Yeast Anyone?


Random conversations with my kids.

JC came home today to visit me do some lab experiments for her summer class. Why did she drive all the way out here for that? Because she just knew that I would have the ingredients she needed.

So she is in the kitchen getting stuff out. Bottles, water, yeast and balloons. Sounds like the start of  bad sex joke…

She says “Do you have any more yeast, because I need 2 more tablespoons.”

“Negative, they have medications for that problem now.” I tell her.

“Mom, if you put baking yeast in your vaj, will you get a yeast infection?”

Huh…what? Um, no comment.

A few years back, we were in Walgreens to get JC female hygiene products. MJ was with us and he always thought we were telling secrets if I told him to go look at the toy aisle. So he was in the tampon aisle with us.

JC grabs a box of tampons.

MJ pipes up, “What are those?”

“They are for bloody noses.” JC tells him. I silently applaud her for her quick thinking. She has used these for that purpose during soccer games. Gross huh?

Then I think a little. Do I want my son thinking those are really for bloody noses? Yes,  10 year-old son would be the one walking around with junior regular tampons shoved in his nostrils. The 13 year old in me is saying “go with it..just think of the video it would make, it would be funny maybe $10,000 funny!!!”

I look at JC and she looks at me. She knows we are going to have the discussion in the car. Her eyes start rolling. We check out and go to the car.

“Just don’t mom. Just don’t say it.”

“MJ, those aren’t for bloody noses. Those are for bloody vaginas. You know about, or at least heard  of periods, right?”

“Um, yeah mom. Sheesh. I live with you two. That’s when we can’t even breathe around you, right? And you get cranky?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, when that happens girls bleed from their vaginas and they use those so they don’t make a mess.”

Silence and then….”OHHHHHH GROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSS! Did you have to tell me that?”

“No, but I didn’t want you to think you could use them for bloody noses.”

“Ok. But question. Where do they go? And how do they get there?”

JC is tired of this conversation. She grabs the insert and says, “Read this.”

Conversation over.

Yeah, I know, there can be TMI but I want him to be informed.

So, a week ago, I took MJ and his two best friends, that are girls, (what a stud) for a walk and Dairy Queen. Along the way Anna uses Hope’s phone to let her mom know that I am the reason she is going to be late. Sure, blame it on me. I asked her what happened to her phone.

MJ, bless his honest, unfiltered mouth tells me.

“She dropped it into the toilet. She had just peed and it had period in it.”

Does this kid have no shame???? I thought Anna was going to be mortified and beat the living shit out of him. Because she can. And I would have let her.

Nope.

‘Yeah, that’s what happened. My mom was pissed and I don’t get a new phone.”

Since when did boys and girls talk about things like peeing and periods? Either I did something way right with him or I have to worry about having grandchildren from him.

Forever sassy!

P.S. It’s Thursday…it’s almost Friday!!! Woot… You know what I would like for a Friday surprise? A facebook like or two…or 10. Can you click here or here or here? And like my page? You are awesome!

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Tap, Tap


Sleepovers seem to happen a lot more these days than when I was a kid.

This past Friday, we had MJ and his two buddies here for a sleep over. I kicked them out to the camper to sleep. Why?

