Scarred for Life

I was in the privacy of my own home. The shades were drawn. It was the middle of the day.  There was no chance of getting caught.

Or so I thought.

In my haste, I overlooked one very important detail – locking the back door.

I don’t know who was more startled. And I’m not sure exactly how much The Boys witnessed before I realized they were standing there. It was a scene no teenager should ever have to see.

The spectacle they observed was so utterly horrifying, so completely embarrassing for all of us that there is not enough therapy available to wipe that look of disgust off their faces.

There I was in my ratty Louisville sweatshirt, mismatched Smart Wool socks and Mom Jeans.  And I was doing a Mid-Life Mom interpretation of Running Man all alone to a windowpane rattling volume of Party Rock Anthem.

I was totally busted – for bustin’ a move. [Read more…]

Axe the Axe




Santa, dear Santa

santa2It’s that time of year

But you showing up

Is now my biggest fear


I’m not being critical

Of the stuff that you bring

In fact, I’ll tell you

It’s only one thing


Santa, you know

I don’t mean to be mocking

But last time you left

This stuff in their stocking


So Santa, my friend

I’ve just one thing to say

Please don’t leave Axe

At my house Christmas Day [Read more…]

How to Clean – The Teenage Years

Who needs a closet when there’s all this great floor space?

Wet bath towel on hundred-year-old hardwood floors. Yeah, that sounds about right.

When Younger Boy was little, I could always find him by following whatever trail he left behind. Not much has changed.

After the dehydration scare, at least he’s drinking something.

Younger Boy returned from the trip requiring this bag a month ago.

What you can’t see in this photo – on the back of the door are two extra-large hooks.

I’m not sure he’s ever made a bed. He may not know how. I have failed miserably.

Neatness has never been his strength.  Most of the time, I overlook it.  I choose my battles and tidiness has never been one of them. In small doses, a little messiness doesn’t ruffle my feathers.

But all of these photos occurred on the same afternoon.

I’m glad there’s not an audio for this photo. I was not happy when I turned around and spotted this food reaching the fossil stage.

After spotting the food nearing fossil formation, it put me over the edge.  I’ve never been particularly good at house cleaning, but I had some definite ideas for what I believed was the proper technique for this project. I think it was quite effective.

Problem solved.

Summer Time – It’s A Teen’s Life

School’s out today.  No more studying for finals, no more tests.  Just a long stretch of summer days.

But a lot has changed since the boys were little kids.  For all of us.

Because within a few hours, this is what my house will look like:

Welcome to the hang-out house.  I love it that they’re all so comfortable being here.   [Read more…]

Breaking the Law

When I looked in my rearview mirror and saw flashing lights, I wasn’t concerned.  I did what law-abiding drivers do – I eased over to the side of the road so he could quickly proceed with pursuing a wily suspect.  My mind concocted scenes from CSI, The Wire and Law and Order.  Was it a jail break? Felony in progress?  As I waited for the cruiser to pass, I realized it hadn’t.  Another glance in the rearview revealed the spinning lights were sitting behind my truck.

The suspect was me.

When the officer got to my window, he asked, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”  “Yes, sir, I do,” I replied.  “Because Older Boy is not in the car with me telling me everything I’m doing wrong while operating a motor vehicle in the State of Montana.”

That’s not exactly what I said, but it would have been true. [Read more…]

It’s All In The Planning

Dear Older Boy and Younger Boy,

It’s hard to believe you’ll both be in high school next year.  People told me how fast this would happen.  I didn’t believe them.  Folks told me a lot of things back then.  But I’m glad no one offered me this child-rearing statistic – how much it would cost to raise you.  Because I never would’ve believed it.

In 1996, when you were born, Older Boy, the USDA projected a pre-college cost of $149,820 to raise you to age 18.  Two years later, the cost jumped to $156,690 for you, Younger Boy.

Now I’m becoming a believer.  Especially when I consider our monthly grocery budget since you two became teenagers.

I point out the money, not because I’m cutting you off when you reach your USDA limit.  Instead, I write because your Father and I want to discuss an important issue that involves matters of currency.  [Read more…]

Mommy Needs A Drink – Part Deux

My Friday?  Surgery to fix Older Boy’s broken nose.  Check.  Doctor visit to examine Younger Boy’s ankle in cast – referral to orthopedic surgeon. Check.  The Husband, who also blew out a calf muscle last week playing basketball with Younger Boy, down for the count with stomach flu. Check.

Mommy needs a drink.

Only I am warped enough to make my bruised, bandaged and possibly  hurling family sit down and pose for what might become our Christmas photo.  And looky, Mommy found a drink!

Mommy’s day is getting better.

this is wrong on so many levels

The World According to the 13-Year-Old

Older Boy is 13. Dare I say, very 13. (My mother is quick to remind me that I was very 13 once myself.) And he isn’t afraid to call it as he sees it. His observations lack that one, often crucial ingredient – tact.
So it was no great surprise while we were in the truck the other day, he started laughing in the backseat. “Mom, you should see your arm, like where your tricep should be. It’s an arm goiter!” he announces breaking into another spasm of laughter. Of course, Younger Boy joins right in.
Then Older Boy reaches up to give the arm goiter a poke with his finger. “Look! It’s like a tether ball game. Let’s see how many times we can make it go around.”
Then one night I’m standing in the kitchen after a long day of yard work. I’d just showered and put on one of The Husband’s really big, old gray t-shirts. Older Boy walks in, looks me up and down says, “Mom, you’re kind of letting yourself go here. You’re one step away from a trailer park in that. All you need is a baby bump and a cigarette.” And then he gives me that final look of “don’t ever show up in public to pick me up looking like that.”I couldn’t agree more.

Some HTML allowed: <a href=”” title=””> <abbr title=””> <acronym title=””> <b> <blockquote cite=””> <code> <em>

Everybody Needs Red Shoes

Apparently even sprinters. Maybe I could use some too.

This is Crazy Legs after coming in 2nd in the 100m. He didn’t get it from me. I’m built for comfort, not for speed.

%d bloggers like this: