MOUNTAIN DEW

'Member how I told you about that liquid gold I roll onto my face every night, called Skincerity? Yeah, well, somethin's gotta give here, because it peels up, then hangs by a thread from my face, tickling and twitching and making me feel like there might be tarantulas treading lightly across my upper lip. And THEN, the other night, I breathed a deep, cleansing breath and there goes a big ol' piece of mask sucked right up a nose hole! And who's gonna go in after that thing? Nobody. That's who. Just sayin'.

So anyway, I had an epiphany the other day about my third son. I realized he really IS barely 14...though his man-body professes otherwise. What clued me in? Well, besides his reliance on a third party to tell him when his nose needs blowing, how about the fact that he spray painted our house? Mm hmm. I know. And when we asked (screamed) WHY?! he wasn't really sure. He just found two cans of spray paint, held one in each hand, and thought it would "feel cool" to spray them both at the same time. And what better place to feel that coolness, than with the backdrop of our Southern Colonial red brick. Idiot.

Another source of pride, nine year old daughter walked to the grocery store~unattended~yesterday, and proceeded to buy a GINORMOUS 2 LITER BOTTLE OF WHISKEY...I mean Mountain Dew. But it might as well have been whiskey, for the amount of parenting and oversight involved. And what was going through the check out clerk's mind? Something like this...

"Oh my. Will you look at that. There goes tooth rot and morbid obesity in it's pupa stage. What an enchanting butterfly she'll be when she emerges from her XXL chrysalis, all scattered teeth and fat elbowed."

Something like that.

Anyway, I was humiliated that someone might have seen my daughter buy that bottle of diabetes. So as a repentant measure and to prove our worth as an eternal family, we went for a walk for Family Home Evening. And we threw away the whiskey...I mean Dew. And I'm now on my way to the grocery store to stock up on cukes and carrots.

Because nothing says GOOD MOTHER like a drawer full of uneaten vegetables.