My kinda luck…

For as long as I live I may never understand why I have such strangely humorous luck.

Or in other words, why it is that people don’t listen to me when I speak.

My latest example is the children’s division coordinator at church asked if I’d do story time one week this month at church. I said yes, but not the second weekend. I won’t be at church. I’ll be traveling for a wedding.

Which weekend was I put on the schedule for?

The second weekend. Of course!

Anyone else out there suffer from this type of craziness? Or is it just me? (I have other examples, too. This happens all the time. This was just the most recent.)

“Mom, can I cut the couch?”

Imagine this…

Monday morning we were at the table chowing down on our cereal.

“Mom,” Linc says between bites of cereal.  “You know how things fall into the cracks on the couch?”

I nodded. The remote to the DVD player is currently MIA and if I had to guess it’s camping out in the company of some spare change and lint in the deep, dark crevices of the sofa. It’s what it is. We’ve all dropped our remote down there and every few days have to fish it out.

I digress.

“So last night Abe and I were moving the couch–”

“Why?”

“Because we wanted to see if when we dropped something behind the cushions if it’d fall straight to the floor.” His matter of fact tone was almost more than I could bear.

“We’ve had that sofa for six years, don’t you think if it worked that way, we wouldn’t have spent so much time blindly groping into the interior of the sofa for lost objects?”

“That’s because there’s a liner,” he says as if he’s just made the greatest discovery in the world.

“Yes, there is.” I tried to keep the sarcasm from my tone, but I’m pretty sure I failed. “Hence, why we have to fish…”

“OK but see, the liner goes so deep down the couch, Abe nor I can reach our hand down there, so…” He shrugs as he trials off.

“And?”

“Well, Abe and I want to cut the bottom of the couch so things just fall out the bottom.”

Mom, can I cut the couch?

I’m sure the look on my face spoke volumes of the annoyance and disbelief I was feeling.

“See, it’ll be great,” Linc says as if he really thinks he’s convincing me of this. “Then we won’t have to reach down in there when we lose stuff, it’ll just fall out the bottom.”

“Uh huh, I see.” I seriously just lied to him. I don’t see. I do see his brother Abe nodding his head in agreement like a bobble head dog. I see Linc looking all excited that he thinks he just won me over. I can almost my blood pressure rising. But what I don’t see is the utility it a huge whole in the bottom of a leather sofa so things that are dropped can fall out the bottom!

“So we can do it?” Abe asks, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Sure.” I smiled. “Just as soon as you both do enough chores to earn the money to buy that sofa.”

My two youngest boys both looked at me as if I’d just taken away their puppy.

“Sorry, guys,” I started. “There isn’t any use in this modification other than just destroying the furniture.”

Let me pause here to say, at least they asked me first. I do have to give them credit for that. There are several people of my acquaintance who’d be telling this story a little differently–like after they’d discovered a freaking huge hole in the bottom of their sofa. So at least there’s that.

Back to the story…

“But what about not having to reach down into the cracks?” Linc persists. ” Remember the time you found the grilled cheese?”

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth at the memory of the an ancient, cold and partially deteriorated grilled cheese that I once pulled out from the back corner of the sofa. “That’s what I have you guys for. You eat on the couch, you can be the ones to dig in the crumb abyss.” I tried not to grin at their disgusted faces. “The answer is no.”

Linc’s eyes lit again as if he’d just had such a brilliant idea that I couldn’t say no. “What if Mickey gets stuck back there?”

“Son, if you think asking me if your guinea pig crawls around on the couch and gets stuck back behind the cushions and so far down your arm cannot reach is going to convince me to allow you to cut a hole in the bottom of the couch, then I think it’s time to go find her a new home before you can be so negligent.”

And THAT is how you stop the nonsense. I know, I know Imma Mean Mom. But good gravy, what the hell is the obsession with destroying the furniture? I’ve seen so many dang sitcoms I almost feel shamed into having little debates with my kids about things that I’m never going to allow to happen just to be “fair”. However, in my world, no means no and Mom’s word is final.

