1. Giving one’s eight year old (currently 24 year old Vegan) to the count of ten to stop having a tantrum in the grocery store because he wants chocolate cereal and orange soda “or else,” . . . 8, 9, 10 . . .11, 12 . . .
2. Two words: throw up.
3. Always taking the stairs (even at the Empire State Building and Eiffel Tower) because one’s seven year old (currently the 20 year old skydiving child) is afraid of elevators.
4a. Teaching one’s 15 year old how to drive,
15 year old: “Dude, I’m not even going that fast.”
Mom: “Dude, don’t call me dude, and you are going way too fast for our DRIVEWAY!”
4b. Six months later, “I crashed, come get me.”
4c. Four years later, getting the same call from newly licensed youngest child (thank goodness middle child had no interest in driving).
4d. Realizing middle child is 22 and doesn’t have a driver’s license (oops).
5a. Discovering that teenage children (of equally paranoid, overprotective parents) who are sleeping over are not really asleep at 10:00 p.m., and not having a clue where they are.
5b. Getting call from irate high school teacher whose house is covered in toilet paper.
5c. Getting call from irate father of really cute girl whose house is covered with toilet paper.
5d. Cleaning toilet paper off of cute girl’s house and very tall snow covered pine trees with a hose at midnight in freezing cold temperatures (thank you Tony – you are the best dad ever).
5e. Six months later: longing for the good ol’ days when all one had to worry about was an irate dad whose house was TP’d. See # 2.
Note: Jumping out of an airplane is going to be a piece of cake! Except getting into the airplane; that ladder may be a deal breaker (I’m afraid of heights).
6a. Getting to oldest child’s new home in Southeast Asia. See # 2.
6b. Using oldest child’s current restroom facilities. See # 2.
6 Boats. Any kind of boats. See # 2.
7a. Cleaning the house for out of town guests arriving in a few hours instead of writing this post about being a mom. You know, you know what I am talking about; at least I vacuumed before I sat down at the computer.
7b. Vacuuming with a torn rotator cuff.
7c. Getting up off the floor with a torn rotator cuff, bad knee, and broken toe. . . .
7d. Hmmm? Skydiving with my body? At least my left hand is fully functional.
9. Living in an empty nest.
10. Losing five pounds, two pounds, a pound.
11. Counting to 10.