Book of Failures

by Amy Lyle

  In line with this, the kids are supposed to change their sheets every Friday. Sometimes they take their sheets off and throw them into the washer but invariably forget to put them in the dryer and the three other kids aren’t going to move their sibling’s sheets from the washer to the dryer so the laundry is overflowing and at night no one has sheets. They sleep on bare mattresses, sometimes for days.

  Me: Put sheets on your beds.

  Kids: Why?

  Me: You wash and dry the sheets, then put them back on your bed before you sleep. That’s the process.

  Kids: Why?

  Me: It’s unhygienic to sleep on a bed without sheets.

  Kids: Why do you care? You’re not sleeping in my bed.

  Me: Because we do not live in a crack house, that’s why.

  The kids are not allowed to eat food in their rooms and compliance is about 80 percent. Maddy is the worst on this issue. At any given moment, we find ten or more mugs of congealed chocolate milk under her bed. I finally removed the bed frame so now she hides them in her attic space. Once I found a bowl of shrimp bisque under her bathroom counter and ham sandwich remnants in her desk drawer.

  When I complained to my friend Jen, “I found a ham sandwich in a desk drawer,” she asked with sincerity, “Oh no, does she have an eating disorder?”

  “No, slob,” I replied.

  So far, our grossest incident when we banished PJ, then ten, to the car for a few minutes while the rest of the family ran into the Verizon Store. PJ had to stay in the car because he had told a sister to “shut up” a few minutes earlier. The air conditioner was on and we were all of twenty yards away so he was never in any danger. The last words my husband uttered were, “Do not leave this car for ANY reason.”

  We finished getting a charger and piled back into the car and into the most horrific stench. “OH MY GOSH! IT SMELLS LIKE DOG POOP IN HERE!” the older one screeched.

  PJ then handed Peter a Target bag that was still warm—because of the poop it contained. “You told me not to leave the car for ANY reason,” he smirked. I’m sure everything will work out with our children, we are just going through a rough patch.{52}

  HAIR PROBLEMS

  In the 1980s our role models were Cyndi Lauper and Madonna. It was the era of John Hughes’ movies, Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. Regardless of whether you were a “preppy,” “stoner,” “jock,” or “nerd,” your hair goals were the same—huge. Because our products were limited in the 1980s, our volume came from spiral perms, a teasing comb and Aqua Net.

  In high school, I went to the local beauty school for perms because it was cheaper than the salon. (You could get all-over highlights for around fifteen dollars.) The “beauty student” suggested I get a perm and then highlights because my hair was “limp and lifeless.” The combination of perm solution, hydrogen peroxide and ammonia broke my hair off just below my ears, propelling the new curls to almost gravity-defying heights, so she slathered it with oil. I resembled one of the Jackson Five, and not in a good way.

  Our 1989 Marietta Senior High School graduation hair.{53}

  Me Susan

  53 I thought my hair was so fabulous in college that I applied to be a model and paid over $500 for headshots. Return on investment: zero.

  Kristin Marilyn

  My hair has been many colors: green from years of pool chlorine, orange from excessive use of Sun-In Hair Lightener, and pink-to-dark-purple as I experimented with reds. Hair color may vary, the box warns you.

  My worst hair event came when I had just started dating husband number two and my stylist had an emergency, so she gave her clients to her partner, a super-nice guy that didn’t speak any English. I believe he was Korean. I held up my pointer finger and thumb, demonstrating an inch, and instructed him to “Just take off an inch all over, a trim.” He confirmed, showing one inch with his fingers. He then grabbed the top section of my hair and cut it down to an inch.

  There are many women that can rock a super, super-short haircut. Regrettably, I am not one of them.

  WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE DOG?

  When I married Peter, I inherited three kids and one dog, Cooper Sapelo. To Peter’s chagrin, I transitioned Cooper from an outdoor dog to an indoor dog.

  “You have changed my hunting dog into a Yorkie,” he complained, even though Cooper adjusted well to being fed the kids’ vegetables under the dinner table and sleeping at my feet.

  Recently his fur started falling out. We had him examined for fleas, ticks and mites—things that make dogs itchy and subsequently may make their fur come off in patches—but Cooper was clear of all critters. Our vet said sometimes an animal’s fur falls out because it has anxiety. Cooper doesn’t have a lot of anxiety; after all, his days are filled with fun and relaxation …

  Going on Walks…

  Chasing tennis balls and eating snacks with his friends …

  Taco Buffa Hazel Shires

  Brody and Sugar Ryals Henry Summerville

  Having sleepover parties with his girlfriend, Molly Carter…

  Hanging out with his best friends, Floyd Delp and Truffles Krogman …

  and eating ice cream and going swimming.

  Even with all of this, given the vet’s comments regarding anxiety, I googled “dog trauma/anxiety” and found that Cooper did exhibit some of the traits associated with dog anxiety: excessive itching and licking, sometimes pooping on the floor, and seeming slightly insecure (never wanting to leave my side). But he didn’t demonstrate any other signs: shaking, howling or barking, or coprophagia (thank goodness—that’s the condition where dogs eat their own waste). Cooper loved to eat horse waste, guinea pig waste, cat waste and goose waste but so far had stayed clear of his own feces. He also didn’t hide from us or run away, yet his fur kept falling out, which started to give me anxiety.

