Thursday, October 1, 2015

10 Lies Parents Of Teens Tell Themselves

     Smart teenagers know that the way to a parent's heart is through obedience, love and respect for the people who raised them (plus offering to do a few loads of laundry will go a long way). But smarter teens know when to keep their mouths shut, even though chances are they disagree with most of what their parents tell them. They have their own agendas, but the clever ones know how to distract their parents long enough to cloud their judgment. They'll push the limits to borrow the family car or extend a curfew, all the while swearing that they'll be careful.

      As parents, we want to trust our little beastlings, so we give them the benefit of the doubt. But sometimes it backfires…..

1. I'll co-sign on their student loans because I know they'll never be late on a payment.  
    Yes they will. And when it happens, you'll be inundated with robo calls from collection agencies          because your college-age teen chose to buy the latest iPhone, stereo system, or big screen TV rather than make a monthly loan payment.

2. Sure, my kids will help me mow the lawn this weekend, fold the laundry and dust all 90 squirrel figurines in my curio cabinet. 
     For real? What planet are you from? First off, no teen wakes before noon. After that, you'll be lucky if they brush their teeth and put on deodorant. In other words, you'll be cleaning out the A/C grate and weeding the garden by yourself.

3. My kids won't remember family night at the sports bar/restaurant when I had one too many beers. 
       Yes. Yes they will. And they will remind you until your 80th birthday about the time you entered a punching bag contest after nine beers and the punching bag won. Nor will they let you forget what you looked like after you swung, missed the bag, and ended up on the floor curled up like a cocktail shrimp.

4. My teen just got his driver's license. He'll do fine since I taught him how to be a consciencious driver and to always obey the speed limit.  
     What you don't know won't hurt you….until your child hands you a $150 speeding ticket from going 65 in a 25 mile-per-hour school zone. This same teen still believes that his 1991 Dodge Caravan can outrun a 2015 Mustang GT.

5. Of course my kids know better than to break their curfew. 
     Uh-huh. That's why they leave their bedroom window unlocked and oil the hinges on the front door with W-40 while you're sound asleep in Never Never Land.

6. I know my kids enjoy spending time with the family, especially when it's Monopoly night.
     Wrong. They would rather scrub grout from their shower tile or babysit the neighbor's toddler who has a bad case of diarrhea than spend an evening with dear old BORING mom and dad.

7. Their first love will be the school valedictorian who has a full scholarship to an ivy league school where they'll earn their doctorate in nuerosurgery. 
      Dream on. Every teen goes through their "I-wanna-bad boy/bad girl-phase." Grit your teeth and gnaw on a leather strap until they outgrow this nail-biting phase of life.

8. I don't need to spend more than $200 a week on groceries for a family of four. 
     There's a little known fact that teens, especially boys, consume a gallon of milk a day washed down with an entire package of cookies and chips. You might as well buy a few chickens while you're shopping because you can never have enough eggs in the house when there are one or more teenagers living under the same roof.

9. My teen hates the smell of cigarette smoke and the taste of alcohol, plus she hates taking any form of medication. Chances are she'll never drink, smoke, or try drugs.
     Sadly, this is wrong. Chances are your teen WILL try one or all of these things at some point because peer pressure is mightier than you can imagine. Brace yourself for a bumpy ride…"Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore."
10. My kids will never get a tattoo or body piercing. 
     You wanna make a bet? The good news is that some of those things will be in areas on their body that you will never see, so don't worry about it. If you can't see it, it doesn't exist, right?
     The only lie you're allowed to believe is the one that really isn't a lie, even though at the time (while raising teens) it might feel like one. They love you. They really do. And one day when they're old enough to understand all that you've done for them, they'll appreciate you.

     But don't forget to hide the WD-40, just in case….

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I'm up on BLUNTmoms again with the Seven Dwarves of PMS:


Friday, September 25, 2015

Bad Luck? Blame It On Mercury

     If you've been having an unusually craptastic week, there's a pseudoscientific reason for your misfortune. Mercury is in retrograde from September 17 to October 9th, and this astrological phenomenon is the perfect scapegoat for everything that has gone awry in the past week.

