A Mother's Pride

There are times when being a parent is the biggest pain in the ass since post-partum hemorrhoids and then there are days when your chest swells so from parental pride, that you feel your heart might burst out of your chest.  Welcome to my rollercoaster.

I was driving my son to a doctor's appointment yesterday morning and I took the opportunity of his captivity in the car to clarify the meaning behind a very stupid comment that I had made about a week ago.  One day when I was driving him and a group of his friends somewhere, I made an offhand comment about not liking parents.   Somewhere later in the day I realized that the kids in the car probably thought I meant that I don't like THEIR parents.  This was not the case, but just because my son probably knew what I meant, didn't mean they did.

"Your friends know that I don't hate their parents, right?"  I began.   "Yeah, I know you don't hate them, but you're not exactly social.  You don"t really hang around and talk much."  He replied.   "I know, but that's because I'm always running and in a hurry.  It doesn't mean that I dislike them.   You know the parents that I hate are just your friend's dad who threw you out of the house for your political views and the PTA."  Then he looked over at me and uttered the most beautiful, pride inducing words that I think I have ever heard. His response was - "I know mom.  The PTA are a council of plagues."

I'm not sure what I was more proud about, his well honed harpy detector or his brilliant use of language.  Maybe both.  With that one phrase, he crystallized what the PTA is in our school district and supplied himself with a great band name, should he ever decide to form a speed metal band.

My maternal pride balloon was burst this morning however, when I found that he did not close the refrigerator door properly, leaving the light on to heat an entire Memorial Day weekend worth of food to an unsafe temperature.  I had to throw out the entire contents of the fridge.  I have to go now as I have to re-shop for all of the food that I lost.  Guess who's getting rousted out of bed at an ungodly (for a teenager) hour to put the groceries away?  Yup, momma's pride and joy.

Bed Haiku

We bought a king bed.

We love its big, soft, fluffy hug.

Someone else loves it.

I really don't know how to break the news to her that this was not her birthday present.  In her little brain this bed was delivered gift wrapped, with a tag that read - "To Brownie, please stretch out and enjoy this new bed.  All the humans need is six inches of space to fight over, the rest is all you."

You're Welcome

My faith in cinema has been restored. . .

The Cereal Bar Heard 'Round the World

All of my most poignant feelings seem to bubble up to the surface at the Stop and Shop.  Maybe it's because food shopping is so rote and robotic for me that my mind is clear to wander.  Or maybe, as was the case tonight,  the super market serves as a walk down a never ending memory lane, each aisle jam packed with food and products that remind you of another time in your life. Tonight I was usurped by a cereal bar.


My shopping trip had begun uneventfully, with me successfully completing a perusal through both the vegetable aisle and the fruit juice aisle.  I procured all of the family's favorite juice drinks without so much as a whimper, then I turned the corner into the cereal aisle and all hormonal hell broke loose.


As I reached for a box of Apple Cinnamon Nutra Grain bars, I heard the voice of my son when he was three years old and pictured him standing in front of an open pantry cabinet in his footie pajamas pointing at the box and saying "Dat Bar.".  That was it, I immediately began to cry real tears.  Confused by my own reaction, I continued down the aisle and tried to pull it together, but as I wheeled my cart, pretending to shop while audibly sobbing, I was hardly inconspicuous. Every person that I passed looked at me as if I had missed my stop on the short bus to crazytown.


To be quite honest, I have never been one to romanticize the baby years.  They were wonderful while they lasted, but they were also exhausting, demanding and maddening in some ways.  Every stage of independence was welcomed by me. 


So why the sudden nostalgic waterworks?  I think it's because the teenage years are kicking me squarely in the ass and while I know that my son is a really good kid, he is still argumentative (Mr. Cochran, your witness), willful and occasionally fresh mouthed(aka normal). Maybe it's not about my kids at all.  Maybe I'm finally struck by the looming inevitability of mid-life. I still feel like a teenager, but what self respecting 16 year old would ever fall asleep 20 minutes into a movie, drink flavored seltzer water or stop to consider the relative comfort of their shoes?


So have I hit the other side of middle age?  Am I officially no longer a badass?  I don't really know for sure, but I do know that as sure as Jewel sings like a deranged escapee from a Swiss Miss box,next week, I'm switching to Special K bars.

Happy Mother's Day, Kitties

Happy Mother's Day all.   I hope you all enjoy the day and do something special for your moms.  Being that I am a caring sharer, I am going to start your special day off with the gift of stupid video, and while this is no Bobby Conn, I have to pause to ask myself "What is?".

Today's stupid video is Nyan Cat.  It's a cartoon cat whose body looks like a kitchen sponge or maybe a strawberry pop tart and he seems to be farting a rainbow, yet somehow he is endearingly cute (he's also annoying and if given the opportunity, would probably ask you for money).



Have a Happy Mother's Day and enjoy your own little flatulent rainbow kitties.  My kids had Mexican last night, so I am hooked up from that perspective.

Genetics

I have a very good friend who often tells me that I am the laughter in her life.  This could be becuase I randomly mailed her a monkey in a turban or because I teased her hair and did her makeup like a drag queen and took a series of pictures of her smoking and drinking that we like to call the "Bar Fly Photo Shoot".  Whatever the reason, it feels good to know that I can make her feel good and she does the same for me.  But for all the joy they bring me, I only get to see my friends about once a month.   I don't know about you, but monthly laughs are not enough for me.

Fortunately for me, my family are also a source of laughs, but the one who cracks me up most consistently is my son. If there was ever a doubt in my mind about whether sense of humor is genetic,  it was gone once he was old enough to display a personality.  He knows what makes me laugh because it's what makes him laugh.  More often than not, my husband will sit at the dinner table with a bewildered look, while my son and I trade nonsense talk, zings and references to whatever You Tube freak show he has made me watch.

So here's a little sample of one of the oddball things that we find funny.  I will give you no background on this beyond this video.  I'd like to hear someone else's take on it . . .