Sunday, January 26, 2014
Sometimes The Kid surprises me
Sometimes it's even in a good way.Last night we're watching some sitcom and one of the characters mentions something about the "gay community".
He looks at me and says "Gay community?"
And just when I'm expecting a typically snarky teenage boy response, he says "They're people, we're all people, can't we all just be one community of people?"
Awww, my little liberal.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Sunday, October 13, 2013
The Kid (playing a violent video game): I just got offered a mission to kill four people for $7000. Would you kill four people for $7000?Me (not looking up from whatever embroidery I'm working on) : I don't know, I guess it would depend on who they were.
The Kid: Umm... it says they're jurors.
Me: Yeah, but I'd need to know who they really are. Are they people who don't use turn signals? Are they people who block the entire aisle at grocery stores with no regard to anyone else in the store? Are they people who text in the movies? If it's them, yeah, I'd probably consider it. What about you?
The Kid: No.
Me: Really?
The Kid: Yeah, $7000 is way too low.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
To lighten the mood a little
The other day, I took my kid to his first concert (Iggy Azalea - Australian rapper, model and all around classy bitch*) at a club in Hollywood and as we're walking from the car to the club, he says:"Are we allowed to leave?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are we allowed to leave or do they lock the doors or something?"
"Not only do they lock the doors to keep you in, they take attendance at the end and you can't leave until everyone is accounted for."
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It was a really good show, although I was pretty sure I was going to go blind from all the flashes from all the selfies people were taking. And can we all agree that super drunk chicks who want to grind on people**, couples who want to make out and people who are 6'5" or taller need to not be anywhere in the first 10 or 11 rows of general admission?
*I'm not being a creep, she called herself that during the show
** this drunk chick was rubbing her ass on my purse (which I was wearing across my body) for so long that I think my purse might be pregnant
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Monday, April 15, 2013
I've had moments in the past 14* years when I was positive that I was the worst parent in the world. I'm sure every parent has had those moments.I watched something this weekend, though, that confirms that I am neither the worst, nor the best parent in the world.
The Kid's team was playing in the championship game of a tournament. It was a pretty intense game, both teams were playing hard and it was becoming pretty physical, as basketball sometimes does. During a play right in front of the bleachers, a player from our team and a player from their team crashed in to each other. Their player fell down, our player, displaying remarkable balance, managed to stay standing up and got the ball.
Their player, in what I assume was a desperate moment, wrapped his legs around our player's legs in an effort to stop him. It was a dirty play. The referee saw it and called it a flagrant foul while our player was trying to extricate himself. Shit happens, as long as no one is bleeding, the game continues, right?
Nope, the mother of the flagrant fouler flew off of the bleachers and punched our player in the chest.
Yep, a grown woman ran into the middle of an organized sporting event and punched a 14-year-old boy.
Before I can even wrap my brain around what was going on, the mother of the punched child sheds her hat and sunglasses and launches herself at the woman who is assaulting her son. (fortunately for the assaulter, 4 or 5 guys from the tournament managed to break up the situation before any real damage happened)
I generally like this mom, she's kind of loud and funny, entertaining enough I even excuse her occasionally wearing her sunglasses inside, but now that I know she has the reflexes of a Jedi (and still came out of this with her false eyelashes in place), I've upgraded her from "generally like" to "genuinely like".
The moment of the day, though, came from our team mom. She had been sitting next to the Jedi mom when the whole situation happened. She saw the Jedi drop her accessories and come out swinging. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop her," she said. "But I saw her shirt was riding up and her chonies were showing, so I reached over and pulled her shirt down."
That is some wisdom right there - recognizing that sometimes there's no way you're going to be able to change a situation and the best you can do is to make sure that no one's panties are showing.
Additional nuggets of wisdom? Basketball games are not Mexican wrestling events where the spectators are allowed to participate. Also, don't put your hands on someone else's child**.
*15 years if you include the time when I was pregnant
**and if you do, don't be surprised and/or argue when you get tossed out and have the cops called on you. And don't get me started on the parents next to us who thought the whole thing was HIIIIILLLLarious. Sorry, if you're not mortified that someone representing your team just assaulted an 8th grader, you shouldn't be trusted with houseplants let alone children.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Kid turned 14 last month and that means two things -1) I'm freaking old
2) Hormones, hormones, hormones
He has a new mood every five minutes and I pretty much don't know on any given day if he's going to be a human being or a cartoon villain. Yesterday, he was in a particularly foul mood, crabby, grumpy and basically no fun to be around.
On the way home from his basketball practice, when he was too worn out from playing to be a creep, I finally asked why he'd been in such a bad mood.
"Are you having girlfriend* troubles or something?"
"Nah," he said without missing a beat. "I keep my hoes in check."
After I stopped laughing, I reminded him that they're called girls.
*he's not very forthcoming with the details of his social life, but it doesn't stop me from asking (and he's 14, so it's not like there's many details to be had)
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Friday, November 30, 2012
The Kid: There's a new racist kid at school. He's from Mississippi.Me: You're not just assuming he's a racist just because he's from Mississippi, are you?
The Kid: No, we were in the hallway between classes and he used the "N" word. And ending in "er", not "a".
Me: Not that either is appropriate... Did anyone say anything to him about it?
The Kid: My friend, Troy, slammed his head into a locker.
Me: I generally don't condone violence, but that's an absolutely appropriate reaction. And if you hear him say that again, I have no problem with you reacting similarly.
On the one hand, I guess it's good that there are so few blatant bigots around my kid that he finds it noteworthy.
On the other hand, how are there still people who are raising their kids to think this kind of shit is okay? (and I know that the Mississippi state flag does feature the Confederate flag, but being from there [or anywhere, for that matter] is not an excuse to be a stereotypical racist redneck piece of shit. Neither does having a Wal*Mart name that's pronounced "Muh-Kyle")
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Saturday, July 14, 2012
And now for something completely different
Person On The Radio: hey, does anyone ever wonder what ever happened to Sisqo?*The Kid: Who is Sisqo?
Me: Some singer from a million years ago, his claim to fame was the "Thong Song"
The Kid: the what?
Me: "Thong Song", the chorus was something like "let me see that thong tha thong thong thong"
The Kid: No.
Me: No what?
The Kid: No, that song does not exist, you're making that up
Me: I understand that several years ago, I had you convinced that you had been purchased at a garage sale, but there is no way I could make up the "Thong Song". It was actually pretty popular at the time.
The Kid: No.
Me: Google it, babycakes.
Cue about a minute of him consulting YouTube on his smartphone, then looking at me with a mortified look on his face.
The Kid: But... why?
Me: Exactly
*obviously, we were listening to a radio station selected by The Kid
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
I always figured he'd eventually experiment, I just didn't think it would start at 13
All kids experiment, and I'm just trying to be realistic and be prepared, but I really did figure that I had at least another couple of years before The Kid started this kind of thing.Today, fresh out of the shower, he walks into the living room lovingly stroking his face.
me: What are you doing?
him: Feel how soft my skin is
me: um... what?
him: seriously, feel how soft it is.
me: did you... use my aloe and apricot exfoliating scrub?
him: It's so soft, it feels like velvet!
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Thursday, April 05, 2012
The best part about how self-conscious teenagers are?
Being able to leverage that into a credible threat -"If you're not home on time, I'll put on my dirtiest t-shirt, sweats, and slippers - yes, slippers - and come pick you up. And I'll stick around a few minutes to talk to all your friends."
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Kid wanders into the living room and flops down on the couch, focusing some game on his iPod.Me: Who was that on the phone?
The Kid: It was Mike, he wanted to know if I wanted to go to the skate park with him, but I told him that I probably couldn't because I got a bad grade on the history quiz.
Me: That would be correct, sir
The Kid: Oh, and somebody pooped on the floor in my bedroom
Me: How do you not lead off with that information?
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
at least 1/4 of being a parent is consciously trying not to embarrass your child
For me, that includes things like not calling him "baby chicken face" in front of his friends, putting on pants when I have to take him somewhere and not commenting on his Facebook page.Apparently, I need to add "white-girl dancing and busting out all the lyrics to 'Ice Ice Baby' in the middle of the living room when it comes blasting out of his iPod* speakers" to that list.
Of course, I have yet to find the occasion where singing Vanilla Ice is appropriate, but... someday
*in my defense, why does he have it on his iPod? I mean, really.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Kid: Have you heard of that movie "Project X"Me: Sure, classic 80s movie with Matthew Broderick, Helen Hunt and a monkey who knows sign language
The Kid: um...
Me: Yes, I'm aware that there's some new movie coming out called "Project X" about some kids who throw a party
The Kid: Yeah, well a friend of mine in [nearby city] is having a party like that for the movie and I wanted to know if I could go
Me: Some kid is having a party to emulate a movie about some kids who throw a party so big it, if I'm to believe the commercials, ends up burning down their neighborhood?
The Kid: What does emulate mean?