So, what crazy request have you received from a kid that you felt like an idiot debating? Imma curious and I wanna know so comment below!

Imma B.

Captain Underpants–Yes, I saw the movie

Okay, so the #1 thing about having boys is: tighty whities are no big deal. And neither is potty humor. It just does with the territory.

So of course my youngest son wanted to see Captain Underpants and because I love him, I agreed to not only watch it, but pay the big bucks and see it at the theater!

Trying not to die of humiliation, I proudly walked up to the ticket counter and said, “Um, can I get three tickets to–” my mind totally went blank. “Um, the movie about underbritches.”

The guy had a totally serious look on his face. “We don’t have a movie about underbritches.”

“Yes, you do,” I said, frowning. “The underwear movie.”

Still holding out with a grim face, he shook his head.

My eyes scanned the movie list above his head. “Captain Underpants.” Gracious, he knew what I was talking about and the grin on his face told me he’d been messing with me. How sweet.

He told me a price. I gave him the moola, then cackling, yes he was, cackling, handed me the tickets and said, “Enjoy!”

Trying not to curse the wretched man, I forced a smile and went to go endure what I never thought I’d be subjected to: an animated movie with a superhero whose costume was an oversized pair of underwear.

To be truthful, it wasn’t the a bad movie, and certainly not the worst I’ve ever been subjected to (The Big Lebowski, Spanglish, Home Fries, all come to mind). For what it was, it was actually pretty well done. Obviously it’s a movie, one based on a comic book written and illustrated by two third grade boys, so suspending reality is an absolute must. Graphics were great. And as much as it pains me to say it, the jokes and plays on words were actually rather clever. And…even more painful to admit, I found myself laughing–sometimes at the witty banter, sometimes because I couldn’t believe I was in there watching that and actually entertained. Who knew.

Overall, the plot is simple: cranky principal wants to separate two troublemakers. A bit of magic transpires and the principal becomes Captain Underpants, a nice guy who does whatever the boys want. Until the villain Professor P shows up, then they have a real mission.

I won’t soil…oops…I mean spoil it for all of you who I know are dying to go see it, but overall it was entertaining. I’m not sure if I didn’t have a 10 year old boy (and a big boy 😉  ) who wanted to see it that I’d have gone, but if you have a boy aged 6-12, he’ll love it. Best part, I didn’t have to explain a single sexual innuendo when we left!

Enjoy and be sure to eat tons of popcorn for me!

Imma B.

An Ode to Gas Station Pizza

Fair warning: Poetry isn’t really my forte. But we all have to have a first.  Mine is about some pizza I ate last night. Enjoy!

 

As I filled up at the pump,
I saw your picture, so cheer and your crust so plump.
“Extra Large Pizza for $9.99,” your caption read,
An idea of a pizza and movie night danced in my head.
I whipped out my phone,
To swiftly ordered a pizza of the unknown.

See, I’ve never had a pizza from a gas station,
Not even while on vacation.
I had no idea what was in store,
Or if this would just be the beginning of more.
Ten minutes later it was ready,
The delicious smell so overwhelming and heady.

My mouth watered and my tummy growled,
As I carried that box of intoxicating cheese and spices through the crowd.
The box was warm and had zero grease,
I noted as I set it down upon my car seat.
Upon getting home,
I walked into my house as if I were soldier returning home to Rome.

Pizza! Pizza! the excitement soon spread,
The boys came out to find a movie to watch on the Net.
Mom served the pizza and we all sat on the chairs and couch,
Then we all stuffed our faces, then sudden OUCH!
My gut twisted and my insides squeezed tight,
I pushed a pair of feet off my lap and jumped up with a fright.

Something was happening and it didn’t bode well,
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the sight of the pizza or even the smell.
My stomach roiled and cheeks squeezed hard,
One of my boys looking horrified, asked if I needed to fart?!
Ignoring the truth of their question I darted from their sight,
Straight to the bathroom, fumbling to switch on the light.

