Friday, March 27, 2015

Fifteen Things No Parent Should Have To Say To Their Teen Daughter

     I have two adult daughters who are the light of my life, but I have to admit---their teen years were not the brightest. I could have done without the arguments over the boys they dated, the clothes they wore or the fact that they mastered crawling out of a bedroom window late at night without disturbing the dogs.

     Any parent who makes it through their child's teen years unscathed deserves a metal of honor. Perhaps more so if they've been able to successfully raise daughters.

     There are certain things that no parent should EVER have to say to their little darlings once they've transitioned from the tea party, dress-up stage to Cyndi Lauper's girls-just-wanna-have-fun stage. Although the parent may feel they have a handle on raising their teen girl, it's inevitable that one or all of the following lines will be uttered from their lips at one time or another:

*Drop that hem about four more inches before you leave the house.

*You want to put a tattoo where?

*I know you consider twerking a skill, but that still doesn't mean you should dance like that in public.

*You'll need to buy another cell phone just to store all your bathroom selfies.

*Of course you won't gain five pounds from eating three Milk Duds at the movie theatre.

*No, I'm not leaving work just to bring you a tampon at school.

*You could save a lot of money by actually washing your clothes instead of buying new ones to avoid doing laundry.

*There's a great deal on Amazon right now for chastity belts.

*No, you're not allowed to get your belly button, nose or nipples pierced.

*You're not going to experience life on the back of a motorcycle until you're over twenty-one.

*Yes, there really is such a thing as too much eye liner.

*I don't care how cute he is---if his I.Q. matches his shoe size, you can't date him.

*No, you won't be scarred for life by scraping old food off the dishes before you load them into the dishwasher.

*If the clock strikes twelve and you're not home, your car won't turn into a pumpkin but your social life will turn into the black hole while you're grounded.

*No, you're not allowed to use your college loan money for a Brazilian butt lift.

     I'm proud to say that I survived raising two teen girls----despite a few tattoos and piercings along the way. Thank God for BOGO sales on chastity belts!


Want more Meno Mama? This week, my article, "The Invisible Generation," is up on The Huffington Post.  You can read it here:

Friday, March 20, 2015

Fly On The Wall In A Party Zone

    Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Fourteen bloggers are participating in today's group posting with their tell-all accounts of what really goes on behind the closed doors of their homes.

     This past month, the Doyle house has been in the party zone….because that's just how my crazy family rolls. There's something to be said about sharing new and embarrassing experiences with the ones you love.

     First up was a "Bicycle Pub Crawl" in downtown Ft. Lauderdale. You might be thinking of a group of people on bikes, pedaling from one pub to the next. Not quite. This was one GIANT bike that held twelve riders (six on each side with a bar in the middle). Our seats faced one another across the bar and our tour guide sat up front to steer the bike.  Each seat had its own set of pedals and a cup holder so that we could pedal our way downtown at three miles per hour while drinking libations.  Loud music was pumped out of speakers attached to the bike's roof as we pedaled from pub to pub.

     After two hours, I understood what the "crawl" portion of the tour meant. No one wanted to pedal on the bike once the beer kicked in. I sat back and let the minions do all the work. Isn't that what adult children are for? A few, unfortunate family members were left to do all the pedaling (which explains why we stalled on the railroad tracks and held up traffic). I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, and I look forward to doing another Bicycle Pub Crawl in the VERY near future.

     Our next family fun adventure took place at the annual Florida Renaissance Festival. We've been attending these events for more than fifteen years, and my grown kids are now relieved that I no longer badger them to squeeze into Robin Hood tights or fairy costumes. Where else but a renaissance festival can you find vampires, zombies, wenches and royalty sitting side by side at a lunch table? "Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore!!"

     There was nothing more enchanting for us than watching a jousting match while a nearby vendor shouted, "Booze on a stick!" "Fried Twinkies!" "Get your hot turkey legs right here!" (obviously they didn't have Jenny Craig back in the Renaissance days). My family decided that calories didn't count at the festival, and we didn't feel an ounce of guilt for scarfing down large quantities of kettle corn, fried fish and onion rings.

    A few weeks ago, we attended a celebration dinner at the local Lebanese restaurant. The lamb kabobs were outstanding, but once the belly dancer started circulating the room, I knew we'd come to the right place for a party. And it turned out to be the BEST place for some embarrassing photos to be taken.  The men were pulled from their seats by the belly dancer and they tried in vain to keep up with the woman's hip gyrations. Even funnier was watching my husband do his best belly dancing imitation and getting stuck on the floor when his knees refused to cooperate.

