Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Parenting, Posts | Tags: acting, adulthood, Cats, children, drama, entertainment, humor, Jamie Frazier, Middle-Age, movies, Outlander, parenting, romance, Sam Heughan, teenagers, teenagers humor, television, wedding
Once in a while I manage to get the house to myself and have a chick-flick night. Nothing’s better than settling down after a crazy week with a glass of wine, a warm, fuzzy blanket and 2 hours of watching a hot guy seduce a woman in the most unrealistic ways.
So the other night I had a little bit of alone time (Hubby was out of town, and the Daughters had plans), and settled in to binge watch my new favorite show “Outlander.” And best of all, the episode I was on was going to be the climactic wedding.
Jamie MacKenzie, the hot Scottish Highlander character in the show, explains how he has somehow remained a virgin in his mid-twenties in the 1740s (yeah, right), and is staring at his bride Claire with smoldering eyes and perfect dimples.
One of the cats walks in front of the TV screen. It’s ok – I can rewind. I have that power. I start over, and take a sip of wine.
Jamie and Claire finally put their whiskey down and have sex, the first time for Jamie. It’s not pretty, but Jamie’s auburn curls and charming smile amply make up for the lack of finesse, although he certainly had more finesse than one would have thought. They lay on their backs in the candle light, breathing heavily –
Cat walks across my lap, stopping to put Old One-Eye in my face.
Shove cat to the floor. I rewind again, take another sip of wine.
Jamie and Claire relive their wedding day, with smoldering looks, tentative touches and candlelight everywhere. He carries her to their room –
The cell phone rings. I put my wine glass down.
“Mom?” Daughter #1 asks.
“Yes?”
“Is there any way you can bring me the concert tickets I left in my backpack? I’ll meet you close to the house.”
Seriously? I think.
Sigh… “Ok. I have to pick up your sister soon anyway. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
45 minutes later I bring Daughter #2 home, where she disappears into her lair, not to be seen again until morning. I get a glass of water to balance the wine, pick up the glass of wine, ignore the water and settle back under the blanket and rewind.
Jamie lets Claire see him in all his glory, scars from English torture showing his vulnerability and flawless musculature. Claire reaches up to caress the scars –
Cat sharpens claws on back of the couch near my ear. Shove cat to the floor, spill some wine. Go to kitchen to get towels and clean up the wine. Rewind.
Jamie and Claire, after an agonizing amount of carefully orchestrated removal of layers and layers of clothing, finally make non-virginal love, loudly and with gusto.
The back door slams. Daughter #2 comes in, cautiously yelling, “Hellooooo?”
Sounds of pleasure are blaring from the TV. I hastily try and find the pause button in the dark but only succeed in turning the volume up. I finally manage to hit the power button and turn the damned thing off completely, but drop the remote somewhere in the blanket and cushions.
“Hello! Mom?” Daughter #2 calls again.
“What?” I bark.
“I can’t find my learner’s permit and I have Drivers Ed tomorrow.”
“Did you look on the floor of your room?”
“Yep.”
“Car?”
“Not yet. I’ll go look.”
I sit in the dark, waiting. The door slams again.
“Find it?”
“No. I’ll go look on my floor again.”
“Ok.”
Search for the remote, and find it on the floor under the couch. A cat paw grabs my hand as I retrieve it, drawing blood. I try Attempt to unsuccessfully stomp on the cat paw.
Rewind – watch the love-making scene again – because you can’t stop half-way through. Just sayin’.
Jamie and Claire reach their climactic finish again, and Jamie is asking if she liked it. (Um…really?) How could she not? Like I said, unrealistic. Claire says she did, and Jamie –
Cell phone rings.
Heavy sigh….I not-so-gently put my mostly empty wine glass down.
“What?”
“I found it.”
“Good girl. Now please go to bed.”
Claire decides to show Jamie what making love can be like when the woman is in charge. Jamie is clearly enjoying himself, looking at the ceiling and groan—
Cat walks across coffee table, spilling the glass of water.
“Oh my God!” I yell. I clean up the water and settle down to try one more time to get through just one entire romantic scene. But seeing the spilled water made me have to go to the bathroom.
Minutes later, I rewound the scene and tried again. But going to the bathroom made me start thinking about UTIs, and how no one ever seems to have one in romantic shows, despite the fact that they had sex all night long, and no one ever had to pee. I’m pretty sure cranberry juice wasn’t available in Scotland in the 1740s. What did they use? In fact, where did they go to the bathroom? What did they use for toilet paper?