  From my online research, I got a list of anxiety-reducing actions that could help Cooper relax: playing soft music, cuddling, rubbing him with essential oils, and making sure he had lots of exercise. We followed a strict regimen of cuddling, walking, and playing only soothing Norah Jones tunes, but he was getting more and more bald spots.

  I ordered and started administering VetriScience Composure Behavior Health Bite-Sized Dog Chews. They’re supposed to “improve your dog’s cognitive function without changing your dog’s personality.” You could double or triple the dosage if you did not see improvements. Within a week, I was going through bags of the chews, which Cooper really enjoyed, but which did not reduce his excessive itching or his fur dropping out in clumps … and they gave him stinky farts.

  Veterinarian David did blood tests and everything came out great. We changed Cooper’s food and had him wear a cone around his neck, which really confused him. He would walk into walls and then just stand, staring at the wall, wagging his tail.

  Cooper wearing the cone of shame

  We were baffled. Our next step was cognitive behavioral therapy—a doggie shrink. What other options did we have? His coat looked dry and he started scratching the bare spots bloody.

  The mystery of Cooper’s fur was solved on a Thursday. I was on my way to tennis when I realized I had forgotten my food assignment and needed to return to the house. I ran in the side door to see the housekeeper spraying Cooper with a can of Febreze.

  “Juan, nooooooooo. You cannot spray Cooper with Febreze,” I said as calmly as I could. Juan looked confused and kept spraying.

  “NO SPRAY PERRO!” I insisted.

  Juan said, “Hedores!” (stinks/smells), which was accurate. I stared Juan down and took the can.

  “Haciéndole enferma,”{54} (making him ill) I said sadly, pointing to Cooper’s diminishing coat.

  “OKAY! NO SPRAY!” he agreed.

  Within a few months, Cooper’s shagginess level was back to normal. However, he had grown accustomed to the VetriScience Composure Behavior Health Bite-Sized Dog Chews, soft music and essential oils. And who are we to deny him? We take turns giving him doggie massages.

  THE
WRONG MESSAGE

  Our girls grew up obsessed with the tales of princesses in books, movies and television. We had every type of princess product imaginable: coloring books, Barbie princesses, gowns, shoes, shirts, pajamas, lunchboxes, wands, tiaras, clip-on earrings, posters, hair brushes, night-lights and bedspreads. I like the princess message of kindness and grace, but I did not like the theme “Be kind and generous and you too will be able to land a man.”

  I think the message of how to land a man was confusing to little girls. Both Sleeping Beauty and Snow White were cursed by older, jealous hags. Sleeping Beauty falls into a forever sleep and Snow White is thought to be dead. The sleeping/dead princesses are laid out to be mourned by their families or dwarfs. Eventually, princes come by, fall instantly in love with them, and with one kiss, they awake and start to plan their weddings.

  Sleeping Beauty and Snow White married people they had never met. Belle was willing to marry a hot-tempered bigfoot- type creature. And poor Ariel! She made the ultimate sacrifice to win her man, leaving her home and family forever and changing into another species.

  Today the princess movies are about the princess finding herself, rather than a man. More women than ever before are CEOs, physicians, attorneys and senators and that feels like progress. As women, have we moved on from ranking our self- worth by “getting a man”?

  Apparently, it is still an issue:

  About 928,000,000 results (0.75 seconds)

  That’s almost a billion results. Ladies, we need to keep working on this.

  All the single ladies, marriage can be good, but it is not all roses and love. Ask your married friends, with kids, what they spend most of their time doing and their answers will be along the lines of “Arguing about how to discipline the children in- between doing immense amounts of laundry.”

  IT’S YOUR VAJAYJAY

  I was in the dressing room at the mall and complimented a woman, Regina,{55} on her outfit. She proceeded to tell me how she had once weighed over four hundred pounds. A small crowd gathered around us as she continued.

  Three years ago, she had called the credit card company, inquiring a charge for “Paddles” in New York City. She discovered that her husband, Frank, had invited Marti, her best friend, on a business trip. Together they charged $1,200 at a bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism (BDSM) sex club. Basically, they were paying to drink ticky-tacky cocktails and get spanked on West 26th.

  Regina, after researching divorce law, learned that marital debt is split between both parties, so she promptly maxed out every credit card to pay for a face-lift, breast augmentation, hair extensions, vaginal rejuvenation, and gastric bypass surgery before filing for divorce. She had lost close to 200 pounds and was treating herself to a new wardrobe. Other women started commenting on everything from their divorce disasters to weight struggles and how they too had overcome even the worst of what life handed them.

  My point is that women love to share and we all benefit from it. Most of my girlfriends are my age so we chat about our husbands, jobs, kids, and lately, the bevy of tests required for ladies our age. We need colonoscopies, mammograms, and pap smears, as well as our cholesterol checked. When having your breasts squeezed or cold instruments inserted into your vagina, referrals are critical.