     Last but not least, the month rounded out with a special visit from one of my favorite blogger friends, Lisa Newlin, who writes the hilarious blog, Lisa Newlin Seriously? We enjoyed a wonderful dinner in the backyard garden and chatted for hours. Lisa is one of the funniest writers I know, and needless to say, there was a lot of laughter around the fire pit that night. Best of all---she witnessed my husband's awesome dance moves….and I doubt she will ever be the same.

     What will the next month bring us? Who knows…but I'm betting it will all be fun…. Doyle style.

Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:                          Baking In A Tornado                          Spatulas on Parade                          Follow me home                          Menopausal Mother                        Stacy Sews and Schools                                   Battered Hope                                  Just A Little Nutty                                        The Momisodes                            Someone Else’s Genius                        The Sadder But Wiser Girl                            Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                                Disneyland in Kentucky                            Juicebox Confession                      Searching for Sanity                                      Go Mama O

Friday, March 13, 2015

Blind As A Rhino

     It started with a recipe. I misread the amount of flour that was to go into a cake and added too much of it to the batter. That night, I served a frosted hockey puck to my dinner guests. I was certain the mistake was due to my lack of attention while baking. Note to self: Do NOT watch "America's Hottest Firemen" on cable TV while making a cake.

     There were other slip-ups that soon followed….little things I stubbornly ignored, such as squinting while reading a book. Or leaning over the car steering wheel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame just so that I could see the road beyond my dashboard. It wasn't until I backed my van into a telephone pole one rainy afternoon that I knew it was time to face the painful truth: MY MOTHER LIED ABOUT THE CARROTS.

     I really couldn't blame Mom for feeding me an abundance of carrots when I was young. The myth that they help our vision dates back to WWII with the British Royal Air Force. They attributed the success of their pilot's night vision during German reconnaissance missions to the vast consumption of carrots by their airmen. Perhaps if they had consumed mass quantities of cauliflower instead of carrots, they may have needed less fuel to get their planes off the ground.

     It was my love for books---and the fact that I was struggling to read the small print---that prompted me to purchase a pair of glasses from the drugstore (it was either that or buy all my romance novels in Braille). This tactic worked for a little while until everything around me became slightly fuzzy. I had trouble reading the numbers on my cell phone, and instead of dialing my gynecologist, I called the pest control guy to complain about my irregular periods. My typing skills had also diminished considerably, and the emails I sent out were often questioned by the recipients: "When did you start calling your son Zarf?" "What do you mean you ate the dentist?". My husband had already threatened to enroll me in the Helen Keller Institute For Typing if I didn't do something about my poor eyesight. I finally admitted that he had a point when I could no longer tell if I was petting the family cat or my uncle's toupee. It was time to find an optometrist.

     After having my eyes dilated by the doctor, I strained to read a chart that was a mile away and filled with ridiculously small letters. By the end of my appointment, I had two sets of glasses; one for reading, and one for driving.

     It wasn't long before I was stockpiling glasses of various strengths----some for working on the computer, others to watch TV, and another pair for walking the dogs at night. But no matter how many pairs of glasses I accumulated, I lost them as quickly as I lost my socks every time I did the wash.

     Fed up with wearing (and losing) my glasses, I returned to the optometrist's office to be fitted for contacts. I learned how to insert the flimsy lenses into my eyes and returned home, optimistic that I'd solved the problem of my glasses disappearing into the same black hole that my missing socks were orbiting.

     It was all fun and games until it came time to remove the lenses. The harder I tried to slide them out, the farther they slipped under the folds of my eyelids. Panic set in when both contacts disappeared into the caverns of my eye sockets. You know what true love is? A man who uses a magnifying glass and a mini flashlight to probe his wife's eyeballs for missing lenses.

     Ten minutes and two scratched corneas later, I swore off contacts and decided to live my life as a blind mole. My only comfort was in knowing that at least my eyesight was a step up from the rhinos, who are notorious for attacking trees and large rocks due to their poor vision.

     Living life in a blur became too difficult ( I was tired of walking around with bruised knees from walking into furniture) and eventually I caved, buying more glasses along with several pairs of brightly colored contacts. I needed to be prepared in case I was forced to go on another eye expedition in search of my elusive lenses.

