Mommyhood vs. the Generation Gap

Gentle readers, there are things in my life that I love and adore, but they are few and far between.  Your gentle blogger , aka, Dark Mommy, is a cynic, and generally unimpressed by, well, everything ever.

Amongst the things I love, Captain Handsome, whom I obviously worship and adore.  Gamer Boy and Scooter Girl, my beloved spawn, and of course Barkfart the beagle.

And then there is my undying, all consuming, cult like worship of........wait for it....wait for it.....

Depeche Mode.

Yeah, I said it,  I worship Dave and Mart, Andy, and Peter.  I love Depeche Mode.

When Gamer Boy was in the womb, I went to see Dave Gahan, Depeche Mode's God-like lead singer, on his solo venture, Paper Monsters.  He was enigmatic and lovely, and Gamer Boy, then only about ten weeks alive, gave me the worst in-utero cramps known to man with every bit of sound coming off the stage in Dodge Theater, Phoenix, Az.

I was determined to convince larger than a zygote GamerBoy in utero that Depeche were the sounds of angels and I use to put headphones on my belly for zygote Gamer Boy to partake in their hypnotic sounds, thinking if I exposed him enough to the beautiful and melodic rhythms that he would be born crying the sounds of "Enjoy the Silence", "Personal Jesus", and the amazing ballad of Martin L. Gore, "Home."

In short. I was wrong,

I tried the same in vain with Scooter girl.  She was equally unimpressed.

I simply do not understand how anyone of any age can shirk any of the English bands of the 80s for likes of One Direction, Justin Beiber, or dippy Lady GaGa. Depeche Mode sings are anthems to my soul and dammit, my spawn would agree with me or I would die trying.

During my recent mall trip with GamerBoy, Scootergirl, and Scooter girl's bestie from next door, I put Depeche Mode, Violator, in the CD player and proudly announced,

"Time to introduce your friend to the lyrical fabulousness that is Depeche Mode!"

Not a sound out of the backseat as I began to groove and rock.....but Gamer boy, sitting next to me, began to roll his eyes,  He is nine and I am starting to not be cool anymore.  I am nothing but an embarrassing loser to my son, a badge I proudly bear.

At this moment however, I realized in one moment that all my Depeche Mode indoctrination in utero had failed miserably, and in fact, my music, as well as myself, had become old and lame in the eyes of my firstborn.

GamerBoy turned to me, eye rolling, exasperated.

"Really mom?"
I continue drive dancing and getting my groove on until he utters the most horrible words I ever heard.

"Really, mom? You do know Depeche Mode is Sooooooo old they belong in a retirement community, right?"



I sadly looked at my firstborn realizing that we will never share that amazing bond that is Depeche Mode, and that no matter how cool and hip I still think I am, to Gamer Boy, I am old and lame.

I turn up the radio and keep singing.

Please pass me my leg Warmer's and aqua net.....and where did I put my copy of Teen Beat?

Addendum: as I read this blog to Captain Handsome he kindly reminded me to save a copy of this blog to 8" floppy disk.

Depeche Mode then

Depeche Mode Now....13 studio albums later!

Mommyhood vs. the Magic Spell

 So my cousin posted a bit strip photo of us being sinister on Facebook today and it got me to thinking.

If I could cast a spell on he who shall not be named....what type of spell would I cast?  In this scenario, btw, I am all powerful and can cast any damn spell I please.  No genie nod, no wiggling my nose like bewitched, just the power of my thoughty thoughts in all their glory.

It could be anything! I could cast something cruel like a bad itchy rash on his butt or pustules of cheese coming out of his face....or something comical.  Something comical like a penis growing out of his forehead or women sized breasts appearing on his chest.

Instead I began to think. What would torment he who shall not be named?

What would cause he who shall not be named such terror, such immobilizing fear that he simply could not function?

And then it dawned on me.

The perfect spell for he who shall not be named would actually be more of a curse.

A HYGIENE SPELL!

I would curse he who shall not be named with toenail clippers and a bar of soap!  I will require him to brush and floss and swish and spit.

It would be terrible for him.

The ultimate curse for my ex.  Showering.

Dark Mommy vs. the Mall

Today I took two little giggling girls and my son to Claire’s at the mall. This store is like the greatest hell on earth for me, but my daughter loves it. Usually she is very frugal in her spending (she did not get that from me) but today with her little friend, her swag bag overfillith with made in china crap. We’ve been home less than two hours and both girls ha e broken 8.50 a pair clip on earrings they want me to fix and are at each others throats. Thanks Claire’s.
Anyway, this is my blog. Yeah me. Whatever. I’m a hard working mom if my kids who are six and nine. I work my ass off. I want more sleep. I have over 30 employees, which means that I now have 32 kids for those that can do higher math. At home it’s mom mommy mom mommy and at work it is my name repeatedly….someday I will get a nap.
I have an insanely perfect boyfriend who is, by profession, a pilot. A captain in fact who is the love of my life. Does this mean he makes me crazy? Yes.
I have an insanely imperfect ex husband who puts a spin in things daily with his off the grid perceptions of life and all it’s wonders. Someday I won’t have to deal with him anymore. Of course by then I will probably be dead.
I am owned by three perfectly imperfect parrots and one very fat beagle with terrible gas. Between the cussing parrots and my dogs farts, it’s a zoo.
This is my life. I’m cynical and I always seem somewhat irritated, but I laugh all the time ( mostly at everyone I deal with who are stupid) and I am a snarky, snarky mofo. But I love my life. I love my pilot. I worship my kids.
And I’m still waiting for my nap.

