Growing Pains

In less than a week, my son goes back to school...it is the unofficial end of summer for him. For me on the other hand, summer is just beginning to get in the swing. And, while I adore my child and love spending days with him doing not much of anything, I feel I will love and adore him even more when he is back in school. This is because sometime over the past summer, he has become a teenager, and as a result he no longer knows I am the funnest, coolest Mom on the planet. He has forgotten that I am the woman who once spent a week mastering the ability to make fart sounds with a blade of grass simply to amuse him. He has overlooked the fact that I once spent days walking around Disney simply to locate the exact right 'STRING SPINNER WITH ELECTRIC LIGHT' so that he could bring it home, take it apart and reconstruct it into a sophisticated high speed cat toy that whipped all the cats, even old Boo-Boo, into a frenzy. He has also forgotten that I allowed, even ENCOURAGED him to make 'Jello' balloons. And that I applauded and supported his efforts to construct endless types of shooting devices that have shot raw potatoes, straight pins and a host of other stuff in between. He has forgotten that I have actively participated in the planning and construction of numerous kites, whose sole purpose was for us to set fire to them while they were aloft. The six-foot wide parachute I constructed for a GI Joe that got stuck up in a tree about 100 feet in the air (don't ask how we got it up that high) which housed numerous generations of squirrels until it finally fell out of the tree last Spring, has been forgotten. He has lost interest in me. I have become simply ... his parent. Beyond being a supplier of food, I hold no promise of anything interesting for the boy. I am worried that our future together is toast, unless I somehow gain the ability to beat him at his favorite XBox game, or learn how to ride a motorcycle, or do something so completely unique that he can't help but say 'Oh wow, that's cool, Mom'. Until then, I will pump him full of nutritious sustenance and stand at the ready for the day when he may need my help in finishing that paper clock we started building a few month's ago...

Let's Get Physical

In my effort to become more physically fit and improve the overall quality of my life, I began an intense exercise program some months ago. So, I go to a gym lots of days a week and pound and mold and try to subdue my middle-aged body into some sort of healthful condition. Over the past months, I am glad to report that there are definite positive changes to my body. I still don't quite have "Buns of Steel", but no longer do I have "Buns of Sponge".

So Perfect

Beatrice, the voice of my GPS unit, is so much more refined and ladylike than I am. First of all, she has the most luscious, full-toned and ripe English accent. If I fail to execute a turn, let's say, she will politely and patiently explain to me that she is "Recalculating". Beatrice NEVER loses her cool with me at the wheel. She has never yelled at me no matter how many times I fail to make the correct maneuver. She is also never a 'back seat driver' who attempts to correct my speed or regale me with stories of what might happen if I tailgate the driver in front of me. She doesn't curse out the other drivers who might cut in front of me, or tailgate me, either. Unlike me, she doesn't get flustered or jam her hand down on the horn in frustration when the driver in front of her is trying to remember which one of the pedals they are supposed to push on to make the car go. She is, in short, the perfect driving companion. Sometimes though, I wish she wasn't so flawless as I feel a bit inadequate when confronted by such unshakable composure. Maybe just once, after I have completed an exceptionally 'daring' maneuver, she could let loose with a well elocuted "Oh my!"

Workin' It

Where I live, there is a restaurant that specializes in Mexican cuisine. In an effort to drum up business, they have hired someone to dress up as an ass and stand on the side of the road and wave to passing traffic, while holding a sign with the restaurant's name in the other. Perhaps this was a successful technique to improve patronage, because the Japanese restaurant on the other side of the parking lot has now hired someone to dress up as a Sumo wrestler (diaper and all) to stand curbside and wave at passing traffic while touting their sushi bar. TWO jobs I am thankful I do not have...

Fender Bender

So I am coming home from the store a few days ago, driving down my street about to turn into my driveway, when a car coming the opposite way drives into me. Our side view mirrors sort of collided - mine just folded in and was fine. His mirror (which serves him right because he turned out to be a real muffin head) sort of just DANGLED AND HUNG off the side of his truck like a broken arm on a Barbie doll (ooooh I can be so cranky, can't I?). I pull into my drive and this guy (after parking on my lawn, dammit) charges out of his truck ranting about the damage to his vehicle and starts fiddling with the broken mirror. He gets it to sit properly, but continues to fuss, whining about what he was supposed to do if it was still broken. I suggested that he could always place a claim with his insurance company, and he went ballistic. He said that the incident was all my fault, and that it could be really expensive to get his mirror repaired. Seeing what was coming I shut him right up by offering to call the police to get an accident report filed so he could make his claim. I went into the house to make my call, and he drove off. I hope when he got to that big pothole at the end of the road, it jarred his crummy mirror right off the side of his truck! Bozo!