     The way I see it, putting up with lost glasses and slippery contacts is worth it to be able to see the world clearly again. And I may add a few more carrots to my diet, just to be on the safe side.

Friday, March 6, 2015

"Why Did You Buy This?" Twenty Birthday Gift Fails

      When my husband celebrated his fortieth birthday, he received quite an array of "Over The Hill" gifts---denture cream, thick-lensed eye glasses, fiber pills, hemorrhoid cream, a plastic cane and a bottle of Gas-X. Luckily, when I turned forty, people were much kinder. I received mostly wine and imported chocolates (my gal pals know me so well).  But not everyone is this fortunate. We all have that relative or friend who has absolutely NO CLUE what to give as a gift, so they try to find something clever. Clever does not always mean fun. Sometime clever means, "I wouldn't be caught dead in this thing and it's going in our next garage sale." Yes, I know it's the thought that counts and that I should be grateful…. but sometimes I have to wonder what my friends and family were thinking while they were shopping. Do I look the the type of person who would want a statue of a grizzly bear gnawing on a salmon in the middle of my living room?  Or a pink bunny shower curtain? Just hand me a roast beef sandwich and I'll be happy.

     Here are some gifts that NO ONE wants to unwrap on their birthday, but if you have a few "frenemies" with upcoming birthdays, then this might be your go-to list.

1. A toilet plunger with a big bow tied around it. What does this say about the person you're giving it to?

2.  A large cookbook for eating healthy and losing weight. Add a scale to the package and you might just lose your friend for good.

3.  Candles shaped like zoo animals. Watching the head of a giraffe melt into a pool of wax is rather disturbing.

4.  A buy-one-get-one-free deal for a flu shot. Skip it. They'd probably rather have a different kind of shot….like the one that comes in a small glass and feels like fire going down your throat.

5. Sky diving tickets. This makes a great gift if your friend is an adventurous daredevil. A person with a healthy fear of heights? Not so much. You'll need to include an oxygen mask and a defibrillator.

6.  A gift certificate to the "Kinky & Stinky Sex Toy Shop." I shouldn't have to explain why this is wrong on so many levels.

7. Two nights at a bed & breakfast….in Teheran.  It's fine to travel around the world on your birthday, but if you expect to celebrate another one next year, stay far, far away from this place.

8.  A pair of Spanx.  See item #2 above.

9.  Tickets to the Feline Frenzy Cat Show.  This might be an interesting experience if the recipient  fills their pockets with tuna and sits in the front row.

10.  A Groupon discount to attend a yodeling contest.  While you're at it, why not throw in an Alpine horn so that the person who receives this gift can star in the next Ricola commercial?

11.  Precious Moments Figurine. Unless your friend is in her seventies and addicted to the QVC shopping network, this item will surely end up in a garage sale.

12.  Underwear from a consignment shop. No. Just….no.

13.  A faux Picasso painting bought from a neighbor's yard sale. Save your two bucks and coax your four-year-old to finger paint your friend's portrait.

14.  A police siren/taser alarm clock.  If the person who receives this gift doesn't jump out of bed after the first 30 seconds of the siren, the clock guarantees to taser them awake. Great incentive not to be late for work.

15. Creepy Clown Lantern. Items like this are the reason so many children end up on a psychiatrist's couch when they're adults.

16.  A Do-It-Yourself-At-Home colonoscopy kit.  If you're giving someone this gift, be sure to include bathroom cleaning supplies. And an air freshener.

17.  A sequined zebra print hat with matching striped vest. This is fine as long as the recipient isn't planning an African safari. A jaguar might mistake them for wild game.

18.  Mooing cow in a can. The only person who might appreciate this gift is a homesick, transplanted farmer stuck in New York City.

19. Onesie pajamas with drop seats…for adults. Be sure to add an adult-sized bottle, bib and pacifier to enhance this gift.

20.  A misshapen coffee mug that resembles an alien's head or an unidentifiable animal. Just because you made the mug in your last ceramics class doesn't mean you can pass it off as a piece of contemporary art.

     If you receive any of these obnoxious presents on your birthday, look on the bright side---they can always be sold in a garage sale or re-gifted at your next "Secret Santa" holiday office party. Who wouldn't appreciate an oil painting of Moby Dick swallowing a ship or a pair sequin kitty underwear?

Want more Meno Mama? This week I'm on Humor Outcasts sharing what's in my SPAM folder!   Read it here:





Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...