teens Archives - Lynne Cobb

July 14, 2016May 17, 2018

8 ways midlife is like being a teen again

The other day, I ran to the local pharmacy to grab contact solution. What should have been a quick trip took a wee bit longer than I planned.

I find that the beauty product aisles beckon me, like a siren calling sailors. Click To Tweet

Since embracing my natural color, I have worked with my stylist to make sure my hair is up-to-date and that has led to a whole lot of time spent in the hair care aisle of my favorite stores. Yes, stores. Plural. Because no matter where I find myself shopping, I have to check to see what is available for my lovely locks. And then you just might find me wandering over to check out the lipsticks, gloss and mascara on another aisle. Whether I am at the hair salon, drug store, health food store or the mall, I find that the beauty product aisles beckon me, like a siren calling sailors.

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May 1, 2015

Embrace the change

Childhood is a short season. – Helen Hayes

It is hard to believe that our youngest child graduates from high school this month.

For 25 years, we have ushered children out the door, snapping photos of the first day of school, chaperoning field trips and asking, “do you have homework?” Twenty-five years of concerts, conferences and sporting events. Each fall I would get writer’s cramp from filling out sets of emergency contact cards and writing dates on the calendar. Two and a half decades of sticker shock from back-to-school clothes and supplies.

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November 14, 2014April 7, 2015

Slang used today and words I should not say

“Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.” – Carl Sandburg

As a writer and an avid reader, I find words and language usage fascinating. Just call me a word nerd. Admittedly, as I have entered the digital age, I find myself being a little more lax in language and grammar rules. Some of my participles dangle, and sometimes I end sentences with a preposition and I often find myself starting sentences with “and” or “but.”

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May 2, 2014May 16, 2018

When minutes add up to years

“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.” – Albert Einstein

Doing my “bicycle exercises” is definitely helping the health of my legs; the same legs that now feel like rubber. The burn in my muscles lets me know I am making progress. The other day, from my vantage point on the floor, I was certain I had been peddling away for hours. Laying on my exercise mat, I glanced over at the clock. Surely I had made progress, and was inching to the two-minute mark.

Nope. I hadn’t even completed one minute of peddling. Continue reading “When minutes add up to years”

March 20, 2014May 28, 2018

Proud Military Mom

I wrote this article a few years ago, and it was originally published in the Detroit Free Press Twist Magazine on November 10, 2007. Earlier this week, one of our youngest son’s friends left for the U.S. Air Force-BMT. Late last year, the daughter of another family we know enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserves. To these young people – thank you! And to the military moms and dads, we are here for you!

Proud military mom – BY LYNNE COBB

Last Veterans Day, Lynne Cobb wrote about having her husband away at war in Iraq. This year, Lynne tells us about the mixed emotions of her son joining the military. This is her story.

Labor Day weekend, as many parents were packing up their kids and sending them to college, I watched my oldest son, David, scrutinize his very short list and place his few authorized belongings into a nondescript duffle bag. No microwaves or futons going with him. He was off to U.S. Air Force Basic Military Training (BMT).

BMT is a whole new world. Your child leaves with one bag — no computer, no cell phone — no texting, instant messaging or calling. You do not get to talk to your child until he or she has the opportunity to call you. The first call will be about two minutes — enough for you to get an address. Mail service is slow. I found the lack of communication to be unnerving. Not quite a year since his dad’s return from Iraq, my son was off and running on a new adventure. Excitement and apprehension ran high for the family. I wrestled my emotions — pride, fear and the realization that our family would never be the same.

As the weeks of training continued, I found myself wondering what was more difficult — being a military wife or being a military mom and sending my son to training and possibly war. The first few days of my son’s departure, I was in tears. When I went two days without crying, I felt I had made progress. There were days I would hear his favorite song and smile; other days that song would reduce me to tears. I’d see his truck parked outside and think, “He’s home,” only to realize a split-second later that, no, he really wasn’t.

I never realized just how much I’d miss him, that the ache would be so intense. It was like an emotional replay of my husband’s deployment. And, as with that deployment, my emotions ran the gambit between pride, lonely emptiness and worry. The emotional parallel is nearly identical, though I felt the need to go and rescue my son.

My husband has been supportive of my mixed bag of feelings. There is great comfort in having such a close source to answer my questions. We joke as to whom I should root for during the Army-Air Force football game.

