that Nate can’t retire until he’s 129, the only way I’m ever going to see the Greek islands in my lifetime is if I go by myself on an all-expenses paid acid trip.
  • You’re not doing anyone any favors by eating cheese every single day of your life, except the cardiothoracic unit of your local hospital. And cows.


So, what have you learned and how long did it take you?



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36 thoughts on “I’m two years in. There’s no going back now.”

  1. Avatar

    I learnt that even though I thought it was a good idea at the time going to university was the biggest waste of time because when I got pregnant they (my two boys) didn’t bother forming their own brain matter they just sucked mine out leaving someone that was so vacant it took them 7 years to realise they are a slave not some clever dick that used to be able to read binary code and write nifty little computer games in c++

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    OMGSH I’m totally LOL here. Let’s see, it’s taken me over ten years but I’ve learned that men don’t understand and don’t WANT to understand what we mean when they ask us “what’s wrong?” and we answer “…nothing…”. They really are clueless and prefer to remain that way.

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    It is too early in the morning for me to know what I’ve learned except for the fact that the older I get, the more I cherish sleep.

    Also, my dear Andy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you!!! I think there will need to be cake when we next do lunch…..

  4. Avatar

    * Men need a place. Women need a reason. And an eighteen inch wide perimeter around the wet spot wouldn’t hurt either.
    * My forties would be a hell of a lot more fun if I could live them in the body I had in my twenties.
    * Life is but a perpetual series of period underwear, interrupted by the occasional thong every so often just to keep it interesting.

    You know, this would be easier if you just numbered the list for easy reference.
    OMG, I’m dying over here and trying not to pee on myself (another benefit of life in your 40s)

    Hope you had a happy birthday – we’ll have to do lunch again soon!

    Heather? Andi? Next Friday?

  5. Avatar

    I’ll be 42 this July. One thing I have learned is men are problem solvers – they don’t get ‘just venting’. If you tell them your woes, they will proceed to tell you how to fix them & then not understand when you get annoyed.

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    Forty-two? You’re a baby. Try staring down 47, hon. It gets worse. LOL I just read your line about teens to my neighbor [Mom to two boys] and she guffawed. Funny and true.

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    Happy birthday, Andy! And thanks for such a funny commemorative read =) I think I’m 47, and I haven’t learned anything, especially if you consider that I can’t even count up to 15 while playing cribbage (or is it 22? I can never remember. *lol*).

    I do dread the teenage years, though. Already I have to explain everything!

  8. Avatar

    OMG!!!!! LOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    You’ve done it again!! I’m seriously dieing over here AND you owe me yet another keyboard!!!!!!
    OK and WHY did you not IM me and tell **cough** remind me it was your b-day yesterday/??? HUH??? Answer that one missy!!

    As for me?? I’m not sure what I’ve learned in 40 years. I can’t remember 😀 Oh!! I got it!! The WET spot!! That’s it!!

    Happy birthday kiddo 🙂

  9. Avatar

    I’m turning ffffffooortyyyyyyy myself this year, and I’m not looking forward to it. At least I know you’re paving the way for me. *lol!*

  10. Avatar

    Happy Birthday!

    What have I learned so far? Nothing. I turn the big 4-0 in December and am hoping that with age will come knowledge and wisdom. Otherwise I’m screwed.

  11. Avatar

    I love this, and Happy Birthday. My b-day is coming up, so maybe I’ll do something similar. Or maybe I’ll just eat a pound of pasta.

  12. Avatar

    Happy Birthday! How old are you again, aww I kid a girl. I’m pretty bad with numbers so I often forget how old I am, seriously. The other day my husband found out that I told someone I was 45. “Uh, Amy….you’re 43 (or was it 42?).” I hope I learned something, but I probably forgot it by now.

  13. Avatar

    Happy Birthday from a five-ohhh-er who has learned that she didn’t know as much as she thought she did. Thanks for the laughs!

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    I just love your blog! I’ve decided to make this my new motto – Motherhood won’t come with combat pay, no matter how much you lobby for it. That says it all right there.

    And Happy Birthday. Here’s something to put it into perspective. I got a great card on my 35th birthday (a while ago!). It said – “You’re turning 35?” And then on the inside it said “You know people have been known to live for WEEKS after that!”

  15. Avatar

    You ALL are babies. My dh and I are staring 50 in the face, and AARP has already started tracking our movements for future reference (rat bastards!).

    Here’s one thing I’ve learned:
    The relationship you had with your mother when you were a teenager is a lot like the relationship you will have with your own teen daughters–only this time you will be on the receiving end of all the disdain and smart-assing. But by the same token, you will be the one who can drink a glass of wine to get over it while your teenage daughters are grounded for the weekend.

  16. Avatar

    Awww, Happy Birthday!! Your list had me rolling, girl! Only one thing I know for certain now that I am 38 (almost 39) is that the older you get, the faster time flies. It’s true….ugh.

  17. Avatar

    Um, I’m still waiting to learn the universal remote thingie. But I totally get the whole husband watching tv so loud…in fact, I just asked my husband “can you NOT hear the tv…seriously, our neighbors 3 doors down can hear it!”. He didn’t answer me. I guess he really does have a hearing problem. I like to think he wasn’t purposely ignoring me!

    Hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your Sunday regurgitation idea again….and, again, I’m telling you after the fact. But I did give you props….again….so hopefully that makes it okay….again.

  18. Avatar

    Happy Birthday! My 5 year old son shares a birthday with you. I learned during his birthday party that I am definitely not made to be around lots of little kids for a extended period of time. They just don’t get sarcasm. I learned that I can now use this excuse with my husband for the rest of our children’s b-day party. “Sorry honey, you’ll have to organize this one, it’s just not my thing.”

  19. Avatar

    After 43 years and now on my third and last teen daughter –
    I learned that the best thing you can do as a parent of a 12 to 21 year-old is to nod, and say uh-huh to every new weird idea they have. Whatever you do, do NOT SHOW ALARM. If you give the slightest indication that this boy/eating habit/hair color/future career aspiration is a poor choice, they will dig in their heels and cling to it desperately. If you just nod and say uh-huh, eventually it will pass. And it is crucial when they tell you it has passed, they have changed their minds, that you also say uh-huh, and nod, so they don’t get the idea that you are overly enthusiastic one way or the other.
    IT IS ALL reverse psychology.

    The best thing you can do as a parent of a 21 and older adult child is to listen, listen, listen, and keep your mouth shut. Period.

    By the way – I absolutely love this blog entry and I’m going to read all the rest, because you sound like we could be sisters. Thank you for the laughs!! And happy birthday.

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