Subourbon Mom


College Orientation – You Had the Power All Along, My Dear

We recently attended college orientation for Daughter #2 at a large university, and to be honest, I was lucky it ended up on my calendar. Not because I don’t care but because, like everything with the not-the-first-kid, you are just a little more relaxed about it. Added to that, it’s very disconcerting to suddenly not have access to every detail of your child’s schedule after being in charge of it for eighteen years. I had to text her the night before and ask if there were any parking passes we had to print out, what the address was, or if there was anything else that needed to be done ahead of time – shockingly, there wasn’t. Daughter #2, like her older sister, had it all under control.

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I like to think it was good parenting that made it happen, but I’m pretty sure it had more to do with me accidentally leaving them at restaurants or school, trying and failing to explain simple math, and letting them believe that many of the phrases I use are common phrases until their friends asked what they meant. I was clearly not to be trusted (I never understood algebra and I said “Fooped” instead of “Sharted” because I didn’t want them implying the word Shit…it sounds stupid now, but it made sense when I was tired and they were little).

The orientation started with the usual official school cheer, and we stood and made arm motions over our heads and yelled the appropriate things, like a bunch of sadly sober, not-quite-caffeinated-Village People.

At Daughter #1’s orientation, I paid close attention to Dean Somethingaboutliberalartsandgraduatinginfouryears, and Associate Dean of WhatdidshesayIhavetopee.  The second time around? Nope. I was busy feeling superior and counting blonds vs. brunettes in each row to pass the time.

And then they took our sweet babies to meet with their advisors, or hang out with the cultish, singing and dancing university groupies to get them acclimated to campus life. Some parents looked scared and bereft.

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Others looked around like plane passengers do when they’re trying to decide who would be worth having aboard if there was a crash on a tiny Pacific island. There were a few that I would not have trusted with the exit aisle…just sayin’.

The Deans of Random Departments spoke about how great the school is (yeah, the choir knows – our kids applied and we are writing a substantial check for them to go here – we get it), followed by lunch in the Dining Hall. That hasn’t changed, except that we never got to pick from a pizza bar, Mexican, a grill menu, a vegan menu, and a Chinese buffet. My school had one of those things as a theme, and God help you if you didn’t like flat burgers.  I spent many a dinner standing at the cereal bar, picking the stupid strawberry things out of Captain Crunch because…seriously, who orders Crunchberries instead of plain Captain Crunch?

The parents’ Resource Fair was okay, but the table I really wanted to see would have been called “Crap You Still Have to Buy.” Since we don’t find out until August what dorm Daughter #2 is in, I’ve already decided I’m going to buy every variety of drawers and basket in Target and start playing Tetris as soon as we get there.

And finally, there was a speech by the Mental Health Professional on how our roles as parents and children transition when they go to school, what to say and not to say, and things to watch out for. For that one, I put down my Candy Crush game (sadly, I’m on level 800-and-something) and paid attention. It never hurts to hear how this momentous change is affecting your baby, and what you need to do to make the transition easier.

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I made notes about what local delivery services were available (every college town should have Insomnia Cookies) to send things on bad days. I felt guilty about not writing more letters to Daughter #1, but realized that probably wasn’t going to get any better for Daughter #2, so then I felt extra guilty – I suck as a parent for not doing that for the first one, and suck even more for knowing I probably won’t do it this time, either.

I was nervous and scared for my baby, until I remembered that I’d already had my chance to be an attentive mom…and I was. Aside from accidentally leaving them at restaurants or sports events (I swear, it was a mis-communication…OMG let it go!) and swearing a lot, I know I must have done something right because they’re ready. They are strong, independent young women, ready to try new things, accept new challenges, and let me know, “I got this, Mom.”

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Book Review – Deadly Southern Charm
May 7, 2019, 11:38 am
Filed under: Posts

Ok, many of you have heard that I finally have a short story published – it’s a mystery, set in The South, and is full of snarky folks just like me!  Take a quick look at this review, and  feel free to purchase the Deadly Southern Charm Anthology at http://www.WildsidePress.com.

I’ll have a blog coming soon – it’s been too long and there’s lots to rant about – in the meantime, enjoy!

via Book Review – Deadly Southern Charm



Spam for Middle-Aged Women
March 6, 2019, 6:31 pm
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , , , , ,

One of the things I do every day that brings me great joy is to look at the spam that comes into my email.  According to the non-retail emails that get filtered (thank you, awesome security keep-that-crap-off-my-computer software) I am a middle-aged man who:

  • is very helpful and willing to take lots of sketchy, unidentified meetings;
  • is very, very lonely;
  • is very, very horny;
  • is bisexual;
  • but can’t get it up;
  • has hard muscles;
  • is confident (according to my eyes);
  • likes red wine; and,
  • is dumb enough to go meet someone randomly with the promise of “good sex now.”

 

My favorites are the ones where the English is a bit…iffy:

“One doze is enough even for 60-years-old…”

“Your girl will really need a lotion!”

“With our pilules (that’s how it was spelled) you will have more energy”

“Perhaps you will come into a rage, but…”

 

And my personal fave: “Oh, it seems I’m ready to be yours today.”