My stomach clenching more painfully than before,
I seriously thought I’d collapse on the floor.
I pressed my palms on the wall to help keep myself braced,
Nausea swirled so heavily within me, sweat streaked my face.
All that pizza that was so warm and cheesy,
Now left me feeling lightheaded, nauseous and queasy.

I’ll spare you all anymore of this ode,
Needless to say, I had to spend the night camped out by the commode.

I know this gave you all fantastic thoughts this morning–you’re welcome!

Imma B.

I’m weird. My thoughts on Nutella.

Imma B. Frank today. I think Nutella is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had the displeasure to have touched my tongue to–and that includes polenta. It’s like a chocolate wannabe that will never be. More like a gagabee. Just yucky.

So no, Pinterest I don’t wanna save that bottle of crap or any of its “oh so yummy” recipes to my boards…but I’d love to take a real tack and puncture the heck out of it!!!

 

Speaking of. A few years ago when I got on Pinterest to help my author platform (didn’t work, there’s my writerly advice for today), when you’d hover over a picture, it’d show the little red rectangle in the corner with the tack and would say “pin”. Now it says save. Why can’t we pin anymore??? It is called Pinterest.

Maybe someone punctured their skin with a tack and threatened to sue…

#crazythoughts #thingsthatkeepmeawakeatnight #questionsfortheuniverse

All right, if you’ve read this far, how about leaving a comment? What is something you hate that goes against the mainstream? Share in the comments and I swear we won’t throw things at you!

Cheers,

Imma B.

 

This post was part of the Daily Post’s One Word Prompt: Puncture.

Imma Boy Mom

I’m a Boy Mom–now for anyone who doesn’t know what this term means (my brother-in-law :-p ) it doesn’t mean that I’m a boy who is a mom. No, glad to say, I am not a man. I am definitely a woman. A woman who is a mom to only boys. In fact, if you include the animals, I am the QUEEN OF THIS CASTLE. Living the last 12, almost 13 years without another woman in the house, I’ll be so crass to say there are twenty sets of balls in this house. Both me and the dog only have one set: eyes; because I’m a (cough, cough, cough) lady (cough, cough, cough) and he’s been neutered.

I live in a constant testosterone title wave.

And I LOVE IT!!!

Nothing is greater than being the only female. Sure, you still have cramps which no one else understands and for the most part my guys are so young–and at just the right height–their little heads smack right into my sore, aching bosoms when it’s my time of the month, but I love them so dearly I just turn my head and grimace.

Part of the awesomeness of being a boy mom is I can get away with things those with   daughters sometimes can’t.

For example, nobody questions it when I wear my hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, or worse have a ratty old ball cap on my head. Which is almost all the time. When I do wear nail polish, people are actually so surprised they always compliment the color–even if it has chips after only a few hours. Cutsie shoes? Don’t have ’em and not a problem. I spend my days in sneakers or boots. Makeup is optional and my perfume is buried in the bottom left cabinet of my bathroom, collecting cobwebs.

IT’S GREAT!!!!

As for “mom things” like Target and Pinterest… Never got into those. I was a young mom who struggled in the poverty pit for years, followed by writing a break-out book series and suddenly having a fledging career develop almost overnight that required 12-hour workdays in order to support my deadbeat (now ex) husband and his irresponsible spending. BUT, now that my kids are getting a little older and I’ve given up the life of a slave to my computer AKA an author, I just might find an interest in frequenting Target. I might even branch out and peek inside Hobby Lobby, too!

Pinterest is a little easier to “visit” as I can do that wearing my yoga pants and a faded t-shirt in my living room. And that is exactly what I did an hour ago. I even created a “Boy Mom Board”. If you’re bored and care to check it out, click here as WP is being a doo-doo head and trying to make me upgrade to “business” plan (costing almost $25/month) in order to install the Pinterest plugin. I THINK NOT. At least not until I have more than just my mom reading my posts on a regular basis. 😀

Anyone else here a Boy Mom? What’s your favorite part? Do you ever feel like you missed out on not having a girl?