Category: Family

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Family

The Birthday Boy Is Pushing His Luck

The birthday boy

The Birthday Boy

The Grown Son had a recent birthday.

He requested a birthday-eve dinner of Chicken Cordon Bleu.

And then a birthday dinner of Tri Tip.

He got both.

The Birthday Boy mentioned, during his birthday dinner, that he would like a post-birthday dinner of chicken parm.

Hahaha, nope.

He’s pushing his luck.

I cooked two special-order birthday dinners in two days.

Now I’m done.

He’s been sufficiently celebrated.

Happy birthday, Kiddo!

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

About Me

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Family

How To Be A Successful Grump

Grump

What a grump.

When I told Bob that today is National Curmudgeons Day, he said, “Whatever.”

Whatever?

Seriously?

That’s a response more appropriate to National Apathy Day.

Which is not today.

He’s been a grump-in-waiting for his entire life.

“C’mon,” I encouraged him, “You’ve worked so hard for this day. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“GET OFF MY LAWN,” he snarled, brandishing his cereal spoon in rage.

It was a good try.

But the curmudgeon effect was spoiled because he was laughing.

He can try again next year.

Whatever.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

About Me

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Family

A Boy Mom Is Required To Say Some Weird Stuff

Mostly True Memoirs

I’m A Boy Mom

I pan fried a couple of steaks.

They turned out very tasty.

But the kitchen filled with smoke.

I had to open up the back door to clear the air.

The open door let in about a billion flies.

Luckily, the Grown Son is quite handy with a fly swatter.

It was actually kind of impressive.

All I ever do is scatter the flies around.

I never actually smash one.

The Grown Son proudly deposited each dead bug onto a napkin so that he could keep count.

It was gross, but it was effective, so I couldn’t complain.

I made him throw the mess in the garbage.

He can take a picture if he wants a memento.

“We’re not keeping the dead flies,” I informed him.

After all these years of being a boy mom, this isn’t even close to the weirdest thing I’ve ever said.

Liz Brenner

Everyone has a story to tell.

Even you.

Especially you.

About Me

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Family

Welcome to Loserville, And Now All Is Right In The World

Mostly True Memoirs

Loserville, Indeed

The Grown Son has been furious with me.

For days on end.

Because my Aztecs eliminated his Crimson Tide from the basketball tournament.

This morning he greeted me with glee.

“Welcome to Loserville, population You!”

And now all is right in the world.

At least for him.

Welcome to Loserville indeed.

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Family

An April Fools Prank? I’ve Seen Better

Mostly True Memoirs

An April Fools Prank?

No, it wasn’t a prank.

Over the weekend, I came home from the grocery store to a tsunami of water on the laundry room floor.

The Grown Son had crammed three loads into the washer.

That day, he learned the difference between an industrial washer at a laundromat and a regular household washer.

I’ve been meaning to clean out the laundry room, so this was a perfect opportunity for him to do that.

Now that the laundry room is sparkling clean, I can see that the kitchen pantry could also use a good cleanout.

By the Grown Son.

He’s my inspiration, after all.

He’s going to wish this was an April Fools prank by the time I’m done with him.

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Family

Does Marry Me Chicken Really Live Up To The Name?

Mostly True Memoirs

Marry Me Chicken

Everyone is talking about the Marry Me Chicken recipe.

I had to try it.

I went online and found a zillion variations.

Which one is the right one?

I put a lot of thought and effort into picking which recipe to try.

It had to fulfill two requirements:

  1. Use ingredients I already have so I don’t have to go to the store
  2. Use a minimum of dishes so there won’t be much to clean

Yes, I base most of my decisions on laziness.

The Marry Me Chicken turned out good.

But I don’t know if it was worth marriage.

I mean, come on.

Been there, done that.

Both with marriage and with chicken dinners.

We spent the entire meal poking fun of wedded bliss.

And chickens.

I guess that made it worthy after all.

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Family

A Bruised Toenail And A Serious Decision To Be Made

Mostly True Memoirs

A Bruised Toenail

When my boys were little, they were terrified of the Tooth Fairy.

They didn’t want some crazy-a$$ fairy getting all into their business while they slept.

