WTF - A Social Media Education by my Children

I think I have a different thought process when it comes to social media. My children decided to explain things to me.

"Mom, stop flexing on Instagram," They cry as I take a picture of the Southern Chicken Breakfast Bake Masterpiece and am ready to hit "post the picture."

"Why?" I ask pointing to the skillet on the stove, "LOOK AT THAT!"

"It's embarrassing," They reply.

So what do I do? I post a video to my STORY of them complaining about me over flexing then them cleaning their plate with my masterpiece. They say that's OK because it goes away.

Here's my education per my children:

Snapchat, you can send them pictures but don't post too much to your story. That's called flexing. My children suggest a picture every once in a while. "Oh and Mom, you may want to reply to Snapchats with just a picture of the top of your head." Me. "Why?" (thinking maybe my saggy neck is getting to them?) "That's what everyone else does."

Instagram - "Mom you flex too much." Me. "I put these pictures up because at the end of the year I can get a company to make a hardcover book out of my pictures! See? I'm not a scrap booker, I get someone to do it for me." Kids, "Just don't post any more animals on your walks to you story." Me. "Good compromise."

Facebook - Kids, "Only old people use Facebook." Me. "Good then you won't see me flexing on Facebook because I'm pretty damn funny."

Text Messages - "Who texts anymore?"

"Is that why you always ignore my texts? I see text messaging as saying something to someone and when they don't respond I go into insecure mode!"

Did they not like my text? Do they like me? Did I make them mad? Screw them. I'm never texting again.

Kids, "No why should we respond to everything?"

Me, "Just send me a smiley face or something to make me feel better."

Email - Kids, "What is that?"

Me. Heavy sigh.

Phone Calls - no one talks on the phone anymore. At least I am in agreement with that!

So I'm ahead of the game because I know I can flex on Snapchat and Instagram but behind the game when it comes to email and Facebook - so last year!

Now to get back on my computer and look up: Visco, WhatsApp, and Tinder.

Ha! No Hinge or Tinder for me. But I'm hip enough to know about it.

WTF - Graduation Compartmentalizing

Shit's getting real in this house as Graduation looms. I'm doing my best to compartmentalize things because if I even talk about it, I choke up.

My husband thinks it's funny as he says, "He's only going 45 minutes away!"

But he's going away. The child that used to scream from his crib at 430 in the morning "START DAY!"

So I'm focusing on the things that I can handle.

Wondering where the cap and gown went after the capping ceremony because I can't focus on watching his little brother cap the big brother.

It's easier to focus on finding the cap and gown under the couch downstairs in the kid's room.

Focusing on finding the special cord for being a straight A student and Athlete, because he doesn't care if he wears it but I do.

Trying not to cry during the capping ceremony. Focusing on how bad my back hurt sitting on bleachers for 2 hours and 15 minutes while the same 7 students got all the Senior Awards.

Watching him write out graduation announcements focusing on why App State has to have special beds in the dorms that require you to purchase special sheets. WTH?

Focusing on missing my own fundraiser Bourbon and Bacon rather than watching him cross that stage getting his diploma.

Compartmentalize things is easier than focusing on the big picture. Watching his spread his wings.

WTF - Call Me SAP

If anyone knows my family, they know the McKeon side of the family is full of saps.

Case in point, my grandmother could never get through a greeting card without wiping away a tear or two. Every family gathering was not dry when my grandmother would ask my father to sing Mother Machree. Especially the time he prefaced it with, "I think this is the first time I ever sang this sober."

I tried to keep it together during my sisters wedding and erupted with a sob because, well, I'm a sap.

Cue now trying to hold it together as my first born gets ready to leave the nest. Sure I'm all confident as the announcements come in and excuse myself to the bathroom. Then the Senior pictures come through and I'll retire to the deck. I tell myself to hold it together but the McKeon comes out every time.

Why am I tearing up as I make them a post prom brunch, what the heck?

When someone asks me where Wolfgang is going to college. I have to gulp first before answering.

Writing out graduation announcements.

Hiding behind Jeff as we take Senior Prom pictures.

Because I still see the little kid that would yell from his room at 4 o'clock in the morning, "Start day!"

