Wilson Post Blogs

By BECKY ANDREWS
I’ve hit mid life. While my older sister disagrees saying she’s not even mid life, I know it’s here. I can feel it in my bones, in my digestive track and I can see it in the crow’s feet once thought to be laugh lines.

I seem to be traveling fairly rapidly up the metaphorical hill so that one day I can dig my heels in to prevent from sliding down. It appears that not only is my age increasing in years and months but the cost to keep those years and months too noticeable increasing as well.

By ANGEL KANE
Wilson Living Magazine

As we were rushing to get ready for school Wednesday morning, the words I heard stopped me in my tracks. From the kitchen, I could hear my middle child revealing a closely guarded family secret. One I had demanded never to be exposed!

“Oh yeah - well I don’t care what you call me,” she said, “because you wear girl shirts to school!” (And she wasn’t talking to her sister.)

By BECKY ANDREWS,
Wilson Living Magazine

I started taking an interest on the subject of Birth Order after becoming an adult. Mainly because I had grown tired of my older siblings treating me like I’m still 5. Birth order explains a lot about a person’s behavior; especially a person who comes from a family of six children. I am number four in that order.

I love my oldest brother and sisters but this sibling battle has been going on since they were born first and my parents began referring to their younger children as “the babies.” A term my dad still uses to this day to describe us.

By ANGEL KANE, Wilson Living Magazine

My favorite, favorite thing to do is to get up before everyone else, make myself a cup of coffee and savor it for a good 10 minutes. And when that doesn’t happen….

So on Saturday morning, as I was making my way down the hall to my coffee maker, out of the shadows emerged a figure.

By BECKY ANDREWS
A few years ago my husband and I along with our children, moved back to Lebanon. Upon returning, I renewed friendships with a few people I grew up with. When we were young, I envied their family life.

They seemed to have everything. Their parents had ‘regular jobs’. They had one, maybe two siblings, a beautifully decorated home, a mom who was always put together with perfectly coordinated clothing in the latest styles and a dad that played golf and coached little league. They even had grandparents who attended ball games, birthday parties, and never missed an opportunity to spoil their grandchildren with extravagant gifts.

By ANGEL KANE

They say, cleanliness is next to godliness.  I say, THEY are right.

So, when my children told me about a television show called “Hoarders”, I was both horrified and mesmerized. And when they told me about a show called “Animal Hoarders”, with that I was hooked!

By BECKY ANDREWS, Wilson Living Magazine
I am the mother of boys; two of them. When they were babies, I worried, A LOT. I knew everything about these little creatures. Their likes and dislikes, their bedtime and naptime. I knew the difference between a hungry cry and sick cry.

I knew what made them giggle uncontrollably and what story they liked before bed. Never before had the frequency and consistency of bowel movements been so important. I was a pro. Then they started growing up. And just when we’d tackle one obstacle, like potty training, a new one would present itself.

By Angel Kane, Wilson Living Magazine

In our little household, we have something called the "circle of trust." A phrase we picked up from the movie, Meet the Fockers, years ago. So it seems apropos with the third installment of Meet the Fockers coming out this week, that our circle might be put to the test.

The "circle of trust" consists of my husband, myself and our three children. And those in the circle know there are things mommy says "in" the home, that we don’t repeat "outside" of the home.

By BECKY ANDREWS

A few days ago Angel turned the big 4-0. Yep, four whole decades. This is a big deal and there’s no way I could forget about this monumental day. Mainly because she’d been reminding me of it once a week since she turned 38.

So to celebrate, I planned a day out with a few of our close friends. We were going to lunch at a great little restaurant that serves the most delicious fried bread, shopping and I was taking Angel to get her eyebrows shaped — my treat. I had mine shaped a few weeks earlier and Angel wanted to try it so this was the perfect time.

By ANGEL KANE

It’s inevitable that as cold and flu season makes its way through town, my kids will catch the sniffles. So when my mother heard my youngest cough and wheeze over the Thanksgiving holidays, it was also inevitable that she would break out the Vicks.

My mother is a firm believer that any ailment can be cured with a thick layer of Vicks!
 
And because - we all become our mothers - I am now an expert in slathering on this gooey, gummy, menthol mess. Screaming and struggling to get away from me in the hopes of avoiding a rubdown, will do you no good - as I truly believe that one day scientist will affirm that Vicks cures everything from colds to cancer.