My husband and I were blessed to be at our son’s graduation from BMT. It was an experience we’ll never forget and an event I wish every American could witness. To see almost 1,000 recruits graduate and take the oath to defend our nation is a moment I’ll never forget. While hearing the national anthem, seeing the U.S. flag as well as the flags of the 50 states and U.S. territories waving in the warm Texas breeze was a sight to behold. Not only was I a proud mother, but a proud American.

I am so very proud of the decision my son made to serve our nation. I am humbled by, and I thank, those who have made the same decision, and for those who will do the same. I thank the parents who supported their child’s decision.

No matter what the future holds, with faith and prayer, we will survive the miles between us, wherever he may be called to serve.

Are you a military mom? Have you experienced sending your child off to boot camp? How did you handle it? Let me know in the comments section. And again, thank you for service as a military family!

January 8, 2014May 28, 2018

Stuck in a Polar Vortex

“While I relish our warm months, winter forms our character and brings out our best.” – Tom Allen

Well, one day I can tell my future grandchildren, “We survived the Polar Vortex of 2014!” My two granddaughters will chime in and tell their future cousins, “It snowed and snowed and then it was so cold, we missed five days of school!”

After being stuck in the house for days – which seems like years – it is comical how I continue to look at the rising thermometer with glee. For the first time in a few days, the mercury is rising, and we are at temps above zero. Seventeen degrees never felt so good.

Being housebound, I’d like to say I accomplished a lot, but that would be the farthest thing from the truth. I could have cleaned closets and cupboards, but I didn’t. Instead, I did a lot of reflecting and observing. Nothing like a weather crisis to bring on some serious people-watching.

So, from my snow-covered, frozen little corner of the world, I have penned what I learned about myself and humanity during a snowstorm and polar vortex:

The Negative:

Humans can be greedy. Okay, this news junkie decided to watch The Weather Channel for the first several hours of the snowstorm, as I was curious to see the extent of Mother Nature’s fury. I was in awe of how massive the storm system was. The stories and images of people clearing out grocery shelves was a sad statement. How many gallons of milk, loaves of bread and cartons of eggs do we need to survive a few days?
News anchors sound silly. My intelligence was insulted repeatedly with information on how to survive the cold and snow. It is winter. It snows. It gets cold – sometimes brutally cold. Generations before us survived without the idiot lessons – just saying…
Concern over animals. I read and heard more coverage on how to protect pets and wildlife from the elements than I did about checking on the homeless and elderly. That kind of bothered me. A lot.
Cold is painful. Ouch – walking out the door was like being slapped in the face!

The Positive:

Humans are compassionate: I heard and saw how good we can be to each other. Wonderful stories emerged of individuals rising to the occasion and coming to the aid of their fellow man, such as helping others free their cars from snow banks, clearing their neighbors’ walkways of snow and helping to start stalled cars. It was refreshing to see and hear of folks putting others’ needs first. Random acts of kindness.
Social media: The other evening, I had a great time on social media. I learned how cold it was in other areas of the country, saw incredible snow and ice pictures, and just had amazing conversations with friends, family and neighbors from around the world. We were all stuck inside, but able to communicate, and that was really a blessing.
Crash-course in mathematics: Remember the number charts: …-3, -2, -1, 0, 1, 2, 3…? Interesting how all of that came back to me as I watched the thermometer drop – and rise again! Glad I can remember how to do simple math!
Science nerd: Why not have a little fun? A few summers ago, during a heat wave, I cooked an egg on the sidewalk. With record cold temps, my daughter and I were like giddy kids, wanting to try something new. So, we boiled water, opened the door, flung the water away from the house and watched it vaporize and change its form before our very eyes. First we tried our experiment in the dark, and then during the daylight. Very cool both times. We blew bubbles (after defrosting the frozen bottle overnight) and watched how they solidified and shattered like glass in the cold. A few of the bubbles froze to the wand! Of course we were careful, as true scientists would be, and made sure we were protected from the elements and boiling water. Bazinga.
Apologies: I realized I needed to call my mother and apologize for rolling my eyes at her back when I was a teen. Over the past few days, my own teens thought I was overprotective when I wouldn’t let them drive on ice-covered roads. If the State Police advise not driving in certain areas, and schools are closed due to black ice, what makes a teen think he or she is invincible? Oh, their hysterical laughter would have been music to my ears if I was at an open mike night at the local comedy club. But alas, I was not. I was just standing at the door, merely suggesting to have a hat and gloves in case the car breaks down or gets stuck in a snow rut. At that very moment, I knew then how my parents felt. Sorry, Mom and Dad!
Teens vs. Toddlers: Snow days with teens are easier than with younger kids. Why? Because they sleep away most of the day! Enough said.
Gratitude: Giving thanks to God that we never lost power, that we had plenty of firewood and a well-stocked pantry, that we have a place to call home and that we didn’t have it as bad as others did – all are blessings to not take for granted.