The kid who's head was too big so he couldn't balance to walk and scooted across the floor. I'm still amazing we never nicknamed him Scooter.

Waiting on the front porch for the bus to come by.

Beanie.

I said to Jeff the other day, "How am I going to handle this? I'm a McKeon and you know all us Irish are total SAPS! I'm not going to make it through graduation.

"Believe me, you won't be the only one crying," is his reply. He's right, I'll be in good company.

I guess I'll just quietly hold it together, watch them grow wings and hope I did a good job. Then let the McKeon side take over.

WTF - Mother's Day

Back when my boys were little, they always celebrated Mother's Day.

One year they brought a piece of toast and a Miller Lite for breakfast in Bed.

Another year, they loaded all their compliments on Alexa and let her do all the talking.

Another year, they just crawled into bed with me and declared "no one is moving for the day."

It's special to me celebrating with my children, but there's a small part of me that's sad on Mother's Day. Especially this one with so many monumental things happening this year.

One turning 18.

One getting his Learner's Permit

One Graduating

One moving out to go to college.

It's times like these that make me miss my Mom. To call her and have her help me hold it together as my children celebrate getting older and I'm forced to continue to let go.

If I saw her for Mother's Day, I'd tell her how much Wolfgang looks like Dad. I'd expect her to tell me to pull it together as I get weepy when writing out graduation announcements. Maybe she'd take Max out driving just to save me the heart attack, probably not.

I know she'd be here for the upcoming Graduation, she'd be there at the beach this summer as we celebrate Jeff's 60th birthday. Hell, she'd probably be moving to Beech Mountain for the summer because she'd be retired.

I miss talking to her about kids, about lessons learned, about marriage. I miss not being able to call her and ask, "Is this normal?" as my body changes again - sometimes not for the best!

I'll go back to my email and find that folder of all her emails, re reading them and hearing her voice again. I'll look at pictures and smile remembering when she said we had to "act cool" going into a club we didn't belong to and tripping through the front door. Or smile when she called me from a business trip to California telling me how nice her hotel room was:

"You won't believe it. There's all kind of food and a refrigerator full of beer and liquor. I can't eat all the food, but I went ahead and put most of the refrigerator stuff in my luggage!"

When you lose parents, it's these holidays that make you stop and find gratitude that you had that time with Mom. Then just like all the monumental things happening this year have the courage to let it go and tuck it away in that little box of what you don't want to deal with right now. Smile as the Miller Lite and piece of toast you received when the kids were little are now Eagle Rare Bourbon and Sourdough Toast.

For those Moms out there, enjoy! Enjoy the time with your kids and your time with your Mom because you never realize how fast it goes until you're looking at Graduation announcements saying, "What the hell?"

Happy Mother's Day. I'm going to brunch at Beech Mountain Club because my son is working there and wants "to cook me something."

Holding it together right now, making Mom proud.

WTF - Top Ten of the Week

My Top Ten WTF moments of the week.

10. Finding the thermos from end of school last year still in the backpack as school starts.

With food in it.

9. Coming home to a small bonfire at the top of my drive way and a child holding lighter fluid saying, “What?”

8. My son putting a dish on the counter. I said, “What’s that?” He looked at me and said, “Another dish to do?”

7.  Trying to understand why they each need a $120 calculator when seriously, who uses math after school.

Of course this shirt, I mean WTF?

6. My son saying he’ll switch cars with me, then I get in and the brakes are metal on metal. Have you ever completely geared down a mountain? I have.

5.  Finding a take out box of empty mussel shells after wondering for two days, “What is that smell?”

4.  A woman in my exercise class complaining to me that she is “sweating?”

3. When my son showed me his paycheck saying, “Where did all the money go?”

At least he will get it back.

2. The dog bringing in the dead squirrel from the backyard and dropping it on the bed.

1. Walking down to a raccoon in my car, holding up a taco my son left in it from lunch before. Just to give us both the benefit of the doubt, my one window will roll up then come back down to spite me.

How did I get the raccoon out? A lot of noise and throwing a handful of dog food in the woods.

What happened to the taco? It took it with him. Leaving behind dirty paw prints on my seats and shredded tin foil all over my car.

I was looking forward to that taco.

What’s your greatest WTF moment so far?