     "Mercury Retrograde" occurs during three periods throughout the year, a time when the planet appears to stall and spin backward. Although this is an illusion caused by the rotation of the earth, many people believe that the retrograde phase is responsible for wreaking havoc during each of these three-and-a-half week periods. Mercury is the ruling planet of communication, so it stands to reason that while in retrograde, communication, travel and technology go haywire, causing a certain degree of pandemonium on earth. Computers crash for no reason, cell phones erase info, emails are lost and transportation is a nightmare.

     It doesn't stop there. Staunch believers of Mercury's trickery advise against signing important documents, traveling, starting a new job, moving, getting married, or launching a new business venture during retrograde.

     I've had my own share of misfortunes in the past week; my car died, my husband was in a car accident (not hurt, thankfully) and one of my sweet pets died in her sleep. I've also had a few heated debates with friends and even engaged in a ridiculous argument with my husband one night over the Miami Dolphins….and I don't even watch football.

     I'd love to blame Mercury for my bad luck, but rather than focus on my misfortune, I prefer to think of all the good things that the retrograde phase might do for me. If everything is spinning backward, that means I might have a second chance at enjoying some of the things I miss:

*My old metabolism. Maybe I can go back to eating chicken wings, donuts, and cheeseburgers without gaining a pound.

*High energy. I'd like to be as energetic as I was when I was a kid with the motivation to run around the playground, climb a jungle gym or sail down a hot metal slide without getting second degree burns on my chunky thighs.

*Good music. Pat Benetar, Journey, The Cars, Peter Gabriel, Toto, The Police…..the list goes on and on. I'd rather listen to them than some dude singing, "Now watch me whip, watch me nae nae…"

*Size eight clothing. It sure would be nice to fit into that size again, since right now the fabric from one of those tiny t-shirts would barely cover one arm.

*Required nap time. In kindergarten, we played all morning, ate lunch, then pulled out our mats and blankets to sleep for an hour. When we woke up, the nice teacher handed out graham crackers and milk. I want to go back to kindergarten….for adults. And the nice teacher hands out margaritas with chips and queso dip.

*My stamina. I could stay out all night and party like a rock star when I was in my twenties. Now I can't even make it to the dinner hour without three cups of coffee to prop me up.

*80's fashion. Shoulder pads, parachute pants and velour jumpsuits. Just kidding. Pajama jeans and yoga pants work fine.

Come to think of it, now that there's a Clinton and a Bush running for office again, who knows? Maybe there's something to the lore of Mercury in retrograde, after all.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Fly On The Wall In A Padded Cell

     Welcome to another edition of Fly on the Wall group posts, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today 16 brave bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. 

      At my house, whenever my whole family gets together, things get weird. Someone will bring out the accordion and attempt to play polka music. Worse, SOME people actually try to dance to the music. Soon after, a pudding fight ensues. 

     Yes, I live with lunatics, and they all belong in a padded cell….together.  

"You've infected me with your lunacy."

"Don't throw out those leftover pancakes! I might eat them later."
"Instead of 'Save the Whales' your new slogan should be "Save The Pancakes."

"Laughter is NOT the best medicine. Chocolate is."

"I like this bottle of Winking Owl wine, even though it's really cheap."
"It tastes like crap. They should have named it Winking Sphincter wine."

"With all the tossing and turning you do in bed at night, I think that qualifies as a day's worth of rigorous exercise."

"Did my granddaughter just say that having to carry all of her stuff up the stairs was 'ridiculous'?"
"No---she said it was 'DICKulous.' She hasn't mastered her R's yet."

"Dear triple shot of espresso, please lie to me about how much we're going to get done today."

"Stop licking my earlobe---I already know you're feeling amorous. Who needs Q-tips when I have your tongue?"
"Are you talking to me or the dog?"

"Why is your ring tone a loud siren? Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?"  

"Wow---that Water Pik works better than floss! After eating a steak, I just sprayed half a cow out of my molars." 

"I have so many tabs open on my laptop --- it sounds like a jet getting ready to take off."

