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Friday, November 30, 2012

I'm that mom

Dear me, but it's been awhile, eh? Sorry 'bout that. All I can say is that. . .well. . .life.

First a little catch-up from Halloween:
Although we received plenty -- and seriously, I mean P.L.E.N.T.Y. -- of treats, we also were the recipients of a trick, and an odd one at that.

Our neighborhood has a little get-together every year in the cul-de-sac our in front of our house. The neighbors and I make up fliers, then everyone brings chili and treats and we all stand around, gabbing and eating. It's really much more fun than it sounds, especially since you can't always be completely certain who you're talking to (you know, because of the costumes and all).

This year, our house became the designated potty for several smaller visitors; if you've ever been through potty training, you understand the immediacy of the need to go, especially if you're wearing a costume that could take some time getting out of.

As I was showing a visitor and his mom to the facilities, we found something rather odd in the powder room:

Socks. Specifically, ladies hosiery-type dress socks. Now, the socks themselves aren't so odd, but the only people who'd been in the powder room before the socks were discovered were Boy #2 (who's below the age of 7) and a friend's daughter, also less than 7 years old. Not sure where they came from, but it gave us a laughable mystery.

And yes, I am that mother

On our return trip from Thanksgiving, we decided to not push through 15 hours of driving -- the last in darkness with 200 of our craziest-driving neighbors and acquaintances -- and opted to spend the night in a hotel. 

Hotel stays are always an adventure with my crew, because The Boys assume it's an opportunity to see 1) how late they can stay up, 2) how utterly deranged they can make their parents, and 3) how long it takes before we finally threaten at least one of them with sleeping out in the car. Alone. (For the record, on this stay Boy #1 was awake until 11:30 p.m. We'd all gone to bed around 8. No one spiraled into darkness, mainly because 3 of us were hopped up on various cold and cough meds. And the sleep-in-the-car threat never materialized. See? I'm a good mom, after all!)

Next morning, as The Husband took his turn in the shower, we were gleefully flipping through cable channels -- Why, in the name of all that's good, do they always HIDE the Disney Channel??? -- when "'80s music videos" caught my eye. 

How fun! I thought to myself. The boys love '80s music. This'll be great!
So I pushed the button. Honestly, I should have known -- after all, I experienced the '80s firsthand, in all its wonder -- but I'm blaming the cold medicine.

There was David Lee Roth, frolicking for all his long-haired, icky '80s self was worth, in front of a barely bikini-clad woman. Boy #1 got a confused look on his face; Boy #2 was still slack-jawed, so I'm hoping nothing registered with him. Because it was a hotel remote, immediately pushing another button did nothing for a good 5 seconds. . .which seemed like 5 minutes as I prayed for a new image to appear on the screen.

"That was just. . .weird!" exclaimed my boy. Yes, honey, yes it was, I agreed.

So if you find us in therapy in a few years, you'll know it was all my doing. However, I'm sticking to my guns: It was the cold medicine's fault.


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