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Blog Entry 100 of 100 Horoscopically Blonde
Life is what it is. You wake up under your bed, fall up the stairs, your cat ate your cottage cheese, and while you embrace the madness called your day, something happens. Maybe it's a kick to the shins, or maybe you just made the mental Yahtzee, but it's all a part of that big taco salad called life. Whether you pick out the refried beans or the meat is up to you.

Your Facebook mom is so old


So my teen son was flirting with a girl on Facebook. It's the usual, goofy stuff that you want to comment on, but you can't. Because you're old. You're square. Maybe you pee a little when you sneeze. He counsels me and says I can't use words like "sick." It's not cool, mom, he says.

In short, at just over the pothole to forty, I'm so old, I owe Jesus a buck.

I don't think I'm that old. I'll live to see green bananas ripen. Still, to the kid, I'm so ancient Noah signed my year book. That means I'm not supposed to use my fresh verbiage in his proximity.

I reassure him I'm not just any old mom with my hair in a bun and a post-it note trailing from my shoe (I wondered where that phone number went). I let him know that I'm down with it. I'm hip. "I'm so pimp." I worked the plosive consonants in the last word for emphasis.

He cringes and he says no parent should use that kind of lingo. It's wrong. It's embarrassing. After all, when I was in science class and they mentioned "Atom", I said, "Yeah! And I knew Eve, too."

Son exasperatedly raises his voice, because apparently pre-perimenopausal women also are hard of hearing. He tells me I don't know anything about kids, so I can't say that stuff. As a logical point, he posited that I don't even know what death metal is. In response I gave him the very rational counter: "What-ev-er. I'd rather go to a Genesis rock concert anyway."

"You mean when Cain hit Abel?"

Friends assure me (one childless by choice) that this is my payback kid, my apple that bounced off the base of the tree, rolled and hit me in my arthritic goiter. This is genetic karma born from 24 hours of labor and years of what I did to my own parents....

...who, you know, were so old they posed with the minotaur.

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Jamie. The rule at our house may pertain to yours also: If the song is from before they were born, I can sing it. If after they were born, must use caution. For example I can sing "Rock star" and "It's my life" but not any of the songs by System of a Down. And of course I am not allowed to use jargon. I can't say "pimpin'" or use the word "business" to mean the sh-word. Very cringe-inducing. Who are we? We are Mere Ordinary Mortals. Moms.
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