"Note to self: never give your husband cabbage for dinner an hour before he has to drive clients around all night for Uber."

     Now you understand what I mean when I say I've been locked in a padded cell with these whack jobs. Can you hand me the keys to get out of here, please???

Check out all the bloggers participating in today's Fly On The Wall group posting! 

htttp://                          Baking In A Tornado                          Spatulas on Parade                          Follow me home                          Menopausal Mother                                   Never Ever Give Up Hope                                  Just A Little Nutty                                        The Momisodes                            Someone Else’s Genius                                      Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                     The Angrivated Mom                           Nichole Mom of 8                          Searching for Sanity                                    Cluttered Genius                 Eileen’s Perpetually Busy                          Southern Belle Charm                                        Go Mama O

Friday, September 11, 2015

The Seven Dwarfs Of Menopause

     I'm far from being Snow White when it comes to the "change of life", especially now that the seven dwarfs of menopause have moved in. More often than not, I resemble the wicked queen with my rapid mood swings. "Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the meanest of them all?" Even these dwarfs know better than to hang around when I'm having a lousy day. If I had a poison apple in my hand right now, I'd throw it at them.

     Who are the little buggers I'm talking about? These seven, miserable dwarfs:

GRUMPY:  Overnight I've been transformed into a grumpy old person, which makes me hard to please on any given day. The sun is too bright, the kids are too loud, and my fiber pills are not working. Unless you're going to surprise me with a juicy burger and a chocolate milkshake, then leave me alone.

SWEATY:  Ceiling fans on warp speed and an A/C unit set at 65 degrees is STILL not enough to stop the sweating. My pores have become a sprinkler system spewing sweat that runs down my face and pools at the base of my neck like the Great Lakes. My damp clothing is a second skin that I can't remove fast enough. Where the hell is the shut-off valve?

BLOATY: I have a stomach that feels like it has been inflated with helium. Put a string in my nose and watch me float across the sky like the Goodyear Blimp.

SLEEPY: I'm always sleepy because I can't sleep when I need to be sleeping. Insomnia has stolen the joy of hibernating under my blanket for hours and has turned me into a creature of the night. When I finally do fall asleep, I fall so deep that I can't wake up. My house could go up in flames and I wouldn't know it. If that ever happens, the firemen will just have to carry me out on my bed because I'm not leaving my Tempur-Pedic for anyone.

DRIED-UP: Sex is not always pleasant when there's tumble weeds rolling around in the desert of my lady bits. If I'm not careful, my poor husband will be searching my body for alternative orifices.

FORGETFUL: I forget the pasta water that's boiling over on the stove; I forget to pick up my granddaughter from pre-school, and I forget to walk the dogs until one of them leaves a smelly surprise on the couch. You know what would make a great Christmas gift this year, Santa?  A LoJack for my car keys and reading glasses.

PSYCHO: Think Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or Norman Bates from The Bates Hotel. It's all fun and games until the grocery store no longer stocks my favorite pinto grigio and flames begin shooting out of my nostrils. Mr. Grocery Store Manager, you have been warned.

     I can only hope that one day soon the prince of post-menopause will arrive on my doorstep. With a single kiss, all my symptoms will disappear….and only then will I live happily ever after.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I'm featured for the very first time on Boomer Cafe, where I'm sharing the joy of being an almost empty nester! Can you can read it here:

Friday, September 4, 2015

Eight Types Of People Who Annoy Me

    The best thing about the human race is our individuality. The world would be a dull place indeed if we all dressed the same, talked the same, and shared identical opinions on everything from ice cream flavors to presidential candidates. Our uniqueness is what makes us interesting.

     While I respect individuality, there are also certain types of people who annoy the hell out of me. Their "uniqueness" doesn't jive with my own personality flaws (which include impatience, irritability, and a short attention span), and they bring out the worst in me. They make me feel stabby, which is never good for someone who is going through menopause.

     If you fit into one of these categories, stay far, far away from me. Or better yet, hide your forks.

