But seriously, now I want rotisserie chicken

I was in my office typing a report today and listening to music. My office door is behind me and it was open so my coworkers can yell stuff at each other throughout the day. One of my coworkers (I’ll call her Suzanne) and I often have yelled conversations.

So anyway, I’m engrossed in my typing and I hear her talking.

Suzanne: Hey Jess.

Me: Hey girl. What’s up?

S: You gonna go to Costco today?

Me: I wasn’t going today, but I’m going this weekend. Why?

S: Why don’t you grab one of their rotisserie chickens?

Me, still typing: That’s a good idea! You keep saying how good they are.

S: *pause* Ok. You better make a list.

I stop typing and grab a post it: Good idea. Hey, I’ll buy some more of those granola bars we all like. The ones with the extra protein?

S: Ok baby. See you later. *louder voice* Jess, I was talking to my husband Jesse. Sorry, sometimes I call him Jess.

Me: Are you serious? I just had a whole ass conversation about chicken with you!!!

Suzanne and my other coworker burst into deep belly laughing. Like, busted a gut laughing. I start cracking up.

Me, laughing: Suzanne, why didn’t you SAY something to me? I’m just babbling away like a dumbass!

S: I didn’t want to say anything to interrupt you.

Me: Jesus. But seriously, y’all want me to pick up those granola bars?

Both coworkers: Yup!

It’s Bake Off time, bitches

Me at age 20: Yessss, I’d love to go to the club with you, dance around a pile of our purses, and hover over the toilet seat in the filthy bathroom!

Me at age 40: Baby, grab me a Tums on your way to the couch. It’s Biscuit Week on The Great British Bake Off!

Vanity Plate Stories: Brozzef’s Big Day

Brozzef knew it was gonna be a be a good day. He could feel it from the soles of his New Balance sneakers to the top of his Axe-gelled haircut.
 
“Brozzef,” he said to himself, “Today is your day, brah. Today is the day you will propose to Kaiyghtlyynn!”
 
Brozzef had been dating Kaiyghtlyyn for a super long time, like an eon, a whole 6 months. He knew she would be the perfect trophy wife. Sure, she was a little old for him at 22, but Brozzef was feeling his age at 39 and 3/4.
 
He was finally ready to move out of his mom’s house and have kids of his own. His eyes teared up (but not in a gay way) as he thought of his future semen demons: Brozzef Junior, Chadleigh (good for a boy OR a girl!), and of course little Donaldina, named after the best damn president ever!
 
As Brozzef zipped through the lanes of the highway, he felt in the pocket of his beige cargo shorts for the engagement ring. Tonight at Olive Garden he was going to propose to the perfect woman Kaiyghtlyynn and begin the next chapter of his life.
 
***
 
God, I hate vanity license plates.

 

The birds, the bees, and the bananas

A few nights ago Ollie and I were sitting on the couch watching TV and she casually mentioned something a friend had told her that day. Her friend told her something about sex (I’m not going into specifics) that was completely wrong and misinformed. I calmly explained what her friend told her wasn’t true and I explained to her the real facts about the sex topic she was curious about. I then figured what the hell, the boys weren’t home and I might as well make sure she was informed about other sexual health topics.

We had a long discussion about consent, the importance of communication with any potential sexual partners, sexually transmitted diseases, and how to properly put a condom on a banana. #girltalk

It was a great talk and I was blown away by how calm and comfortable my girl felt about talking to me about this stuff. I’m so proud of her. We’re a sex positive house and we try to honestly answer any sexual questions our kids have.

After we talked we threw away condom wrappers we had practiced with and Ollie asked me what she should do with the poor banana we practiced on. I told her to put it back in the fruit bowl and I’d take it for breakfast the next day. She made a gagging face and put the banana up. Whatever, Mama is cheap and isn’t wasting food.

The next morning, I sent her this text while she was in school. Because I can only be a mature, responsible mother for so long before I revert to an immature 12 year old boy who just watched the Jackass movies for the first time.

I love you, Noodle. I’m so proud of you. And that banana was delicious. And still slightly lubricated.

Tonight I am thankful for grandparents

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thanks again for letting your grandchildren spend the night with you tonight.  Having them out of my hair tonight will give me more time to cook and clean for Thanksgiving tomorrow.  I can’t wait to deep clean the floor under the stove and make a pumpkin pie completely from scratch.  I may even dust the baseboards!

Dammit.  I can’t write this with a straight face.  Guys, I have no plans to clean tonight. Or really even cook.  Honestly, Patrick and I haven’t had a night alone together in three years and we had to go to Canada to make that happen.  Travel restrictions being what they are, I’m hella pumped that a sleepover with your grandkids is happening.  You’re the real MVP.

No, tonight Patrick and I plan on eating sushi in our underwear while watching non-Disney movies until midnight.   YOLO, am I right?  And if things work out, we may even–

Hang on.  I’m gonna use a euphemism because you are my parents and I don’t want you to gag.

Patrick and I may even do our taxes tonight.  Who knows?  We’re youngish, in love, and it’s rare we get to do the taxes with no kids in the house.  We’ll be able to take our time and find every deduction owed to us.  We’ll make sure every form is completely filled out.  We can do our taxes as loud as we want..  Hell, if I can hydrate Patrick enough, we may do our taxes TWICE.   No promises though.  We’re both out of shape.

