The Vine: July 23, 2008
I really don’t know if there is a solution to this problem, but you give good relationship advice and don’t seem too squicked by grossness, so here goes.
How do I get my boyfriend to stop blowing his nose in the shower? He likes the way the steam releases his sinuses, and I can’t really blame him for that since I tend to blow my nose IN TISSUE after a shower. He says he covers his nose with his hands completely and then rinses the snot/boogers down the drain. If this were true, however, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. It’s when I go to clean the bathroom or, worse, take a bubble bath that I have a problem.
Do you know how hard it is to scrape dried boogers off a porcelain tub? It’s a lot more difficult than you’d think. And I’ve found the boogers in various places. By the drain. On the ledge. Stuck to the wall. Blech. I’m perfectly fine with the division of labor in our house and really don’t mind cleaning the bathroom, but how do I make him understand that this is cruel and unusual punishment? I told him the next time I have to scrape a booger I’m going to put it in his food.
Soap Scum Is Fine. Boogers Are Not.
Dear Boog,
“Boyfriend, I understand that you like the way the steam cleans out your sinuses, but I have to ask you, again, to make sure that all the boogs get rinsed down the drain.It’s too hard to clean them off the tile, and it’s not real sanitary besides, so from now on, if I find a dried rocket, I’m going to have to ask you to take care of it.…I know you don’t care; I’m telling you that I care, and asking you to respect that.”
It takes two seconds to check the walls and make sure there isn’t anything untoward clinging to them; say “please,” use “I” statements, but make it clear that you don’t want to have to nag him about this, and won’t.You find dried snot in the shower, you leave him a map of the offenders and he cleans them.
He may not respond the way you’d like, in which case this is one of those times where you have to decide whether it’s more important to you to have it cleaned up or to win the battle, but even if you do have to choose between being happy or being right…you’re right.This is basic shared-shower etiquette: no hairs on the soap, don’t leave a bunch of mung in the drain, bring your own razor to the party, and if you’re slinging loogs, where they end up is on you.
Sars,
I need help, and I think you give out sound, common sense advice so I hope you have some for me.My problem is about a friend of mine who has two issues:bulimia and excessive drinking.Not a good match.Sorry this is kind of long but I think you need to know the whole story.Here’s what’s happening.
1.She has been bulimic for at least 10 years.Everyone knows it, her husband, family, and our friends, but no one talks about it.She knows that everyone knows too.
Now, I know this is her personal thing and I can’t make her stop, but it’s affecting me because every time she comes over to my house and eats, she goes immediately to the bathroom and purges and she usually leaves chunks of food on the toilet.I had a party Saturday and I had to keep an eye on her to go check the bathroom after she ate so my guests wouldn’t be subject to the mess. She got up immediately from eating and went to the bathroom. Then she later had the nerve to tell me how good the food was. I have had guests tell me in past visits they found a mess on the toilet and even in the bathroom sink.
So, I am annoyed and my husband is sick of spending money on food that gets wasted.We used to have watch parties at my house all the time but now I’ve quit inviting her over and I’m sure she is wondering why.It’s really gross, and to top it off even at my house or if we are at a bar/restaurant in a group setting when she does it, she comes back with a mess on the front of her shirt.It’s so obvious!
Do I say something?Do I bring her in my bathroom and point out the mess she made?I mean, that would be embarrassing but her problem is affecting my being able to hang out with her.
2.She’s an alcoholic, I’m not gonna lie. Her brothers call her a drunk.Again, this is common knowledge but no one will confront her.The way it’s affecting me is that since she never has any food in her belly, she gets wasted very easily.The problem is, her husband will leave her or drop her off at the bar or friend’s house, assuming that “someone” will bring her home.At my party on Saturday, her husband left!Her brothers asked her how she was getting home and she said either he would have to come back and get her or else she would “sleep here” (MY HOUSE).I never invited her to sleep over or said she could sleep over!Her brothers ended up taking her home and they were not happy about it. She was so drunk she could barely walk.
Sometimes my husband and I have taken her home from a bar because she was dropped off. Her husband doesn’t ask anyone in advance if they will take her home.He just knows someone will because someone always does.
Because of #1 and #2 above, my husband and I agreed that we do not want her at our house any longer unless her husband is with her and staying there to take her home later.But then that decision got blown by her husband leaving her unattended at our party.So really I just cannot have her over anymore.