  1. They could be loud and not disturb us or the neighbors. We live in the country and the closest neighbors disturb us enough, so who the hell cares about them? Not me.
  2. They could stay up as late as they want.
  3. They have to clean up the mess.
  4. We didn’t have to tiptoe around the house if we woke up at 7 am.
  5. We could lock the door and hear if they came in the house.
  6. We could be as noisy as we wanted. Why would we want to be noisy? See #4. *Arching eyebrows here*
So Saturday comes and this time it’s someone else’s turn to host the sleep over.Whoo-hoo…so I drive MJ and his friend back to the friend’s house. I feel a bit taken advantage of…why does it seem like I am the one to have to do ALL of the driving? Really. I picked his friends up on Friday, now here I am, bringing him home. It does piss me off to some extent. Whatever happened to sharing the burden of the taxi service?
S0 the call comes at 10:30 am. Whoa…did I say 10:30 am? I did…they were up BEFORE lunch. Wonders never cease to amaze me!
“Pick me up at about 1:30.” Yup, just like a taxi service!
I pick my son up because a) he has chores to do and b) nobody will bring him home.
On the way home he tells me about their night.
“We played “Tapping” last night. It’s like ding-dong ditch but more fun.”
As a mom, instinct tells me that I should be appalled by this revelation. I should be yelling at him for doing this to people. But instead, I ask the logical question. “What is Tapping?”
“It’s so cool! You take a band-aid and put fishing line on it, tape the fishing line to the penny, put the band-aid on the window and roll more fishing line out. Then you hide behind a tree and pull the fishing line.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“It make a tapping noise on the window and people come to look out to see what it is and then you stop. They walk away ‘cuz they can’t see anything. Then as soon as they leave, you do it again! They come back and they are all confused, they can’t see anything. You have to do it to a house where the lights are on and you can see the people inside and see how they react.One guy came out and looked and found it, shined a light on us. We ran! The guys started laughing and said we didn’t have to run…yeah right! We weren’t taking any chances!”
Tap, tap, tap.
Then he proceeds to tell me that one house they did this too, the lady gets her phone and a few minutes later, cops are crawling the neighborhood. I hear how they got spooked and was running through the neighborhood, jumping fences, trying not to run into trees. All the while trying to not get caught by the cops.
“I lost my shoe when I hit a stump and did a front flip over it…I had to go back to get it. Jimmy tried to jump the ditch and misjudged it and face-planted on the other side! We got back to Jimmy’s house and we were all like out of breath and junk and we couldn’t believe we didn’t get caught!”
Do I yell? Do I tell him how naughty he is? Nope, and nope.
I am laughing so hard that I am almost peeing my pants and wiping tears from my cheeks. I tell him of all the times we went out ding-dong ditching at 2 am. Although, back in the day we didn’t call it that. We called it something totally different, inappropriate and completely politically incorrect.
Why didn’t I get mad?
  • They were doing this to people who were awake, not the 2 am doorbell ringing.
  • They weren’t out vandalizing homes and yards.
  • They weren’t out lighting bags of shit on doorsteps and ringing the doorbell. (Yes, we did this…)
  • They weren’t out smoking or drinking.
I figure teens will be teens. They didn’t hurt anyone and will have a fun memory to tell their kids about. It certainly is better than a “one time, at band camp” memory!
So what do you think? Am I a totally cool mom or am I an idiot for not getting mad at the boys?

Drama King


Parenting teens.

UGH!

In order to be a parent to a teenager, you have to have mettle, patience and a whole boat load of humor. And a sense of good drama.

There was the dawning of the age of the drama queen with JC. I am married to a drama llama. And my son, love him to death…has turned into the drama KING!

It’s the hormones. It HAS to be the hormones. Right?

It had better be the hormones or I am leaving until he turns 18. Just saying.

Believe it or not, I could handle JC’s estrogen laced rages and tears. I was a girl once. I understand it. I GOT IT!

This? This boy hormone stuff?!?! I don’t get it.

MJ comes in the house the other night and says, “Mom, I think I got a concussion.”

Uh-huh.

“Okay. And what do you want me to do about it? Kiss it and make it all better?” I ask him. He has his “bros” over so I really should have not said that.

In his best teenaged cracking high-low-high voice, “You don’t care about me!”

Um yes I do, but what am I supposed to do about it? So i try to be all mommy-like. “Well, what do you want me to do? Do you need ice? Ibuprofen?”

“I just wanted you to know in case I didn’t wake up tomorrow and I was DEAD! You would know why! And you wouldn’t care, not one bit!!!” As he runs to the porch and out the door.

Stunned silence.

JC is sitting on the couch next to me witnessing all of this hormonal rage. I look over at her with a look of disbelief on my face.

I hear the sentence that I never thought I would hear…EVER.

“Sorry for all the drama that I put you through. Was I THAT bad?”

More stunned silence.

“Yes dear, you WERE that bad. Almost didn’t survive those years. You, not me.” I tell her.

“Wow, he is just a ball of raging teenage boy hormones. Glad I get to leave.” Gee. Thanks.

For the record, he got bonked on the head while making a “bro fort” in the woods. No lumps, bumps or broken skin. He woke up fine this morning and had no headache.

His head is hard. He’s fallen on it before. He’s fine….Except for those damn hormones raging through his body that is making our lives a living hell on a daily basis.

I know it will get better. It HAS to get better. But it better hurry up, my tongue is only so long. And my patience is only so thick.

Now where did my wine go? I think I am going to need it to get through this next year.

Forever sassy!