Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Motherhood Is Not For Pussies

This morning.

Me (standing at the side of Robbie's bed): Robbie...get up and finish getting ready for school. It's getting late.

Robbie: Mom, my stomach hurts. I'm staying home.

Me: Do you want some medicine?

Robbie: No. I just want to lay here for a few minutes.

Me: *SIGH*

note - to be fair, I really am concerned when my kids don't feel well, but see, this is a very common complaint from Robbie

Shelby: Robbie, get up and get ready for school. I have some medicine here that will make your stomach feel much better.

Robbie: Okay. *swallows pill*


15 minutes later Robbie and Shelby head out the door to school. Later, Shelby tells me that Robbie told her on the drive to school that his stomach was feeling so much better after that pill. Then she smirked at me. I looked at her like, "what??" "That miracle stomach pill I gave Robbie...was a Vitamin D tablet."


We then share a hearty "ha ha we pulled one over on the teen-ager" laughs.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Motherhood Is Not For Pussies

Me (at work): This is Lauren.

Robbie (17): Mom?

Me: Yes?

Robbie: How old do you have to be to get a tattoo?

Me: Excuse me?

Robbie: A tattoo? How old do you have to be?

Me: You're not getting a tattoo so, I guess, ummm, 37.

Robbie: But mom, some of my friends have them.

Me (resisting the urge to say "well, if all your friends were to jump off a bridge...yada yada): No.

Robbie: Even if it is a meaningful tattoo?

Me: Define "meaningful".

Robbie: Mommmm...pleeeeeease! I wanna a tattoo!

Me: No.

*dramatic pause*

Robbie: Fine. Can I get my tongue pierced?

Me: No. Goodbye Robbie.

Robbie: But Mom! Wait!!

*CLICK*

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Motherhood is not for pussies

We had hamburgers for dinner tonight. Hamburgers made of beef. This presents a problem for my 17 year-old son, Rob, who has recently decided that he is in a "no longer eating anything with a face" phase (thanks PETA...no, really, THANKS!). Okay...no problem, I say, there are cut veggies in the fridge. He scrunches his face and sighs....then proceeds to tell me "no thanks, I don't like vegetables".

I give this "phase" about 3 days.