3. We had a pool put in our backyard this year and so far this friend has dropped in unannounced and uninvited twice to “hang out” at the pool.The first time I had another friend over (who WAS invited), and she found out about it and had her husband bring her over, stopping at Wal-Mart on the way to buy a bathing suit.My friend and I were out by the pool and suddenly she and her husband walked outside (with beer in a cooler).When they showed up at the front door, my husband assumed I had called and invited her, but I didn’t.The husband then announced he was dropping her off!Oh my gosh, I was stunned at the rudeness!
We were about to wrap it up because we were going to dinner so we told them they would have to leave in about 30 minutes.It was so rude, she just showed up not knowing what our plans were and had no invitation.The second time it happened, my husband invited her brothers over to swim.The guys were out back having guy time, and I was in the house doing laundry.I had no plans to go outside.About 10 minutes after the brothers arrived, she showed up!I was like, oh what are you doing here?She responded, “Oh hanging with the guys.”I know the brothers had told her on the phone they were coming over so she decided to come over too!
I’m at my wits’ end with trying to decide how to handle this.We have a very close-knit circle of friends of which she is a part, along with her brothers. All the guys play on a softball league together so we are all together frequently, hang out every weekend at our local watering hole, et cetera.For reference, this is a 31-year-old woman.
Any ideas? I have a lot of issues with this girl and I don’t know where to begin.
Joy
Dear And Pain,
I know that dealing with a person’s addiction(s) is not easy, and that it can often feel very much like the diseases are being done to you; they just start to become the focus of every gathering, every conversation about every gathering…I get it.But I don’t get a lot of sympathy from you here, and it sounds to me like this woman is in serious trouble, not least because her husband dumps her on other people for “wife-sitting,” and because neither he nor her siblings or friends will even point out that she has boot chunks on her clothing.You seem more concerned with the “embarrassment” than with what a pathetic existence that must add up to for her.
And again, I get it.I’ve been there; many of us have.But if nobody will say anything to her about it?If nobody’s going to sack up and tell her, listen, I don’t judge you, but these behaviors are really out of control and you need to get some help?
Because that’s what you need to do.If this really is a friend of yours, you need to spend more time with her in settings where she’s not going to drink, and where she’s not going to binge/purge.Go shopping.Take a walk.See a museum.Stop centering your social time around bars and meals.
And when she does act out, you’re going to have to start calling her on it.Point out that she has vomitus on her clothing, and send her home, husband or not.Point out that she’s made a mess in the bathroom, ask her to clean it up, and send her home, husband or not.Sit her down and say, your drinking is a problem; you can’t control it.Your bulimia is a problem; you can’t control it.Kick it Intervention-style: “Your addictions are affecting me in the following ways: you’re grossing out my other guests.You’re getting so drunk that we basically have to draw lots to see who takes care of you.”
I’d love to know what in the Sam Hill her husband is thinking, because this seems like attention-seeking behavior on her part and the guy is doing exactly the wrong things in response, kind of (and if you do nothing else, give him to understand that she’s not anyone’s job but her own, and he can do as he likes but you’re not covering the service for him anymore), but if her family isn’t going to give her the business, well, that doesn’t mean you can’t.
But understand: she needs help, and that should be why you’re taking this up with her.Not because she’s embarrassing you or she’s a pain in your ass; not because you’d rather just cut her off, but you can’t, because of the social circle.Think about what it’s like to be her, even for one day.Think about how fucking wretched she is, how beyond the pale she’s acting; think about where eating disorders come from and how alcoholism might play into that.She hates herself; she’s acting this way, on some level, so that the rest of you will hate her too and she can be right about how little she thinks she’s worth.Think about what it’s like to hold yourself in exactly zero esteem.
It’s tough when someone is like this; I don’t judge you for getting fed up with how it’s affecting you.I’m just saying, remember that, as miserable as she’s making the rest of you, it’s a tiny fraction of what it’s doing to her — and it’s going to kill her.This is not about presumptuous use of the pool.If someone doesn’t get out in front of this with her, her kidneys are going to do it before you have a chance.She’s sick enough that she can’t act right.You need to operate from there.
Friends of ours are expecting a baby later this month. My four-year-old daughter is thrilled and has been playing mommy by putting baby dolls under her shirts for months.