They decided to leave their teeth under my pillow instead of their own.

Seriously?

I didn’t want some crazy-a$$ fairy getting all into my business either.

However, this idea did present some simple logistics for the whole tooth-fairy thing.

The teeth went under my pillow.

Fast forward to today.

Bob recently injured his big toe.

The nail became horribly discolored.

Today the bruised toenail popped off of his foot in one large piece.

A callus developed underneath the nail, so it wasn’t really gross at all.

The horrible part was the actual toenail.

Bob proudly displayed his disgusting souvenir to the family.

The Grown Sons wondered if he put it under his pillow, would the Tooth Fairy bring him a quarter?

Bob guessed that the Tooth Fairy would be a little offended at this particular offering.

“I came all the way here for THAT?” is what she might say.

Before punching him in the teeth.

Bob decided that he doesn’t want some crazy-a$$ fairy getting all into his business while he sleeps.

So he’s going to leave that nasty, bruised toenail under my pillow.

Of course, he’ll have to weigh the options of a crazy-a$$ wife versus a crazy-a$$ Tooth Fairy.

It’s his call.

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A Very Special Birthday Dinner With Mushrooms

Mostly True Memoirs

A Special Birthday Dinner

It was my mother’s birthday.

She’s been gone a long time now.

Every year I make her a special birthday dinner.

We always have chicken tetrazzini.

It’s a pasta dish with chicken and mushrooms in a cream and wine sauce.

It’s delicious.

Mom loved it.

Every year, The Grown Sons complain bitterly about the mushrooms.

Every year I tell them that I don’t care if they don’t like it.

Grandma liked it.

That’s all that counts.

Every year, they come up with new and innovative ways to insult the mushrooms.

I guess we’re creating new family traditions.

Not, perhaps, the traditions that I had in mind.

But still.

Mom loved a well-placed insult.

She would have been greatly entertained by The Grown Sons’ vulgar descriptions of the mushrooms.

But soon she would have shut them down.

She had a terrific sense of humor.

But not a whole lot of patience.

Happy birthday, Mom, I miss you every day.

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I’m An Avid Reader, And Now They Are Too!

Mostly True Memoirs

Now We’re All Avid Readers

I’ve always been an avid reader.

There are usually three or four books going at the same time.

I used to be the only person in my family using the online library system.

That changed during the quarantine.

The whole family started using my account.

Today, three years later, they’re still using my account.

I couldn’t be happier.

My guys are reading books!

Today there was an argument.

Someone messed up someone else’s bookmark and lost their place.

Oh, my heart!

They’re arguing.

About books.

I have lived my entire life for this moment.

When my boys were little, I read to them religiously.

I thought that reading to your kids would make them avid readers.

It did not.

Until it finally did.

My next goal is to get them to discuss the books with me.

I know, I know, I shouldn’t get too greedy, but I can still hope, can’t I?

Covid was good for something – my guys turned into avid readers.

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The Right Hook That Taught My Son A Valuable Life Lesson

Mostly True Memoirs

That Right Hook

When the Grown Son was little, he loved to jump out and scare me.

It was adorable when he was tiny.

But it got gradually more and more annoying as he grew older.

It culminated in one disastrous evening when he was 12.

He hid, ninja style, in the hall closet, waiting for just the right moment to jump out.

He was quiet, he was stealthy, and he was as devious as only an adolescent boy can be.

Finally, he pounced.

And scared the living **** out of me.

I screamed.

And instinctively threw a right hook.

When I saw what I had done, I burst out crying.

Because I hit my baby.

Hard.

I started yelling at him through my tears.

“Quit scaring me!”

Bob ran in to investigate the commotion.

I was bawling and yelling.

The Kid was still reeling from that right hook.

Bob laughed so hard he cried.

He told The Kid that’s what he gets for jumping out at me.

That was the last time my son did that.

Lesson learned.

He thinks it’s hilarious, now, to reference, “that time you punched me.”

Yeah, nah, it’s still not funny.

Well, maybe it’s a little bit funny.

OK, I’ll agree that it’s a lot funny, but he has to promise to never scare me again.

And never tell anyone that I punched him.

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