WTF - Mother's Day

Celebrating Mother's Day the Melang Way:

The boys walked into my room saying, "Alexa open Mom Compliments."

Alexa started spouting off their recorded compliments:

Mom, thanks for Mother's Day.

Mom, thanks for cooking for us.

Mom, thanks for cleaning up the downstairs.

Mom, thanks for taking care of all of our friends.

Mom, thanks for not letting me die.

Then the texts come in, making me feel special.

Happy Mother's Day from all my "sons from another mother."

Breakfast reheating Shrimp and Grits they brought home from their job but ditching that for the Banana Pudding and Peach Cobbler. The boys know me well.

The best part? Big hugs when they got up this morning hearing "Happy Mother's Day."

You see? It's the simple things. 4 hours to myself then some fun with my boys.

Oh and Alexa forgot the last compliment which came out at a random time.

Mom, thanks for being awesome.

Here's to all awesome Moms, fur baby Moms, feather baby Moms, scale baby Moms! We are all awesome!

How will you enjoy your day?

Here's a few great says you can use with your mother in case you forgot today is Mother's Day.

Mom, thanks for creating such an awesome kid.

Mom, sorry my head was so big when I was born but thanks for being my mother.

Mom, thanks for turning off the blender so I can lick the beaters.

Best of all,

Mom, thanks for reminding me today is Mother's Day. Happy Mother's day!

WTF - My Child's A Delinquent

Many know I have an imaginary family, the Pelmans that I wrote a novel about (working on getting it published) and several short stories. This Pelman short story was inspired from events last week:

Yes, I did embellish a little bit....and if you don't have a sense of humor, move on my friends.

The principle's office was bright, sunlight coming through the large windows hitting the group of photographs on the corner of his desk. The name plate next to them read Milford T. Pusser, Principle.

She needs some highlighting and a good trim for those split ends, Gaylord Pelman thought looking at the pictures. His Perlington salon, Curl Up and Dye when Gaylord won the Curling Iron Throwdown at the National Hairdressers Convention. Since then, he perfected "zombie hair" for the local television show, Catfish Crawling and it is rumored, once did Angelina Jolie's hair in a pinch.  It is obvious the Mom cuts the kids' hair, he added feeling for his Golden Shears in his back pocket, not telling the principle he had the shears, afraid of what Darnell Preston, School Security would do with the weapon. Luckily at the William Jefferson Clinton Elementary and Middle School, due to budget cuts or just fear of what Darnell would do, the School Security guard yielded a taser instead of a handgun.

"I have the 6 o'clock news feature tonight so we have to get this show on the road," Myrtle, Gay's wife and local reporter said from the other seat.

Principle Pusser moved to Perlington from Atlanta when Kathryn Harris retired from 40 glorious years as principle at William Jefferson Clinton School. His first year at the school included one lock down due to a 21 gun salute at a local cemetery for Reuben Watkins one of the last WW2 vets living in Perlington. A parent running in from the carpool line screaming, "Shots fired! Shots fired!" and Darnell immediately putting the school into a Code Red Lockdown. Now his second major incident at the school and he wasn't surprised there was a Pelman involved.

Before he could say anything else, the door to his office opened and Marshall, Gay and Myrtle's son came into the office. William Jefferson Clinton housed both Pelman boys, Marshall and Dillon, Marshall in the 8th grade, Dillon in the 6th grade. Marshall closed the door behind him looking between his parents then over to the principle.

Principle Pusser gestured to the empty chair between his parents. The door opened one more time, Darnell Preston, Security Guard standing in the back of the room, his hand resting on his taser. Marshall took the chair looking at the ground.

Principle Pusser coughed gaining everyone's attention to his desk. He clasped his hands together, "Now we are all here because there has been a serious infraction at the school by your son and he has been supplying the other children in the class."

Myrtle leaned forward, "Principle Pusser, I can assure you we will deal with this matter with the strongest discipline." She looked over to her son.

Principle Pusser looked between both parents, Marshall's eyes still on the ground. "Marshall tells me that his grandmother has been supplying him and he's been dealing with the other boys."

Myrtle looked to her son, Gay was quiet because Myrtle's look can bring a punk rocker to his knees, he let her do all the work. Her eyes narrowed as Marshall looked over to him, "Dealing son?"

Marshall cried, "It's just candy!"

"You are giving out candy?" Gay asked his son.

"No, he has been selling," Principle Pusser replied.

"Drugs? Our son has been dealing drugs? Drugs he got from your mother?" Myrtle's eyes went over to Gaylord, causing him to slink in his chair.

"No, candy," Principle Pusser said.

Myrtle was starting to slap Marshall upside the head, stopped, "Candy?"

Principle Pusser continued, "Yes, Marshall has been complacent in the selling of Smarties to the student body."

Myrtle looked over to her son, then back to the principle, "Is this some type of code word for dugs, Smarties? Or are we talking about the candy?"

Principle Pusser replied, "We are talking about the candy Smarties and how Marshall has gotten most of classmates to try them with him."

Gay frowned, "So my son has gotten his friends to try Smarties and I'm here in this office because?"

Principle Pusser replied, "Yes, these kids were caught snorting Smarties."

Marshall piped in, "We were not snorting Smarties, we were smoking Smarties."

Gay looked at his son, "Son you know the dangers of smoking, we told you not to smoke!"

Marshall was looking quickly between his parents, "I wasn't smoking, I was smoking Smarties."

Principle Pusser was going through his prepared speech, "And we all know that snorting Smarties is dangerous."

"Smoking!" Marshall exclaimed, "We all know snorting Smarties can get maggots in your lungs."

Myrtle was looked at her son, "So you were not doing drugs? You were doing candy?"

Principle Pusser nodded, "Yes, Marshall was caught with several other classmates smoking Smarties in the boys restroom. Mrs. Plimpkin the librarian called Mr. Preston here to check on a group of boys that went to restroom together."

"I got them red handed, and all the other boys pointed to your boy here as their dealer," Darnell Preston said, pulling a plastic bag with opened packs of Smarties sitting in it, "I have the evidence."

"We are talking about candy right?" Myrtle asked.

"Yes, the children smoke the Smartie dust. So I go and cut the lock on Marshall's locker and I find this," Darnell picked up a box packed with Smarties, putting it on Principle Pusser's desk. "When I asked him where he got the Smarties, he said his grandmother is supplying him."

Gay looked over to Myrtle who voiced exactly what was on his mind, "We are still talking about candy, right? There is no code word Smarties for meth or anything?"

Principle Pusser replied, "I cannot let your son get everyone hooked on smoking Smarties at school. You know the Smarties could be a gateway drug to heroin."

Gay almost choked, "Hell, I smoked Smarties when I was a kid and I turned out just fine." He wasn't going to mention the occasional cannabis use.

"What Principle Harris condoned when she was at the school is her business, I do not condone the dealing of Smarties at the school," Principle Pusser replied.

"Dealing of Smarties," Gay muttered, "is probably the least of your worries."

"So where we are is, I've banned Smarties at the William Jefferson Clinton School and I will write up Marshall's infraction and if he deals Smarties at the school again he will be suspended. I will not be responsible if one of my kids ends up making a meth lab from smoking Smarties at school.

Myrtle looked at Marshall, over at Gay, "Yes, sir, believe me the Smarties will stop flowing into the school, Gay and will have a talk with Marshall and Dillon and their grandmother about that. Now if we are done here, I have a new feature to film." 

"I appreciate that," Principle Pusser said, "We only want what is best for the children."

Myrtle got up pulling Marshall by the scruff of his neck, Darnell jumping to the side as she opened the door. Gay followed them out the door mutter, "Then make sure that Skittles doesn't infiltrate the school."

WTF - My DingaLing

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WTF - Adult or Adultish?

How can you survive having kids without being a little Adultish?

If you've never heard of the word Adultish then stop right, I'm not responsible for corrupting you.

If you are the mother that loves those "community events" that miraculously schedule themselves in taverns with other like minded mothers then read on.

Where's the fine line between being responsible or someone calling child services on you?


Adultish is loving your kids, but giving them some freedom usually enough that you feel that twinge of guilt easily taken care of by a nice glass of red wine.

Adultish is being an adult, but not being a REAL adult, get it?

There are some benefits to being Adultish:

You get the best videos on your camera.

The adult in us sees the bad ending to many of our children, yet the Adultish in us sees many great stories and quite possibly that viral video that could make us all rich.

I tell my children not to do something. They sneak behind my back convinced that my advice "you'll get hurt" isn't real.  Now I am sure Darwin may be at work here, but not my child, so I'm quiet until I hear the squeal. Do I comfort first? No.  I say, "What did I tell you?"

Better yet, sometimes I'm filming.

Being Adultish means any decision is good decision because you are the Adult.

"Tonight's the night of Breakfast for dinner!" Plates of Egos and Pop Tarts all around!

Sure you can tell them you're beat and don't feel like cooking but with enough Adultish authority, they'll all cheer Breakfast for Dinner idea!

Being Adultish means you are allowed to give yourself a break.

Sure you've got a long list of things to do, which all eek of responsibility.

Then your non adult friends inform you they are heading to the pub to solve the problems of the world.

Just for one.

Time to take one for saving Humanity.

Adultish saves you money.

Adults only Gluten Free, Organic, From Friendly Farms, Without Any Preservatives, Lightly Massaged Cereal or Chicken or Meat or even Produce.

Their kids are used to the taste of cardboard.

Adultish justifies that box of Pumpkin Spice doughnuts because, well, because, ummm, because......

It was ON SALE!

Most of all Adultish lets you not take yourself so seriously, laugh at the different lessons you've learned (not fails) especially that idea of putting a tissue box of ping pong balls around your waist, then trying to empty the box by gyrating as hard as you can.

What? You haven't tried that party game?

Well then you must be an adult, not a REAL adult.

WTF - It Sure Was Different Then

"You'll go blind." I heard them say once to my older brother, because I, being a nice Catholic girl, would never even think of it!

I laugh now because when I was a kid, my only foray into something diabolical was finding a Playboy magazine in my brother's bedroom, now with the computer and the Internet accidentally typing in "Pretty Pus" instead of "Pretty Pic" can land you in therapy for a few years.

How did my brother get those Playboys? In a diabolical kind of way.

Enter the neighbor, who looked very neighborly, but unbeknownst to us had a secret stash of Playboy magazines! And said neighbor, and this is the writer taking a little poetic license here, got caught by his wife on said Playboy magazines and was coerced to throwing them away. (Hell, he could have run out of storage in his basement or found the boxes saying, "Where the hell did this come from, I'd better throw them away before Sylvia finds them!")

So all the magazines go into their garbage cans, and since it is Thursday, all garbage cans go out to the curb the night before.

Seriously, I think God has a sense of humor because a beautiful calm sunny night turned into a Squall of a morning, blustery winds, driving rain and did I say blustery winds?

Said blustery winds decided that knocking over the trash can full of Playboy magazines was a must, spreading them all over our Catholic neighborhood, my mother waking to a full frontal nude picture as she opened the front door for the morning paper.

I remember her stomping through the house muttering, "Those lousy no good, I knew there was something wrong, not the stuff for children, all over the neighborhood, half is in my yard they are going to think they are mine!"

She walks out into the tempest, black trench coat (my father's) big bucket hat on her head, goulashes on her feet, walking up and down the street with a trash can picking up the "filth" that has strewn all over to the neighborhood during the night. She is extra careful cleaning up our yard because you can't get "Yard of the Month" if there's a picture of a naked lady draped across your holly bush.

All magazines, miscellaneous pictures, and even a few pieces of trash end up in our garbage, set out again, with lids secured, for the garbage man.

Coming into the house, her deed is done, the neighborhood clean, and starts making breakfast. We all want details about what happened causing commotion in the house but are silenced with an empty bowl, a cereal box, a jug of milk and a "It's none of your business."

My brother, the oldest, the more mature, gets wind of what's happened from my mother's mannerisms and the way she refers to the garbage as, "I cannot wait for the trash men to come by and take care of those Playboy magazines."

Playboy? Did someone say Playboy?

He's not hungry for breakfast, quickly putting on his cub scout hat, jacket and sneaking out the downstairs door as my sisters make barricades with cereal boxes so they don't have to look at me as we eat breakfast.

What is he doing?

I run out in the rain checking on my brother, because that is what the middle sister does.

