Saturday, November 13, 2010

being N and Em's mom

So why identify myself as someone's mother when starting a blog? If I read the header, I would identify myself as one of "those moms" whose life revolves around their children. So if you reached the same conclusion let me set you straight. Life is just the opposite; employing gravitational pull to keep all my planets (kids, husband, dogs, work, and too much extra stuff) from careening out of control makes me the sun and my children planets. However, I do not have illusions of grandeur. This simply means that I am doing most of the work to keep everything from colliding, a concept that most moms can identify with. However, even though I have lots of interests that do not involve my children, it is still a big part of who I am now. I want to write about my experiences, and my memories of being a mom. Years from now when my children are off being productive members of society without me, I can start a new blog called 'crabby old lady left by her children to die alone.' So back to the original question- why N and Em's mom? It's simple. I like calling my kids N and Em. It reminds me of small candy coated chocolate which makes me happy. I didn't plan any of this when I named the girls. It's just a happy coincidence. Speaking of coincidence, my free range children are off doing productive things without me and halloween was only two weeks ago, so I think that I will see if I can pilfer some M & Ms to go with my morning Joe.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

My oldest baby N turned the big one eight yesterday. Like all moms, I wonder where the years went. I now have a certified adultlet on my hands. So when she picked me up from work, I was all ready. "Happy Birthday!" I had already said this at least 10 times, but I followed it up with a shocker, "Lets go buy some cigarettes."

She didn't even flinch. Those years of conditioning have sure paid off. "Mom, I don't smoke."

"I know, but now you're old enough to buy cigarettes, and lottery tickets. Lets make a list of all the things that you can do now that you're 18."

"I can go clubbing with M_H_"

"Don't you have to be 21 to get into clubs?"

"No, they have clubs for people 18 and older." I instantly picture creepy 25 year old guys hitting on my daughter. I am no longer happy. "I can buy an exotic pet," continues N, "and a gun in some states."

Oh Lord! What did I start. Here is a list of all the things my daughter can now legally do, and it's not pretty.

by N

(1) buy cigarettes
(2) buy lottery tickets
(3) go to a club
(4) buy an exotic pet
(5) buy a gun- in some states
(6) enlist in the military
(7) move out of the house- if only she was a trust fund baby
(8) sign legal documents to buy a house or a car
(9) get married
(10) star in a porn movie
(11) work as a stripper

By the time we get to 10 and 11, I am already laughing/hyperventilating. It was an interesting look at what is possible at 18. The world is hers. She just can't rent a hotel room or a car, so she might need me a little bit longer.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

post-election hangover

Disjointed thoughts on the election:

(1) The election was 3 days ago. I still flinch when I get the mail or turn on the TV.

(2) My post-election hangover is almost over, just don't use the word "boondoggle" when you talk to me.

(3) I need to have a bottle of champagne ready for election night to celebrate the end of the nastiness.

(4) Tell me what you are going to do, not how horrible your opponent is. They call it being a tattle-tale in kindergarten.

(5) If you don't want to be called a politician, then don't run for elected office.

(6) I'm going to start calling people "Washington Insider" when I want to say something mean and nasty.

(7) I vote with purpose and on purpose, but that doesn't mean that I want to share my vote with the whole world. If I tell you that I don't want to tell you how I voted, drop it or things will get ugly. My real friends know how I vote or love me anyway.

(8) No one tried to hand me crap when I went to vote. It was creepy and made me uncomfortable that I was not accosted by literature-bearing campaign supporters who are usually too close to the door according to pesky federal laws. Hey! Maybe I could bring my megatape measure, wave it around, and yell things like "I know my rights" to keep them away. Historically, a simple "No thank you" hasn't detered the herd from asking repeatedly if I want leaflets.

(9) I am grateful that I live in the USA and don't have to walk 3 days to get to a polling place. So maybe I'll stop whining about the election now.