I was driving with my son and called another driver a pussy. My son immediately told me not to say that. When I asked why, he said because I am a mom. So I guess the new rule is that mom’s cannot call others a pussy. Except this is me. Which means now all I do is call everyone a pussy anytime I am driving with my son. And I call him a pussy too. I can’t believe he is surprised by this. He should know better.
I went with my husband to Walmart. He stood in front of the “ladies section” and mumbled: “You can’t buy beer at Walmart but vibrators are okay?”
My daughter’s boyfriend asked her how to clean the bathroom (Yes, I am as impressed as you are). So she showed him. Took 30 minutes. Afterwards he said he never knew it took that much work. It took him 45 minutes to repeat. My daughter gave him a B-.
I cleaned my son’s bathroom (Company was coming, you think I would trust that a 20-something boy would do a good enough job)? I had to call him into the bathroom and ask that he remove the beer can from the shower. It wasn’t that I was surprised it was there; it was that it was too high for me reach.
Lately I have been having a hard time knowing if my husband is yelling at my son or the cat.
For Christmas we got Abbey a new second bed for the bedroom. When we opened it in the middle of the living room, the expression on her face clearly said: “OMG! You are getting another dog, aren’t you? I am being replaced, I know it. You don’t love me anymore.” So I immediately had to take it into the bedroom, place it on the floor where she normally sleeps and made her come in to see it. Then she understood and it was all good.
While riding in the car with me, my son’s lighter fell in-between the car seat and the console. “Great.” He said. “I just lost my lighter in the vagina of your car.”