THE MOTORMOUTH: This is the person who never knows when to stop talking. There's a tiny motor attached to their mouth and it's set on warp speed. Their incessant chatter triggers an instant headache while I'm trying to process the minute details of a story they're eager to share. I'm not interested in hearing "101 fun facts" about your new turbo vacuum. Nor do I need to know the name of every dairy cow that contributed to the chunks of imported cheese behind the deli counter.

INDECISIVE PEOPLE: I refer to these people as "wafflers." They can't make up their mind about ANYTHING. Ever go out to dinner with these people? If the restaurant has an extensive menu, you might as well bring a sleeping bag because you'll be camping under the table for days.

A waffler will agonize for hours over the abundance of food choices. Fried calamari or beef sliders?  It's impossible for these people to make it through a four-course meal because the restaurant's kitchen closes at midnight. For the love of all that is holy, pick the damn calamari and call it a night.

BRAGGARTS: Whenever you share a personal victory, these people like to pipe in about something BETTER that happened to them. They could care less about your trip to Wally World last summer because they were busy partying it up in Monaco. And even though you're proud of the 5K race you ran last weekend, the Braggart is quick to remind you that they ran a 10K race in 102 degrees… uphill. Both ways.

NEGATIVE PEOPLE: No matter how much positivity you try to send out into the universe, negative people will find something wrong with the very things that make you the happiest.

"I just got a promotion at work!"
"Say goodbye to your social life because you'll probably have to work nights and weekends from now on."

"I just bought a new car!"
"I heard there was a recall on that model."

Carry an umbrella when you're around these people, because they will always delight in raining on your parade.

THE CHRONIC COMPLAINER: This person is impossible to please. Nothing is good enough, and fault can be found in just about everything. Their boss is a jerk, their spouse is a slob, their kids are unappreciative, their rent is too high and they have mysterious illnesses that keep them from enjoying pretty much everything in life. Whatever you do, NEVER ask a chronic complainer how their day is going. An ear full of wax is preferable to an earful of misery, which is what these people will give you.

KNOW-IT-ALLS:  My biggest pet peeve is with people who think they know EVERYTHING. Heck, they don't even mind telling me how to run my life. If I ask for your advice, great. Give it to me, and chances are I might actually follow it. But when someone steps into my personal territory and tells me how to do something that I feel I have already accomplished on my own, the claws come out. Unless you've discovered a more efficient way to plunge a toilet without splash-back from a fecal bomb, then please keep your opinions to yourself until I ask for your advice.      

UNRELIABLE PEOPLE: Don't promise me that you're going to do something…..and then bail on me. Don't change plans at the last minute, either---this messes with my OCD. If we have plans to go to dinner at 6:30 and you don't show up until 7:15, I might have to start the party without you. Which means I might be a hot mess by the time you arrive.

OVER-THE-TOP INDEPENDENT SALES ENTHUSIASTS: I get that you have a job to do, but please stop pressuring me to buy your nail sticker designs, powdered shakes, knock-off designer bags, miracle skincare products, prepackaged diet food or emoticon-shaped jewelry. If I win the lottery and can afford all of these products, I'll let you know. Otherwise, back off…..unless you're selling baked goods. I'm always ready to shell out money for a good cupcake.

     What type of people annoy you? Oh wait, let me guess…..people who make lists of the people who annoy them the most.

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I'm featured n BLUNTmoms with my post, "8 People I Love To Hate At The Gym." You can read it here:

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Guest Post by Kimberly Dalferes: Magic Fishing Panties

     I'm so excited today to introduce you to my dear friend and fellow author Kim Dalferes, who has just released her NEWEST book, Magic Fishing Panties! I was lucky enough to get my hands on an ARC of the book, and let me tell you, I was laughing the entire time I was reading this marvelously funny
compilation of stories from her life. I always thought I got myself into some crazy situations, but Kim deserves an award for some of the things she has experienced! I asked her to share a synopsis and a little snippet from her book as a taste of her writing, because I know my readers will want to grab a copy of this hilarious collection for themselves.
     Please welcome Kim to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love. Don't forget to check out her links at the end of the post!