Today when she asked “I know babies grow in mommies’ tummies but how do they get out?” I was truthful and said “our private areas” — our word for “vagina.” My daughter had no problem with this other than to ask “does it hurt?”I said sometimes but getting a beautiful baby makes all the hurt worthwhile. And that was the end of that or so I thought.
When I repeated the conversation to my mother she was livid. She told me I might as well have told my daughter there was no Santa Claus. She went on to say that kids have no filter and what if she repeats this at school or on the playground?
I still don’t feel I did anything wrong, but maybe I’m missing something here? Did I just drop the ball? Or is my mom overreacting?
Bad mom in NJ?
Dear Mom,
I think she’s overreacting.I mean, it’s accurate information.Okay, maybe not the “tummies” part, but you have to pitch it to their age and what they can reasonably understand, and “uterus” is maybe a little more nuance than a four-year-old can do, so: I think your answer was just fine.It’s correct, and it’s appropriate for your daughter’s age.
As for their not having filters…eh, so what.Ninety-eight percent of people understand that preschoolers just make announcements about whatever: Wall-E spoilers, what kind of juice they drank at lunch, “that lady SURE IS FAT, MOMMY” (my mother just cringed without knowing why) (the lady was, no joke, right next to us in line at the supermarket) (wherever you are, lady, I’m really sorry).It’s an age where they like to know things, and they like to show you they know things, but then “tact” is not on the list of things they know yet.Or “whispering,” sometimes.Times like…1976.Sigh.
Anyway.Certainly if your daughter is in a setting like school or a playground, an announcement about babies coming from private areas is probably not the most egregious thing they’ve heard that day, much less ever.If your daughter were telling playmates that there’s no Santa, that would be one thing, but this, I think you handled just right.
As far as what to say to your mom, tell her you appreciate her concern, but you told your daughter the truth — or as much of it as she needs, at her age — and you don’t think it’s going to be a problem.Then change the subject…to how much ruder this advice columnist you read was at the same age.Heh.
Tags: etiquette friendships health and beauty kids the fam
One time when I was about 4, my mother and I were in Woolworths and a nice lady stopped to talk with me. “Aren’t you adorable?” she said, bending down to pat my little head. I looked up at her and solemnly announced, appropos of nothing, “My daddy calls me Bad Thing. My daddy beats me.”
Another time, at the same shopping mall, I somehow got lost and ended up at the Wanamakers business office. I told them my name was Diane, and an announcement went out over the loudspeaker for anyone looking for a little girl named Diane. Quite some time later, after my harried mother had figured it out from the clothing description, she came to collect me.
Mom: “Linda, why on earth did you tell them your name was Diane??”
Me: “Because I didn’t want anyone to know I was stupid enough to get lost.”
Same mall, maybe six months later, lost again but this time in Gimbels — apparently nonplussed with the business office experience, I went instead to the store window, where I stood holding a manakin’s hand until my mother’s friend spotted me.
Mom, I am so very sorry, and I know now why you love on-line shopping so very much!!
My son was in a class with a girl who announced, loudly, that there was NO SANTA. Problem was, my son really wanted there to BE a Santa (he’s younger than his classmates). So I sat him down and told him that Santa only comes if you believe in him; he’s got a lot of kids to cover and he’s not going to waste his time on the unbelievers. But parents don’t want kids to not get any presents on Christmas, so if you stop believing in Santa, your parents step in and pick up the slack.
This is also how the Easter Bunny operates, btw. Bunny eggs for True Believers only; everyone else gets whatever your mom can find at Walgreens.
As another NJ mom, I agree with what you did and all the other comments too. *However*, don’t forget that these days the answer to “how did the daddy’s sperm and the mommy’s egg get together?” may well be, “mommy and daddy went to the doctor and they mixed the sperm and egg in a test tube”. Not to mention turkey basters, etc. Babies: made by Science!
“Episiotomy” is definitely one of those “effective birth control” words.
Unfortunately not in public, but…
when I was 3 or 4, I used to “help” my mom with housework. This meant pretending to sweep until her back was turned and then using my broom to hit my younger (by 20 months) brother over the head. My mother, not being an idiot, caught on and told me that if I hit him one more time, I would lose the broom. Sure enough, I hit him and the broom went on top of the fridge (where I could see it but couldn’t have it, so cruel). I whip around and stare my mother down with a crisp “FINE, now I can MOP!”
