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Category: Easily amused

This is why my teen can’t have nice things

This is why my teen can’t have nice things

I went up to the high school tonight with the teen to pay booster fees for the VetMed competition team. While we were there I realized I hadn’t been charged for some personalized yeti type mugs. The two payments effected each other.

So I was passing money back and forth from the booster chair to the teacher. (I’m in a room with two teachers and some PTA-ish mom’s iykwim) Finally, I said and did the motion: “I’m making it rain, baby!” One laugh (props non-Stepford) and a few polite giggles.

Then the two teachers were in another room and came back out and double checked to make sure it was split up correctly. (You know how sometimes I intentionally turn off my filter but sometimes it happens and I’m just as shocked as everyone else? Yeah…)

So, I look from one to the other and at the booster chair, bust a laugh and say, “If I’m handing out any more money, I need to be tucking it into somebody’s g-string.”

I went to the car to listen to music and wait for the teen after that.

Mom. Of. The. Forking. Year!!!

(Cross-poated on IG)

It’s just a peacock call. Relax.

It’s just a peacock call. Relax.

When my boys were young- and I mean really, really young–  they found a very unique way of calling each other when they wanted to talk to or find the other. In fact, I don’t remember a time when they didn’t do this. It was startling at first. You see, one would let out the bellow of a peacock call and from somewhere in the depths of the back of the house you could hear the sound of the other one returning the call. Sometimes it would stop then. Other times if it was really important like an online game or a funny video, the calls would go back and forth until they were  in the same room. At the young age that it started, I don’t know how they picked it up. I have heard that it is deafening at cons like Quakecon but the boys had never been to something like that when they started their traditional tribal like call. Even my daughter picked it up rather young.

It became normal in the house. It was, however, hilarious when we had guests. We were used to it. Company? Not so much. Once when my sister had been visiting, two days into her trip she look up from her magazine and sighed looking at me in defeat saying, “Your house is really loud.” I did what any frat house mom would do and burst out laughing. She’s right. And I love the noise.

One would think that would be something for the home only. But no. They find each other in public that way, too. In fact, to be honest, we all do.  A few years ago when we were at Disney in line for Space Mountain, they wanted to test the whole herd mentality business and started calling each other- while standing beside each other. Of course Gabby started in. Then their cousins. It wasn’t long before other people in the line started. Before we knew it, most of the people shoved in like sardines in line in a very echoing echo hell, were all doing the peacock call. I was doubled over laughing uncontrollably, legs crossed, trying not to pee my pants. My sister looked slightly horrified. My kids looked cocky with pride.  Gosh I adore my kids. They are pretty awesome. And always entertaining.

So if you are out and about and hear a peacock call, just return it. Chances are pretty good it’s one of my family. Or me. Find us and say howdy!

Singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” was forbiddden and the rebel who broke the rule. But don’t tell.

Singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” was forbiddden and the rebel who broke the rule. But don’t tell.

Growing up the youngest of three kids, I had my fair share of being picked on but I gave my share of bratty back so it evened out. My sister is almost four years older than I am and though it appears that I could take her down in hand to hand combat, you would be so very wrong to think that. She may be tiny but she is scrappy and tough as hell. So, between looking up to her as an older sister and being afraid knowing she could take me down if she wanted to, I pretty much did whatever she told me to do. Except when I didn’t.

There were several “rules” she made that I had to obey whether she was around to enforce them or not. And believe you me, I followed those rules no matter what because, honey, that girl could be pretty freaking scary when she wanted to be. I knew better than to mess with her. (I still do.) Respect, yo. But…(you knew that was coming, right?) there was one rule I just couldn’t obey. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t do it. I suppose you (or Gloria Estefan) could say “the rhythm was going to get me” eventually.

One of our all time favorite songs was “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” so of course we (and by we I mean she) got it on a 45 to play on our (and by our I mean her) awesomely cool blue record player. There was one rule. I was never ever ever ever never ever EVER never even if there is a fire and you have to call our for help with the song never ever sing ANY part of the song EVER except the background (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh,Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh,etc). She was not kidding. That rule was law. In fact, it was the biggest rule of my childhood as laid down by my older sister.