                                        "MAGIC FISHING PANTIES" SYNOPSIS:

Have you taken to blaming the little people for stealing all the things you can’t find, like the damn Chico’s gift card you are 100% sure you left on the dresser? When you take off your bra, is it as if an airbag has deployed? Have you more than once started a sentence with the phrase “Back when I was in school…”? If you answered yes to any of these questions, welcome to the middle-aged cheap seats.
Magic Fishing Panties is the follow-up to Dalferes’ debut book I Was in Love With a Short Man Once. This collection of humorous tales offers new perspective from the self-proclaimed crazy Southern Irish gal and recent inductee into “Club 50.” Rather than wallow in the self-pity often induced by sagging jaw lines, empty nests, and menopause, the author offers colorful depictions of life in the middle. You will find yourself contemplating:
            ·       How would you react to being in public during an earthquake? Oh, and you’re naked.
·       The wedding starts in five minutes and your best friend needs to pump her breast milk, but all the bathrooms are occupied. Where should she go to quickly resolve her situation?
·       You are depressed and alone on your 39th birthday. What do you do? Hint: tattoo anyone?
You’ll come to know Kimba as a true gal pal, someone who will gladly lend you her size 11 black boots, favorite red coat, and anything else you might need to rule the world – with the exception of her magic fishing panties. Because letting you borrow those would be a little weird, don’t ya think?

                                                   BOOK EXCERPT

We gals possess one distinctive disadvantage out on the fishing boats. It’s the “head.” For the guys, their need to relieve themselves is accomplished by a quick pit stop over the bow of the boat. For the gals, well, our equipment doesn’t work that way. A woman’s use of the bathroom on a fishing boat is a time-consuming process. I use the term “bathroom” here with a bit of poetic license. Often, the facilities are nothing more than a bucket. You can take as many countermeasures as possible: limit the coffee consumption and definitely go at the lodge before you get on the boat. But, eventually, you gotta go.

Step 1: The captain clears out the cabin for a little semblance of privacy.
Step 2: Layers of clothing (gloves, hat, scarf, rain slicker) are removed.
Step 3: The bibs must be unhooked, but—and this is important—you mustn’t remove them fully because this would entail also removing your boots.
Step 4: Shuffle over to the cubby area under the bow. You’re lucky if there is a cubby area.
Step 5: Back in, derriere first, drop the bib tops you’ve been holding up, unzip and drop your pants, followed by your underwear, and attempt to squat/land upon the toilet/bucket.
Step 6: Pull across the battered blue plastic sheet that is supposed to provide some modicum of cover.
Step 7: Pray the toilet paper is somewhere within reach.
Step 8: Anchor your hands and feet against the sides of the cubby to steady yourself as the boat sways and rocks.
Step 9: Proceed with, well, you know.
Step 10: Attempt to rise, remaining in a somewhat stooped position in order to avoid bumping your head. (I did not forget about the use of the toilet paper; I’m trying to keep this classy.)
Step 11: While remaining hunched over, attempt to pull up your underwear and your pants in the cubby. Damn near impossible.
Step 12: Pull back the blue plastic sheet and while once again attempting to hold up your pants and bibs, turnaround, bend over, and pull the lever which evacuates the contents of bowl.
Step 13: Turn back around, continue to hold up your bibs, and shuffle back out into the main cabin.
Step 14: Refasten your pants and your bibs, put back on all your clothing—rain gear, hat, gloves, and scarf—and head back out to fishing.
 What could possibly go wrong?


