This young girl from church posted a pic of her … um… derrière on Instagram and Facebook.
(I’m talking about a girl who is over 18 here, by the way. I’m not calling her mother. I know that was your first thought. )
I was surprised to see said posterior on social media for all to see, of course. I mentioned it to my own daughter GG, age 15.
She was unfazed. “All the girls post their butts on Instagram, mom,” she said. “It’s like, a thing.”
I was shocked. “You’d better not do that,” I said sternly, realizing of course that what moms say often makes no difference to teenage girls. Still, I had to make the attempt.
She rolled her eyes. “Relax. I won’t. I don’t even have one.”
“What?” I said. “You don’t have a butt? This is your assurance to me?”
“No, mom,” she said patiently. “I don’t have an Instagram. So my butt is safe.”
Boo turned twelve in December. This means she has entered full teenager-mode.
(In my experience, female children don’t wait for age 13 to be “Teens.” Girls are so precocious, you know!)
So Boo has entered semi-hibernation for the next few years, planning to only emerge from her room (now known as The Boo Cave) for meals and to hog the bathroom. Here is my view of her now.
See you at age 18, Boo! We will know you are still alive from the dirty dishes, wet towels, and piles of clothes you leave outside your cave.
I mentioned before that my teenage daughters have been expressing their affection for each other by fighting a lot. Here’s an example:
We went out to eat at a nice restaurant with the kids and their grandparents. We had to ride in a small elevator from the parking garage.
It was pretty crowded in the elevator car with all nine of us, but we moved aside as best we could to allow a nice older couple to get in as well.
As the elevator descended, I saw ET pinning GG in a headlock, while GG tried to defend herself by stretching her tongue around to lick ET’s arm.
I gave the pair of them the Mommy Death Stare and hissed, “Stop it!”
Unfortunately, the nice old lady was in my line of sight as I did that. She gave me a terrified look, wondering what she’d done to earn such an angry glare. Her lips parted as if to ask, “Stop what?”
Behind her my daughters continued to wrestle silently.
Finally the elevator stopped. The old couple shuffled away from us as fast as they could.
I turned to ET and GG, who were giving me their most innocent looks. “We were just playing,” they both insisted.
Tell that to that poor old woman’s pacemaker, I thought.
The moral of the story is: If one day you see this family packed into an elevator car, please…
WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE.
My oldest daughter, ET, is home for Christmas. (She has been going to school on the mainland.) Everyone is happy to see her, especially her closest sister, GG .
Unfortunately, these two manifest their affection for each other by “play” fighting all over the house.
It’s driving me crazy.
I’m calmly reading a book in my living room, and in my peripheral vision I see GG poke ET in the ribs and run away, giggling and shrieking as her sister chases her upstairs.
We’re sitting down having a nice family dinner, and the two of them are trying to see who can pinch the other sister the hardest under the table.
In the car, I hear them in the backseat elbowing each other and exclaiming, “Ow!” “Ouch!” “Stop it!”
Their means of expressing affection for each other is killing their mother’s nerves.
And that’s just at home! Just wait until you see what happens when we go out in public….
(stay tuned for the illustrated version)
image from boandbelle.com
I took the kids to Wal-Mart and parked at the back of the lot to avoid the craziness near the store. GG (my 13-year-old) complained.
GG: Awwww! Why’d you park so far away?!
Me: You can walk. It will be good for you.
GG: (with attitude) Are you calling me fat?
Me: I’m calling you lazy.
You’re probably appalled that I’d speak to my kid like that, but in my defense, she laughed pretty hard.
And the next day she told all her friends the story of how awful her mom was.
So they could be appalled.
Everyone has a story about being embarrassed by their mother when they were younger. Some are worse than others, of course.
(For a story about how I embarrassed my own teenager click
My personal embarrassing memories are pretty tame.
For example, I was extremely mortified by my mother when I was in junior high school because she would drop me off RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE MALL instead of hiding down the street like any respectable parent should, thus exposing to the world that I, in fact, was reliant on parents for transportation and not a fully independent unit at the ripe age of 13.
Obviously, I was a dumb spoiled kid. Don’t even get me started on the time my grandma picked me up from school and actually WAVED from her car. Where people could SEE her! Shudder.
Anyways, like I said, my embarrassment was not so bad.
But I have a friend who was in seventh grade when her mother announced to everyone they knew, “My little girl is a Woman now!”
She says she still hasn’t forgiven her mom for that one.
But I think the kid that wins Most Embarrassing Mom, hands-down, is this one:
Image from Time via USA Today
You remember this mother and son from Time magazine a couple of years ago?
This kid should be, what, in kindergarten or first grade now? Imagine when he gets to middle school.