So, while the fierce winter winds wailed and the snowflakes and mercury steadily dropped, my observation is that during this crazy weather week, there was a lot more positive than negative. That was good.

Yes, our family and many others survived a moment in history. A moment that I pray won’t be repeated. If I never again have the chance to toss boiling water into the air, I won’t complain. If I never hear the words “polar vortex” again, I won’t be bothered a bit. I can safely cross “visit Antarctica” from my bucket list.

For sure, it will be a winter to remember. On the bright side, there are only 70 days until spring! 🙂

If you were caught in the Polar Vortex, what did you do to survive? Any astute observations? Let me know in the comment section!

April 24, 2013

The World’s Most Beautiful Woman and the Sexiest Man – um, no

“Sometimes people are beautiful.
Not in looks.
Not in what they say.
Just in what they are.” – Markus Zusak

A few weeks ago, I watched the Dove Real Beauty Sketches video, (httpssss://www.youtube.com/watch?v=litXW91UauE&feature=youtube_gdata_player). This is pretty profound, as a sketch artist draws women based on how they describe themselves. Not surprising, the women are very critical of their own looks, and really don’t see themselves as others see them.

So this morning, while on Facebook, I saw the Dove Sketch once again. I scrolled further and learned that a Hollywood actress has been named by People Magazine as “The World’s Most Beautiful Woman.” I am not naming her, as this commentary isn’t about her at all.

It is about the wrong messages we continue to pump out to our children and teenagers.

I guess I am just reveling in the irony.

We tell our little children that beauty is skin deep, and it is what is on the inside that really counts. And I believe that. I believe that the more beautiful and confident you are in yourself, the more your beauty is projected to the world in through your actions, your smiles, your attitude, your eyes. It has nothing to do with the size of your nose, the space in your teeth, the color of your hair or the size of your chest.

Beauty lies deep within your soul.

So, just how does an actress get to be the “Most Beautiful in the World?” Or, for that matter, what makes an actor the “Sexiest Man Alive?” Let’s face it. Physically, if I had a trainer, a personal chef, a make-up artist, a clothing coordinator, etc., I, too, would have a shot at being the most beautiful woman in the world.

I guess my “most beautiful person” check list is different from a magazine’s, or society’s in general. Especially when the person is given the additional “Of the World” title.

I define beauty in many ways:

Beauty is: staying up all night with a sick baby, a distressed friend, a dying parent or grandparent, a stressed-out spouse. Beauty is seeing a child pick a dandelion and run to give it to mommy. (Have you ever seen the look on a mom’s face? Or the child’s? Watch it – that is beauty!)

Beauty is seeing your husband hold that baby in his arms the first time.

Beauty is celebrating someone’s accomplishments even when your efforts have failed.

Beauty is watching your sons and nephews cry at their grandfather’s funeral.

Beauty, in my opinion, is character.

My thoughts are the same about the “Sexiest Man Alive.”

To me, sexy is also character. How does a man treat a woman, or a woman treat a man? With respect? I have heard beautiful men and women chastise, curse and otherwise “be ugly” to their significant other. In public! I’m thinking that isn’t too “hot” or sexy…

Sexy is confidence, without hanging the goods out for all to see (yes, this applies to men and women…)

Sexy is respecting one’s body, as well as others.

Sexy is character.

I know these magazines name the Hollywood types “most beautiful” and “most sexy” to sell more product. I get it. But the problem is, we are sending mixed messages to our kids. We celebrate exterior beauty by placing these folks on the covers of magazines, in centerfolds, on the big screen and so forth.

