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Tuesday, January 24, 2017

WTF - Why They Serve Wine at Target

When I was little, my mother had no problem with smacking me upside the head in any public place when I decided it was proper time to show my ass.

Now, with so many politically correct parenting quotes out there, there are few safe places you can be a parent without someone calling the cops or worse yet, YOUR MOTHER.

Of course the first safe place is Walmart, I can't tell you how many parents I see screaming at their children in Walmart. I'm not sure what it is about that store, the lighting, the smell, some type of opiate pumped through the air system but kids immediately start misbehaving the minute their butts are plopped in the blue shopping car. I've seen kids throw things, I run away from screaming children, down to the little kid crawling under the bathroom stall looking up at me saying, "What?"

I am not the angel, I took my kids when they were little into a Walmart before a vacation because it was cheaper buying supplies. After 30 minutes searching, finally finding them sitting inside a circular clothing rack, I must say I had a few choice words for them.

And no one said a thing, they were busy yelling at their own children.

Another great place is the Zoo. You can spend a lot of time yelling at your children because everyone else is busy watching the monkey picking its butt, or the Hippo pooping in the pond. Your kids can do crazy things at the zoo because most of the other guests figure the child covered in mud, hanging upside down in the tree eating cotton candy is just another exhibit. Once in the baboon inclosure, my son pointed asking, "What's he doing?" I look up and a very large baboon was having a party with his shake weight (code word, dear readers) of course all I had to do was point to his brother, "Look, your brother is licking the glass." See, both are perfectly normal.

Of course, you can always guarantee the family vacation at Disney World is full of screaming children. I went with my kids when they were little to Disney turning to my sister horrified, "They don't serve beer here? We've already bought admission tickets!" She pointed to the sign, "But this is the Happiest Place on Earth?" A equally horrified father leaned over to us, "That's why those big black gates close behind you after you walk in." A few hours into the day, I learned it was normal culture to scream at your children at the "Happiest Place on Earth" as I grabbed the hair of one child trying to jump into the water of the "It's a Small World" boat ride, realizing yes, beer probably would make it worse.

Now that my children are older, they refuse to do the Walmart dance and thwart my suggestions of the learning experience of the Zoo, I've no desire to visit the "Happiest Place on Earth." Now the only place I can take them where it is natural habitat full of screaming children?


I think that's why they now serve wine in Target.

Friday, January 20, 2017

WTF - The Birds and the WHAT?

Do you remember when you first learned about the birds and bees? I do, mine started with the very knowledgable friend explaining how we got the eggs on our breakfast plate.

"You need a Rooster and a Hen getting together to get an egg," she says sounding very authoritative. We all have that friend, when they find out something monumental, they HAVE to SHARE!

"Of course," I reply, acting as if I knew everything, but at 12, I have no clue, I just want to eat my breakfast.

"Did you know they have to rub their butts together to make the egg? AND it comes out of the same place the hen pees and poops out of?" She continues with something about Vents and Cloaca (Believe me, DO NOT Google these terms, I'm warning you.)

"Um yeah," I reply pushing my plate away wondering if there was poop in my egg.

She leans really close, "I think that's the same thing your Mom and Dad had to do, rub butts together."

And that, my friends was how I ended up in therapy later in life.

Of course I remember running home right after school to my mother scrubbing the bathroom floor saying, "Oh my God! That's disgusting! Did you really rub butts with Dad to make me?"

We then had a different discussion shocking me even more, I left my mother getting back to work on the floor saying, "I'll never do that. Ewww!"

Uh hum, well.

Cut to me and the minion in the car, the looming life skills class making me hope I can do this without sending him into therapy when he gets older, it costs ALOT of money!

"So, you know you've got this class coming up and part of it is how people make babies?

"Babies?" He says, he's more enamored with his phone that this conversation I'm sweating through.

"It is sometimes called the Birds and the Bees," I say, feeling like I dropped a bomb.

He doesn't even look up from his phone, "Oh yeah, I found this book at school in the library."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah two books, one was called Puberty and I forget the name of the other."

"What?!? Did you read it?"

"Yeah, my friends and I did."

Now I'm picturing a bunch of boys, gathered together in the library snickering or looking shocked. Well, at least it is not Playboy.

"Do you have any questions?"

He doesn't even look up from the phone, "Nope."

I'm quiet for a minute, I turn to him, "Did it start out with when a man loves a woman?"