"What are you doing?" I yell as the rain pelts down.

"Grab these, take them into the garage," he yells over the howling winds.

I grab a stack full of paper from him running into the garage, putting it on the floor, before running out for two more stacks of paper. I don't know what they are, they are important to my brother therefore since this may put me in good grace with him and his friends, I'll do whatever he says.

The stacks of paper move from the floor of the garage to a corner, covered with a blanket as we hear, "Get walking, you'll miss the bus!"

Later that afternoon, in the underground fort we built in the woods behind our house, my brother, his friends and I (my little sister was "too young for this") contemplate his booty.

Wow, I've never seen women like this, cringing as women,  stuck together from the rain, rip in half as the boys try turning pages. All of the magazines are littering the floor of the fort, hidden from parent view. I get kicked out in the very beginning because "I am a girl" and given so many threats "if I tell" that I am convinced I'd end up in a prison colony in Madagascar for squealing.

Those magazines stayed in that fort for a little while, I am sure my brother and his friends enjoying all the "great articles." That is until two of the boys got into a fight inside the fort, one kicking dirt into the face of another and during that fight the support of the underground fort collapsed sending boys out coughing and magazines into their shallow grave.

Unless someone got out their goulashes and a shovel and decided perhaps they were worth saving.

Luckily, I didn't hear of any of my brother's friends going blind, so maybe the magazines stayed where they are.

WTF - I Need To Upgrade My Teenager 15.0

I'd like to lodge a formal complaint about Teenager 15.0 Software, The software doesn't work at all, too many glitches.

First of all, this is the slowest program to get working, I start at 630am but I can't get Teenager 15.0 fully loaded until 11 or 12. Teenager 14.0 did not take as long to get moving at Teenager 15.0

Once it is fully loaded, every time I ask it to do something it takes the longest time to complete a task, almost to the point where I am screaming at it!

Teenager 15.0 is very inconsistent, sometimes it is easy to work with and other times I can't get a real answer out of it.

Teemager 15.0 always goes into sleep mode, it doesn't matter what I am doing all of a sudden it stops responding.

Teenager 15.0 is a huge drain on my Internet connection, I'm not sure what it is loading but all other programs like Tweenie 12.0 and Husband 0.0 cannot do anything while Teenager 15.0 is active, the only one compatible with Teenager 15.0 or Dog 5.5.

Teenager 15.0 for no apparent reason will slow down to a crawl, when I ask it to speed up it's job it completely shuts down.  No matter what I do, I can never get it moving again, usually taking a full night in sleep mode to get any response.

There is a problem with input to Teenager 15.0, it never understands my commands, after several attempts at rewording the task at hand, it simply stops responding.

Teenager 15.0 cannot empty its trash, even if I command it, usually falling into sleep mode after my request.

When I am using Teenager 15.0 and in the middle of something important, it always interrupts my work with a request for money. Even if I give it money, fifteen minutes there is another interruption asking for more.

Teenager 15.0 has a problem maintaining a connection with me. Every command is followed by silence, when I request the task again the connection is terminated. Sometimes it doesn't give me an error, it just completely shuts off.

Teenager 15.0 has data problems. Many of my important items are lost by Teenager 15.0.

Teenager 15.0 is always coming down with some type of virus, especially when using Teenager 15.0 with Schoolwork 9.0. Schoolwork 9.0 always puts Teenager 15.0 into sleep mode.

Teenager 15.0 has a communication problem. Here's is one of my errors:
Me. "Please empty the trash."
Teenager 15.0 "I'm sorry I don't understand that command."
Me. "The trash needs emptied."
Teenager 15.0 "I'm sorry did you say you had a rash?"
Me. "No, empty the trash."
Teenager 15.0 "I'm sorry did you say you'd give me cash?"
Me. "Please clear all items from the trash."
Teenager 15.0 "I'm sorry, shutting down."

Currently I can not find the files of UnderBed 6.0 and the Girlfriend 1.0 deleted message folder.

Worst of all, Teenager 15.0 is not compatible with Tweenie 12.0 and always stops responding to Husband 0.0, I need all three of these programs to work together.

Should I throw in the towel or wait for the release of Teenager 16.0, some parents told me this one was worse that Teenager 15.0!

WTF - New or Seasoned Mom?

New Mom only feeds home cooked organic oatmeal to her children for breakfast.
Seasoned Mom says no to the chocolate bar for breakfast then pours a big bowl of Captain Crunch.


New Mom watching child on the playground and says, "Be careful" with LOVE.
Seasoned Mom watching child and says "Be Careful" because she doesn't have time that afternoon for a trip to the ER, and said child is wearing white, no one ever gets blood out of white.


New Mom still say, "Why did you do that?"
Seasoned Moms know that is the most useless question out there along with, "Are you busy?"

New Moms have a 5 second rule.
Seasoned Moms have the "just blow the ants off of it, it's good," Rule.


New Moms keep a beach full of mismatched socks in case they find socks.
Seasoned Moms point to the bag saying, "That IS all of your socks."


New Moms think they can act asleep and the child will go on their merry way.
Seasoned Moms have learned the art of slowing their pulse into "death mode" in an attempt to get an extra 15 minutes on a Saturday morning.

New Moms always check expirations on food for their children.
Seasoned Moms have the "I sniffed it and didn't pass out, it's good" test on food.


New Moms have the kids and themselves dressed and out the door in time for school.
Seasoned Moms are late to school and have to walk their child wearing, "I wasn't planning on getting out of the car" style they love.


New Moms get the shit scared out of them at 330 in the morning when a child quietly walks to their bedside waiting for them to wake up.
Seasoned Moms feel the presence and go back to sleep figuring if its a serial killer there's not a whole lot they can do at 330 in the morning.


New Moms gladly eat the fried skin of the chicken on their plate so the child can eat all the good stuff.
Seasoned Moms tell their kids the food on their plate is extremely spicy enjoying all the goodness for themselves.


New Moms keep a child home from school because they "don't feel well."
Seasoned Moms take all the lightbulbs out of the room so the child cannot put the thermometer on a hot bulb warming it up to "hell is on fire" temperature.


New Moms take the lunch back to school when it is forgotten.
Seasoned Moms figure the "I forgot to put money on your school lunch account so it is prison lunch for you," will teach them a lesson.


New Moms think a "beautiful well day" would be great, let me keep the kids home and enjoy them.
Seasoned Moms remember how well the last "well day"went and will never do that again.


New Moms give the kid being an ass in public a smile saying, "It's just one of those days."
Seasoned Moms give that child a look that says, "Remember there's only you and me when we get home.  Soon, my friend, soon."


New Moms lay out their clothes the night before.
Seasoned Moms tell them they are on their own picking up their clothes from the floor sniffing them to see if they are clean.


New Moms look at that mess thinking, "Oh well, at least he's being creative."
Seasoned Moms look at that mess thinking, "You'd better be cleaning something or fleeing in the next ten seconds."

Mother's Day Schmother's Day - Use The Card!

I started all sappy and stuff but, well, that's just not my jam.  So listen, here's the facts I know....

If you have children, you are a mother.
If you have fur babies, you are a mother.
You don't have to give birth to be called mother.
If you have feather babies, you are a mother.
If you love someone unconditionally, you are a mother.
If you have scale babies, you are a mother.
If you are the voice of reason for your friends, you are a mother.
If you have babies here on earth or in heaven, or in your heart, you are a mother.
You accepted a child into your heart, a friend of your child or a child in need, you are a mother.
If you listened, offered advice, or simply hugs to a mother, you are a mother.

OK, I'm done with all the sappy stuff,

Pull out the Mother's Day Card! Finally!

Remember all those jobs you keep asking your kids to do and they conveniently forget?  Pull out the Mother's Day card.

"Boys, remember I asked you boys to pickup the trash and the sticks from the backyard."

"But it's 36 degrees outside and snowing!"

"Well, it is Mother's Day."

"ugh!"

 This could also be called the Official Sit On Your Butt day. You don't have to get a thing!

"Honey see that Kleenex box across the room?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you get it?"

"What?"

"But it is Mother's Day."

Ugh."

Then wait for them to sit down, "Oh, can you get some sugar for my coffee?"

Then wait again for them to sit down, "My feet are cold, can you get me a pair of socks?"

You can pull the card anytime you want.