It would be so refreshing to see someone on the cover of People Magazine who was being honored for character.

Maybe that would help send the message to our kids that character counts. That being beautiful and sexy is only as good as what is on the inside.

It’s not just a few exterior assets that make one beautiful or sexy. It’s the whole package.

What are your thoughts? Do think we emphasize physical beauty more than we should?

March 11, 2013

Dear complaint department…

“I believe in grumbling; it is the politest form of fighting known.” Edgar Watson Howe

Some days, stupid things bug me more than on other days, and today is one of those days.

Stupid can be okay, because it takes one’s focus off of bigger problems – at least temporarily. And when I complain, I usually preface the complaint with, “I know there are starving kids around the world, catastrophic illnesses and injuries, but…” and then I get said complaint purged from my system.

So…here goes. My complaint of the day is…

I will be a chaperone/driver for a field trip this week. After raising kids for over 27 years and counting, I still enjoy field trips, hanging with my kids and their friends, and feeling like I am helping out at school. But… I have seen some real stupid paperwork come home from school over the past two decades, and I have to say, this one is the topper.

Doing due diligence, I filled out my “Parent’s Form” to include name; insurance company; make, model and year of car; number of seat belts, noting that students won’t be allowed to ride without being belted in; blah, blah, blah. Okay, important stuff.

And then this: “Parents, no smoking on the field trip.”

Really?

So, as a more-than-qualified field trip parent, and a once smoker/ex-smoker/social smoker, I was a bit irritated. Have smokers become “evil?”Let’s not forget to mention that one can’t smoke in restaurants, on school grounds, in the museum, in a library, at the zoo, at hospitals and most other places that are field trip destinations, so was that line really necessary?

Personally, I find that somewhat insulting. Isn’t that a given? Don’t most parents know that we are setting good examples for our children and being ambassadors of the school? Honestly, if we are going demonize a bad habit on a field trip, why stop at one?

So, if smokers can’t smoke on the field trip, then parents using other devices as their vices are advised that the following bad habits and behaviors are also not tolerated:

No texting while driving.
No chatting on the phone while driving.
No drinking alcohol while driving.
No swearing on the field trip (I will cut you some slack while driving).
No road rage while driving.
No eating while driving.
No applying make-up or shaving while driving.
No reading while driving.
No sniffing glue while driving.
No medicinal marijuana while on the trip.
No Slurpees or Big Gulps or overeating.
No nose- or teeth-picking while driving.
Hide your tattoo(es).
No bastardizing, demonizing, politicizing or proselytizing.

When looking for volunteers, why this handy-dandy list will eliminate the scourge of the Earth from even thinking of assisting!

Seriously, I, of course, am not defending bad habits, just adding a layer of humor to a society that is hell-bent on making some people’s bad habits worse than others. Just offering a reality check that maybe folks shouldn’t be condescending to others, just because one’s choice of a bad habit is different from another’s.

We’re all human. Everyone has bad habits. Let’s start giving folks a little credit for being smart enough to discern the situation and do the right thing. Most people will behave responsibly, even without a note from the principal…

Do you get irked over stupid statements? Let me know in the comments section!

August 1, 2012

Patience – it’s really not my virtue

My lack of patience must be genetic or something, because there is no real clear reason for it. It is such a character flaw, that it has to be inherited. Certainly someone in my family tree coined the phrases, “Are we there yet?” and “How much longer?”

Oh sure, I can wait for bread dough to rise. I can sort of wait for the first layer of paint to dry. A wet floor – sure, I can wait – especially if I am the one who mopped it. Waiting on a robust cup of coffee – no problem. I’ll even patiently wait for a good cup of tea to steep.

But sitting in a waiting room at the doctor’s office – not so much.

Normally, I have my knitting with me, a dual project of trying to keep my nerves calm and to get lost in time. But seriously, you can’t really knit when you are constantly interrupted.

“May I see your insurance card?”

“Ma’am, can you sign this?”

Not only do I have to sit and wait, I am constantly interrupted while I do so.

This is how last evening went for me: I find out at 5 p.m. via a panicked text from my darling teenage daughter that she HAS to have a sports physical for cheer. Today. Sports registration is tomorrow.

“But mom, know one knew it!”

Apparently, this is the year that the district is enforcing registration. And she was right – I got the email – today was registration.

