I love reading self-help and advice columns like “Dear Abby.” I’ve got a lot of work to do on myself, and the only one who can accomplish anything on this fixer-upper is me.

Dear Abby’s been around for decades, and the daughter, Jeanne Phillips, now pens the column after her mother, Abigail Van Buren, passed away.

I thought about what I knew as a mother versus what I know as a grandmother, and realized my thoughts and beliefs about what’s important and what’s not important have changed as my boys went from Matchbox cars to their own car notes.

So in no particular order, here’s my own take on what I knew as a mother and what I know as a grandmother:

Your face will freeze like that. If I said that phrase to my sons once, I said it a million times. The phrase was a way I thought I got their attention. That’s wrong.

As a grandmother, I know to break into a huge smile when I see that face and then sincerely compliment them on their comic ability. Then I should ask how many more impressions they can do and they should start with me.

You’re going to spoil that baby by picking him up too much. As a mother, I thought I needed to raise my sons to be self-sufficient. If they were overtired, they needed to go to bed and tough it out until they fell asleep.

As a grandmother, I know nobody likes to cry themselves to sleep. Nobody. So why would I let a child lay in bed for an hour crying? Instead, rock that child to sleep, hold and rock and sing quietly to them until they quiet down.

You better straighten them out. As a mother, I thought I had to bird dog my sons every minute. If I didn’t pay attention to their every move, monitor their friendships, go through their backpacks – yes I did that on a regular basis – and make sure I knew what they were doing every minute, I was a failure as a parent.

As a grandmother, I still think parents need to bird dog their children but allow them to make minor mistakes because that’s often how we learn best. I wouldn’t let my grandchildren run out into the street, but a little dirt and grime didn’t hurt anybody.

There are starving children in China, so you need to clean your plate. As a mother, I thought I was instilling a sense of guilt into my boys so they’d eat their healthy dinner and not sneak into the pantry at night for a Pop Tart.

As a grandmother, I know children do not equate the Brussel sprouts on their plate with starving children in China. They’re not ever going to eat Brussel sprouts. There’s a huge range of vegetables out there that kids like so I fix those.

If they want a bowl of Cocoa Puffs before bedtime, I’m good with that. And instead of guilting them about cleaning their plate, we talk about ways to support hungry children, like offering to share their lunch with a hungry classmate.

Have you lost your mind? I used that line every single day when my boys were young. Of course, when you’re looking at the entire bathroom covered in soap, a mother’s thought is that their child was either possessed by the devil or they’ve lost their minds.

As a grandmother, I tell them how thoughtful they are to try and make sure all the walls in the bathroom are cleaned. And then I sing to them as they get the soap off the walls. Sure it’s a mess, but nobody’s crying at the end of the bath.

They say with age comes wisdom. I don’t know about wisdom coming with age, but patience and not sweating the small stuff sure does.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

 

 

 

 

Coughers, unite!

You know who you are. You’re the one hiding at the end of the church pew so you don’t have to climb over 10 people when you feel a coughing fit coming on.

You’re the one with a pocket full of Hall’s cough drops and quietly eating them like Life Savers because you’re desperate to stop the constant hacking and coughing.

We hide, we sniffle, we hold our breath until the sensation passes and then, bam, the tickle starts in our chest and gallops up through our windpipes like an out-of-control locomotive.

People look at us as if we should be able to control the cough. Trust me, if we could control that coughing, we’d have done it long before your dirty look shamed us into hiding.

I spent a week on the couch right after Christmas with the flu. Chills, fever, body aches – I had the whole checklist. But the worst and most persistent symptom was a hacking cough that decided to stick around after the fever subsided.

Two weeks later, I’m not coughing as much but the monster’s still a squatter in my lungs.

The cough’s an unwelcome tenant I want to evict but it’s proving difficult to get rid of an annoyance that reminds me it’s here every five minutes.

My mom has remained vigilant about my coughing ever since I told her I was laid up on the couch.

