“Hey, Mom, guess what?”

“What?”

“My friend, Steve, was really jerking my chain today?”

“Honey, you shouldn’t say that. Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“Well…it means…(explain, explain, explain).”

“No, mom. He was sitting behind me in class pulling on my diabetes chain.”

Oops!

“I hate the ice cream truck.” There I said it. I hate the sound of it, the smell of it, and the look of the scary people who drive it. I liken it to clowns. Sure, they’re supposed to be fun and make people happy, but to me, they’re just plain creepy and make me cringe.

That may seem harsh for something that brings joy to little girls and boys, but when it trolls my neighborhood every other day after school and my kids drop to their knees pleading for money, it’s hard not to hate this steel money pit on wheels. No matter whether I say I have money or not, or remind the kids that we have a freezer full of ice cream, somehow they manage to find some buried “treasure” between the couch cushions and end up racing down the street to get their “chocolate taco” or “Sonic the Hedgehog” ice cream bar covered with blue goo!

I’m considering putting up a sign at the two entrances that says, “No ice cream trucks allowed.” You think I’d get in trouble for that? Oh well, I really don’t care. Somebody’s gotta put an end to these “nutty buddies.”

So this is why my son won’t “friend” me on Facebook. I understand that he doesn’t want his Mom in his “business,” but these days, technology is pretty much the only way he’ll communicate with me. “Talking is old school,” he tells me. Or should I say, texts me. We haven’t talked in so long, I forget what his voice sounds like.  So…we Tweet, we text, we e-mail & we stare. Ahhhhhh! Good times. Good times.

My husband and I caved and bought our 13 year old a cell phone for Christmas. We agonized over the decision, but for our particular circumstances…two parents working…son with diabetes…we decided it would be OK to “take the plunge.” However, after seeing all the horror stories of kids getting into trouble with these little technological gadgets, we wanted to minimize what features he had access to.

Well, of course with modern technology, 99% of the phones out there have all the bells and whistles. That is…except for one. Yes, it’s the one you would normally buy for your aging parents. Clearly displayed on the keys are 911, ICE (in case of emergency), and very large numbers for those not so spry peepers. Despite our desire to keep our son safe, even we couldn’t resort to “geeking him out” with such a contraption. So we bought him one of the less expensive LG phones and made a few minor adjustments with the help of our knowledgeable Verizon rep (whom I’m guessing had kids of his own). Anyway, we turned off our son’s ability to send & receive pictures or access the Internet, but allowed him the ability to text.  Currently, he only knows about 10 people with cell phones, mostly family, and we weren’t too concerned about him “sexting” with grandma. Now, that’s just plain creepy.

Oh yeah, and the next service we’re adding…the locator function. It basically turns your child’s cell phone into a GPS so you know where they are at all times. If they enter a “forbidden zone” or if you just want to make sure they got home safely, you can have a text message sent to your cell phone. So watch out, kid. Big Mother’s watching!

After being home for nine years with my kids, I finally decided to go back to work so of course my kids were curious to know what I would be doing. So, I told them.

“Well, I’ll be writing emails that we send to customers telling them about the cool products we sell.”

“Oh. And what did you do before that?”

“Well, I used to write letters we sent to customers telling them about the cool products we sell.”

“Oh. And what did you do before that?”

“Well, I used to produce television commercials telling people about the cool products we sell.”

My sons, being the TV hounds could finally relate. “Wow, that’s awesome.”

Then I had a revelation about my career.

I used to produce TV commercials, which people now ignore thanks to TiVo and DVR technology.

I used to create direct mail, which people throw away.

And now…I’m making emails, which people delete.

So, basically, I’ve spent my life making JUNK!!!

Perhaps, it’s time for a career change?

Over the summer, my son had to send his fourth grade teacher a letter answering a few questions so the teacher could “get to know him.” These were my sons responses.

Teacher: What do you like to do in your free time?

Andrew: Build stuff with stuff and draw stuff.

Teacher: What are your strong points as a person and as a student?

Andrew: Art, football, and math.

Teacher: What are your goals for the next year?

Andrew: Get straight A’s.

Teacher: Is there anything else you would like to tell your new teacher about you?

Andrew: Well, yes…I’m Tyler Mahoney’s brother! You remember…he was with you for 3rd and fourth grade..kinda short…blonde hair…well, you get the picture.

Andrew

See ya…

P.S. like, real soon

P.S.S. like, really soon.

P.S. S. S. like, really, REALLY soon

P.S.S.S.S. like extremely soon.

P.S.S.S.S.S. like, OH MY GOSH, soon.

“Mom, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about stuff and I can’t turn my brain off.”

Been there, done that, I thought to myself. “OK, well you can come in and sleep on Daddy’s side of the bed until he comes up. But you have to lie still.”

“OK.”

And, as any parent can tell you, when you tell a kid to lie still, what the child really hears is…”See how many laps you can do around the bed while simultaneously turning the covers into the latest origami extravaganza.”

My son was squirming all over that bed like the Tasmanian Devil after a bucket of espresso. After about 15 minutes of this, and a threat to ban him from playing the Wii for a millennium, he finally settled next to me with his arm strung across my neck. We were both just about to drift off to sleep when he startled me by saying…

“Mom, are you OK?”

“Yes, dear, I’m FINE,” I said groggy and annoyed.

“Oh, OK. I just wanted to make sure. ‘Cuz I had my arm across your neck and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t pushin’ up daisies.”

Out of the mouths of babes .

“OK, you want a hotdog, soda, and popcorn?” I repeated to my customer.

“Yes.”

“OK, that’s $2 plus $1 plus $1 plus $1. So that’s uh, let me see, uh, let me just get the calculator…”

“It’s $5, Ma’am,” I was informed by my now annoyed customer.

“Oh right. Silly me. Out of $10? So that means you get, uh, uh, uh…”

“$5 change.”

“Right.”

OK, so this might be a slight exaggeration, but not much. I don’t know if it’s just being put on the spot or the old adage, if you don’t use certain skills on a daily basis it becomes harder to perform them. Either way, one thing is for sure, I think I’ll always have a fear to volunteer.

Anybody else?

When I got through the terrible twos, trying threes and frustrating fours with both of my children, I thought it would be smooth sailing after that. WRONG! Right now I am encountering the Nasty 9’s with my youngest son. Somewhere along the line he got it into his mind that he’s in charge and everything I say or ask him to do is dismissed like old chewing gum.

“Drew, can you take the dog out.”

“No.”

“Why not.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching TV.”

“Uh…that’s not busy. C’mon, it’s your turn. Remember how much you wanted this dog in the first place?”
After a little cajoling, threatening, and TV remote hijacking , he eventually head out the door with the dog. Great!
<SLAM!>

“What’s the matter, Drew.” <SOBBING/SCREAMING>

“She wouldn’t go! She dragged me all across the yard! I fell on the ice! And I hurt my hand!!!”

Trying to “ease the pain” I offered, “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Well, sorry just doesn’t cut it! I’m never taking her out again! My life stinks! I never get to do what I want! Everyone is always telling me what to do…”

And so the downward spiral began. It took me about an hour to calm him down and convince him not to run away to Alaska.
I can hardly wait for the tumultuous tens!! Sigh!