You can talk smack about them
By BECKY ANDREWS
Around this time of year when extended family members prepare to convene on our households, Angel and I participate in a spirited game of, ‘I can out do you’ or it’s more commonly referred to name,

‘Who has the nuttiest little family’. The conversation usually revolves around whose parent, grandparent, or other relative had the most success at humiliating us or making puberty more awkward than it already was. Because we both come from fairly outspoken people, the contest is always close.

This is usually how the conversations go:

Angel: “I had to sleep on a camp bed for a year in Greece!”

Me: “I was a Jehovah’s Witness until 6th grade.”
Score- Becky- 1, Angel-0

By ANGEL KANE
As I lay across the kitchen floor Sunday night, surrounded by bubble wrap, duck tape, a pulley and wig, my husband walked in,

“Well, this looks like another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

And honestly, if at that moment my fingers had not been super-glued together, I would have exhibited some rather rude behavior. Instead (due to circumstances beyond my control), I took the high road.

By ANGEL KANE
On Sunday as I hopped in the car, I noticed that my husband had packed his laptop as well.

“Why are you bringing the laptop to church?” I asked

“I have to make a trade before noon and can’t find my phone.”

By ANGEL KANE

I’m a risk taker. That’s right. You know it.  After years of reading about my fear of flying, fear of germs, fear of public displays of affection, fear of Becky getting me into another “fine mess”, I know that you might have  pegged me differently.

But I’m here to tell you that for one brief moment last week, I was that bold and courageous girl, I always knew I could be!

By BECKY ANDREWS
I freely admit a reality show addiction. Not of the ‘Dancing with the Stars’ or ‘Big Brother’ or even ‘Survivor’ type reality. Nope, my shows aren’t that classy. In fact, there’s not even a cash prize awaiting some of these folks. Just a lifelong reminder of how they behaved- good or bad- forever in minds of America.

It started innocent enough. The very first season of ‘The Real World’ started airing my freshman year of college. While I watched the show occasionally, it wasn’t until the second season of the MTV franchise that I would make sure my class schedule didn’t interfere with the latest episode. My roommates and I would loudly discuss each episode. Throughout the week leading up to the next installment, we’d discuss how we thought it should play out.

I didn’t grow up in a house where punctuality was a virtue. In our household, the start time of any event was more of an unrealistic expectation thrust upon us by people who were obviously not as busy as we were.

Then I married my husband who believes 8:00 means 7:50 and so on . . .

Over the years, its been a source of contention, to the point where my husband has repeatedly informed me “studies show that always being late, is a sign of arrogance.”

To which I respond, “I can’t help it if I’m better than everybody else. Now, stop honking that #^$&*@ horn at me, I will be ready in another 5 minutes!” 

(I know what you are thinking … he’s a lucky man, isn’t he?) 

By BECKY ANDREWS

You read that right. After a very uneventful two weeks waiting for something funny, dangerous, or even inspiring to happen…nothing. I started and stopped about 30 different story ideas. This happens sometimes but this time…nothing.

I started one about training for a half-marathon. This race was different because it was on my birthday and completing it would be a birthday gift from me to me. When I started writing about hurting my calf during one training day, the story kind of went south. I came home from that run complaining to my husband. I went on about how this injury would ruin my chances of hitting my PB because intervals will be impossible.

By ANGEL KANE

There are people that say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. But given fillers, botox and brow lifts…I no longer believe that to be the case.

As I see it, if you really want to know someone’s soul…take a look at their shoes. You can really tell who is enjoying life or, more importantly, who has given up on life, based on their shoe selection.

For instance, just the other day, I was sitting in court amongst a sea of attorneys wearing blue, black and grey suits. I had the fortune of sitting between two young female attorneys and ….I looked down at their shoes.

I fully understand the premise, that due to the fact my parents footed my law school tuition, that I am their attorney… for life. And, of course, …for free.

I totally get it.  But I am starting to think, after 19 years…we have to be close to being even.  

I pity the fool who crosses my father, be it a neighbor who doesn’t mow his lawn as routinely as my father expects him to or the business owner who continues to park their car in “his” spot. 

It just takes one phone call…to his attorney…and the unsuspecting foe receives a firmly worded letter expressing OUR dissatisfaction.

By ANGEL KANE
As the temperatures finally begin to cool down, one can’t help but begin to think about all things fall. From pumpkins to hayrides to bonfires, we all know that there is no better place to spend fall than in middle Tennessee. 

And this year, one place we all can all get together and enjoy our favorite fall activities will be Wilson County’s newest pumpkin patch. Located just one mile off of 840 (Exit 67 - Couchville Pike ) in the Gladeville area, the Pumpkin Place will offer pumpkins for the picking, hayrides, corn mazes, children’s games, animals, inflatables and much, much more.