It’s one of those stories my mom likes to pull out to explain that my attitude has been here since the beginning.
“Just swap. Let him clean dried-up snot out of the shower a few times and I bet he stops.”
Oh, BAD strategy. This invariably leads to epoxy-hard snot deposits.
I’ve tried the whole “I give up, I’m going to let the trash and dirty dishes pile up to Teach Them A Lesson” trip. It doesn’t work, because if they were the type to learn the lesson then they wouldn’t need to be taught!
Well, I posted my “Kids Say The Dardndest Migraine Inducers” story, so I did want to comment on Bulimic Friend.
Anonymous and Jodi are right on the ball. This woman is basically wearing a sign reading “HELP ME HELP ME FOR GOD’S SAKE HELP ME” on her front and “I’M A WORTHLESS BITCH AND I’LL PROVE IT TO YOU” on her back. She’s basically set up a game where she behaves with total outrageousness and more and more boundary violation in a desperate attempt to get someone to finally acknowledge that she’s spiraling out of control, but the rules dictate that anyone who does is the jerk. And no one wants to be the jerk, so it just keeps escalating.
Her family and husband have dropped the ball all the way to China. They have too much invested in this sick game to stop or change until this woman dies, if things keep going the way they are. Friend needs to go to an objective outside source with no emotional investment in the situation and get advice on breaking this cycle before she’s driven crazy by this impossible setup and her friend finally crashes. Try the net and phone book for eating disorder/ addiction counselors and make an emergency appointment. Doing anything at this point has got to be better than the game of Nothing’s Happening that’s going on now.
Booger’s Girl: I’m with those who think he can (1) improve his aim; and (2) clean up his own misses. In the interests of (1), you could get a set of the crayons Crayola makes for drawing in the tub, and draw target circles around the drain.
NJ Mom, you are bad in the same way my own mom in NJ was bad. She grew up in a time when the information available to a nice Irish Catholic girl was … limited, to say the least, and she wanted to make certain that all her children, boys and girls, weren’t ignorant. She would educate us, casually, using the proper terms for everything, and made sure that we knew that we could ask her anything we wanted or needed to, and there were books if we were uncomfortable asking her. It had the bonus effect of making us really uninterested in sex for quite a while. You rock, NJ Mom.
As for Joy’s friend, word to what Sars has said. I suspect from some exposure I’ve had in the past, your friend vacillates back and forth between being certain that nobody notices what she’s doing – or that everybody notices, and nobody cares. She’s probably at a point where she’d agree that spending money on food for her is “a waste” – and nobody should feel like that.
As far as the vomiting-in-your-bathroom issue goes, I don’t see a problem with hauling Bulimia back in there and handing her a brush and telling her it’s her mess and she gets to clean it. She has issues that need to be worked on, with help, long-term; this is a short-term issue that can be dealt with instantly.
However: what’s up with her husband dropping her off and leaving her behind like the Christmas fruitcake nobody wants, and is now someone else’s problem? What is this with leaving her behind when he takes off? Why doesn’t he just get a T-shirt made up that says “I DON’T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO HER†and be done with it. First off, nobody else should have to get her home; she should be leaving with the person who brought her.(…husband.) Second, what happens when other people have had a bit to drink themselves, and don’t feel up to driving her home? So they put her in a cab to get home – someone whose judgment is impaired. There’s a whole lot could happen to her between “party†and “home†– but I guess it doesn’t matter, because her husband already has his “I DON’T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO HER†T-shirt. And Bulimia knows this; whatever other pain she’s dealing with, she’s dealing with that one, too. There’s a part of her knows her husband doesn’t care if she chokes to death in a drunken bout of vomiting; that’s a sucky thing to know, and it makes everything else worse.
Joy, you say “We have a very close-knit circle of friends of which she is a part, along with her brothers†and “we are all together frequently, hang out every weekend at our local watering holeâ€. I myself am Queen of Never “Drop In†Without An Invitation, but even I can see if your husband invited Bulimia’s brothers (more than one of them, at that) to all come hang out at the pool, how she might think it was just another instance of all of you hanging out, this time at the swimming hole, rather than the watering hole. I think this is an instance where you need to say that you would prefer that she call you first to find out if you’re busy, and not assume that just because the swimming pool is there, that any time is a good time to use it.