Really?  It seems you’re ready?  That just sounds like you’re surprised that you would be attracted to me.  You also don’t seem to be in control of your body, as if your body has just let you in on a little secret. I can’t imagine going up to some guy in a bar and whispering in his ear, “It seems I’m ready to be yours today,” like I was hanging about, preparing myself for the day I’d finally meet him.  (Oh, I’d still get laid, because it would be said to a guy, but the slightly puzzled, matter-of-fact delivery just makes me giggle.)

Listen spammers, if you really want a middle-aged mom to open your emails, use phrases like this:

“I’ll just lay here and let you read until you fall asleep.”

“I’m the guy who’ll load the dishwasher.”

“Teenagers – WTF?”

“Mom, I’m sorry but they made me do it…”

“Cute dog pictures.”

“Free coffee.”

“Free wine.”

“You’re right – I’m sorry.”

“Outlander is coming to [YOUR TOWN HERE].”

“Huge Costco sale is on!”

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We’re Breaking Up
January 6, 2019, 8:40 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: , , ,

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I’m in the middle of a break-up.  But, like a lot of my break-ups in the past, the guy has no idea we’re calling it quits.  But I’m not telling him until I get my stuff back.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Why am I breaking up with him?  First, he’s always late.

Always.

I get the late thing once in a while, but every…single…time? The last time we were supposed to see each other, I waited for over an hour.  I finally left.

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“I really don’t need the two of you in my life – you and your drama.”

Second, he’s pretty bad at communicating.  Even the people he hangs out with have a hard time letting people know what’s going on. That’s fine for them, but when it starts affecting my relationship, that’s a problem.  Before I left the last time, one of his “friends” told me I wasn’t a good listener.

“You need to be a better one before you can be a two.”

Third, we don’t talk anymore.  When we’re together, he spends most of his time staring at his computer.  I try to tell him how I feel, but he never seems to have time to listen to it all.

Don’t worry – I’m not breaking up my 25-year marriage.  I’m breaking up with my doctor.

I waited too long for too many appointments in a room filled with a blaring TV and geriatrics talking at full volume.  The last time I was there, after I’d waited 45 minutes, the receptionist informed me I’d been called ten minutes before, implying I wasn’t listening.  She also said there was an emergency, and they had know idea how long I would have to wait.  Um, yeah…I left.

“You only love me for my body.”

As for looking at the computer most of the time, that’s fine.  Even waiters have iPads now.  I’ve got WebMD and I only go into the office when I need a physical or a real diagnosis. What bothers me is that when I get my blood tested for my physical after the meeting with the doctor, I don’t talk to the doctor afterward.  I am sent a piece of paper with my blood test results.  There are columns with the numerical results of each test, which are meaningless to me because I’M NOT A ADOCTOR; there is also column that has recommendations based on the numbers, but unless I make (and pay for) another appointment, I don’t get to talk in person with my doctor about the results or the recommendations.  How do I know he’s looking at everything as a whole, or that he looked at it at all?

So we’re breaking up. My time is just as important as his, and I am more than just an amazing body.  I need someone who can meet my physical and emotional needs.  If he can’t understand that, well, he’ll never get it.

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

 



Does Toilet Paper Need a Commercial?
October 24, 2018, 3:05 pm
Filed under: Food/Drink, Misc. Humor, shopping | Tags: , , , , , , ,

Funny-toilet-paper-memeI pity the advertising firms that have to come up with new ways to sell toilet paper and not offend anybody.  Toilet paper has one specific purpose, and it’s gross.  Sure, you can say it has other uses, like failing to adequately remove eye makeup, or sticking to your shoe when you leave the port-o-john, but let’s face it: we don’t buy thick, soft toilet paper because of those little perks.  I buy it because I don’t like wiping my butt with the tree bark found in public restrooms.

The other day I heard a commercial for Cottonelle that asked the experts (young kids), “How clean do you feel after going to the bathroom?” And of course, the kids all had cute things to say like “I feel as clean as a white, tiny kitten.”

Kids are cute, but they are not a surefire strategy for selling your product. If you really want to know if the toilet paper is any good, ask a hairy man – he’ll tell you. Ask a woman with IBS – she’ll know. Ask a woman who’s recently given birth – there better be some soft paper in her bathroom or somebody will pay once she gets a couple of hours of sleep. Or ask someone who has dogs that poop on the carpet a lot – they can tell you how durable and flush-able it is.

But don’t ask little kids about toilet paper and how clean they are – they can’t know.

Young kids are inexperienced wipers. I know because I taught preschool for 10 years, and I can’t tell you how many times kids would try to get me to come in the stall (I didn’t – teachers aren’t allowed to) and check to see if they “wiped right” or “got all the poo off.”  Thanks, pedophiles, for not only making it inappropriate for teachers to hug a crying child, but for creating a situation where children learning to use the toilet stay itchy all day and develop rashes because teachers can’t check and answer that simple question.

Charmin got it right – they used bears in their commercials. Bears are hairy (i.e. credible), but still inoffensive because everybody knows if a bear shits in the woods and nobody’s around to see it…it didn’t happen.

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But the real question is, do we need commercials at all for toilet paper?  I think there are two rules of thumb for this:

  1.  If it’s the generic brand, don’t buy it unless you must choose cost over comfort.
  2.  A commercial isn’t going to tell you that more than 5 squares clogs the toilet, or that it comes apart in your hand mid-wipe.  Your friends tell you that kind of stuff, so go by word-of-moth when it comes to TP purchases.  And if your friends don’t tell you this, you need better friends.



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