raising kids and rising blood pressure
I am the Rodney Dangerfield of mothers.
My children keep a list of things I’ve said that they think are hysterical. That’s right. Like I used to do for them when they were first learning to talk. Bottled Lightning actually called Boywonder to relate the latest lines culled from my witty lips.
Only I don’t see what’s so dag-nabbit funny. For instance…
The dog had explosive diarrhea, a popular topic in our house no matter which of us is afflicted. After a spirited discussion about all the things that could have caused it, I said to The Girls, “So you’re telling me she’s been poisoned.”
This is the sort of thing that makes them roll around on the floor, holding their jolly bellies and gasping.
Yes, I test them periodically for drugs.
They roll their eyes when I tell them that they don’t realize how good they’ve got it. Well, that’s pretty normal for the teen years…even though Freckles McYoungest is the only teen left…
But if I get mad and start yelling…they laugh!
Which makes me even madder!
They’re supposed to quake in their boots and make little mewling sounds!
All my authority seems to come from my kids’ concern that I might do injury to myself, rather than them. They usually comply with my wishes when they’re afraid I’ll have a stroke.
Well, whatever works.