I recently jotted down some of the interesting things that followed after my children said, “Guess what?” Well, that’s a lie. I didn’t jot anything. Who jots anymore? We keep notes on our phones. ‘I typed on my phone’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Anyway, here are a few of my favorites:
I am convinced my children were game show hosts in a past life. They are constantly making me guess things, but there is never a prize. Every statement begins with one question: “Guess what?” I am at a disadvantage. I would have to be the ‘Long Island Medium’ to guess correctly and that’s impossible because my curling iron retired in the 1990s.
“Guess what?” …..
“What?” (Children will speak out of turn on a regular basis, but they won’t finish a sentence unless you say ‘What’ until you are blue in the face)
….. “The caterpillar hatched at school.”
How the hell was I supposed to guess that? A minute ago we were talking about the character you unlocked on Lego Batman. Plus, I thought caterpillars were cut from the Common Core curriculum.
“Guess what? (While eating dinner) ….. You have silver hairs on top of your head.”
Tell me something I don’t know kid.
“Guess what? (While playing with the Barbie Dream House) ….. This Barbie’s mom is dead. She wasn’t nice. ”
Is she threatening me? Did she see this tactic on an episode of the Sopranos?
“Guess what? ….. I slept in the corner of my bed.”
Damn it, I was going to guess you slept in the middle. It’s a good thing I didn’t place any money on that bet.
“Guess what? …... I just burped and it tasted like the cheese I had for lunch”
I believe that is why the hashtag “TMI” was invented.
“Guess what? …… I don’t really like those meatballs”
I could never have guessed that judging by the tantrum you threw 30 minutes ago when I told you I was making spaghetti and meatballs. Well, guess what? I don’t like cooking them. How about we do a little experiment where you try to survive off the land?
“Guess what? ……. I ate the grapes you packed in my lunch today.”
Well, I didn’t pack it as a decoration. I am pleased. Especially since I found out you throw out most of the food in your lunch box. Let’s skip the middleman and I will throw my paycheck directly in the garbage can every two weeks. I don’t mind that I’m using my Botox funds to buy overpriced snacks that go to waste.
“Guess what? ….. “Doug” (withholding child’s actual name to protect myself) got a red card today.”
Was he playing soccer or misbehaving? I would never have guessed that because I don’t know “Doug.” I couldn’t pick him out of a line up and judging by his behavior that may be a possibility one day.
“Guess what?….. someone got mud on the floor in the hallway at school.”
I hope they launch an investigation and find the criminal responsible.
Have you seen this video? ESPN reporter Britt McHenry goes on a nasty tirade against an attendant for a towing company. Britt was upset that her car was towed while she was at dinner. So, she criticizes the lot clerk’s job, education, teeth and weight. Britt clearly believes she is above this woman because she in on TV and went to college. The funniest part is that Britt thinks she was hired for her degree. Bless her heart. That is like saying the restaurant “Hooters” hires waitresses because of their personalities. ESPN wanted to give their mainly male audience some eye candy. She may actually have sports knowledge, but was on air to wear short, tight dresses. I am sure many viewers heard Charlie Brown’s teacher speak when Britt opened her mouth. I have seen a lot of people responding to this viral video with posts along the lines of ‘this is why you need to be careful what you say because you never know if you are being recorded.’ No, you need to be careful what you say because it’s the right thing to do. You should treat people with respect. ESPN has suspended Britt McHenry, but I imagine she will be in the unemployment line very soon. Perhaps, she should have asked for an application at the towing company before she left.
“It is nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.” – John Templeton.
I bring a three ring binder with me when I go shopping. My teenage son is embarrassed and prefers to wait in the car. My daughter reminds me, “Don’t forget your coupons Mommy.” Well, you can laugh all you want Mama saved 50 cents yesterday. Boo-yah!
I actually get a lot of free stuff, too. For example, I just picked up some free school supplies. I know it’s not even August yet, but free is free. I dread the end of summer. It’s a lot of work getting three kids to and from school. That and my 13-year-old’s homework is getting difficult…. for me.
Who the hell cares how long it takes for Justin to make snowballs? It’s not my problem. He should just go inside and play video games with my kids.
I actually enjoy having my children home. Well, unless you drive into the garage and your 6-year-old witnesses it. I backed into the garage door on Monday. My son panicked, “Oh no! Did you break it?” I tried to play it off. “Nah, it’s fine.” In reality the door was knocked off the rail. The bottom panel caved in. I didn’t want to listen to my husband complain. He accuses me of being a bad driver all the time. Meanwhile, he totaled our last car.
I figured my husband wouldn’t notice the garage and I would have it fixed. My son wouldn’t tattle on his own mother, right? Wrong. The minute he saw his Dad he blurted out, “Guess what Mom did?” Seriously? I carried you for nine months in my womb and you turn on me?
Anyway, I would coupon even if I were rich. I’m kidding. I would throw money away. Until then, I am hunting for deals. The Krazy Coupon Lady has some freebies you should take advantage of.
