About Me

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I am a retired English teacher and department head, the mother of three grand mother of four, and have been married to the same man for 53 years, two years after we met at college. I taught in both middle and high schools as I really love teens and in-betweens. I was also a certified Lamaze instructor, and for a short time a volunteer chaplain at Howard County General Hospital. I am a two-time cancer survivor, ovarian (2003), and breast (2019) I was born in South Philadelphia and grew up in the 'burbs with great parents, in a bilingual household. I love soft pretzels and cheesesteaks, the Phillies, the Eagles, the Orioles, and sometimes the Ravens. I love being Mom, Aunt Kathy, Nona Kathy (Kath), and Teacher. I spend a lot of time in my gardens in the spring and summer, and in the winter I plan what I'm going to plant. I also am an avid reader, cook, photographer, lover of languages, music, and four-footed furries.

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Showing posts with label daughters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughters. Show all posts

Monday, November 24, 2008

The Great Tampon War of 1994

Several of you have asked about The Great Tampon War of 1994, a day of infamy in our household:). My daughters fought about EVERYTHING; actually the word 'fought' does not do what transpired justice. (The older one would steal the younger one's clothes and then claim she'd never seen them. We'd ALL see them when she'd send back pictures from college of herself and SHE'D BE WEARING THEM!) During the time they were teenagers I often asked my husband, "So why did we go to such lengths to get pregnant?" I'm convinced our marriage is/was successful because, living in a house with three teenagers (our son and two daughters), we clung to each other in fear. But I digress.
One night, the older one (aka clothes thief -- always under the impression "What's mine is mine, and what's yours is negotiable (read: mine, too)) accused the younger one of taking her last tampon at which time all Hell broke loose. Now people who have not lived with adolescent girls with PMS have no idea of the magnitude of such an indiscretion. Doors slammed, threats were screamed, boxes of pads flew, CD's the older one had 'borrowed' cut through the air like machetes. My husband, an only child who grew up in a house where no one ever raised a voice at another, panicked screaming, "WHAT DO WE DO? WHAT DO WE DO?" I've never had sisters (I have two brothers), but I lived in the college dorm, been around teen girls all of my professional life, and knew enough to reply, "Duck and get the Hell out of their way!"