Thursday, January 31, 2008

PITA: Not just bread

A family moved into the neighborhood years ago. They had three children, 2 girls and 1 boy. I knew their names were Jan, Fran and Dan because I heard their mother calling them. But every time their father called it was PITA1, PITA2, etc or PITAs.

It was said affectionately and I always thought it was sweet. One day at a neighborhood BarBQ, I casually asked him what it meant. I had always been struck by the endearment and how no one else called them by their
dad's pet name.

He started to laugh while his wife rolled her eyes and responded,
"Well, PITA stands for Pain In The A$$ and I assign a number by birth order."

I was appalled at the time but as the years went by and my own children became older the name seemed more appropriate.
I started to call them PITA1, PITA2 & PITA3.

For the sake of anonymity
when I post about my 3 lovely children I will refer to them as
PITA1, PITA2, & PITA3.

Curious about the origin of the word "PITA" I looked it up. It's centuries old and usually always referred to a flat round bread (actually pizza is a type of pita) but I found another version - "Pita bread or Basilo pita is like a cake or tart, with a single layer of sponge cake or bread that is typically circular and flat."


Interesting - my PITAs definitely have spongelike qualities.
They absorb my money, my food, my gas and my energy.
Yet, when asked to reciprocate, they are dried out.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Size Doesn’t Matter



Spring/Summer fashions have arrived.
What’s a girl to do?

$HOP!!!

I love to shop, but I don’t have time to spend hours perusing the racks. I grab a lunch hour here and there, a Saturday every once in a while. I used to spend a few moments looking over a rack, if I saw something I liked I would grab my size and move on, eventually finding my way to the dressing room. Sometimes I bought items I liked and didn’t have time to try on, sure my size would fit. Those items seldom went back due to size.

Not anymore.

Sizing for womens’ clothing has changed significantly over the last few years. Universal sizing is no longer dependable. Designers have their own size charts. Now a trip to the dressing room means bringing at least three of everything I want to try on; my size (or what I guess is my size) along with the next size smaller and larger. For awhile I could even count on a couple of my favorite labels/collections to be consistent. That, too, has changed.

Even shoes have been affected by this trend. Not only do lengths vary but widths also. It is very hard to find a decent selection of narrow or wide women shoes.

I look around and see more women wearing sizes and styles that are not flattering to their body types. Feet crammed into shoes that don’t fit properly. Yet a day shopping at the local mall proves that sizes and styles are limited. It seems clothing is designed for a perceived generic body type that a small percentage of women have.

Buying without trying,
No longer an option.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Straddling the Gap

I’m straddling the generation gap. How did I get here? When did I get here? It started several years ago as a crack widening until it became a gap.

I should have seen it coming when my husband gave me a mug with the caption

“It's official I've become my mother.”

Nothing against MY mother, she’s great. It’s more about becoming “YOUR PARENTS”. As children, we swear we will not grow up to be our parents, who are sooo uncool.

I live with 3 teenagers, one is 20, so technically 2 teenagers and 1 young adult. Anyone who has dealt with teenagers knows they would rather eat glass then be seen in public with their parents. I can live with it because I know, as my parents before me, that one day they, too, will look in the mirror and wonder who's that old person staring back at them.


As I reflect, I think it started with the car. One child, I’m still driving a cool car. Second child, I’m driving a station wagon. Third child, I’m driving the dreaded minivan. Next, the clothes and accessories go from funky and hip to something more age appropriate, covering more and flashing less. My hairstyles became sedate also. Balancing the tightrope of current fashion and age appropriate style can be challenging.

Music was the most obvious sign. But did I notice, not until recently. I like a lot of different music genres. As the years go by the new stuff is sounding more and more like noise and I find myself saying things like “Turn that off, I can’t listen to that.” or “That’s not music. I can’t even understand what they are saying.”

The most telling though is my advice. I give advice that makes my kids roll their eyes and tell me “Maybe that’s how it was in the olden days, things are different today.” Bam that’s when it hit me. “Olden days” Huh? Or I say something my mother would have said and gasp “Did those words just come out of my mouth?” The truth be told,

It's official I've become my mother.

So are you straddling the gap? Do you even see the crack under your feet or have you managed to find the balance to keep the gap from spreading? Or like me, did it sneak up on you before you realized it?

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

To Blog or Not to Blog

To Blog or Not to Blog, that is the “?”

If everyone jumps off the bridge,
would you?

Seems so, here I am – blogging.


40-something woman, 20+ years wife, mother of 3, owned by 3 dogs and devoted member of a support group of my dearest friends.


Like most women I wear many hats – cook, housekeeper, ATM, maid, chauffer, medic, ATM, disciplinarian, last resort listener, gopher, bail bondsman (not literally), ATM, answering machine, champion, etc… (sounds like a personal ad)


Who is M. T. Nester?


Mother of 3 teenagers - 15 yr old son, 17 yr & 20 yr old daughters; mix in hot flashes, mood swings, bloating, typical aches & pains of middle age and I’m a walking advertisement for Prozac – mid-life crisis not withstanding.


My goal the last couple of years has been to stay sane until the kids leave the nest so DH and I can have a life where we come first, the house is clean, there is food in the pantry and fridge, money in the bank and gas in the car.



I just don’t get the whole empty nest thing. I love my children but as I see it my job is to raise well-adjusted, independent individuals to go out into the world as productive adults. I imagine if they moved ½ way around the world I would be sad and worried but barring that I imagine(daily)helping them move their stuff and get settled in their own space; preferably not in my basement or garage.



"Teen" is the hardest stage of parenting. This stage is mentally and emotionally exhausting; always trying to stay one step ahead while looking for the repeat button on the house, dating, school, and driving rules.


“Easy” you say,

“No problem” you snicker,

then you either don’t have teenagers or you can look back and laugh about it now.


Am I alone in my thinking? Are you ready for your chicks to fly the nest or do you want them to feather it abit longer?