I was telling this lady the other day that I’m turning 25 in January and she said, “Well you don’t really know yourself until you’re 35.”
Great. I have ten more years of people saying, “Mona, who the hell do you think you are?!?!” but at least I can respond, “Who the hell do I think I am?!?! I don’t know! I’m not 35 yet!”
I called my mother last night. I could tell that she was still upset, but she asked about Nathan.
“He said his first word last night, Mom.”
“Yes, he said, ‘Grandma.’ Actually, it was a sentence: ‘I love you Grandma!'”
I don’t think she was impressed.
Last week I took Nathan to the doctor to check out a huge sty that had developed on his left eyelid.
He was waddling down the hallway, but because he was zig-zagging instead of moving forward, I put my hand on his back and ushered him toward the examining room. He fell face forward onto the carpet.
“Up, up, up!” I said.
“Oh, I saw that. You pushed him!”
I turned and there was one of the doctors, laughing at my fallen son.
I smiled dumbly and responded, “Oh, ha-ha, yeah.” That’s eloquence, verbatim.
What I wanted to say was, “Oh you should see how I push him at home! You should see how he falls down the stairs!” I couldn’t crack a joke with someone who has a direct line to Child Protective Services.
I have enough to worry about.
I bought an 8-lb container of popcorn kernels from Costco. I thought this was a brilliant idea because it meant that I could have popcorn anytime. On my own terms! VICTORY IS MINE!
Now, I’ve only eaten half a pound and I already hate it. I hate popcorn. What’s worse is that you can’t make anything else out of popcorn like a popcorn casserole or popcorn fritters. Hey neighbor, try out my popcorn trifle! Wait, where are you going! I ADDED BACON!
My coworker suggested parceling out the rest of them into mason jars and adding a Netflix or Blockbuster gift card for an easy Christmas gift. That would still require work and my actually giving gifts. I’m sure if I gave everyone in my family a Christmas gift, it would spread such joy that their little hearts would burst and they would write in their diaries about how popcorn is the gift that keeps on giving. This would be great, only I don’t give gifts to everyone.
Kind of like how Chuck Norris’ tears can cure cancer, only he never cries.
Any suggestions on this, dear internet friend?