Hi Readers! This photo yddskhdbfh
montage has been making the rounds. Thought I’d share it, too. I’ve seen it headlined, “Why Boys Need Moms,” and, “Why Boys Need Parents.” (As opposed to the post two below this one: Why Boys Need Lawyers.) Enjoy, but don’t bother to tell us that not all these pix are in good taste. We know.
Meantime, if you celebrate Xmas, hope it’s a merry one! Save those boxes for your kids to play with. — Lenore
Merry Christmas, Lenore. And Merry Christmas to all those who read this blog. (And for the non-religious, Happy Festivus!)
Loved the pic with the little boy and all of the panty liners all over him. Classic!!! That’s a pic to show the girlfriends when he gets older. LOL!!! Or if the kid is acting up, the mom can be like ” don’t make me get that picture out and show all your friends”. Love it!!! Great blackmail pic!!!
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays
I just about spit out my coffee when I saw the pantyliner picture — that’s my friend’s little boy! You’d be proud of her, one of the most solidly down-to-earth free-range parents I know. 🙂
I could swear I saw the one with the skateboard and the pier in a dream once (minus the actual kid). I suspect there’s a perspective distortion going on and the street really isn’t as steep as it looks.
Some Nifong wannabes have actually gotten kiddie-porn convictions from pictures no racier than #s 4,6,10, and 11
I love that! Thanks and Merry Christmas everyone.
Kids have been getting into mischief ever since there have been kids. I’ve been recording my 89 year old dad telling stories of his youth as a way to remember. He had plenty of adventures.
My mischief was being the kid that stuck a wire in the electrical outlet. I now fix electronics.
yup, i see a few sex offenders, here.
merry free range christmas!
My three-year-old said to me this morning, “If you need me, I’ll be in this box.”
Actually, I think some of those kids would be better off WITHOUT their parents…
Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year. Me and my brothers will be getting together later on for an old-fashioned Brooklyn style Italian meal (courtesy of big bro) and we’ll talk about the dangerous gifts we used to get and marvel at the fact that we survived into our dotage.
Hug the ones you love, smile at the ones you don’t.
Andy
I have a strange feeling that the kid taped to the wall was done by the Dad or older brother of said kid. Those were awesome and made me smile today. I’ve been a little more then slightly stressed this holiday season.
Not in ‘good taste’? Did I miss something?
Thanks for the chuckles! Merry Xmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Festivus to all!
Here is a “Mom’s Letter to Santa” that has circulated throughout the years. A classic. Enjoy………
Dear Santa:
I’ve been a good Mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor’s office more than the doctor has, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter’s girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I’ll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I’d like a pair of legs that don’t ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy. If you’re hauling big ticket items this year I’d like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says,”yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don’t fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “don’t eat in the living room” and “take your hands off your brother,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog. And please don’t forget the PlayDoh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the in-laws’ house seem just like mine.
If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. If you don’t mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don’t eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always…Mom
P.S. One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
This is an excerpt from nationally syndicated columnist Debbie Farmer’s book LIFE IN THE FAST FOOD LANE. Find out more about this delightful lady and order your copy at http://www.familydaze.com
Lenore– I just got your book as a Xmas gift, and I can’t put it down. I’ve always known about this whole concept, and I agreed with it, but I didn’t realize how cathartic it would be to actually read the book! I’ve been writing in my blog lately about how I’m a D+ parent in this country, but if I was in Italy or France, I’d get an A.
I can’t thank you enough. You’re the best. Thank you.
Here’s a video of Mama Squirrel patiently teaching her baby how to jump (with a little bit of non-helicoptering help from the local bipedal African apes). Almost makes you forget that squirrels are just rats who spend lots of money getting their tails done.
Yo, AirborneVet – I’ll second your guess and raise it to “a dad/ older brother who was/is in the Navy.” The submarine I was on had the great tradition of “all hands field day” every Saturday morning, especially underway where all the enlisted men (E-5 and below) were actively engaged in every-square-inch janitorial work from 0800 to noon, with senior enlisted and officers supervising. CO/ XO inspection at noon and then back to the usual routine. We had a missile technician who would stick his head in the engine room at 0730 every Saturday morning and yell “There ain’t a nuc on this boat got what it takes to tape me up!” Within 5 minutes he would be fastened to a convenient overhead pipe or something by about 6 or 7 rolls of that good ol’ milspec “hundred mile an hour” duct tape. Lots of times he would still be hanging there four hours later when the XO came thru and slapped a red tag on him, but it got him out of cleaning the missile compartment bilge!
Looks like good clean fun to me! Water dries and sharpie marks wash off. Panty liners and duct tape are expensive…but what the heck. And, contrary to common thought…I’ve never seen a kid a) fall of the bed and bonk his head or b) break a bed by jumping on it. Jump away, kids!
Thanks for a great blog, Lenore!
Ha ha — my mom raised all girls, and just holds her breath when she comes visit us (I have 2 boys and a girl). At 4 my son has already had stitches 3 times because he just won’t/can’t slow down. And I swear I watch him!!!!