"Hey, let's watch Jaws together as a family."

"What, I thought we were going to watch The Human Centipede."

"But, it's Mother's Day."

"Ugh."

This is the let them do the cooking day, lay back and watch or better yet, film the chaos in the kitchen. I'll never forget my one Mother's Day where the boys brought me toast and a PBR for breakfast in bed.

The best is the end of the day, getting every inch out of the Mother's Day card until I have to put it away for another year.

"Boys, the dog ran off down the street after a skunk."

"What?"

"You need to go find her."

"She'll come back."

"But it's Mother's Day."

I think I heard one of them say, "Man, this is a long Mother's Day."

I've accomplished my mission. They get a taste of my daily life.

Sure, it's supposed to be sappy and sweet and all that sugary stuff. But when you are mother lover like me, I'd rather keep things real especially when I make them give me hugs and kisses (yes, even at their age) before they go to bed. I take those any day over chocolate or flowers.

Oh, and boys I'm waiting on all the "I love my Mom" Snapchats and Instagrams pictures!

WTF - How sound like a smart Mom

I thought I would share with you some terms our kids are using so you too can sound like a smart mom.

Just like me!

Yas or Yaaaassss or YAAASSSSSS  Pronounced, (ya-e-ssss)

The term Yes is now replaced with Yas when there is excitement conveyed in the statement.

Yes, I made it to my biology test on time.
YAS! Kirby said she likes you!

See the difference!

"YAS! I finally fit in my Mom Jeans!!"

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BAE  pronounced   (B-AYE)

This has now replaced Baby or Babe because it means "Before Anyone Else."

My husband calls me BAP - "Before Pabst Blue Ribbon" I know I am special.

"Wolfgang, Bae and I are at the grocery store, do you want anything?"

***

RATCHET pronounced like it sounds, (RA-T-CHET)

This terms is used when someone's looks or behaviors are less than desirable.

"You are wearing that too school, it's too RATCHET."

***

ROAST - pronounced like it sounds, (ROA-ST)

Calling someone out in public, giving them a hard time, it now has nothing to do with the chicken in the oven.

"Your Dad roasted Uncle Greg about his shirt, then realized he had the same one on!"

***

TurnT - Pronounced (TURN-HT)

Acting crazy, having, fun being social at a party.

"Book club is meeting for a glass of wine, who knows we may get TurnT!"

***

I CAN'T EVEN pronounced as (AH-CAN'T-EVUN)

Showing disbelief or expressing revulsion to a person.

"Oh my god, Mrs. ONeal wore Cheetah Leggings to yoga today, I can't even!"

***

#BLESSED pronounced (BUH-LESSED)

This actually means you are blessed.

"Found a bottle of wine behind the Captain Crunch.  #blessed"

***

ON FIRE pronounced (ON FI-RUH)

To do something great and be unstoppable

"Did you see me dancing in the carpool line to Maroon 5, I was on FIRE!"

***

#MCM or #WCM

This is where you show your BAE love on a Monday. Literally it means, "Man Crush Monday" or "Woman Crush Monday" Some may also use it for friends they hope become a BAE.

"Why didn't you LIKE the sexy picture I posted of your Dad? #MCM"

***

T-UP pronounced (TEEE-UP)

When things are going to get a little crazy, when you are planning on getting TurnT!"

"They had my wine on sale at Costco, I'm going to T-TUP at the Shabahzi house!"

***

SORRY 'BOUT IT pronounced (SOR-E BOUGH TIT)

When you are supposed to be sorry but you are not sorry. YOLO (You only live once) usually follows this.

Dad: Mom did you really throw away my 1975 velvet shirt?
Mom: Sorry Bout It

Friend: Did I really finish that bottle of wine last night?
Mom: Sorry Bout It, YOLO

Mom to teenager, "Have you become my friend on Facebook? I'm way more RATCHET on Facebook! #SORRYBOUTIT  Son?  Son?"


And finally the emojis:

I have no idea what any of them mean.

I thought the piece of shit was a Hershey kiss.

I accidentally send a syringe because I thought it was a magic wand.

Oh, and if you see the eggplant on your child's phone this is supposed to be a certain part of the male anatomy, I'll leave that up to your imagination.

You are welcome.