So I missed most of the last love scene, thinking about UTIs.
And that’s how I spent my romantic night with Jamie from “Outlander,” — plus one glass of wine, the cats and two intermittent teenagers.
Filed under: Parenting, Posts | Tags: adulthood, children, Colleges, English, family, grammar, high school, humor, Juan, kids, language, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, south, southern, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens, Universities
There are times when every parent worries about their kids—not because of grades, or because they play a sport, but because sometimes they say things that just make you shake your head and wonder how they managed to live this long.
Daughter #1 and I were sitting at the kitchen table the other night, pouring over the stack of college brochures she’d brought home. We finally got down to the last three. She was leaning in close, looking at the brochure for a big university down South—which I encouraged because neither she nor I have any interest in going father north than where we are right now.
I asked her, “So what is it about that school that makes you want to go there?’
Daughter #1 glanced up at me, leaving her finger on the picture of a girl sitting on a green lawn with a book in her lap. “Look Mom, I’d wear that outfit. She looks like me.”
Seriously, that was her answer.
Not to be deterred by her answer, I asked why she was looking at another southern school.
“I like red.” she answered.
Sigh….and that’s how a teenager with a 4.5 GPA decides how to spend thousands of dollars on their education.
But I don’t know what we’ll do when they’re out of the house. How will I survive without conversations like the following?
Daughter #2, Daughter #1 and I were all sitting at said kitchen table, when Daughter #1 started making fun of how Daughter #2 says some words. “Milk” is pronounced melk, and she says I Juan instead of “I won.”
Daughter #1: “You do too say it that way. Juan is a Hispanic boy’s name.”
Daughter #2: “No I don’t.”
Me: “Actually, you do.”
Daughter #2: “Mom!”
Me: “But I think you’re not saying Juan, you’re saying wan, which actually means looking all washed out.” I tried an example: “You look wan today.”
Daughter #1 and Daughter #2 just stared at me, used to my random insertion of pointless facts into conversations. Sometimes they’re even true.
Daughter #2 thought about it for a second. “That’s one of those words that sounds like what it means.”
Daughter #1: “Yeah, like faaaaaat. Or thin.”
Daughter #2: “It’s an onomatopoeia.”
Me: “No, onomatopoeia is a word that is a sound, like Bang. ‘Wan’ isn’t a sound.”
Daughter #2 looked deflated.
Daughter #1: “C’mon, Mom, let her have it.” She looked at her sister. “Good job! You Juan!”
Filed under: Parenting, Posts | Tags: adulthood, driving, family, humor, kids, Marriage, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, south, southern, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens
Wow–times have changed in our house. The conversations have moved from questions like, “Mommy, are unicorns real?” to “Mom, did you ever smoke weed when you were in high school?”
That question alone has sent many a parent into a tailspin. Add to that the following recent family conversations, and you begin to see why bourbon’s calming effects are…welcome.
Yesterday, my newly-minted driver, Daughter #1, went to Whole Foods after soccer practice and got some chocolate milk for herself and her sister. After deciding it tasted good at first, like butter or melted ice cream, apparently it wasn’t so hot at the finish.
Daughter #2: “It tasted kind of like udders.”
Hubby: “How do you know what udders taste like?”
Me (to myself…): Oh no…
Daughter #2: “I harken back to my youth.”
An actual, recent road trip conversation:
On a road trip in the car, Hubby decided to pass the time (briefly–he learns quickly) by beating out the rhythm of a song on the top of my exposed thigh.
Me: “Just so you know, it’s really not cool to play the drums on your wife’s thigh fat.”
Daughter #1 (in the backseat): “I know! He does it to me too!”
Hubby (to Daughter #1): “Yeah, but yours is all muscle. It makes a different sound.”
Me: GLARE
And finally, after Daughter #2 owned up to lying to one of her teachers last year, Daughter #1 couldn’t stand it:
Daughter #1: Mom, you laughed when Daughter #2 told her teacher she had a disease so she could wear her short shorts to school, but you got mad when I told my teacher I couldn’t turn in my homework because the printer was broken when it wasn’t. That’s so not fair!
