Friday, February 20, 2015

Parenting Advice from Billy Bob Thorton

I will take parenting advice anywhere I can get it but never in my life would I think that I would get sage words from Billly Bob Thorton, but it is true.

Thorton plays a hit man in the FX remake of Fargo. A character from the past, Lester, wants to reveal him. Thorton looks at him with dead eyes and says “Is this what you want? Lester? Is this what you want? Yes or no?” Needless to say things don’t go well for Lester. You can see a really bad quality version of the scene here. Careful, it is gruesome!

I tried this on Prince #3. He was gearing up for some sort of adolescent angst riddled argument. It probably had to do with his aversion to showering after basketball practice. Really? Isn't showering what boys his age love to do? Are we out of shampoo again? Eww, eww, eww! 

I fixed him with my most deadly Mom stare. "Is this what you want? (pause, pause, pause) Christopher? (pause, pause, pause) Is this what you want?" 

I didn't even get to "Yes or no?" He tripped over himself sprinting down the hall.

You don’t challenge hit men and you don’t challenge Mom.         

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Cement or Not to Cement

A McMansion is going in next door to me. I am not happy. Yesterday they poured the foundation. I had to go to work before the workers finished. I left Prince #3 a note:
Dear Christopher,
Whatever you do, don't play in the wet cement next door.
Either way, that's a win-win.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

New Neighbors

A couple moved on to our street this week. I saw them in their front yard and I went to introduce myself.
"Hi, I'm Linda. I live in the house over there with the huge pirate flag."
"Oh," they murmured. "That house. Hmmm, yeah, we were wondering about that."

Thursday, December 18, 2014

The 12 Days of Christmas For My Fellow Queens aka Moms of Boys

In the spirit of the holidays I have composed a little ditty for you, sung to the tune of The 12 Days of Christmas.  We will just start at the twelfth day; by the time you repeat the 'eight maids a-milking' part five times you want to stick a sharp candy cane in your eye.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, 
My sweet kid gave to me
 Twelve gummy bears, 
Eleven dead batteries, 
Ten asks for weapons, 
Nine coughs in my face, 
Eight screaming tantrums, 
Seven dripping mittens, 
Six fights with his brother, 
Five - water - balloons, (NOT IN THE HOUSE!!)
Four half-eaten cookies, 
Three evil grins, 
Two sugar highs,
 And a hug and kiss on Christmas morn!

Enjoy your friends and family. And remember what the Grinch learned, “Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.”

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Obligatory 1st Day of School Photo

I sent Prince #3's photo to College Boy and this is what I got back

Monday, May 12, 2014

Queen Linda's Mother's Day Address

How many times have you received that e-mail “For Those of You Who Have Sons & Those of You Who Are Happy That You Don’t?” (Such an offensive title) Or the other e-mail titled “Why Boys Need Mothers?” 
If I see that picture of the red headed boy with the frog in his mouth one more time... 
Being the Queen of all moms of boys that I am, I have decided to stop the madness and create a gem that is based on fellow Queen's boy stories. 
So go forth, forward away and multiply the Queendom.
Reign On!
Queen Linda

Moms of boys know that their sons will:

Insist on wearing their super hero costume for weeks, never change socks and practice the sniff-and-wear approach to dressing.

Never know where their other shoe is.

Whip off their pull up, throw it to the ceiling and dance in a shower of diaper gel pellets.

Be able to tell which brother farted by the smell alone.

Wipe boogers on the wall, paint with poo during their artistic brown period and extend their budding magic marker tattoo talents to the dog.

Make your car insurance go sky high after “That curb came out of nowhere!”

Play a game consisting of setting mouse traps on a chair and then sitting on them.  Whoever remains the most stoic wins.

Light their farts not realizing they are in the beginning throws of puberty resulting in an unfortunate hair scorching incident. They will then wear their bathrobe to the ER.

Start phone calls with, “Hey Mom. I’m okay but...”

Peddle off the roof and into the swimming pool on their BMX bikes. 

Have a contest to see how accurate their aim is by peeing into a cereal box set up in the driveway.

Leave crayons, army men, trading cards, coins, bugs and the occasional snotty kleenex in their pockets so you can find them in the dryer lint trap.

Have phone calls with their friends using only monosyllables and grunts.

Lock their babysitter in the bathroom, duct tape their brother and then raid the pantry.

Poop in the display potty at Home Depot.

Decorate the kitchen floor with peanut butter, BBQ sauce and honey.

Cut their own hair with safety scissors.

Put playdoh in their diapers.

Pee anytime, anywhere; on the doctor in the delivery room, in front of church, on the baseball field, in the bathroom trash can, in potted plants...

Proclaim it loudly when they notice that someone has a big butt, is a dwarf or an amputee.

Never learn how to put clothes away, replace a roll of toilet paper or throw out empty boxes of snacks.

Text you when you’re in the same room.

Wad up lengths of toilet paper into a loose cannonball, place them in an upended hand dryer nozzle and hit the button.

Place beenie babies on the blades of the ceiling fan and then turn it on high.

Love you forever.
Text Copyright © 2008 by Linda Marie Ford