Our daily phone calls have a checklist – what was her blood pressure in the morning and if I’m over the flu. Not five minutes into the call, I’ll start hacking away.

“You still have that cough,” she’ll say.

At this point, I think I’m going to have this non-stop cough for the rest of my life.

“You need to take something for that,” she’ll say.

That’s an understatement.

I’d gone to the doctor when I first got sick in case there was something to lessen the symptoms. The doctor prescribed “pearls” for coughs.

For some people, the pearls work like a charm. For others, not so much. I’m in that second category of not finding relief with the pearls.

I tried every home remedy I knew to help with the cough, starting with hot herb tea with honey. That remedy worked as long as I was drinking the tea, but there wasn’t long-lasting relief.

Staying hydrated was another suggestion, so I drank gallons of water but all that did was make me cough in the restroom.

I tried slathering Vick’s Vapor Rub all over the bottoms of my feet before I went to sleep. All that did was ruin a perfectly good pair of thick socks and make our bedroom smell like a eucalyptus factory.

The Internet was filled with all kinds of alternative medicines to take, most of which I couldn’t pronounce, but I thought were worth a try.

Either those remedies could only be found in Sweden or everybody else read the same articles I did and bought out the store.

If prescription drugs and online remedies couldn’t help, then I knew I had to find a middle ground that could offer some relief.

It was back to the drugstore, where I picked up some NyQuil in a dual package – one side for daytime, the other side for nighttime.

The nighttime meds did help with the cough. But the lingering side effects made me feel like part of the Zombie Apocalypse for an hour after I got up.

The DayQuil worked better than the herbal tea and the pearls, and they’ve been my lifeline for the past week.

Coughers, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Once the flu symptoms are gone, give it three weeks and you’ll be back to your old self.

Until then, please pass the NyQuil.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

I’ve been known to complain about lousy service in a restaurant. I’ve also been known to write nasty letters to companies when I feel I’ve been taken advantage of. But when companies go above and beyond, I like to commend them in public.

A few weeks ago, my mom had a bad reaction to some medication she was taking to prevent a stroke. The doctor followed a good path – start with a low-cost, frequently-prescribed drug and see how it works. Mom noticed some gradual shortness of breath, but she didn’t think to blame the medication.

Until she ended up the emergency room with internal bleeding.

A few tests and scares later, Coumadin was found to be the culprit. For most people, this drug works, but it didn’t for her. The doctor called in the only alternative, Eliquis, a relatively new drug, to the on-site pharmacy, a facility she’s used many times in the past.

It was 15 minutes until closing time on a Saturday night so I walked over and picked up her medications.

The clerk handed me the bag, and I walked out as they locked up behind me.

It wasn’t until I got Mom home that we saw the note in the bag – “Out of Eliquis. Did not fill prescription.”

I hit the roof – the pharmacy sent my mom home without a needed medication over the weekend. I called the nurse’s station and told them what happened, and Lane Regional Medical Center’s social worker, Florence called me.

First she apologized. Then she said she would get Mom the new medication that night, but there were a few bumps.

The Eliquis cost $450 without the insurance company’s approval. With that approval, the cost would be $140 a month. Still high, but a lot better than $450. She told me she wasn’t going to stop until she got that approval.

The problem was getting that approval on a Saturday night with two hours before the pharmacy closest to Mom’s house closed.

Florence kept in constant contact with me while she found the right person to approve the meds and then stayed on hold for 45 minutes until she got the approval.

I walked out right before closing time with Mom’s new prescription, and we paid $140, not $450, because Florence didn’t give up.

That’s going above and beyond for a patient to solve a potentially life-saving issue.

Our second encounter was when we decided our grandchildren needed an indoor activity on New Year’s Day since the weather was 40 degrees and raining.

Since we live on the far west side of the county, we found Times Square in Katy was open.

Not only did the attendants greet us with a smile, but they helped me figure out the most economical way for all four of the children to bowl and then got us set up in a separate room with bumper pads. The manager came over with a ramp for the young ones, and everyone had a great time.