Daughter #2: It wasn’t a total lie–I was still getting tested.*
Me: There’s a big difference between lying about not doing your homework and wearing shorts that are too far above the knee, when you’re legs are a mile long.
Daughter #1: (Sighs…) I guess either way you’re going to end up a hooker.
Hubby: True, true.
*(Daughter #2 does not have a disease. She’s fine!)
Filed under: Middle Age, Parenting, Posts, Travel | Tags: adulthood, cars, driving, family, humor, kids, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, parents, road rage, rules of the road, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens, traffic, travel, turn signals
Driving around with brand new teenage drivers, or soon-to-be-drivers can be like hanging out with an alcoholic at a party who’s just gotten back on the wagon. There is an enormous amount of self-righteousness packed into one place.
“Mom, you’re going over the speed limit.”
“Mom, the light turned green. Put your phone down.”
“Mom, I think that policeman is trying to wave you over….mom? Mom? Why have your eyes gone black??”
One of my biggest driving pet peeves is people who don’t use turn signals, especially at stoplights. FYI People—they are not optional or just a courtesy! They are required by law!
I can’t tell you how many drivers have seen me yelling and gesturing (with my windows safely up) as they paused in the middle of the intersection, looking bewildered as everyone waits for them to go straight because they forgot to put their turn signal on.
Daughter #1, our newest licensed driver, is now beginning to understand my frustration, and has come up with some of her own creative descriptions of these drivers, none of which can be printed here.
Daughter #2 however, has more fun pointing out the times when I myself forget to use my signal (as if!), or when, according to her, I wait to long to use it. The other day, we were getting ready to turn onto our street when apparently I didn’t use my signal until too late.
Daughter #1: “You didn’t use your signal, Mom.”
Me: “Yes, I did.”
Daughter #2: “Well, you waited long enough.”
Me: “Don’t mess with me today. It’s too hot.”
Daughter #2: “Why? What are you gonna do?”
Me: “Just–don’t. It’s not worth it.”
Long pause…
Daughter #2: “It’s worth it a little bit.”
Sigh……so please, in the interests of keeping people safe, and because playing chicken in the middle of an intersection isn’t cool, use your turn signals. IN the words of one of my youth group leaders back in the day, WWJD?
Last summer I wrote a blog about fishing with my family, and my regrets over my sore-loser attitude. (see https://subourbonmom.wordpress.com/2013/08/19/fishing-frenzy/) This year, we once again had our Annual Lake Trip Family Fishing Tournament. I was determined to have fun, and maybe convince one of our daughters to join us at 6:00am for the camaraderie and smack talking that is our fishing style–“that’s how we troll.” (It should be noted that this year, for the first time ever, my sister-in-law also went—and she is NOT a morning person—she didn’t catch anything, but she was a trooper. Thanks for the effort, SA!)
After two days of Hubby, Big Brother and myself coming back to the dock with buckets of fish, Daughter #1 agreed to go. The first day, she got up at 6:00 and came down to the boat, phone in hand, and promptly began taking sleepy selfies. We didn’t catch much that day, just a catfish and a little white bass, but she said she might do it again because she just had fun hanging out (how about that for fun family time, and only a little bit of phone use?).
The next time, she got up again at 6:00 and shuffled down to the dock, coffee that Hubby made her in one hand, cell phone welded to her other.
Take note:
- Hubby makes coffee for her, and he is the only person who can make it the right way, since they use very little coffee, with lots of creamer and sugar—it’s too sickening for me to even taste to get it right; and
2. Daughter #1 is clearly able to get up that early and be ready for action, just not on school days.
(Hmmmmm….)
As we trolled along the points, the early sun shining above us, Big Brother made note of what he considered a slight personality change that occurs when I fish. Apparently, when I’m not catching anything, I’m somewhat unpleasant to be around, but when I do catch something, all is right with the world.
“The Gray Wiggle” (according to Daughter #2) catches another catfish…
When I argued the point, Daughter #1 said, “Mom, you think you’re not competitive, but you are. You even tell everybody how competitive me and dad are, and that you and Daughter #1 skipped that gene. But you’re just as bad.”
Big Brother laughed and said, “You’re right. She’s even competitive about being competitive.”
Okay, okay, you might be right.
But while you’re busy talking about how competitive I am, I’m going fishing. Nobody catches anything without throwing a line in.
Subourbon Mom 
