My Life as a Sitcom

I always dreamed of the fairy tale life... boy meets girl, they get married, have 4 kids, a nice big house and live happily ever after.

And you know, if a couple of screenwriters were looking for a sweet gig, they could certainly document my life... I mean, it's definitely a tale of boy meets girl, they have a kid and life goes on.

...except my version has a few extra episodes.

Let's just look back from a 'love life' perspective.  And honestly, laugh with me if you will.

So, it's te classic tale of a girl and a boy dating in high school, he goes off to college, parties too much for the prudish girl to handle and she moves on.

And meets another boy, they date for a year she comes home from college on Christmas break and a month later learns about the sweetest Christmas gift that would keep on giving for years and years and years.  9 months later, the baby was born and life went on.

The next episode features the girl moving out on her own with the toddler boy because things in the relationship couldn't continue. 

A couple of years later girl meets another boy, makes a not so smart decision and ends up with a baby girl.

Just the kind of romantic comedy you were dreaming of, eh!?

So fast forward about eight years.

Same sweet girl, raising those sweet little children.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I'm trying to teach my almost-11-year-old-son to mow the yard.  Not only to help me out, but also because it could certainly earn him some money, mowing for family and potentially older neighbors in the neighborhood.  

Lucky for me, he has been hanging around a slightly older 12 year old friend who understands the importance of helping out and encourages him to do his part.

So, yesterday he decided he was going to help me by push mowing the yard.  We have a riding mower, but he doesn't quite weigh enough to keep it running, so he pushes the other mower.

And because he was trying to be extremely helpful, he went ahead and lowered the mower deck to the 1st notch.

I'm not quite  sure if he mowed the lawn or the actual Earth below it, but my grass is definitely shorter.  God love him.  and the area around my landscaping is still the old height.  Not only because we don't own a weed-eater, but also because he wasn't exactly the most precise in his route around the yard.

But hey, the grass is mowed, right?

...annnnnnnd I probably won't have to mow again until next year :)


Just kidding, kinda.


By last night, he and his friend Nick were worn out from mowing and swimming all afternoon and evening and decided to go to Nick's house down the street for a bonfire.  The plan was for both boys to return to my house and spend the night.

...they rolled in around about 11pm, when the bonfire at Nick's was over... cell phone in hand.

Now, I have to tell you...

I am having a hard time with my son growing up.

Hard time like... searching for body hair in hopes of not finding any and knowing that when I do, undoubtedly, a tear will be shed.

Because that will be confirmation that my sweet, sweet baby is growing up.

(so far, no body hair yet).

I try to play it cool when it comes to chicks ladies hotties girls... because I want him to feel like he can talk to me about stuff. 


..even though we all know that when some chick girl breaks his heart, imma make sure she knows who da boss is I am there to help mend his little broken heart.

To the point, the boys roll in to the five-oh-eight about 11 last night, cell phone in hand. 

..texting  the enemy girls.

Apparently, one of the little girls said she likes "guys with long hair".  Naturally,  since my son's hair is shaggy.... he went in the bathroom, got his teeth all brushed, his hair all combed to the side like it is supposed to look, got his phiton necklace on and was ready for his cellular photo debut to some hormone filled girl that was about to view my son like a piece of meat.

Oh hell no!

But I played along.  I acted like it didn't break my heart that he was trying to impress another girl.

I didn't let him out of my room without telling him that he's absolutely not allowed to kiss girls until he's 30.  And i'm pretty sure the look he gave me was one that would say, "Don't go there, mom."

But regardless, I played it cool, asking what the girls wrote back.   To be honest i was torn.  I didn't necessarily want them to say he was "hot", because seriously, that's my baby.

But if they said he was ugly.... I'd have to put the smack down, because seriously, that's MY baby.

Luckily, Nick's phone died before they were able to ask much more than how old my baby he was.

Not really sure how I'm going to handle it when boys start talking to my little girl.

It just might be enough to drive me to drink.

...and I don't drink.