Cuz We're Family

When I'm without my cell phone, I am without one leg. I feel like I have to email everyone, "Hey, I don't have my phone. If you miss me or need to tell me something -- anything -- here's how." And so it goes with the alternative: text messages via email. Following is this afternoon's exchanges between me, my two daughters, Scoots and TG, and TG's husband George. I'm always amused at how fast things can disintegrate. Cuz we're family.

Me: If you guys need me, you’ll have to call me at the office. I keep forgetting the damn phone.

TG: We should get you a fanny pack.

Scoots: Doodle would think you are the coolest! (Eleven-y.o. Doodle is enamored with fanny packs and doesn't care about the cool factor or lack thereof. The boy just wants what he wants.)

TG: While we are at it, we may as well get you one of those medical alert watches too... In case you fall and can't get up (again).

Scoots: Wait! I need one of those too.

George: Yeah, but for a different reason . . .


Scoots (this pic looks exactly like her, but it's not): HAHAHAHA!!!

TG: Yes, and it lights up too. So she can see it in the dark. :)

Scoots: She will need digital!

TG: The watches are way fancier than the old medical necklaces... They were too clunky. She would never wear the necklace.

Scoots: I guess Mom does not want to play along with our antics.

Me: All right already. So, I take it I'm getting a medical alert bracelet for my birthday? BTW, I have a “drinks date” on Friday after work.

Scoots: YEAH!!! Hot or not?

Me: He’s older than me. How hot can he be?

TG: Definitely a fanny pack. PS, Mom, you don't "drink"....

Scoots: I have seen some hot old men.

Me: Where?

Scoots: TV

George: I am amazed how entertained you all can keep your selves. lol

Scoots: We are simple girls!

George: I think I will push this button now . . .

TG: Dang... I missed out on a lot. I don't even know where to start. First, MOM, that guy is cute, and seems very nice. If you're not interested don't go out with him! Scoots, thought you were SOOOOOOO busy... :) George, I know what you mean. Cleaning, and came back to 15 emails... Yay, I feel important again!!!

Me: I do want to go. You know what? That guy IS pretty hot. He’s in AWESOME shape. TG, did I show you his pics?

Scoots: I want to see!

George: I have one of him...

Me: Those sharpeis are symbolic of what we CAN’T see. Ew.

Me (along with pics of my upcoming Friday "date"): Cute, huh?

Scoots: And the bald head isn’t bad. That will be George soon. :)

George:
Crickets chirping . . .

Me: So, I'm getting the fanny pack then?
.

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The Grosser Sex?

My dear friend Julie at Midlife Jobhunter has raised three boys. Based on our many long talks about our kids, she seems certain that boys must be the grosser sex. Though moms of boys may beg to differ, one thing I can state unequivocally about raising all girls is that they have within them the capacity to defy the "sugar and spice and everything nice" stereotype with off-the-charts grossness. But I had done a fine job of putting that out of my mind until one Saturday morning last August after my car wreck.

My ten-year-old nanaboy whom I affectionately call Doodle (to his great dismay, now that he's experiencing peripuberty), his brother Kabob (age 7), and their mom, my daughter "Scoots," went with me to Enterprise Rent-a-Car so I could switch out vehicles. While waiting our turn behind other customers at the counter, Scoots pointed out to Doodle that he needed to blow his nose. Immediately, he stuck his finger up there. Why blow when you can troll, I always say. Especially if there's a big fish in the pond. Scoots and I immediately recoiled when Doodle hooked something, hauled it out, and examined it. Little Kabob, lover of all manner of grossities, grinned with a newfound respect.

Mortified, Scoots searched the room for Kleenex and found none. She pointed a stiff arm toward the door. "Outside," she said in the take-no-prisoners mommy voice. "Go . . . do something with it."

I added, "There's a bush out there, go wipe it on the bush."

Scoots looked at me in horror. "Mom!"

I shrugged. I had yet to see anything, so I was handling it just fine. Doodle sauntered outside with one finger poised stiffly in the air, Kabob on his heels to see just how his big brother was going to dispose of this most intriguing catch of the day. After much ado, they returned with only a case of the giggles.

Crisis averted, Doodle located the water cooler, pulled out a paper cone, and filled it. As he took a sip, I heard Scoots and Kabob groan. They shielded their eyes and jerked away with full-on facial contortions. "What?" I said. Scoots and Kabob just pointed, unable to speak. Doodle was still giggling.

Scoots, writhing in her chair: "He shot snot into his cup!"

I took Doodle's cup from him and gazed intensely into the water. "I don't see anything."

"That's cuz he sucked it back up in his nose!" Scoots rasped in disbelief, followed by graphic description that made some woman at the counter wince. Doodle was beside himself with laughter.

This would seem to make my friend's case; however, let's look at history, shall we? When Scoots was in the fourth grade, she and her sisters cornered the nanny in our laundry room with HUGE green loogies on their fingers. With no escape route, Nanny Terri screamed and crumpled into a pile on the floor. After the little "snots" ran off, Terri did manage a recovery; however, she lashed them severely with her tongue. When I came in from work, Nanny Terri informed me in high-pitched Spanglish that she couldn't take it anymore and that my daughters were devil spawn (she actually said something unintelligible, but I have no doubt it translated to devil spawn).

My daughters, all lined up firing-squad style, explained to Nanny Terri that their loogies were not really loogies at all, but scoops of their moldy science experiment, fished from under the bed where it had languished for weeks. Nanny Terri refused to believe she'd nearly expired over fermented mold. Instead she delivered her walking papers and headed out the door, never to be heard from again.

I chuckled to myself as Scoots dragged Doodle into the bathroom to blow his nose once and for all. And I thought, You aren't fooling anybody, Miss Suddenly Grossed Out By Loogies. I know exactly where you came from.

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