Me: Copy
The Kid: Then, yes
Me: Then, no
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Saturday, February 18, 2012
so I've got the house to myself for the weekend because The Kid had a basketball tournament in Orange County and, while I'm healing pretty well, no way is my newly-remodeled spine up for a 3-hour-roadtrip - for me, this means my oldest pajamas, noodles from my favorite Thai place, and marathons of a couple of my favorite tv shows - which, admittedly, is kind of like a normal day for me, but whatever.I'm also stuck chatting with the kid via text (because neither of us particularly care for talking no the phone).
me: if you're still not feeling well, make sure you drink a lot tonight so you're healthy tomorrow for the games
The Kid: a lot of what?
me: vodka. But if you can't get served in the hotel bar, go for water instead, smartass
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Dear Snotty Community College Girl Who Comments on The Kid's Facebook Too Often For My Liking,
First of all - I know we didn't have Facebook when I was a kid, but 7th grade boys were not on my radar when I was in high school, let alone after that, so it's kind of weird that you have so many Facebook friends in junior high*.Second of all - Even if you're trying to be helpful and mentor-y to The Kid, your comments are usually unnecessarily condescending and less-than-helpful.
Third of all - While you try to be all holier-than-thou to all these kids, like you're someone for them to look up to, it's kind of hard for anyone to take you seriously when your profile picture is you wearing a bikini top and booty shorts, dropping it low and looking more than a little bit wasted**.
How about you get your own shit together before trying to parent kids 6 or 7 years younger than you (all of whom already have parents, btw)? You want to help them out? Maybe you could try to set a good example instead of looking like you're auditioning for Girls Gone Wild, mmmkay?
kthx,
the mom who, for some reason, never liked you to begin with
*not to mention if the genders were reversed, you'd be on a watch list somewhere
** as pointed out by one of The Kid's friends when you were lecturing The Kid on the importance of respecting all adults
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, letter to
Sunday, November 06, 2011
me: Did you like the baked potato soup?The Kid: um... not really
me: Why not?
The Kid: it was thicker than a soup, it was more like a chowder
me: And that's bad because?
The Kid: You should have said it was a chowder, you should have warned me. You can't just make chowder when you say you're making soup
me: Would you have liked it if I had called it baked potato chowder instead?
The Kid: not really, I don't like chowder, it's too thick, it's like thick gross soup
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Sunday, September 25, 2011
I know I'm a mom so I'm supposed to think no one is good enough for my kid
but every time some girl comments on The Kid's Facebook page "your cute", I want to comment either"his WHAT is cute?"
or
"get the hell off of Facebook and go read a book or learn English, you duck-lipped* troglodyte"
*Why the hell is no one under the age of 30 capable of having his or her (okay, mostly her) picture taken without doing that stupid kissy-face? I don't understand - is it supposed to be cute? Is it supposed to be sexy? What is it supposed to be?
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Monday, September 12, 2011
Dear My Child,
I appreciate that after a summer full of various injuries (sprained ankle in a basketball game, disgustingly bruised finger and various contusions from running into a pole on your bike, bloody scratches and scrapes from falling off of a quad in the middle of the woods), you decided to wait until THE EVENING BEFORE SCHOOL PICTURES to do trip over your own feet during a football game in the front yard and faceplant on the concrete.Way to go!
you so much can't see the cut from this angle, but you can get a pretty good idea of the lumpy goose egg that had swelled up ON HIS FACE within about a minute of his accident.
EDIT: picture day pictures to show how well the bruise has bloomed
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, letter to
Monday, August 22, 2011
Awwww, Baby's First X-Ray
Funnest way to spend the last day of summer or what?
This weekend, he was riding his bike and ran into a pole. This morning, his finger was the least healthy shade of green (that unfortunately wouldn't come out in a picture), so we sucked it up and went to the doctor. I'm no radiologist (but I do watch a lot of "House"), but I thought I saw a tiny little fracture in that middle finger, which would make this baby's first broken bone, too, but we still need to wait to hear back from the doctor. Fingers crossed he'll be able to cross his fingers again soon.
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting
Thursday, July 28, 2011
scene: conversation in which I try to explain the withdrawal symptoms that occur during the transition from one anti-depressant to another.me: you know how it feels when you touch your tongue to a battery? That's kind of what my brain feels like all freaking day long.
The Kid (with a horrified look on his face): your... tongue... to... a... battery...? WHO DOES THAT?
me: We didn't have cable or the internet when we were growing up
Labels: adventures in shitty parenting, le crazy
Thursday, July 21, 2011
So the 6-year-old little sister of one of The Kid's teammates has decided to adopt me becauseDuring the last game, while the little girl is bemoaning the lack of good games on my iPod, her 2-year-old little brother comes over and starts begging to have his picture taken - of course I oblige because the child is gorgeous -
then he starts going through my purse, picking through my wallet, trying on all the bracelets and sampling all the lip balms*.
As he starts to put a furry cough drop in his mouth, then reach for my Swiss Army Knife, I make the clicking noise I make when one of my pets is misbehaving and tell him "Leave it!" and I realize 2 things:
1) My purse is not especially toddler-safe
and
2) I no longer** have any idea how to interact with children.
** I know that this implies that I did, at one time, have some idea of how to interact with children, but honestly, I can't say for sure