Clean Underwear and So On

If you're of a certain age, your mother undoubtedly drilled it in your head to "Wear clean underwear in case you get into an accident!"

When I was very young I wondered how clean underwear could save my life in a head-on collision. Later, I realized it was more a warning not to embarrass myself or tarnish the family name with tarnished undergarments. Heaven forbid they have a hole in them either!

I guess my generation of parenting just said "Wear clean underwear" and left it at that. But maybe I've been a little low on the old-school advice. Today, when Mr. Newly Independent came home for a dental appointment, we suggested he brush his teeth before going. 

"That's like washing your windshield before getting a car wash," he said. Oh, so he's a logical and sarcastic reflection of his parents. Who knew?

Not to be dismissed, I held up my hands and said, "Even I'm wearing fancy nails to go get fingerprinted." Nobody appreciated my fancy nails. But I felt better about myself.

And yes, I got fingerprinted. And yes, it was voluntary. And no, it must not be in the sheriff's deputy's nature to say "nice nails." Though I was all prepared to tell him – or anyone who noticed – that they're my "jail nails." Humor opportunities are lost sometimes in certain environments. I guess in a jail, that's about right.

So I'm not in trouble. Just had to get fingerprinted as part of a background check for some volunteer work with children. Very much appreciate organizations who do that! Since the city PD isn't doing fingerprinting for that – thanks COVID – they recommended someplace in Marshfield or Wausau. Didn't feel like driving so figured I should check with the sheriff's department since we are the county seat. Thankfully, I could get it done for a small fee.

Of course, the magic ink pad they normally use wasn't working so they had to use a real ink pad – heck I could have done it at home then using my stamping supplies. Well the real ink doesn't come off easy so I had black fingertips for a few hours.

But dang, those nails looked good. 

And Mom, I had clean underwear on, just in case.

!@#$% My Hubby Says

Someday Carter may have his own blog about "Stuff" My Dad Says, but for now I will have to fill you in on some of the wisdom passed down from one Austin to the next.

Carter, our chronic worry wart, has been quite concerned for days about middle school football practice starting today.

We tried to help him prepare with our mini Boot Camps (even Dad made him run yesterday by threatening to out-run him, bad knee and all).

I also have stressed that "official" practice is not that much different from his Football Camp he had last week. It will be the same group of kids, probably the same drills, too -- perhaps just a tad more intense.

Carter is home this week so he also had all day to chew on these words advice from Dad: "Make sure you pick something for lunch that will taste good coming up later."

Yup, Carter had nothing to worry about, did he?

Now that's it over, he can say yes, it was very tough, but yes, I survived it and no, I did not puke. Tomorrow may be a different story, but let's hope not. We do want him to do well and not suffer too much. As operators of the Ma & Pa Boot Camp, though, we just can't let him know that.

As my wise hubby often says to Carter: "The only reason people have kids is so they have someone to pick on!"

Yup, that's BLEEP My Hubby Says. And rarely can I argue with his logic.

Can you?

A word of advice

I had to chuckle when I was reading my sister Rayna's blog this week. She was talking about her innate ability to stick her nose in other people's business ... with good intentions, of course.

I believe it's a typical trait in the oldest child to feel responsible for the happiness of her siblings. First borns are natural leaders, high achievers and they like to be in control.

I've mentioned before that I call Rayna my "upstairs mother." Not because she is bossy but because I value her wisdom and guidance. She has experienced a lot -- good and bad -- and if she can tell me, the youngest child, something that will prevent me from making some of the poor choices she made, I am listening!

In what I call "the secret life of Robyn Austin," there are people who look to be me for advice, too, because of some of my personal tribulations and triumphs. Like my sister, I want to help these people. I don't want them to make the same mistakes I made or experience the pain I've had to endure.

What I've learned is that I can't make them do anything. I can't save their lives. I can only help them save themselves. And I can only do that by "walking the walk," as they say. I can spout off all the wisdom in the world but it has no credibility unless my actions speak louder than words.

I must confess I don't always do that. I've been a great cheerleader lately for some loved ones trying to lose weight and make healthy choices. I sit at my desk eating a brownie or some other treat while emailing them to "keep up the good work!"

No wonder I am getting nowhere. I need to light a fire under my own ass, quit "talking the talk" and start "walking the walk!" Actually walking would be a great place to start! My twin, Raylene, has agreed to be my "fire-starter," so to speak, and help keep me on task. This is a good thing -- because sometimes when I walk down a path alone I get lost.