Some awesome things have happened lately and I want to tell you all about them SOOOOO bad but they involve my kids, personal stuff actually, and I can’t seem to justify writing things about them that I would be embarrassed about once I got to school and kids could google me and then read about personal stuff from my childhood from my mom’s perspective. Weird.

So instead, I’m going to try and get passed the urge to purge the stories and tell you some embarrassing stuff from MY childhood. It had to come up at some point, right?

I’m sure some of this has been written about some where, but I can’t find it – so here it is:

I had a very open communication channel with my parents when I was growing up and going through the whole “liking boys” and “kissing boys” stage in my life. Good, right? Fantastic. Except when Grandma B would come over for Sunday lunch and instead of asking my mom to pass the rolls I would ask her things like “Mom, what’s a boner?” ACTUALLY HAPPENED. I cringe a little bit as I relive that moment.
I went out with an older guy from school a couple times and instead of kissing me gently he sucked my face like a hoover vacuum in a competition for the most-sucking-power-on-this-planet-ever award. He won, by the way. The award, not a kissing badge of honor. Oh no. And my brothers were living at home with us during this high school relationship, so obviously coming home after that one was a doozy. So much so that I asked my parents to tell me I couldn’t see him anymore. I had a hard time lying. Plus, if I made it my parents fault I didn’t need a real reason, mmmm, maybe one like YOU TRIED TO SUCK MY FACE OFF! LITERALLY! I WAS THERE, I WOULD KNOW AND IT WAS AWFUL AND DISGUSTING.

And he didn’t really get the picture. The whole “I will not ever go out with again” vibe wasn’t sticking. And he left me cards, Hallmark cards, in my locker and in my car. He wrote me letters. Multiple paged letters. With pages. And then he started calling me a lot and asking the same question – “Will you go out with me on Friday?” “Can I see you tomorrow after school?” until my brother answered the phone.

And he never bothered me again.

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