Dark mommy vs. the too tight pants

In my existence there is a certain level of FML.  I'm not gonna lie.  I do idiotic and insanely off putting things all the time.  Today is such a moment.

It was conference call time at work and at the same time one of my employees was going home for the day and needed a bag check.  I was planning to come home and take my conference call on my phone in the car.  I had planned so my assistant would get her lunch break before I left.  She was eating her sandwich when the call for the bag check came in and I had just logged into my cell phone to do my conference call.  Dialed the number, put in the pass code, and, over the radio, "I need a manager to do a bag check please."

What's a girl who has had two kids and no memory or coordination left to do?

I say to my assistant, "here's my phone, I'm gonna do the bag check.  When she (my boss) logs in, just hit mute."

And I run out to the sales floor to do the bag check.

I run back to the break room to pick up my phone and sit down at the table exclaiming to my assistant, " dang, this zipper is stabbing my fat roll!"

I sit down and only then to I realize, I am in total conference and every one of my manager peers has heard me exclaim that my zipper is stabbing my fat roll.  My assistant is cracking up laughing.

Epic fail.

Typical me.

Now I am at home, on the couch, in my fat pants.

Store managers that openly exclaim their zippers are stabbing their fat rolls deserve to spend time on the couch in their fat pants.

Now hand me a cookie.

Captain Handsome and the fortune cookie

Last night my sweet pilot took me to dinner, he was exhausted as was I.

We went to a Chinese restaurant and ate in near silence. He was so fried.

Typical of a Chinese meal, we received two fortune cookies at the end of the meal,

Yay! Fortune cookies! I say, and I grab one and unwrap it.

I look at Captain Handsome and read him my fortune.

"That's my cookie, " he says.  " that fortune was meant for me."

"You can't steal fortunes" I say, "I call no stealing fortunes!"

Being that he was tired and crankyish I just glared at my fortune stealing pilot.  He was methodically opening "his" fortune cookie.  I hear it crack between his fingers and he looks down to read the tiny paper within the cookie.

"Never mind", he grins.  "You're right, that's you're fortune."

"Let me see that cookie, captain handsome."

Seriously?  There are no takesies backsies,

"Too bad it's a community property state.  Now I have to share my pleasant surprise and you ave to give me some of your inheritance,"

He sulked.

Captain Handsome vs. Barkfart

My pilot and I have a dog.  Not just any dog.  A fat, stinky, adorable beagle, Barkfart.

Why Barkfart?  Her single most amazing talent is barking and following it up with a huge and ominous sounding fart.

Captain Handsome had an early morning flight today and I was off at work.  Gamer boy and Scooter girl are with he who shall not be named for the weekend.

I hate when CH gets home before I do because Barkfart leaves gifts.

Today went like this:

Me: (arriving home exhausted from dealing with the sheeple) hi baby how was your day?
CH: grumble
Me: did you have a bad day?
CH: well it wasn't bad til I got home
Me: oh no, what happened?
CH: well we had a little problem with Barkfart.
Me: oh lord what'd she do now?
CH: she's outside being punished.
Me: (grinning) why?
CH: she got into the trash and ate all last weeks leftovers and trash. She's grounded.
Me: I'm so sorry you had to come home to that. She's such a bad dog! Always thinking with her stomach.
CH: yeah, we had words!
Me: (grinning)

So I come inside and on the back porch sits my timid Barkfart.  She's looking incredibly guilty.

I wander back out to the garage

Me: what'd you do to Barkfart? She's really upset!
CH: because I told her I was gonna tell you!

And yes, gentle readers, this is my life.

Captain Handsome vs. the 5pm Sugar Decree

My boyfriend, Captain Handsome, is a silent party on the subject of my ex (aka he who shall not be named). That being said he picks our kids up recently on his Saturday night.  Let it also be said that my bf and I do not let the kids have sugar after 5 pm.  I know The Captain has been less than thrilled with many of my interactions with the ex. (He who shall not be named). So last night here is what went down:

I see #1 son eating a peanut butter cup.  I say:
"Hey, what are you doing eating that, it's after 5pm"

#1 son smiles at me with a chocolate grin and says:
"captain says I'm going to my dads and I'm gonna need this."

I look over at #1 daughter who is hastily stuffing a mini Hershey bar into her face giggling.

I find Captain Handsome in the garage where I say to him, "are you sugaring up our kids before the go to he who shall not be named for the weekend?"

He grins a toothy grin at me and says, "busted."

I smile and shake my head.  "More like well played, darling, well played."