The point is, we want to thank you guys for watching the kids.  It means a lot to us.  Just a few quick pointers:

* The 16 year old’s phone DOES remove from her hands.  Just grip the phone firmly and pull.  She’ll look confused for a few minutes but will come around. 

* You should cut off all liquids after 6pm for the boys or your guest bedroom will look like Florida Everglades in the morning: wet and muggy.  Tell them they have to go potty before they get into bed or Santa will bring them bricks for Christmas.  I read that tip in a parenting book once.

* Don’t call us.  Hahaha, just kidding.  Of course you should call us.  But we won’t answer.

Enjoy this time with your grandchildren. Feed them junk food and then act surprised when they are visibly vibrating at 2 am.  Let them get grubby and muddy.  Believe them when they lie through their teeth and say I don’t make them eat vegetables.   Have fun.  Snuggle them. 

Love, your daughter

Lavendar Fields Forever

This morning the boys woke up before my alarm and Patrick got up with them. Because he is a wonderful, wonderful man whose mother taught him at an early age to always, always let Mom sleep.

I owe my mother-in-law an enormous debt of gratitude.

Anywho, I had gotten up about 10 minutes later and stepped out of my bedroom when a fully sentient lavender plant punched me right in the nostrils. Yes, you read that sentence correctly. I know as writers, we tend to exaggerate for the sake of a well-crafted story. You’re probably chuckling to yourself about how I am prone to hyperbole.

Nay, says I. ‘Tis no exaggeration. I opened my bedroom door and I was smacked in the face by a solid wall of lavender stench so thick, I needed a chainsaw to cut through it. I staggered down the hallway wondering what the hell was happening. The boys’ bedroom is next to ours and I stumbled through the botanical haze to them. At the doorway I froze.

The boys were standing in their bedroom in their underwear. Tyrus was facing away from Teddy. Teddy was holding a can of Febreze only an inch away from Tyrus’s butt and was spraying away. Both were giggling hysterically.

Some of you may be wondering why my kids were doing something so dumb. To which I ask you, “What is it like not having children? Is it quiet and relaxing? Are surfaces clean and non-sticky? Do you feel decadent peeing in a toilet not filled with Legos?”

Because I know you guys WITH kids are nodding along to this and thinking to yourselves, “Oh yeah. Kids do stupid shit ALL THE TIME for no reason. My kid just tried to microwave a sock.”

I watched them for a full five seconds in stunned silence. Then I took a deep breath, then coughed because lavender, and shrieked, “FEBREZE ISN’T A TOY!”

Both boys jumped about a foot in the air. Teddy’s hand spasmed and he flung the now empty can of Febreze at my feet. This can was half full last night, guys. And that’s not me being an optimist and thinking, “La de dah, the can is half full because I always look for the good side of things.” No, eff that. That half full can was now as empty as my field of fucks. Alas, there are no more for me to give.

The boys had that glazed look on their faces that remind me of a deer in headlights. That “Oh shit, I am so completely borked right now” look. Or maybe their eyes were glazed because of lavendar-scented chemicals. Honestly, who knows? I’m gonna tell my therapist it was just essential oil.

Hi Janel! Just kidding! I’ll call you soon!

Anyway, it took a couple hours for the smell to disappear. Thankfully our house no longer reeks like Senior Citizens Night at Hobby Lobby.

The Petty Chronicles

Today I took my 6 year old with me to Walmart for groceries. He woke up pretty early this morning and he’s been really grouchy and irritable, which makes me think he’s either tired or about to start his period. I dunno. I’m not a doctor.

He insisted on walking 20 feet behind me, kept mumbling rude stuff under his breath, and just being an asshat. (And for any sanctimommies who are judging me for calling my kid an asshat, I’m so sorry because you are obviously lost and are probably looking for a blog that talks about the healing powers of Tupperware or whatever the hell it is you guys talk about. Good luck.)

Anyway, there was an employee who was handing out cake samples. As we walked by, a sweet older woman stopped me.

Older woman: Aren’t you going to get some cake for your little boy?

Teddy: *looks hopeful*

Me: Not today, I’m afraid. He hasn’t earned it.

Older woman: Ahh, good for you for being firm.

Teddy chooses this time as the perfect time to mumble, “Mama doesn’t deserve any cake.”

I walked back to the cake person and asked politely for a piece of cake. Delicious looking cake that was FULL of gluten, which tears up my stomach. And I ate every crumb of that cake in front of Teddy.

Me: Hmm, this cake is so good!

Teddy: *glares*Me: And it’s so moist! I’m glad I made good choices today! Yum!

Teddy: *glares*

My colon: *rumbles angrily*

Son, never underestimate my level of petty. I am the MASTER of petty. I listen to Petty LaBelle and Petty Wap, I enjoy a nice hot Petty Melt with fries, sometimes I make a cake using a Petty Crocker cake mix, THERE ARE NO LIMITS TO MY PETTY, SON.

And the dirty look my precious darling gave me as he watched me eat that cake? The stomach cramps I have right now are totally worth it.

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