Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Conversations with My Son: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Every morning during our commute from the mean streets of the burbs The Kid asks a question.  Sometimes it's thought provoking, sometimes it's nonsensical, sometimes he just wants to know how to pronounce the name on the big rig next to us.

Today's question was a thought provoking one.

The Kid: Hey Mama, if you were a super hero what would your name and super power be?
Me: Hmmm, that's a good question.
The Kid: I'd be Stealth and be able to sneak up on people and scare the piss outta them!
Me: That sounds cool.
The Kid: So what would you be?
Me: My name would be the Silencer and my power would be making people shut the fuck up on command. With powers like that I could rule the world!

If I was the Silencer I would totally use my powers for good.  I would travel around in my hot pink Silence Mobile (with purple flames and 22s) and use my catch phrase "Shut the entire fuck up!!!" on people who just don't know when to shut their damn pie holes.

I'd be available for baby showers and bat mitzvahs. 

I'd heckle at Republican debates.

I'd swoop down on Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity and drop so many f-bombs that the FCC would have no choice but to shut them down.

I'd destroy reality television "housewives" with a few well placed "Boo! Bitch! Bye!" and they all will disappear.

Pretty Ricky would never be able to record another album.  Neither would Wocka Flocka or Justin Beiber.

Yeah, being The Silencer would be pretty damn awesome.  Just thinking about what I could do with my powers actually got me through a pretty rough day.  Imagining how I would silence some people at the j-o-b was extremely damn therapeutic.

I don't want to be the only person having all the fun though.  If you were a super hero, what would your name and super power be?

Conversations with My Son: Greatness

If you've known me long enough you know that I'm all about self love, self worth, and self esteem.  Tee believes that in order to be the best citizen of this universe that you can be, you really need to love, honor, and believe in yourself whole heartedly.

I've been teaching these lessons to The Kid. And for the most part, to be an 8 year old he's pretty damned confident.  However, I thought I was also teaching him that with confidence you should also have a little bit of humility.

I've failed.  Some of you might call it epic.

The other day we had the following conversation while playing Phines and Ferb: Across the 2nd Dimension.

The Kid: Hey Mama.
Me: Yeah?
The Kid: I'm pretty sick.
Me: *slightly panicked Mommy mode* Oh no! Really? Does your tummy hurt? Do you have a fever? Let me go get the thermometer You should probably stop playing Wii.
The Kid: Ugh! No mama, I'm not sick.  I'm SICK! SICK!
Me: Wait. What? Seriously? I'm not following.
The Kid: *side eye of exasperation* *sigh* Look at me Mama. Really look at me. Do you see it?
Me: Uhhhhh....yeah?
The Kid: Yeah. *smiles with satisfaction*
Me: Hey. Umm. No, seriously. What are we talking about?
The Kid: *second side eye of exasperation* Really Mama? I'm SICK as in AWESOME! *flexes muscles*
Me: Oh. OK. *blank stare*
The Kid: *blank stare* Nevermind. Where's Daddy? He'll understand.

And just like that I'm tossed into the clueless mother category.  How could this be?  I taught this kid almost everything he knows about what it is to be awesome, amazing, outstanding, and stupendous. 

In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say that without my RNA/DNA combo running through those veins he'd be walking around with a Pig Pen cloud and his knuckles dragging like Cro Magnon. 

Not saying that Hubby's didn't supply some decent genetics.  He's genetic makeup just clearly is not as awesome as Tee's. 

What is this world coming to? There's actually a person walking these streets questioning my understanding of greatness!  The nerve.

I know it's been a while but I'm still keeping count.  This is sign number 4929349248945832.89-34c that the world is ending.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Things I See on Facebook: Baby Carter Edition

So apparently Beyonce' and Jay-Z welcomed a daughter into this cold, cold world yesterday.

For many months people have speculated whether or not the pregnancy was really real. There were rumors of fake tummies, surrogates, people buying babies, and lots of other foolishness.

Nobody has time for that kind of ridiculousness. Also, there are some things about pregnancy that you just can pretend.  Hot flashes, sweats, nausea, reacting to alien kicks from within your belly, leaky boobs, bell pepper noses, swollen lips, pie faces,  cankles, flat feet, stretch marks.  Nah, nobody can fake those.  And from what I saw in pictures, Beyonce' had quite a few unfakeables checked off her list.  

If you are foolish enough to think that a broad would walk around for the better part of 6 months with a prosthetically enhanced uterus you watch way too much damn One Life to Live and you need to have a seat.

Apparently some folks are pissed that the Carters named their bundle of joy Blue Ivy.

On Facebook I saw someone take the first letters of the name and turn it into some hidden message from the Illumanti.  Like somebody seriously released the following words for public consumption:
 “Ivy= Illuminati's Very Youngest. Blue= Born Living Under Evil. Spelt Backwards (Eulb Yvi) = Latin for "Lucifers Daughter"

Blankest. Stare. Ever. 
That's EXACTLY what I looked like when I read that shit.

Like really? The baby is less than 24 hours old and we are calling her the seed of Satan?  The one who will end the world as we know it?  Shenanigans.

I refrained from responding to that loon because I'm sure it would have gotten ugly.  

You dummies need to get your life  and have several damn seats! *Tamar Braxton voice*

There are children walking these streets on a daily basis with names like Moscato and Hennesyncoke and y'all mad at them for naming their baby after a 1-800-Flowers arrangement? 

Nobody gets up in arms when somebody names their child La-a (La Dash Uh) or Lemonjello, but give your kid the name of some foilage and a primary color and you're vilified? 

String together all the vowels, apostrophe's, and silent letters you can muster and all is well.  But give a child a name they can spell and others can pronounce and it's a problem?

Oh. OK.

I'm sick of all of you and I'm not even a big Beyonce' fan.  I'm sure she's somewhere right now conjuring up a nice, strong Creole root for all of you.  And I can't say that I blame her.  So when all your teeth and hair start mysteriously taking leaves of absence from your person, don't say I didn't warn you.