The Right Phrase At The Right Time

As I've watched my son grow up and slowly head towards leaving the "nest", I tend to look back more and more on the little things he did and said as a child.

And I think to myself....

"Holy shit. What the fuck was he thinking?!"

Like me, my son tends to speak his mind. It doesn't matter who he's speaking to. He doesn't care. I've told him that if he needs to say something, to say it. Throughout his life, he has taken these words to heart. I have slightly regretted teaching him this lesson on more than one occasion.

When Booger (the name I call my son on here for privacy reasons, and at home 'cause he's always been a little snot) was barely walking, he liked to participate in what I like to call "Shock Therapy". That's when he opens his tiny, innocent little mouth and out comes something so completely shocking to those around us that everyone stares at me, mouth agape, wondering how I could have corrupted such an innocent in so short amount of time.

One such time was on an elevator in the apartment building we spent the first few years of his life in. We lived on the 9th floor. It was a fairly speedy elevator. Unless Booger was in one of his moods and he had an audience. This time, the audience was a man. And the show was interactive. Booger decided to pass the time by sharing pleasantries with the man in the elevator.

Booger: "Hi!"

Man: "Hello."

Booger: "You're a man, right?"

Man: (smiling) "Well, yes. Yes, I am."

Booger: "So... you have a penis, right?"

Man: (puzzled, but still smiling - not knowing how to reply) "Uhm... well, yes. I do."

The man's eyes were jumping from Booger to me and back again. He was clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation had ended up so far... but Booger did not stop there. And we were only passing the 4th floor by this point!

Booger: "So... is it a big penis, or a little penis?"

I started pushing buttons - "Here... here... we're getting off here...."

I wanted to laugh... I was embarrassed for the man... I was surprised at the audacity of a two year old boy...

We never did find out if the man had a big penis or a little penis.. but I did learn that day that my son has got himself some really big cajones.

Sometimes, They Make You So Proud You Wanna Punch Someone In The Face With A Hammer Out Of Sheer Bliss!

Every once in awhile, you're forced to look at your life from a different point of view and realize that you're not quite the loser you thought you were. Oh, sure - you might still THINK you're a loser - but when you remove your head from your own ass, you are able to see yourself from someone else's point of view - and you come to understand, however temporarily, that your own opinion of yourself means shit in the grand scheme of things.

Every time I get a glimpse into my son's soul and see how very awesome he is, I allow myself to think, "Dammit... I've done good!".

People have always told me I'm an excellent mom.. and for the most part, I agree with them - but even those of us who achieve excellence once in awhile have our moments of self-doubt. Did I do enough for him..? Did I teach him the difference between right and wrong? Did I teach him how to let his feelings show and open his heart to another human being? Did I teach him to pick up his underwear and make his bed? Okay.. I failed on that last one... he still leaves his shit everywhere and never makes his bed because he 'doesn't see the point if its only going to get messed up again'.

Then he'll reveal a side of himself that I'm both surprised at and fully expect of him... Like his new blog. Please take a moment to go have a read. Become a "follower". Leave a comment that his Mom sent you - I'm sure he'll love that. ;) Seriously - he's funny and interesting and gives you great recipes from the point of view of a pretty damned good chef. :D

I *Know* It Was A Funeral and I Really Didn't Mean To Get The Giggles

When you see this outfit, what do you think of? Go ahead... look carefully... I'll give you a few moments to have a few descriptive comments pop into your head....

I'll bet a few of you came up with "70's", "Prom", "OH MY FUCK", and a few of you were probably just giggling your ass off.

Now.. how many of you thought, "Funeral"?

Show of hands....?

I count..... one. And I only count one because I witnessed this outfit being worn to a funeral once. The funeral was for my Grandmonster and the proud model for this particular style was a cousin.

Now, don't get me wrong... I do understand that this is probably the nicest suit he had in his closet - and that he was only trying to do his gramma right and wear what he thought was appropriately respectful. I get that. I really do.

But that did not stop me from getting the giggles.

My Grandmonster and I didn't get along very well. Our idea of pleasantries was her greeting me with "Hey, Slut!" and me putting itching powder in her artificial leg while she slept. She was miserable to everyone who crossed her path, and only had a kind word for those who could do something for her. As her granddaughter, I was not one of those people.

Her death came as a pleasant surprise - to me, anyway. Not so much to my mom, who found her when she came home from work one day. She immediately called ME and I had to deal with that entire situation - but that's a story for another day.

Going to her funeral was not something I wanted to do. I didn't really feel the need to "say goodbye" or "see her one last time". I wouldn't even go into the room until the casket was closed.. 'cause.. I saw her on her deathbed. There isn't anything that will erase that image from my mind.

I went because my mom asked me to. And I will do anything my mom asks me to do. Because she's my mom. So I brought my brand-new-been-seeing-him-for-less-than-a-month boyfriend. You ever want to test a new boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen... bring him to the funeral of a relative you don't like... before he has met anyone in your family - aside from your mom - who he met at your Grandmonster's deathbed. (couch, actually - she was on the couch).

We were at the funeral service, doing the meet n' greet.. when suddenly, popping out of my mouth before I could stop it, were the words, "Oh my fuck - is that a powder blue tuxedo!?" What? Oh, c'mon... you'd say that too.. scroll up and look at the picture again... Now picture it with straggly long hair and a beard. Would you be able to control what your face was saying? I thought not.

To make matters worse, I was sat right behind him during the service. So I got to look at it the entire time. And the minister didn't help much... when he said, "Jesus' favourite word is 'Come... come to me...'"... and I couldn't help but think, "What a coincidence! 'Come' is my favourite word, too!!!" Which - of course - sent me off on a new gale of giggles.

Luckily, I was able to keep my head down - and my shaking shoulders were mistaken for sobs of grief rather than uncontrollable laughter. Image is everything. ;)

Better Really, Really, REALLY Late, than Never

About a thousand years ago, I posted about my son, Booger, getting his first Tattoo. It was our birthday present to him for his 18th. I posted a pic of it when it was half done, but I never posted the finished tat. So here it is for those of you who were regulars back then. You know who you are. And you know I love you. ;)

I also promised Chicka (MWAH, girl! You know we're gonna run Hell together! :D) that I'd show a pic of my tat... so here ya go, hon. :D