  While enjoying lunch at our favorite Thai place, Sharon, Melissa, and I started talking OB/GYN appointments.

  Sharon: Dr. B{56}is great, so personable. Sometimes we talk for ten to fifteen minutes.

  Melissa: Are you naked or dressed during these conversations? Sharon: It could be before, after or during the exam.

  Me: He’s eyeball to eyeball with your vagina and you’re chatting for fifteen minutes?

  Sharon: Yes. He asks how often I work out because my abdominal muscles are tight and we talk about our passion for working out.

  Me: That’s unprofessional loitering on your vajayjay He’s just distracting you so he can spend more time inside your body. That’s inappropriate. You should report him.

  Sharon sets her fork down and says firmly: He’s nice and makes me feel good about my body.

  Me: Melissa, are you listening to this? Please tell Sharon she’s getting sexually exploited by her doctor and should report him immediately.

  Melissa: Amy, shush! Sharon, can I get his card?

  MY MOTHER

  I am very proud of my mother and adore her, however …

  1. She confuses real-life news with television shows. “There’s a kidnapper wearing a bunny-rabbit mask on the loose.” “That’s CSI, Mom.” (season two, episode 14) “Well, it’s still really scary.”

  2. Kate Middleton is her benchmark. “Do you think Kate Middleton would use such language, Amy? Be a lady.”

  3. She’s a mini-hoarder. “Do you want seven pounds of cookies? I just wanted the Thomas Kinkade tins.”

  4. She believes women should serve their men. I was holding a baby—while vacuuming—when she suggested, “You should fix your hair a little bit and get your husband a glass of tea,” while he was on the riding lawn mower.

  5. She likes to gamble. “I got the triple, triple, double, double, seven and won two hundred dollars!”

  6. One event during the week can throw her entire schedule off. “No, I cannot go to lunch on Tuesday, Amy. I’m renewing my license on Thursday and need to get ready.”

  7. She would do anything for almost anyone. Ten years ago, she GAVE A KIDNEY to a coworker.

  8. She drives 45 mph in the fast lane but yells at the people honking at her, “I pay my taxes! This is my lane too!”

  9. She will schedule, and will not reschedule, a whole day around mopping her floors.

  10. She doesn’t go to the doctor. No mammograms or colonoscopies for my mom. If God wants me, he can have me, is her motto.

  11. We are very close. I call her every day. If I didn’t call her, we would never speak again as she does not call people and cannot figure out the smartphone.

  Ahh, moms are funny.

  WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE BAND?

  Peter graduated from Georgia Tech, which is consistently ranked as one of the top ten (public) schools in the country. He was really good in math and science and won a science contest that landed him an internship at the CDC when he was a junior in high school. He was recruited by the Air Force and Naval Academies, Stanford, and other swanky places that only admit about 2 percent of the people that apply. He picked GA Tech.

  I went to The Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio, which is a fine school. We are most proud of alums John Kasich (presidential candidate), Jack Nicklaus (golfer) and Les Wexner (founder of The Limited Corporation). We also can claim George Steinbrenner, Charles Kettering, and Dwight Yoakam, per Wikipedia, as “attended.” Regrettably, deplorable serial killer/cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer also briefly attended my alma mater. We don’t list him in any of our marketing materials.

  Georgia Tech claims Jeff Foxworthy as “attending.” Graduates include former President Jimmy Carter; Admiral James A. Winnefeld, former Joint Chiefs-of-Staff; John Brock, CEO of Coca-Cola; two Nobel Peace Prize recipients; and fourteen astronauts.

  Recently we went to the Georgia Tech homecoming game. At halftime, I was excited for their band performance. I grew up with an award-winning high school band and my beloved Ohio State always ranks in the top bands in the country.{57} The Associated Press reported Ohio State’s band is known for its “spectacularly complex performances.” The Michael Jackson halftime tribute show from 2013 has been viewed more than

  11.6 million times as the entire band formed a moving “moonwalk” while playing “Beat It” and “Billie Jean.”

  Ohio State marching band’s moonwalk.{58}

  Even in the 1940s the Buckeyes cried out the “We Don’t Give a Damn” for the whole State of Michigan song.

  So, at halftime at the GT homecoming, when the announcer said, “This next song is dedicated to the field of math,” and then expounded on why math is so important, mentioning, “cartesian coordinates�
�� and “fermat primes,” I got a little lost. I majored in human ecology to avoid taking calculus.

  Lyrics to the Georgia Tech Differential “X” Song

  Differential “X”! Differential “Y”!

  “A” square, “B” square

  Integral of pi!

  Another version of the song:

  E to the X dy dx, E to the X dx,

  Tangent Secant Cosine Sine, 3.14159,

  Square roots, cube roots, Poisson brackets, Disintegrate ’em Yellow Jackets!

  They are REALLY into mathematics. Very few students attended the homecoming game, probably because they were studying as they must take multivariable calculus and something called discrete mathematics. The Duke University students’ section (Tech’s homecoming game opponents) were louder than the entire stadium of Tech students and fans. Are football games too old-school?