So, right after practice at 7:15 p.m., off we go to an Urgent Care that offers sport physicals. And, bonus, “We’re not busy right now, so it’s a great time to come in!” says the perky receptionist.

Score!

Ten minutes and several reams paper – in the tiniest of print ever – we are ready! Woot – she can get her physical and we’re outta here!

Except that, in the time it takes me to deliver the paperwork to the front counter, sit down, go back up with my ID, sit down, and run back to the counter to sign something, sit down, and bring my credit card and swipe it, someone comes in to the Urgent Care, and she needs stitches.

Luck is also a genetic trait I inherited.

To pacify me, they stuck us in an exam room to wait it out. Maybe that is the front desk’s way of making one feel like they have progressed in the Waiting Game.

Looking around the a-typical exam room, I strolled down memory lane, remembering comforting my little girl during well-baby checks. Such a bland, sterile environment that is creepy. Back in the day, I could usually calm her with a mass of cotton balls made into things.

Except, now, I was the one who needed the calming. My patience was pushed to the max. Was there really only one doctor in this clinic?

Yep.

I leafed through a parenting magazine, looked up, and saw a box of exam gloves.

You know what happened next.

Giggling like a girl, I blew the glove up like a balloon, posed it and took photos of it modeling in the exam room.

And my darling daughter, why, she gave me the best compliment:

“I gotta hand it to you, Mom, that is pretty funny!”

Yep, sometimes you just have to laugh.

July 15, 2012

The Mom Who Cried, “Pizza!”

“If you want to recapture your youth, just cut off his allowance.” Al Bernstein

What started out as a little joke was rather revealing. Now, to preface all of this, I’m a mom of four, two of which are out the door and married; and two teens who are still at home.

It’s an awesome time, in their lives and mine. And I do mean that! It is a time of tremendous growth for the kids, and, at the same time, it is a time where a tremendous number of gray hairs grow on my head. There are plenty of stressful issues: driver’s training and sports injuries and teenage angst and such. But there is a lot of fun, and joy, too, in watching my teens turn into young adults.

We teach each other lots of things. I have shown them how a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner work. They patiently work with me on new technology, like how to use my cell phone. And how to Twitter. Plus, I’ve had some real deep conversations via text, too. So it’s all good. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss them all being little, home around the dinner table and tucked into bed by 8 p.m. each night.

This summer is giving me a peek into the future. Between their work, social, and – dare I say – sleep schedules, I don’t see them much. My husband and I are getting used to dinner for two. Come fall, when they are back to school and on a schedule, I’ll see more of them, I’m sure.

So… here’s my weekend faux pax using texting: purely by accident, I found a sure-fire way to get a teen home for dinner.

Picture this: a wonderful dinner of barbecued pork-chops, seasoned grilled potatoes, fresh pineapple slices and veggies was being served at 6:45 p.m. One teen was at work, so I sent the obligatory text to the other available teen. And here’s how it went:

Me: “Will you be home for dinner?”

Teen: “Doubt it. What are we having anyway?”

Me: “Pizza.”

Me: “But does it matter, you aren’t going to be here anyway.”

Me: “Oops – I mixed up the “P” meal…it’s Porkchops, Potato, Pineapple.”

And that was it. No reply at all to any of my texts.

It looked like another quiet dinner for two.

But in what seemed like seconds, here is my beautiful teenage daughter, in person, at the table.

Teen: “Where’ the pizza?”

Me: “Didn’t you get my texts? I was joking.”

Teen: “No, I was riding my bike home. I can’t believe you did that. M-o-o-o-o-om! I could have had pizza with my friends! That’s what they were having!”

She said it laughingly, not appreciating the joke but totally appreciating knowing that her presence is missed at the dinner table.

Since she is a whiz on her phone, without ever missing a text, I never dreamed she’d read “pizza,” shove her phone in her bag, jump on the bike and head home without a text response like, “Pizza? Really? Awesome! Can my friends come, too?”

Wow – I totally underestimated the power of pizza.

Seriously, she really was a good sport about the whole incident, but I wouldn’t dare do that again.

I could get the reputation of “crying pizza.”

So the next time she texts, “what’s for dinner,” I’ll text back, “Chinese food.”

She likes almond boneless chicken as much as pizza…

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