Julie’s Jabbers: Being A B***h To My Kid

Summer is AWESOME. We get all excited about going to the pool and planning those cool beach trips. There’s nothing like a day that’s mapped out in “Adult Swims” instead of hours.

This is especially true for those of us who get to spend these summer days with our kids. There’s always that unexpected turning point though when you start to get sick of each other.

I think I hit that point today.

I was taking a nap because it was too hot to do anything else when my 10-year-old called out from her room.

“Hey Mom, did you know that Bethany is exactly 1 year and 6 days older than me?”


“Bethany. Did you know that she is exactly 1 year and 6 days older than me?”

Okay, I’ll bite.

“Who is Bethany?”

“She’s a girl I met at camp today.”

The appropriate responses to this statement came to my tired brain in an uncontrollable flood.

“Really? You woke me up to ask me about girl I’ve never met or heard about until this very moment?” Do you understand how STRANGE it would be if I already DID know this information? We would have much bigger problems than Bethany’s advancing age if I HAD been researching her before you two MET. And why is this news? Did Bethany have a raging case of Benjamin Buttons before today? Do you know how much I care? Imagine a skin mite. One of those things that’s invisible to the naked eye but looks like a monster when you see it under a microscope? My concern is about that size, but smaller.”

In my defense, my daughter has been a fountain of such information lately. I’ve been fed a damn-near-nonstop stream of Minecraft, My Little Pony and Bigfoot trivia for weeks now. I’m bound to pop at some point.

But my daughter beams with joy when she delivers this useless news. She is an angel and if anyone could bring Bigfoot out of the woods & teach him how to play Minecraft, it would be Emma.

She is also the last person on Earth who deservers a Christian-Bale-caliber dressing down, so I said none of those awful things.

Instead, I went with a tried-and-true Mom favorite.

“Really?” I asked.

That seemed to do the trick because she didn’t say another word. She waited about 5 minutes until I was JUST falling asleep again before adding,


Don’t answer that question Julie.

Don’t. Say. A WORD!


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Listen Live