Jean Blackmer

Boy-sterous Living: Celebrating Your Loud and Rowdy Life with Sons"
Part hilarious narrative, part survival guide, this entertaining and peceptive book provides a mom's-eye-view of what it's like tolive in a world where bugs are cool, safety is an afterthought, and "talking" is torture. With humor and insight, Jean shares priceless stories and live-and-learn lessions for her "boy-sterous" lfie and offeres practical advice to hlep moms connect with thier sons and celebrateh the laughter, passion, noise and endless energy boys bring to our lives.

A Car that Screams Family
A Car that Screams Famiy

I recently saw a full-page ad in the newspaper that said in bold, block letters, “Finally, A Car That Screams Success!” In front of the sleek car stood a man, chest puffed out, head held high, smiling with perfect white teeth, wearing a suit, with impeccable hair, and a blackberry on his belt.

I started to laugh. What does my car scream? I wondered. Messy mom? I thought as I turned to the World News. But that ad stuck with me. It made me think about my car and what kind of impression it gives others of me.

Before I had kids I vowed I would NEVER drive a mini-van. They’re so boring. I imagined myself in some cool sporty car. But then three boys and two dogs later, reality hit. Mini-vans cart lots of people and stuff comfortably, so like millions of moms I now drive a mini-van.

My van used to look pretty nice when it was new, but now it has a cracked windshield that has completely moved across the entire glass, it’s missing a hubcap on the front passenger side tire from one of the many times I’ve bumped the curb on a turn, and on the same side the handle is broken clean off of the sliding door. (My 10 year-old son decided to hang on it and it couldn’t hold his weight.) To open the door you have to open the passenger side front door, reach around to the inside door handle of the sliding door, push it in with your thumb and slide it open. There are numerous scratches and small dents decorating the exterior.

On top we have a carrier the size of Texas and two bike attachments, and on the back a bike rack that can hold four bikes, even more if we use bungee cords.
Then there’s the inside. It’s littered with candy wrappers, special rocks, sticks for who-knows-what, empty Gatorade bottles, broken pencils, CD’s without covers, coins, multi-colored bouncy balls, and broken cup holders. Dog hair and muddy paw prints are also plentiful. I have no idea what that purple sticky stuff on the carpet in the very back floor is, I don’t really want to know.

To be honest, I usually do feel a little embarrassed about my car’s appearance. Whenever I end up driving one of my friends, I apologize for the mess and the funny smell. I just hope they will understand.
So, later that morning I was speaking with a good, honest, friend and I told her about that ad.
“What do you think my car screams?” I asked preparing myself for a blunt reality check, like “Frumpy 40 year-old mom, who all she does is drive her kids around all day.”
“Family,” she said without blinking an eye.
Family. I liked that answer.

I’m happy to be a wife and mom, proud of my kids. I love owning dogs. Her simple description – family - gave me a new appreciation for my mini-van, cracked windshield, broken handle, funky smells and all the other imperfections.
It’s real and it’s us.