This weekend the 'rents are out of town, visiting my Grandfather in San Antonio. With the responsibility of caring for the dogs and stuff comes the awesome freedom of having the house to myself.
Tomorrow night I plan to have a very small-scale party (like 5 people, not a giant intoxication-as-sport festival). I was talking to Mom today about this weekend in general, and I said something like “I might have a few people over tomorrow night to hang out and watch movies.” Mom jumped right back: “Uh huh, yeah. Don’t let anyone drive drunk, clean up before we get home and if you let anyone have sex in my bed I’ll kill you.”
So, that makes me laugh. Comment, share your stories, whatever. It was just some Mundane Pointless Stuff that I felt I Must Share. Mission accomplished.
When we were younger, my brother and I would have parties when my parents went awayfor the weekend. The house was always spotless when they returned, no matter how sloppy it was when they left. As long as the police weren’t waiting for them when they got back, my parents never complained about the trade-off, and Dad never questioned the leftover six pack in the fridge.
hmmm … and I thought I’d jump in as a parent as score myself a few brownie points for standing in line for Lizzy McGuire movie tickets AND sitting through the entire movie with my 10 year old daughter today …
you kids just keep raising the stakes of parental coolness!
My Mom didn’t know for a year that my twin brother got a tattoo (he was 22 at the time he got it) and he made me keep it a secret. She finally found out when he neglected to wear a shirt in her presence. Smart.
Hey, I took my (over 18) daughter and her just-turned-18 cousin to get their tattoos! Her mom didn’t mind, but we kept it from MY mom for YEARS.
I hope I’m a cool mom. My mom was anything BUT cool, so I’ve tried really hard to be like my friend Nancy’s mom, who treated her like a rational person who could take care of herself. Although she DID let Nancy go to Woodstock at age 15, so maybe she did have a few things to learn in the “contributory negligence” category…
My mom & I got our first tattooes together. We were talking one day about having always wanted one & checked out this place nearby. We didn’t like the feel of it, so we drove up to Venice Beach, found a cool little place, picked our tattooes and went for it. Mom was 40, I was 19.
My aunt is 87. She’s a hale and hearty 87, but she was born in 1915, fercryinoutloud. She moved to Georgia last fall, and with one thing and another, I went six months without talking to her, which I felt bad about, because we are close, but I was busy, then it turned into a “thing,” and, well, you know.
So I finally talked to her a few weeks ago. “Talking” to her consists of listening to her free associate for about an hour. (Let me clarify – I absolutely adore this woman – she has absolutely the best heart of anyone I’ve ever met.) After an hour, she abruptly (as is her wont) says “Okay, I’m done, I’ll let you go.”
twicks: “No, wait, I’ve gotta tell you the news from up here.”
twicks’s Cool Aunt: “Okay.”
twicks: “I’ve got a boyfriend!” (Note: TCA’s greatest wish is that I’d settle down with some nice guy. I’m 48, never married, and it had been probably 8 or 10 years since my last serious relationship.)
TCA: “How’d you meet him?”
(Note: Actual answer is “online personal.” I don’t want to freak out this lovely woman who is, after all, 87, so I, naturally, lie)
T: “We met through mutual friends.”
TCA: “Are you intimate with him yet?”
T: :eek:
Not, “What’s his name, what does he do…” She wanted to let me know that if I took him down to Georgia with me to meet her, she’d be okay with us staying in the same room.
This still makes me smile every time I think about it.
**butrscotch[b/], as far as I know, she has no clue that you had anything to do with the tattoos, though she knows about them and doesn’t like the idea much.
I came home to find a message on my answering machine from my then-65-yr-old (straight) mom:
“Guess what? I was in a gay bar that got fire bombed tonight. Talk to you later. Bye!”
:eek: WTF?
My mom barely uses her stereo and when she does it’s just quietly on a classic music station. So the idea of my mom going out clubbing with kids young enough to be her grand kids was weird.
Oh, and BTW as for the “fire bomb” – the next day they found out that the big sudden panic and evacuation was in fact some kind of homemade pepper-spray device and not a small fire bomb. Someone had built this thing as a way of “protecting himself” and had been showing it off when it sort of popped in his hands causing a cloud that mostly scared people (IIRC there were only a few very minor injuries.) The police and fire department had rushed to the scene and initially people were told that it was a small “incindiary device” that had exploded.
Ditto.
My parents would always let us take responsibility upon ourselves rather than forbid us to do something thereby forcing us to lie/sneak. I love them for that.
Be careful-I remember my brother (he was 14 at the time, I was 20) having one of these and I ended up spending the evening on the front porch playing bouncer to every dissolute fuckhead in a 10 Km radius; one spotty git stands out:
SG- “See this? It’s a COP FLASHLIGHT!!!” (maglite)
Me-“See this? Louiville Slugger. I win”.
My cool mom and I used to chain smoke and watch Prisoner Cell Block H at midnight when I was in 9th grade. Too bad the smoking killed her:(
Through out my teenage years, my parents didn’t really care if I drank their alcohol. Of course, I didn’t take advatage of that while it lasted :smack:
