…Flipping You Off.
“Today at art camp we drew a dream book,” Franny said when I picked her up.
“What’s that?” I said.
“It’s where you write your dreams. Like what you want to be when you grow up.”
“What did you write?”
“I wrote that I want to be a vet, or a doctor, or an astronaut, or a farmer, or a taxi driver.” Franny thought for a minute. “Umm…Mom? Did you grow up to be anything?”
No. I’m just the person who drives you to summer camp.
I think it’s significant that Strudel has broken me to the point where this didn’t even make me cry. Also, I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job hiding my real life from Franny, considering that I am constantly writing and drawing in front of her and that she often accompanied me to graduate school and to my office hours, and she’s frequently around when I’m working for her school. Oh, yeah, and the tiny jerkranching I do directly TO HER.
Fuck this. Mexico? Who’s up for Mexico? Can I get a HELL YES?
SJ, I just wanted to fan club at you and tell you that I finished reading through all your archives and got caught up to the new stuff (read backwards) and now I’m SO SAD that I have to wait for you to post every day like the rest of the world. It’s going to be a rough adjustment to not have at least an hour’s worth of I, Asshole to read every day. Write faster! :)
HELL YES! Lets do it. You payin?
vamos!
HELL TO THE YES!!!!!
My 14yo daughter is having her lady time and I really haven’t heard a pleasant word out of her mouth for about three days. Thank God there’s a circus in town, I can just drop her off. Mexico is always super fun, though!!!!
FEELING YOU111111111111111!!!!
Welcome, Bothari. I always cringe a little when someone tells me they’ve read all six years. I want to be like, “oh, I’m sorry. And thank you. Here’s your award…it’s got a dent in it.”
And we’re off! I’ve got sand in my crack already. If I didn’t have yoga at 6 tomorrow I’d have me a nice cocktail right now.
I was telling one of my nieces how her mother was one of the most beautiful girls in her high school. She turned to her mother and said, “Mom, what happened?” ACK!
SJ, you grew up to bring joy to the masses through the wonders of ass-mittenry. I don’t even know you and I’m proud of you.
I believe, “Hell, F*ck Yeah!” is the correct phrase.
(and I’m there. i live with a short, loud, 3-year old, jerk.)
Oh, thank you for reinforcing the idea that I should never have kids.
Perhaps I will print this and put it on my fridge.
Or on a box of condoms.
Oh honey. My mother calls me a “stay at home mom” and it breaks me every time. My son, at 10, knows I would shatter him if he dared think of me as anything other than the Person Who Makes Life Possible. Perhaps by age 10 you can get Franny broken in. If not, consider striking. Striking while in Mexico, of course.
I’m in for mexico – only if you’ll proetct me though – been hearing a lot about canadians getting jacked and shit down there. Then again, compared to being stuck inside on another rainy day with the 29 and 5 month olds, getting stabbed in mexico sounds great!
er… when i wentto college i asked my mom what she wouldd o now that she wasnt a mom anymore…
oh man, my poor mom.
True story: I’d been learning about dinosaurs in kindergarten. I was telling my mother about all the things that dinosaurs did, and sai “…and they ate…they ate….What did dinosaurs eat when you were a kid, Mommy?”
I think kids don’t view their parents as like other people. They are PARENTS, and everyone else is just different.
Whoops, Freudian slip, that’s ‘brother’ NOT ‘bother’
I am THERE. Name the day, man. Been planning my flight to Mayheeko for years now.
my children constantly badger me with the question “mama, what did you grow up to be?” as though they don’t see my writing and drawing and as though wiping their tushes and throwing them food every few hours isnt a real job either. Sigh… It’s amazing how a tiny person can accidentally make you feel well, tiny.
Mexico? With cabana boys at our beck and call?
Oh Hell Yeah!!!
I have dibs on the jiggly cabana girls.
Ah, yes. I think that, before they are born, children must take some sort of seminar in How To Make Your Mother Cry. My own made me cry just last month, but like you said, she’s just breaking me in for her younger sister.
We can pay them back when they’re teens and they bring over that hot new date. We’ll have plenty of material to embarrass them with!
I’m there! Margaritas with the senoritas! W00t!
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