Y is for Yelling [At Kids In The Alley]

I took a right turn into the parking lot and saw two young boys, if I had to guess I’d say around 10 or 11 years old. They were huddled near the garages of the townhouses I used to reside in, bikes laying on the ground beside them. Driving pass slowly I tried to observe what was going on and at the last second before turning into my parking spot, I took a glance in my rear-view mirror.

These little shits are starting fires!

I slammed on my brakes, threw my car in reverse and with a squeal of my tires and a mark left on the pavement – I met them at the garages.  I went into full blown, she-must-be-a-mama mode. I opened my door with conviction and these delinquent little beasts got pummeled with my angry mom voice.

While throwing my hands in the air…


Then, without skipping a beat, shaking my head from side to side to show my dislike of the situation…


I took one step closer to them, gave them a good stare-down for few seconds and finished up with…



In my mind, that is what I looked like.

Legit fear immediately covered both their faces. The taller boy threw his hands in the air as if I was an actual police officer myself, with a gun drawn. The smaller blonde boy just stood there with a blank face, nervous.

I make my way back to my house and as I am walking in the front door I notice them taking off on their bikes. Shit, they know where I live. I don’t know these kids… for all I know I just messed with the wrong 11 eleven year old.

A while later, while I was getting ready to make dinner my doorbell rang.

We just wanted to say that we are really sorry for playing with those matches by your house. Is there anything we can do to repay you?

First of all, I never requested or felt as if they owed me anything but I did step outside and chat with to these two young boys. I did my best to explain the serious consequences and risks of starting fires and playing with matches – especially on other people’s property. The taller boy says: Yeah, like……he could have started on fire… pointing at his buddy.

There was a pause, but I replied: Yeah…I would have totally hated that.

We had a little laugh and they went on their way. They never had to come back and say anything, they easily could have gone around the corner and kept doing what they were doing or went home and laughed at the crazy woman in the ally; instead, they made a choice that made me feel good about them, which was so pleasantly unexpected.

They aren’t little shits after all, just young boys.

What Happens The First Time Your Son Says: Dude

I have reached the ‘Duuuuude’ stage of raising a boy. Another bittersweet milestone.

As unsentimental as it may seem, the word (silly as it may be) is another turning point.



Duuuuuuude – DIDJA SEE THAT?!

…each carrying a different, sharp tone.

There is no retreating away from… “Dude”.

My little adorable boy… is now a farting, burping, dude-saying little man. 

It’s like this new stage of motherhood (and fatherhood?I don’t know. Is it the same for guys?) 

He’s just…not little anymore. Who knew the word “dude” would hold this… kind-of weird, grey cloud over my head.

After further thought…I’ve decided that you guys are not lumped into this range of emotions – this is, more-than-likely the stage you’ve been waiting for all along. So for that – congratulations, guys…You’ve made it through the baby/toddler/little phase.

What Happens The First Time Your Son Says: “Dude”.

via: giphy

Did you hear that?!…There was UMPH behind that ‘Duuude’. That’s funny…

…really silly.

That's funny... No... wait...
via: giphy

No…Actually…It’s not.

My kid be like:


And then, I call him over to give him a hug…aaand… to make sure I could still pick him up…

(which I could)

via: giphy
via: giphy

so…I mean, it could be worse.

[Kinda related but not… who remembers this show?]


I couldn’t find a plunger, He said.

I walked into the bathroom last night & it was wet. (I’m talkin’ like – puddle wet)

BENNETT…Come Here………………what happened?

Slowly he peeks his head in & His nervous smirk instantly gave away his knowledge of the situation. I keep staring into his worried baby blues waiting for a response.

I think I’m gonna to be in trouble for this…

This human I created 7 years ago proceeds to tell me that he poo’d out a really big poo…& clogged the toilet. He wanted to fix it, but couldn’t find the plunger………………………………………..so, He used a towel instead.


Yes…You read that right.

My eyes immediately shift to the towel rack where I see his green frog towel – dripping.

Drip, Drip, Drip…onto the already overflowed toilet water covering the bathroom floor.

A million visuals are racing through my head at this point & one of them is my son shoving his poop down the toilet with a towel– elbows deep in toilet (poop) water. How did I not know this happened?! Lord, help me…Was this before dinner?! Did he wash his hands?!?

As I am imagining how this all went down I failed to notice that Bennett was staring at me – watching my facial expressions change with each new visual.

I thanked him for being honest with me, went upstairs for the plunger…

…And that’s that.