I think that Bulimia needs to be talked to about her problem, but I also think Bulimia’s husband and her brothers need to be talked to, as well. If you are all hanging out together, why have none of her brothers confronted her about her behavior? Heck, why haven’t they confronted her husband about his behavior, waltzing off and leaving his wife, their sister, to find her own way home any way she can, after an evening of drinking? Joy says that theirs is a “very close-knit circle of friendsâ€, but Bulimia is unraveling completely, and neither her friends nor her family seem to be willing to even say anything to stop it. I don’t pretend to know absolute best way to deal with this problem, but I don’t think ignoring it is the way to go; it doesn’t seem to be working very well so far. If you talk to Bulimia, even if she’s angry and defensive, at least she’ll know you care.
Hee! Toddlers are the worlds sports announcers…of sports such as procreation and defecation. If it’s true and we’re not “supposed to talk about those things”, a small child will indeed, shout them out for the entire world.
My favorite is my three year old cousin at the time, stood up at Mass ON EASTER and shouted “WHO’S JESUS?!” at the top of her lungs during the homily. Ah, good times.
When I was very small (3ish), I was riding in the car with my father and a family friend (who apparently had no filter of his own, despite being, you know, an adult). We drove past a convent and the friend made an offcolor remark. Which I apparently not only heard but internalized. So a few weeks later, when I was going somewhere with my parents and my (fairly stodgy) grandparents and we drove past the convent again, I announced to the car: “That’s where all that hot Catholic pussy is.”
My parents tell me that after a veeeerrry long silence, the conversation resumed in the car as if I’d never said a word.
I think HM/WB can apply to men, too, but I guess we could do HM/WD instead (“have met/was dick”).
Dick was probably more appropriate to the behavior. If you’re acting like an ass, people will stare at you, even if they don’t realize that you’re Steven fucking Tyler (and why would they expect you to be in Cody Wyoming?) So shut your damn mouth and let everyone else get their coffee.
Holy Cow, these “kids say the dardnest things” stories are making me laugh so hard I’m almost crying. Hee!
@JenV: Yeah, that was a classic moment! (Hopefully, she’ll never read this thread and realize that her aunt has told all of TN about her “stripper” days!)
My mother was very into Les Miserables when I was about 11 and my sister was about 5. The family went on a lot of road trips and the soundtrack to the Broadway show was a popular source of entertainment in the car.
It was not such a popular source of entertainment for anyone (except perhaps other shoppers) when my sister broke out into a couple of lines “Lovely Ladies”–the prostitutes’ song–in the middle of a department store, musically announcing to one and all that she was “ready for a thick one or a quick one in the park.”
Have Met / Was Bastard. Easily solved.
These kids stories are hilarious, so I’ll add mine:
When I was 5, my family wanted to take a snorkling day trip that only allowed those 3 and up. My mom therefore spent the day before drilling into my then-two-year-old brother that if anyone asked him how old he was, the answer for that day was going to be 3. So of course, we get out to the snorkel site and the guide asks my mom how old my brother is, and I butt in: “Usually, he’s two, but today, he’s three.”
And then of course when I was about 3, someone asked what my dad did for a living: “He’s a doctor, which means he golfs a lot.”
Wow – this thread is hysterical!
As a small child, I was playing “pregnant” (who knows why, maybe a family friend was preggers?), and had stuffed a pillow in my shirt. Instead of telling, my mom was a fan of asking, so she asked how the baby was going to get it. I thought about it for awhile, and then “threw up” my baby – how else do things get out of your tummy?!? The good news is that I caught said baby. Mom decided that was good enough for 4, and praised me for not dropping it on the floor. I think I got the facts a few years after that, having spent some time reading Redbook on the sly…
I was going to suggest HM/WD myself, because it can also be dick, dicksmack, douche, or, if the guy wasn’t so bad – doofus or dork.
As the mom of a 2-year-old who attends a conservative Lutheran daycare, I have converted my favorite Godammit! to God Bless America! As in: “God Bless America, Anna, stop pouring milk on the dog!”
One of her teachers recently commented that she thinks it’s great that we’re so patriotic.
@Andrea,
That reminds me of my own “ohmygod” kid story. I used to play pregnant as well, by putting a baby doll under my shirt then taking her out when she was “born”. I figured they came from the stomach, because of course that’s where they are until they’re born. My mom gave me the facts a short while after that, in that babies come from the vagina.