Kimberly “Kimba” Dalferes is a native Floridian, but currently pretends to be a Virginian. She is an accomplished king salmon slayer, estate sale junkie, and sometimes writes books. Her first book, I Was In Love With a Short Man Once, was published in 2011, with a 2nd edition released in 2015 by Booktrope Publishing. Her second book, Magic Fishing Panties, also with Booktrope Publishing, will be released August 2015. Her stories have been featured in diverse publications including Voices from Smith Mountain Lake (an anthology published by the Smith Mountain Arts Council), The Roanoke TimesHippocampus MagazineThe Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, Better After Fifty, Laugh Lines-Finding Your Funny, and Midlife Boulevard. She is also a columnist–her humor column Dock Tale Hour appears regularly in Laker Magazine (an affiliate of Times-World LLC). She recently had a limerick published by the Washington Post and she vehemently believes this is a legit publishing cred.         
The author happily serves on the Board of Governors for the Virginia Writers Club (VWC). She is a member of the Orangeberry Book Tours Hall of Fame (2012), is a featured writer inThe Authors Show, 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading (2012)and won gold in the AuthorsDB 2013 Book Cover Contest. She has also been recognized for her nonfiction writing as the winner of the 2014 Golden Nib Award; VWC’s highest honor.
Dalferes divides her time between Fairfax and Smith Mountain Lake, Virginia with husband Greg, Bonz the cat, and occasionally her son Jimmy, when he is home from college. She is also often found hanging out in The Middle-Aged Cheap Seats–her blog. She continues to sing hopelessly off-key and waits patiently for that phone call from George Clooney. Find her at or at–where midlifers come to sit, laugh & "occasionally" drink tequila.

·       Facebook -
·       Twitter -
·       Website -
·       Blog – “The Middle-Aged Cheap Seats” -
·       Pinterest –

I Was In Love With a Short Man Once (2011, 2015)
Nekkid Came the Swimmer (contributing author, 2015)
Virginia Writers Club, Inc. Virtual Anthology (2015)
Virginia Writers Club, Inc. Virtual Anthology (2014)
Dock Tale Hour (humor column, Smith Mountain Laker Magazine, since 2014)
Voices from Smith Mountain Lake (Anthology, 2013)


Friday, August 28, 2015

Super Summer Guest Post: Beth Blacker of Call Me Crazy

     I am very pleased to introduce to you today my last summer guest blogger, Beth Blacker….Call Me Crazy (gotta love the name of her site!!). I "met" Beth through Facebook when she messaged me about post that I wrote. We have been talking ever since, and I was delighted to learn that she lives in Florida! Being mid-lifers, we share very similar experiences in growing up, marriage and raising kids. When I checked out her blog, I found it to be funny and totally relatable. Which means you'll like her as much as I do! In today's post about raising teens,  young adults and questioning our parenting skills, I found myself nodding in agreement over the three points if activities that a mom usually finds herself doing…..see if you agree!

     Please welcome Beth to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love. Thanks!


