You know what kind of day you’re going to have when you awaken as I did this morning:

• Think the alarm, which is on the cell phone, is actually the cell ringing, so you answer it by saying “Hello”- more than once before you realize it’s the alarm.
• Once the alarm is off, you move to get out of bed, only you can’t because one arm is stiff as a board due to being in one position a little too long.
• You know how fitted sheets are made? The sewn, gathered part that makes them “fit” to the mattress? Well apparently you had a wild night at some point because the sheet is no longer fitted to the freaking mattress and you manage to get your pinky toe caught, thus sending you onto the floor.

(I’m not making this up and I’ve yet to make it out of my bedroom)

• Pee, flush, wash your hands-with hair conditioner.
• Pass the washing machine, remember you need to put a few items in, do so, then forget to turn it on and wonder why you don’t hear the washer once you’ve made it to the living room.
• Fill your tea cup, (yes I drink tea in the mornings), with hot water, open the teabag, dip it into the cup, zap in microwave, rip it unknowingly and get a good taste of tea leaves when you take the first sip.
• Sit down on the couch, turn on the television, light a cigarette and your hair because of the obvious turmoil in the bed based on earlier events, your hair is in a style you never want anyone to see.
• While drinking the first cup of tea-ask yourself again, if you turned on the washing machine- and go check.

I’ve had 3 cups of tea, so I am quite awake and I need to toss clothes in the dryer before I forget and the whole episode repeats itself.

We all know, as parents age, the role reversals begin. My mother used to yell at me if I said the word fart. The word was a huge no, no in our house. So, you can imagine my surprise, (and horrid mental image), when my now 63 year old mommy said “hard-on” while discussing something a few months back and laughing as the words rolled off her tongue. I don’t get speechless often, ok, never, but I hadn’t a clue as to what to say. I did what I usually do- I raised my right eyebrow and said, “Oh, good Lord.” I then stuck a finger in each ear and muttered, “Lalalala.” Isn’t there an unwritten rule for this type of situation? I had no brother, or sister to call and say, “Guess what word mom used today?” Long before this, however, I learned to cope with being the only child of a single parent-and let me say- it is far from easy.

On we go to my list of coping mechanisms if you, like me, have an aging, (I call her a senior, it doesn’t bother her since she really doesn’t look, nor act her age), parent and you are an only child. Remember-these have not been scientifically researched, proceed with caution.

1. Prozac. Lots and lots of Prozac. Get the 3-month supply plan at Wal-Mart- you’ll save $2.
2. Lots and lots of Xanax. Trust me- if you go to the same doctor as your parent he’ll know when it’s time for a new prescription. These come in handy when you’ve asked if your mother or father has mailed something extremely important and they tell you-and yes I am quoting my mother from earlier today, “It’s been taken care of,” only to find out later that evening, no it hadn’t been taken care of because the damn UPS prepaid envelope is occupying space on the passenger seat of the car. Quickly return indoors and take one. Or three.
3. “Adopt” another relative to be your designated sibling. Trust me- ask my cousin, Mark. Then again, don’t-I think he’s unaware of what I got him into.
4. Put an ad in the classifieds of your local paper. “For sale or trade. 63-year old mother who is addicted to Diet Coke, McDonald’s biscuits and Hostess Chocolate Cupcakes. Keeps all remnants of said items in car. Cash only, or trade for a new television.”
5. Liquor. I don’t drink, but if you don’t want to go through the hassle of shrinks and medications-drinking is your alternative.
6. Remind her that her best friend is a nursing home administrator, thus the admissions process would be expedited.

*The above is meant in jest and my way of coping, through a little humor, with issues in real life. If you so happen to be a relative of mine and you’re reading this-because I know some of you do, I’m not a bad daughter. I love my mother more than anything in this world and we’ve made it this far on our own. This was not a moment of the “only child syndrome.”*

When I read the title I typed, I snorted, yes I snort when I laugh, not all the time, only when I crack myself up, because it sounded like a “How To” guide by a former Nevada brothel lady, (the term lady being used loosely), named Vanilla Extract. Remind me, if I ever become really desperate for money and I turn to pole dancing- to use the name. Anyway, back to the thought process.

As I was searching for candle scents that will help reduce the smell of stale cigarette smoke, (let’s face it, no I haven’t quit although I abhor the smell in my house), I came across a site dedicated to vanilla. Informational site, especially after I read a piece regarding vanilla, sex and love. I am in no way being paid to promote the site-I simply found the content quite intriguing. Why? First, read the following excerpt, then after reading my entire post, click the link and read the entire page on the subject.

Thomas Jefferson is credited with vanilla’s arrival in the United States. When he returned from his ambassadorship in France in 1789, he was dismayed to discover that no one in the States knew about vanilla, so he wrote his French attaché requesting that he send him 50 vanilla pods. Clearly Jefferson’s personal passion was well received since soon it was used as a flavoring and a medicine, and – you’re right – an aphrodisiac. In the 1800s Dr. John King, advised in the American Dispensatory, that one should use vanilla to, “stimulate the sexual propensities.” He went on to give a very carefully detailed recipe for a decoction promising amorous evenings. If the good doctor was right, a hefty swig of vanilla extract before bedtime could work like a charm.

Ladies, we’ve been doing it wrong all along. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I spend a small fortune to smell nice. The two scents I receive the most compliments on, by men, are Elizabeth Taylor’s perfume, Passion, (I’ve been a die-hard fan of it since junior high for God’s sake), and oddly enough, Cotton Candy, (maybe these men have some kind of carnie-worker fantasy I’d rather not know about). When I can, I’ll fork out $70+ at Elder-Beerman on Passion, (not sure if this is a national store or not, it’s like Macy’s), for the works- the perfume, body lotion and body wash. You can find it cheaper at Wal-Mart and other discount department stores, but my mother and I have both found it does not last as long, nor smell the same. I buy Cotton Candy, made by Demeter, at Kohl’s since my mom gets a 15% discount. I wonder now, for what purpose, when apparently all along a little vanilla behind the ears would have the men following me like rats following cheese. I’m a sweet, flowery smelling kinda gal, but I’m willing to do an experiment for the single women of the world, especially those of us 35 and up, because, well we need all the help we can get in the man department. When I get paid, guess what I’m doing? Buying every damn vanilla scent I can find-including the “recipe” Dr. John King, mentioned in the excerpt, concocted. I have nothing to lose-I’ll either be told, “You smell nice,” or asked if I’ve been baking a cake. Maybe I’ll even find the man of my dreams in the process, sure, he’ll probably be a 3am donut maker, but hey, 4 months away from my 36th birthday, I’ll take anything I can get.