So, I am nothing if not anal, and decided that if I was going to play it, I would play it right. So…next time I played, I laid down on the floor, stuck the doll under my butt, opened my legs wide and whipped that kid outta there. Not only that, but I was playing my new game in my CHURCH NURSERY. And I’m pretty sure I was describing the birthing process to the other kids.
I “nursed” my baby dolls from my belly button when I was a wee one.
I can almost follow the logic, there, but not quite.
This may seem a little obvious, but my husband is the worst for leaving hair all over the shower. Mostly because he’s blind as a bat without his glasses. Also, it seems like it would be much more difficult to identify all of the booger-y spots when the shower is wet. That’s just all by way of saying that he may really be trying to make sure everything is taken care of.
I agree with whoever said to get a hand-unit for the shower head.
NJ mom, I agree with all above – you did fine. People who get upset if your kid repeats what you said are prudes. You’re doing the right thing.
My mom was very much of the horrified variety when we would ask questions. She treated all sex subject material as taboo and embarrassing, even dirty, and I personally was not the better for it.
Embarrassingly, my blurt story happened when I was much older, like 11 or 12. Fortunately I think only my mom heard me, but I still burn with shame when I think of it (Thanks mom. I love you anyway…). I had always heard Danny’s line to Rizzo in “Grease” as “stopping for seconds ain’t my style.” When I realized what he was ACTUALLY saying, I still didn’t know what it meant but repeated it anyway. Which… you can imagine how well that went over. Me being 12 and saying something about “sloppy seconds” to my extremely prude mother… D’oh.
I think my older brother was 4 or so when he came home from a church lesson and asked my mom what “adultery” was. She was able to think fast on that one, and said it would be like if she went on a date with a different man than our dad. My brother: “Oh, you mean like that song, ‘daytime friends and nighttime lovers?'” Aaaaaaand INTO the drawer went Mr. Kenny Rogers, not to be seen or heard from for many years. Heh heh heh.
When my cousin (4 years younger) was five, she marched up to me and very sternly pronounced “I know ALL ABOUT sex.” I’m pretty sure I muttered “congratulations…” and slunk away. Hee. When she was seven or eight we saw the giant tortoises mating at the zoo. “Are they allowed to do that in public?” Her mom’s matter-of-fact reply: “They are, but you’re not.” I LOOOOOOVE my aunt.
AHH! Bail, I’m going to TEACH my children to tell strangers who think they’re cute that it’s because their mom is a fox! Excellent!
Inksmudge… I am crying. CRYING. “look at my body!” Ah haaa!
most cringeworthy blurt story – my sister and i were amazed at a v. obese man we saw in the supermarket, and giggled about his funny shape. finally, i could take it no longer and squealed, “and he has such LITTLE FEET!” i remember my mother giving me a tongue-lashing. and i wound up being fat myself, which is surely just karma.
when my sister was born, my line was supposedly (standing over her cradle “And when are YOU going back to the hospital?”
my husband’s, while his colicky brother was disturbing everyone’s sleep with incessant crying: “mommy, can’t you just PUT HIM BACK IN at night?!”
1. Glad to know I’m not the only one who read the Earth’s Children series at that age. My mom told me to “just skip the sex parts”. RIGHT!
2. Recently, trying to get my three year old nephew to eat more of his dinner:
Husband: “Don’t you want to be big and strong like me? Look at my rippling muscles.”
Nephew: “RIPPLING PENIS!!!!”
…omg. Very nearly died.
Awesome thread! I love the image of the sorrowful toddler looking at her broken taco and announcing “Goddammit”! My father’s filler word is goddam in most cases, so I can easily see myself being that girl! Keep the comments coming – great morning reading!
OMG this is bringing back so many memories!
When I was in Kindergarten (and a catholic one at that) my parents were brought in for a very special parent teacher conference where they sat my father down and attempted to discuss his “problem” with him. Everyone was very confused until the nuns (Yes NUNS) explained that I had been singing a song I made up (I don’t know why they thought I made it up…) After a fair amount of discussion it was finally discovered that I had been singing “Sam Stone” by John Prine… I won’t transcribe it all here but I will give you some of the more troubling (especially for the NUNS) lines
“There’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes
And Jesus Christ died for nothing I suppose…
But the morphine eased the pain
And the grass grew round his brain”
So you see, they thought my daddy had a morphine problem and also that I was a heathen… my dad explained the entire song to me (it’s about a Vietnam vet who gets addicted to morphine and ends up dying of an overdose) and why it may upset some people to hear it, but that if I liked it (and I did) I could listen to it and sing it at home just as much as I wanted. This is the same man who, when “Papa Don’t Preach” came out (I was 8) made me discuss all the other options Madonna had, other than keeping her baby… then we had a discussion about what an abortion was… but hey, I turned out just fine!!