"Something about the body and stuff, I can't remember."

Well that was easier than I expected, perhaps I've saving money. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He finally does look up from his phone, "Why?"

I think about this for a second, then shrug, "Well I love you."

Guess it's not time to talk about Chickens.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

WTF - Revamping the Dating Plan

My son has informed me dating has changed from my "Good Old Days."

When I was in high school I waited by the family phone waiting for someone to call.

Sometimes they never did, sigh!

Now most kids use the carpool line as their SpeedDating while waiting for your Mom.

My son jumps in the car, "So and So is talking to So and So."

I ponder this, talking? "What are they talking about?"

He shakes his head, "They're talking about stuff."

"Well that sounds mighty exciting, I love talking about stuff." I reply. "Uh, hashtag LAME."

He sighs, "Jeez Mom, you don't talk about stuff. You're married." Sensing my confusion he explains, "They're texting each other, see? Like So and So and I are talking, I sent her a text earlier today and she replied."

I look at his phone, all I could make out was "hey" and a reply of "hey." Pretty heavy duty stuff. I'm not sure this relationship is gonna last, he hasn't even added her name to her contact.

"So you are talking by texting, what happens after talking?" I ask.

He looks out the window, "Then you start Hanging Out."

"Oh, like going on a date?" I ask.

"No, you hang out, like all of us hanging out before you pick me up."

I think about this, "So do you talk while hanging out?"

He looks at me like I'm dumb, "No, she's standing right there, I'm not gonna text her."

"Oh! That's right, talking is texting and hanging out is talking without texting, I'm getting this! What's next?"

"Dating," he replies.

"Now I understand this one. Do you take her out to dinner or a movie? I have coupons to the climbing tower, you could climb together?"

He sighs, I guess I'm too excited about this, "No, we just hang out and do stuff."

"Do stuff? Hanging out? Isn't that texting?"

"No, really Mom, we hang out together with friends but we're dating."

I think about this, I'll never understand how all this works!

"So you Talk, then you Hang Out, then you Date.  What's next?"

He thought for a moment, "Breaking up?"

I think for a moment, "Then do you break up by talking, or just stop hanging out? Or talking and hanging out but not together?"

"Mom," he moans.

Later that day I text my honey: "Hey."

He sends back, "Hey."

Guess we're talking now.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

WTF - The Laundry Wars

We are currently in a laundry war in my house right now.
Shouldn't you be doing laundry?
Day 1 - I find everything I just folded pushed off the bed onto the floor, of course the dog peed on it.

I line both of the boys up, "I'm not doing your laundry anymore, oh and the dog peed on that pile of clothes."

Day 2 - the pile of clothes is still there, minus a few items telling me they did the smell test, figuring out what was still clean and wore it.

They walk by, I can't help saying, "What's that smell?" They look horrified running back to their room.

Day 3 - the pile is still there, I can't smell the pee because it is now surrounded by their dirty clothes and it smells like feet in the room.

Day 4 - The pile has been pushed to the corner of the room, the dresser drawers open what was left of  clean clothes pulled out and fallen to the floor. I close the door, keeping the dog out of the room because at this point it smells like a locker room and she'll want to mark everything.

Day 5 - the pile of clean clothes in front of the dresser is diminishing, the pile of dirty clothes taking over the right side of the room.

Day 6 - my socks are missing. I suspect children are raiding my amazing sock collection as all of their items are now dirty.

Day 7 - my long underwear has gone missing. Really? I find it in a child's room, there's no way I'm sniff testing that baby.

Day 8 - I have banned myself from the downstairs, walking through the rooms simply pisses me off right now. They are walking around the house in their underwear hoping I'll crack.  No way! I'm hiding my clean socks and long underwear.

They start raiding Dad's drawers.

This is all he has left.
Day 9 - I throw a major temper tantrum about the downstairs, throwing dirty clothes at them, they finally give in and stuff the washer with as much dirty clothes as it can hold while commenting to each other they "don't know what's wrong with me?"

Day 10 - their clothes are still in the washer.

Day 11 - I've got laundry to do, I justify moving the amazing amount of clothes from the washer to the dryer for them.  Of course, when I need the dryer, I put their big pile of clean clothes on a bed and continue with my day.

Day 12 - Somehow,  the pile of clean clothes fell off the bed and onto the floor just as the dog walked by.

I'm going for a glass of wine.