That’s going above and beyond for the customer when the only place the employee wants to be on a cold holiday is home in front of the TV.

Lastly, I went to see a movie at the AMC at Katy Mills, a last-minute decision. About half way through the film, the sound became garbled, and the screen froze. The manager came in and said they were having sound issues but were working the problem.

Then he personally gave every customer a free pass to see another movie at another time or we could go see any other movie playing at the theater at that time. After a couple of failed attempts, the manager returned and said he was giving everyone their money back. Oh, and keep the free pass.

In all these situations, the businesses treated the customer with respect, not rudeness, with a polite apology even when the mishaps were not their fault and, most importantly, offered a remedy.

I’m through with companies that treat the customer like an afterthought instead of a priority. There are so many businesses here that treat the customer like a valued human being, and those are the places where I’ll spend my money.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

A new year has rolled in, bringing with it frigid arctic temperatures and hopes for a prosperous, happy 2018.

People used to publicly post their resolutions to the fridge with a magnet. Now we use social media, and the usual lofty goals are there – lose weight, eat healthier, work less and play more.

One of the more creative online resolution prompts was to use one word as a mantra for the coming year. “Enough” was a popular word as was “joy” and “pray.” It’s a pretty good suggestion, but I have a hard time narrowing down my life’s path to a one-syllable word.

Others are choosing to let go of the negatives in their lives and embrace the positives. That makes sense until we realize the negatives and the positives balance each other out. As much as I hate it when things don’t go my way, the different path brings challenges that make me a stronger and humbler person.

Some people want to sleep more – good luck with that if you have a toddler – while others want to learn a new language. I’d settle for understanding what emoji’s are all about.

I used to make a list of resolutions every New Year’s Eve and tape it inside my medicine cabinet where I’d see it every day.

The list didn’t change and neither did the fact that I failed at those resolutions by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around.

A few years ago, I changed my approach – I wrote down a believable list that won’t set the world on fire but is achievable. This year, I’m continuing the tradition.

I came up with three doable and achievable goals for 2018. While three resolutions might make me look like a slacker, I can say with certainty I’m going to achieve these resolutions.

Resolution Number 1:  Clean out the pantry.

I hate to admit it, but there are spices in my pantry from when we moved to Texas 30 years ago. I have no idea why I bought turmeric or sage, but they’ve been taking up space in the pantry so long, there’s dust on the bottles.

I am never going to cook anything that requires an exotic spice, so out they go. Salt, pepper and Tony Chachere’s are all I need.

Resolution Number 2:  Throw away orphan socks.

When the boys were young, they believed the clothes dryer ate their socks. That belief was right up there with the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.

We repeatedly told them if they took their dirty socks off at the same time and put them in the clothes basket at the same time, they’d get both of them back.

We might as well have talked to the empty clothes basket. Dirty socks ended up under the kitchen table, in front of the television and in the toilet.

They believed, and probably still do believe, that the dryer eats their socks. Funny but that same dryer never eats my socks or my husband’s socks. But I’ve noticed when the grandchildren come to visit, the dryer’s appetite for socks kicks into overdrive.

I’ve got a nice stack of mismatched toddler and kid socks in the laundry room. If the mate to that Bob-the-Builder sock hasn’t shown up in the last two years, something tells me it’s never going to materialize. So out they go with the spices.

Resolution Number 3:  Watch for blue skies.

As I write this, I haven’t seen a blue sky in at least two weeks. I find myself standing by the window, hopelessly searching for a little sliver of blue. Yesterday, I found a faint patch of blue in the distance, and I could feel my spirits lift.

In 2018, I’m going to keep looking for blue skies, both out the window and in my life.

Even when it’s gloomy outside, even when life’s handing us hurdles instead of blessings, I need to keep in mind that the blue skies always return if we’re patient and we never stop looking.

So 2018, bring it on. Let’s see what you’ve got.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.