I’ve loved this thread so much.
1. My dad took me to a theme park when I was around four. There were signs telling people not to walk on the grass, but I kept doing it. Finally, my dad said that if I did it one more time we were going home. I did, and he scooped me right up and marched out. I didn’t say a word until we were at the front of the park, in the middle of the biggest crowd there, and then I looked him coolly in the eyes and shrieked, “Daddy, why did you hurt me on purpose? Please don’t hit me anymore!” I’m amazed at how many other kids did similar things to their poor parents.
2. My brother was born when I was two and a half. My parents had psyched me up for it for months, telling me my best friend in the world was growing in my mom’s tummy, and once the baby was born we’d love each other forever and play together and have so much fun. I was so keyed up waiting for my best friend to be born, I could hardly sleep the last month or so. When he finally came, my dad took me to the hospital to meet him for the first time, and I wore my very best little party dress, because I wanted to look as pretty as possible the first time I met my new best friend. They sat me in a chair and put him on my lap. I said, “Hi! I’m so happy to meet you! I’m your best friend!” My brother started to scream. I stared at him for a second, completely aghast, and then looked up at my parents and demanded, “Take it back and get one that can talk.”
3. I learned the facts of life when I was about six. My parents gave me an age-appropriate kind of book to read, and told me they’d be in the other room if I had any questions. I read the book, looked at the pictures, and then marched out to see them. They were kind of nervous, and asked if there was anything I didn’t understand. I asked, “Is this all true?” They told me it was, and I said, “So…you have to take off your underwear?” They confirmed that you did, and I said, “Yuck!” and wandered away. That was the beginning and end of my parental sex education.
@Krissa – my significant partner boyfriend whatever the kids are callin’ ’em these days gets the “bad man” thing from time to time. 90% of the time, children are inexplicably drawn to his immense height and lack of a smiling face (he does have 2 kids of his own, so perhaps there’s an instinct) – but sometimes he is mistaken for the evil drug dealer on TV because of his general demeanor. He generally finds it pretty amusing, but I wonder what the kids’ parents think, when they see him sardonically laughing about being a villain …
@Barb – why *not* “have met/was bitch” … ? Steven Tyler could more than qualify. Most men could, and why should insults be more discriminatory than we are?
@Linda S. – extra helpings of giggles for me here.
@Keight – I love your aunt too. Hee.
My niece was seven when her baby sister was born, and Was Not Havin’ It for nearly nine months of attempted accommodation. The instant she became an actual big sister, though, she was absolutely All About It, and has been ever since, bless her (baby is now three and a half). Little Bit used to nurse on her chin. She got light little baby-nursing hickies. Awesome.
My mom was a fifties prude and gave me book when I was like 10 or 12. I never looked at it. She left my “education” at a box of belted kotex and the admonition that if I ever came home pregnant I would no longer have a home. Knowing that to be deadly earnest, I never did.
I’m 40 and divorced. She *still* has nightmares that I could possibly be sexually active.
*Sigh*
@ Lis–Awesome! When I was in kindergarten, my teacher called my parents asking them to make me stop singing my favorite New Christy Minstrels song, the refrain of which is
“Corn Whiskey, corn whiskey, corn whiskey I cry,
If I don’t get corn whiskey I surely will die!”
I enjoyed singing this at the top of my lungs. It was my favorite album when I was 6.
http://www.amazon.com/Cowboys-Indians-New-Christy-Minstrels/dp/B00069I73C/ref=pd_bbs_6?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1217282504&sr=8-6
This is cracking me up, and making me feel better. My boyfriend’s kids, ages 5 and 6, are filter-free, leading to many moments of hilarity and embarrassment. The most recent one was when the slightly chubby lady walked by and the 6-year-old pointed and loudly proclaimed “That lady’s PREGNANT!” Judging by the lady’s reaction…I don’t think she was. Oops.