2014-03-25 00.00.14But sometimes my sister would leave the house for sleepovers. Oh, those glorious sleepovers! I would sneak into her room, get out her radically cool record player, and her hip blue 45 record case. (Did you have one of those? We still have it.) I would carefully count each record until I came to The Lion Sleeps Tonight to ensure I could return it to the exact same spot. I was careful not to be caught. I’d close her door and play that record over and over and over and over. And you can darn well believe I sang every single lyric of that song. I sang on the top of my lungs. I sang as if the room was sound proof. (As a parent I can only imagine my own parents giggling at my act of rebellion that brought me such joy.) I sang until my voice was cracking and my throat was dry. (Or my brother came in and threatened me.)

I carefully replaced everything exactly as I found it, left the room with the biggest smile on my face and felt as if I had gotten away with something HUGE. To this day, I still hesitate to sing the lyrics. It’s not as if she is going to pop out from the back of my van and attack me. But still. It is THE rule I cannot ever ever break!

I was brought back to this when my former boss for years and good friend Elisa posted this awesome video on Facebook. And guess what? I sang the entire song. Shhhhh….don’t tell my sister. Seriously. She can still kick my hiney if she wanted to.

A carpool PSA because you’re probably doing it wrong

A carpool PSA because you’re probably doing it wrong

The beginning of every school year it takes a while for new parents to adjust to how the carpool works. You do NOT want to mess with the carpool lane. Hey, you over there who is probably thinking that since your kid is older you can ignore the rules. No. Bad driver. You are most definitely doing it wrong!

If you are at the Elementary School That Shall Go Unnamed, for the love of all things ticket worthy, do not– under any circumstances–  turn left. Ever. They even took down a sign that every school I’ve been to has up declaring “No drugs. No guns. No weapons.” to put up a No left turn sign. It’s so not a joke. The police are watching you. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know.

No Left Turn EVER!

So for all of you who think you can get away with a new year, break the rules, you can’t. You will be called out because you are doing it wrong.


A Royal Wedding. A Royal Refrigerator? Oh, the pressure!

A Royal Wedding. A Royal Refrigerator? Oh, the pressure!

Oh, yes, you too can have a Royal Fridge!

For those of you who are obsessive about enjoy following the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton (I’m looking at you Melisa with one “s”), you can have your very own Royal Fridge. Seriously. If you’ve been under a rock and did not know it, GE actually released this as an ultimate wedding memorabilia.

Let’s forget for one moment that it would scare the crap out of me when I walked into my kitchen in the middle of the night. Or even the fact that I would always feel like the Royals were stalking me. Who needs that kind of judgement? I can hear them now. (No, not literally. I’m not insane.)

“Oh, look Wills. She’s going for that Rocky Road ice cream again. Does she think we don’t see that?”

“Did you see the way she went for those leftovers last night after midnight, Kate? Does she think the calories don’t count after midnight?”

“She’ll never fit into the fashionable dresses I wear if she keeps this up.”

“American commoners just don’t get it, my Princess.”

Like I need the future King and Queen of England judging me in the middle of the night. Or stalking me. And it absolutely would not be good for my diet. I can just see me now when I decide to grab that middle of the night snack or reach for something a little less than healthy. I’d be hitting the ground doing an army crawl towards my own refrigerator in hopes of avoiding their perky, happy smiles. I’d reach for the handle and try to snag some Ben & Jerry’s without disturbing them. It would never work. I’m not always great about getting rid of leftovers immediately.

“Oh my goodness! What on Earth is that putrid smell, Wills?”

“She forgot to clean out the left over sushi again.”

“It’s a miracle I can keep smiling when I have to smell that!”

Nope. I don’t need the pressure of the Royals watching my every refrigerator move. And really? Who wants to drop into an army crawl every time you want to grab a midnight snack. That just isn’t my idea of an ideal boot camp.

What about you? Could you be stalked and/or judged by your refrigerator on a daily basis?

Though, I would be a size 6 in no time at all if I had this on my refrigerator:

Are you sure you want that?