A Musing Mother 6

Sometimes they fight. Sometimes they play. Sometimes they prank. This time they pranked. It went sort of like this beginning at dinner on Friday night:    I'm going to Tom's house after dinner.  Really. Do you want to rephrase that?  (Rolls her eyes) Can I go to Tom's house after dinner?   You're not dating Tom.  (Looking guilty) Other people are going to be there. (Pause) Erik.  Do you want me to drive or do you want to drive?  I don't care. Just decide fast while I go brush my teeth (And she disappears downstairs).  and   are whispering. They're scheming. They laugh. Suddenly they grab their jackets and run outside.  I'm ready to go. Am I driving?  (Yawn) Yeah. Go ahead and drive. Before I continue this tale, it is only fair to reveal that this brave, young woman is girlishly afraid of the dark. She runs to the car when she leaves at 6:00 a.m. and jumps in so the boogey man doesn't get her. I shudder to imagine how she'd...

Just reading over a few others' stories that still have the emotional impact of when they happened or maybe more so since we've built them up in our minds, I am prepared to purge a few more nuggets. My dear mother really never learned that her children were not safe at home alone. She made us a dinner then left for some function. My baby sister was strapped securely in her high chair and cranky. Then suddenly she was not cranky but happy. Then the smell hit us. None of us were prepared to change a dirty diaper but it was much worse than that. She had diarrhea. The oldest siblings were my brother, age 14 and my sister, age 12. Mike desperately pleaded Suzy to clean it up. He swore that if he tried, he'd throw up. He drew the short stick. He threw up. Suzy cleaned up both. Joey and I quietly left the dinner table to play possum. In the first year of marriage, my husband and I went out to eat at Chili's. There was a wait so I killed time by talking to a baby. The mother of...

You know those life stories that just never die? No matter how old you get or where you go or who you’re with…SOMEONE brings them back up? These are my top ten life stories. 1.  I cut my sister's cute red locks when my mom was in the shower. I was 4, she was 2. I thought it was a darling haircut. Yet I hid under the table when my mother got out of the shower and found the pile of hair and my sister's jagged 'do. Maybe not so cute? 2. While I was at school, my sister cut my doll's hair. 3. When I was 10, I accidentally cut my littlest sister's ear. One ear is still smaller than the other. Lesson is that I can't be trusted with scissors. Or to babysit. Sorry, Jene. 4. My sister and I used to twist our swings together until we were completely stuck, laughing so hard and couldn't get to the bathroom. We always peed our pants. 5. We had a cat whose body never grew past kitten size but his head did. He would collapse on the cement with his enormous head. We wonder...

Some days are like that. And the only camera I could find was on my phone.

You thought I died, didn't you? I'm still around, stirring up trouble wherever I go. Lately I've been bugging the crap out of my 8th grade daughter who simply can't understand why I don't believe C grades are acceptable. All my harping, checking, and offering to type papers has done nothing to motivate her. I was ticked that I took her to two plays so she can turn in an outside performance review. The first one was too late. The second one, already typed, she turned in two days too late. She got half credit. Her grade overall? C. All my lecturing slid right off her back. Her retorts included that she wanted to be a "well-rounded person" and not "all about good grades." She tried out for a special year long drama class. She practiced for hours doing her monologue. She was good. I mean really good. She went early to school and auditioned. The list of lucky classmates was posted. All her friends were included. She was not. She was disappointed. We w...

Social networking is still a mystery to me and so much of it pointless. For instance, what is Twitter used for? How does one use it? I mean, I get the basic concept; Write something really important in a limited amount of space like a haiku. But then what? Will somebody reply? Comment? Heckle? Don't get me wrong, I have a Twitter account. I know nothing beyond the fact that I linked it to my book blog so it shows up on Twitter when I write a review. My objective is to score free books. Yet the few times I've tried to really figure out Twitter, I am a few beats behind. I see that someone wrote something that I can't NOT comment, "That's what she said!" The intent is to look clever and witty. After proudly punching <enter> I realize it's 3 months old. Scratch "clever" and "witty." Then there's Facebook. It is a voyeuristic heaven. My first month with it was a giant black hole. I was so excited to connect to EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON...

We survived New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. It was surprisingly pleasant, considering the amount of chaos in the home. The older teenagers congregated an hour earlier where I had domestically warmed Costco meatballs soaked in Teriyaki sauce via slow cooker, set out a relish tray (Costco), and left chips and chocolate open for free grazing. Unfortunately, the teens were either not hungry or too nervous being in the presence of the opposite sex. We still have 4 and a half bags of chips which is odd since we started with only 4 and a mess of meatballs. Anyway, the big kids went downstairs when the younger teens started showing up. These were all girls and they still didn't eat my meatballs and chips. Nor would they touch the nutritious and delicious relish tray. Our own boys made themselves scarce; the 11 year old and his gang had an impromptu party at a neighbor's house (thanks for telling me, young man! Ever heard of the telephone?!) and the 6 year old found the house...