And they are obsessed with boobs, always making comments like “Your boobies are bigger than mama’s!” “Hers hang down more!” One time I was holding the 6-year-old while talking to a friend, and the kid was playing with the zipper on my hoodie. I didn’t really pay attention to what she was doing until she had pulled open each side of the hoodie to reveal my (fortunately covered by a tank top) boobs, pointed at them and said “Ta da!” Hee!
The story my parents LOVE to trot out was when Little Kindergarten MadLori was asked by her teacher to tell a story about her parents. I proceeded to tell her about how my daddy drove a bus and my mommy liked to paint and blah blah…oh, and “Sometimes my mommy and daddy take naps together!”
Hardy har har.
Just another mom chiming in to say NJ Mom did exactly the right thing.
And also, I have a sister who is a labor and delivery nurse. As a result my three-year-old nephew knows all the very technical details of where babies come from. And he once shouted to mom my across a crowded restaurant “Grandma Chris – you have a vulva?”
I sliced open my scalp on a piece of broken glass at the beach when I was 4. Of course, the beach was at a lake firmly in the middle of nowhere. Parents drove madly to nearest hospital, my dad was covered in blood while hauling me into emergency room.
I took one look at the doctor on duty, the first black person I had ever seen outside of television, & yelled, “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU COOKIE MONSTER!!”
He cracked up.
My sister did the “Look at the fat lady!” thing in a very crowded mall one day, and I still tease her about it to this day.
My husband had a bad strep infection at the age of three, and had a short hospital stay. He greatly amused the 12-year-old black kid in the bed next to him by insisting that the kid obviously just had a bad sunburn, and eventually he was going to start peeling and would be white underneath. My mom-in-law nearly melted in embarassment when she walked in on the middle of one of these discussions.
I am so late to this thread but I have been crying at my deks.
@ShawnaK – you are KILLING ME. I can’t stop laughing.
Oh, will the boobies, peenusses and jynas ever cease to amaze? I was trying on bras with my toddler (stupid idea, I know) and she starts yelling “Mumma. Has. BOOOOOOOOObies!” to the delight of everyone in Marshalls, both in the changing room and throughout the store, I’m sure.
She also recently had her 2 year checkup, and was not psyched about it at all – until afterwards when she told the checkout woman at the grocery store All About It. “Man took off you dipe, check you ‘jyna and bum-bum”.
“Husband: “Don’t you want to be big and strong like me? Look at my rippling muscles.”
Nephew: “RIPPLING PENIS!!!!”
…omg. Very nearly died.”
Heheh–but see, that’s the reason that I don’t ever want to be responsible for kids. I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at that. Which means that the kid would learn that saying ‘penis’ makes the big people laugh, and so he’ll do it all the time…
Love these stories! I definitely did the whole falsely-accusing-the-parents-of-abuse thing when I was little (“SHE’S GOING TO BEAT MEEEEEE!”).
When I was about five, I was out somewhere with my dad, and we saw a Little Person – and my frame of reference being what it was, I very excitedly yelled, “Look, Daddy, it’s a MUNCHKIN!”
Snot on the shower walls. To me, that’s like an unflushed toilet. I know it happens, but I don’t understand why.
It might be that your boyfriend wears contacts or glasses and takes them off in the shower, so he can’t see as well while he’s in there, and therefore can’t see the mess he leaves behind?
My suggestion would be to get him to try “nasal irrigation” (search that on wikipedia), using a neti pot, or a commercial sinus rinse product. They are very safe when used properly, and you can use it everyday as a part of your hygiene. I started using one recently after the suggestion of my doctor, and it’s been awesome. My sinuses felt really clear.
Anyway, one of the side benefits of daily nasal irrigation is the dramatic decrease in boogers. It almost feels weird to almost never have blow my nose anymore, but it’s actually pretty great.
1)My father was around 4 in 1950 and lived in a predominantly white neighborhood. When he was with his family at a store he saw an african american for the first time, went straight up to him and said “you’re a jigaboo aint you”. His mother pulled him away by his ear!
2) Sometimes when my son does something wrong I will say in aggravation “damn it Ryland”. So, when we asked Ryland about us having another baby and what we would name a little brother or sister, he said that his little brother would be named damnit.
[…] This is one of the funniest threads I have read in a long LONG time. […]