I finally made a mixed tape for the minivan. It had a variety of songs from different genres: pop, rock, country and jazz. I overheard my 13-year-old and his friends listening to Billionaire by Travie McCoy, Featuring Bruno Mars. I think Bruno Mars has an incredible voice. Travie McCoy is from a small town in my neck of the woods. I added it to the playlist thinking that would impress a teenager who is impossible to impress. Song four played on the van’s CD player. (It’s a six disc changer bitches. That’s how I roll!) “I want to be a billionaire so f-ing bad!” (rhymes with trucker) I guess that means he really, really, reallywants to be a billionaire. My 6-year-old gasped. My daughter threw her hands over her mouth. I fumbled for the volume control. “Mom, what are you thinking?” he laughed. “There are different versions of that song.” I won’t pretend that I never swear in front of my kids. I try not to, but I worked in a newsroom for a decade. It’s a hard habit to break. To make a long story short, I am making another mix for our road trips. I heard Miley Cyrus has a new album. Hanna Montana doesn’t cuss, right?
“We Can’t Stop”
I have said this a million times while driving. It is usually followed by, Can you hold it until we get home?
It’s our party we can do what we want
So, off the bat I have to explain to my kids that just because it’s your party doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. There are still rules.
It’s our party we can say what we want (Mike will made)
It’s our party we can love who we want
We can kiss who we want
We can sing what we want
Who is Mike?
Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere
If it’s that hot inside and everyone is sweating, you may want to turn up the AC.
Hands in the air like we don’t care
‘Cause we came to have so much fun now
Bet somebody here might get some now
Get some? I can hear the question now, “What are they getting Mom?” Potato chips. What’s a party without potato chips, right?
(Okay, fast forward….)
And we can’t stop
And we won’t stop
Can’t you see it’s we who own the night?
Can’t you see it’s we who ’bout that life?
Bout? She should have proofread the lyrics somebody else wrote for her.
A short period of intense activity of a specified kind.
An attack of illness or strong emotion of a specified kind.
attack – fit
( fast forward….)
To my home girls here with the big butt
Shaking it like we at a strip club
Remember only God can judge ya
Forget the haters ’cause somebody loves ya
If they loved ya they would give you something other than dollar bills.
And everyone in line in the bathroom
Trying to get a line in the bathroom
Hanna Montana! Listen to Nancy Reagan and Just Say No!
Then, there is a part where she stops singing about illicit drugs and screams like a goat. So, we won’t be adding Miley’s new song to the minivan mixed tape.
I recently read an article about Ty Beanie Babies being worth far less than experts predicted. Do you remember how people flocked to stores to buy the latest release? True collectors protected their Beanie Babies in curio cabinets. Amateurs cut off the tag.
Fast forward a decade later and you have a worthless box of teddy bears. Fools. (Evil cackle) I had a better plan to get rich. I collected New Kids on the Block Memorabilia. Who the hell could have predicted that comeback? There was no way of knowing women, on the verge of “the change,” would buy albums and concert tickets in 2013.
So, according to the Ebay Gods, my vintage lunchbox is not even worth 20 bucks.
A few months ago I decided to clean out my collection. It has been stored in my Mom’s attic for well over a decade. I donated a t-shirt to Goodwill. So, if you see someone walking around town sporting a Hangin’ Tough t-shirt, you’re welcome. I gave my 3-year-old daughter the Joey Joe doll. That slut Barbie has already gotten her claws into him. I think she just wants his gold ring. I washed the beach towel and placed it in our linen closest. A few days ago, I decided it was time to put NKOTB to work. So, after a fun filled afternoon on the Slip n’ Slide (not to be confused with the Slip and Slide) I wrapped my 6-year-old in that invaluable towel. My son asked, “Who are those guys?” I told him, “New Kids on the Block.” He gave a blank stare. “They were a popular boy band when I was younger,” I explained.
My son was not impressed. He kept the towel on long enough for me to snap this photo before demanding a new one. I will never understand kids these days. Who wouldn’t want Jordan’s face on a beach towel? He has the right stuff. (Thank you, I will be here all night. Tip your waitresses.)
It is February, but still looks like December in my house. My 3-year-old daughter won’t let me take down her Christmas tree. It’s just a small artificial tree tucked in the corner of the playroom. She pleaded with me to leave it up when I took the other decorations down. I figured she would forget about it a few days later. She did not. I’ve tried to get rid of it, sneaking around as the Grinch while she slept. The next day, she scanned the room like the Terminator demanding to know, “Where is my tree?” I told her we cannot leave it up all year. “Why not?” Well, because we have a full set of teeth, wouldn’t wear a NASCAR t-shirt to a funeral or put a confederate flag in the window of our pick up truck. We are part of the Target shopping middle class and we will act like it damn it! She pleaded with me, “But it is pretty!” I thought about my reason for wanting to tuck it away in the closet despite her tears. Would I be embarrassed if we had company? Who cares! I’m not living in Downton Abbey. (Am I the only one who thought they lived in DownTOWN Abbey?) There won’t be any surprise royal visitors. Those chicks aren’t above me anyway. They marry their cousins.
If age didn’t come with wrinkles and belly fat it would be an incredible thing. The older you get the less you care what other people think of you. The tree is staying put. We may even decorate it for Valentine’s Day, Easter, etc. (Cue: Banjo)