While these lyrics were written over 55 years ago, there's no arguing they still hold true today...well, except us parents thinking we were really all that perfect. But still, there's no denying, the problems seem to be exponentially greater than previous generations.
Can I hear a hell ya?????
Don't leave me hanging people.
Anyway, a recent conversation with my daughter went something like this:
Daughter: Hey, I just thought I'd let you know that my wallet was stolen and the AMEX card I have that is connected to your account was in it.
Me: Did you call AMEX and report it as stolen?
Daughter: No, that's why I'm calling you.
Me: I gave you the card because I consider you responsible enough to manage all aspects of it and that does include calling to report it stolen.
Daughter: I'm really busy.
Me: And so am I. Make the call.
Daughter: I've never called AMEX before.
Me: There's a first time for everything. By the way, when was it stolen?
Daughter: Yesterday.
Me: Seriously? Why didn't you call yesterday?
Daughter: I told you I'm really busy.
Me: You do understand that in the past 24 hours the person that stole it may have charged a bazillion things?
Daughter: What do people like in omelets?
Me: What?
Daughter: I'm in charge of craft services this week, I'm at the grocery store and need to get stuff to make omelets.
Me: I think we're you, bye bye
A few days later my son finally sat down to write his thank you cards for the graduation gifts he received and this conversation took place...
Son: How do you address an envelope?
Me: You're kidding right?
Son: No, can't you just tell me without making a big deal about it.
Me: You're kidding right? 
Son: Mom!
Me: Son! 
Son: Mom stop!
Me: No you stop!
Son: Oh my G-d you're ridiculous
Me: No you're ridiculous
Yep, call me crazy but...I could have continued that forever.
However, at some point I did actually stop and started to feel like I have totally failed as a parent. I mean if my 21 year old daughter doesn't know how to call a credit card company and my 18 year old son doesn't know how to address an envelope I need to seriously re-evaluate what exactly it was that I was doing with them all of these years.
I know they are both really smart and I'm not sharing these stories to embarrass them, but attention to the common sense details of life just seem to be escaping their entire generation. I suppose one could argue that there will come a point in time when their smart phones will be so smart that they won't have to worry about such mundane tasks and everything will magically happen for them thanks to some app created, no doubt, by a 16 year old. For now, though, what's a mother to do?
Well, this mom usually ends up...
#1 - Counting to 10 or practicing some serious yoga breathing whenever one of my kids asks me to help them with something I think they are more than capable of handling but clearly are looking for me to just deal with it. This usually leads to...
#2 - Inserting humor...well, more like sarcasm...into the situation. In my mind, most of these moments call for laughter. My kids, however, tend not to appreciate my sense of humor/sarcasm which means they press on and I'm left with...
#3  - Looking at the clock to determine if it is too early for alcohol.  That doesn't really help them much but at that point, I'm good.
Look, I was raised to be a very independent, stand on my own two feet kind of gal. My parents were relatively hands off until it was really obvious I had run out of options for how to maneuver my way through a particular situation. It has, I believe, served me very well in life. I tried to more or less raise my kids the same way.
Society, though, has messed with that plan big time.
The sense of entitlement surrounding my children's generation is astounding and the overwhelming number of distractions that take them away from dealing with a task at hand is absurd to say the least. I'm not sure any amount of deep breathing, witty comebacks or it's 5 o'clock somewhere behavior will solve the problem. Unfortunately, I don't have the answers and feel like I am left with just crossing my fingers so tightly I am cutting off my circulation.
A week before the conversation with my daughter, I witnessed the filming of her senior thesis. I've mentioned before in a previous blog that she is a student at Florida State's Film School, a very intense and highly competitive program. I have listened to countless conversations about the grueling schedule and demands, seen the end result in her sophomore and junior year projects, but being on set with her for 3 days watching her take control of a crew of about 30 other film students, actors and volunteers? I was blown away!
And yet the conversation about her wallet still happened a week later.
I had dinner with a friend the other night and as I shared my feelings with her about these types of situations, here's the conversation that pursued...
Friend:  How many times have you found yourself without any toilet paper after you've already gone to the bathroom and how does it make you feel?
Me:  Ummm...where's this going?
Friend:  Think about amount of shaking, jiggling, whatever is going to make you feel good about the situation you are in. 
Me:  Uh huh
Friend:  So what do you do? 
Me:  Yell to my husband to bring me another roll.
Friend:  But what if he's not around?
Me:  Swear at myself for not looking before I sat down.
Friend:  Exactly but hopefully not make the same mistake repeatedly right?
Me: One would hope.
Friend:  Bottom line, most young adults aren't going to realize just how important it is to take care of the little things until they really are left to their own devices. If your daughter's wallet ever gets lost or stolen again, she'll probably call you again until everything in her wallet is hers and hers alone. Your son, on the other hand, will no doubt remember now how to address an envelope.
Me:  Again, one would hope.
Until then, I have alcohol ;)
That's it for now...#BlackerOut!


Beth Blacker is the Director of Strategic Relationships and Community Outreach for OJ Mortgage in Clearwater, FL. She also considers herself a networking "maven" and strives to help every business person she connects with grow and succeed. A native Michigander (Go Blue!), she has lived in NYC where she pursued a career in food service, Louisville where she pursued a Southern accent and now currently lives in Tampa where she just wants to snuggle with her rescue Beagle, Gavin, and have a glass of wine at the end of the day. Oh and she has two kids who are both in college (Go Empty Nesters!) plus her man child husband who really keeps her on her toes. Her blog, Beth Blacker...Call Me Crazy, is her way to keep everything in her life a little more real one day at a time. Follow her on FacebookTwitterPinterest,Instagram and LinkedIn. And you can also find her on Google+ but not that often even though she has been told repeatedly how much it will help with SEO. 

***WANT MORE MENO MAMA?? This week you can catch my featured posts on Mock Mom:   and Better After 50:


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...