Story time

31 10 2015

Living with kids has taught me one very valuable life lesson:

Sometimes, it’s just best not know certain things….

My darling daughter was in the kitchen the other evening, when she started to laugh and then said “Mom, I have something to tell you, but maybe I shouldn’t…”

My mind went Mom-anoid (paranoid mom thoughts) right away…. Oh god, what happened?? Drugs? Boys? A fight in school?

I told her she had to tell me now, she couldn’t leave me hanging like that.

And so she told me a little story:

Once, back in the spring, she was hungry and decided to have a bowl of yogurt. Now, I love me some yogurt and buy that shit in the biggest tubs available. And she hates that briney liquid that seeps to the top of it, so as she was attempting to pour out the liquid into the sink when BLOOP, the whole container of yogurt went with it.

She panicked. OH NO, Mom is gonna RAGE she thought, and started scooping up the yogurt with her hands, back into the container. She hastily rinsed out the evidence, stirred the yogurt up with aaaalllllll the yummy delicious sink bacteria and tossed it back in the fridge….

I (who by the way am the biggest germaphobe I know) remained oblivious,  and devoured my beloved and now contaminated sink-yogurt over the next few days, completely unaware of said crime.

I sat there, listening to this, my mouth hanging open in complete awe and disgust while she laughed her butt off. What else could I do at that time but laugh as well….

In closing, I’d like to thank my mom who ingrained in me the need to clean  my sink out on a regular basis, or otherwise I might have died a slow tortuous food-poisoning death…..



Well, SOMEONE had to do it….

23 11 2013

Last night I took my daughter and two of her friends to see The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (which was a fantastic movie, btw). We arrived early since we knew everyone in Nelson might have the same idea. (It ended up being sold out and 80+ people being turned away at the door!)

So there we stood outside in the bitter cold, me the only adult within 50 feet, surrounded by many many kids aged 10-15. I kept quiet for the most part, listening to the chatter. Once it got closer to the time the doors were set to open though, the group of kids in front of me started to get a little rambunctious. One kid in particular was running around, jumping on the railing and acting like, well, like a little crazed monkey, drunk with excitement. I could see with my Mom eyes that the situation was threatening to escalate, to turn into all-out gong show of maniacal unchaperoned kids. Then the pushing started. I waited a minute or so to see if they could calm themselves down.

Nope. A few of the kids tried their best to yell “Stop PUSHING!” to no avail. The pushing and  grabbing continued, and I for one didn’t feel like being caught up in the melee.

So I held up my hand and said “Hey! Do I need to be the Mom here and tell you guys to stop pushing?”

LOL…..       L….O….L……

The mini riot stopped instantly, contrite children staring at me with saucer-sized eyes. My daughter and her two friends were MORTIFIED…. From the corner of my eye I saw them slink away and huddle together in some sort of deflection of embarrassment, to disconnect from me as much as humanly possible. Oy, I felt bad right away….. But the majority of the kids in the group, one of whom is a friend’s son, were instantly apologetic. It’s like as a mob they couldn’t stop themselves and needed a voice of parental reason to put an end to the madness. A few looked somewhat grateful. My daughter and her two friends, rosy-cheeked with embarrassment wouldn’t speak to me…. well, except to say “OH MY GOD…. I’m sooooo embarrassed….”

Finally, the doors opened, the mob poured in, and I… I, as a peace offering of sorts, sat far, far away from the girls.