Parental Paying it Forward

Payback is a bitch a mommy. . . 
Sometimes those adolescent flashbacks can come in handy. You know the ones I’m talking about; those times your parents did things that you just knew we’re going to mortify you into an early grave.  One of mine is when I was 17 and I worked at the local grocery store. My mom found it handy to pick me up because she could get some teenage terrorizing shopping done at the same time.  Of course, I was expected to walk around with her while she did the shopping, it didn’t occur to her that I wasn’t even supposed to have parents, let alone be seen in public with them. And since I wasn’t legally allowed to tell her where to go and she was my ride home, I had little choice but to comply.
Most of the time it was tolerable and without a parental incident, even if I didn’t really have any input in the food selection. But once and awhile . . .  I have to assume she just couldn’t control herself, the urge was just too great. Actually, I learned today just how overwhelming that parental urge to terrorize your children can be, and they should probably make a pill for it. But since I am just now discovering the amazing glee that comes from giving into that urge, I really hope they wait another twenty years.
Anyway, my mother found it beyond amusing to dance with the shopping kart to the music playing through out the store.  The store where I worked!  The store where my friends worked and  shopped with the parents they didn’t have! When  she realized I was no longer walking within the vicinity of her, and usually trying to quickly get to another isle, she would call out my naaaaame!!! Making absolutely sure that everyone knew that she belonged to me.  I was the teenager responsible for the woman dancing with the kart throughout the grocery store.  I thought that I would never forgive her for those episodes. Until today.  At age 3 1/2 yrs old, my little Buzzsaw’s parental terrorizing has begun.  Just paying it forward little man.
Bdawg and I had taken Buzzsaw out to eat and then stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was raining so I pulled the car up to curb to load the groceries and the kid.  Once inside the car, Bdawg realized he didn’t get a $10 off coupon he should have gotten ( actually we didn’t qualify because it was for spending $75. . . not including taxes. He was really put out that he didn’t get it because we only spent $72.  My husband loovves his coupons).
While Bdawg went back in for the coupon, Buzzsaw and I sat in the car.  The Foo Fighters came on so I, of course, started to do some mini head banging to the music.
“Stop it mommy!”
A little more enthusiasm in my head thrashing. . .
“STOP IT MOMMY.  I SAID STOP IT!”
I stop and look back at him and smile.
“I stopped you”, said with a smile.
Waaaay more head thrashing follows, with lots of loud yelling for mommy to stop it from the back seat.
Now is when my blue hair is reeaally thrashing around and now I’m drumming my hands on the steering wheel. Oh yeah, I died my hair blue a few months back, it looks amazing!
“Stop it mommy!”
“Get out of the car mommy! Stop it. Get out of the car!”
Yeeeaaaahhhh.
This parental trip is gonna be a fun ride.  Poor kid.  And thanks mom for the tips!
Advertisements

About goddessofglitter

I like to laugh
This entry was posted in adventures in parenting, humor, sprinkles of glitter, suburban houselife and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Parental Paying it Forward

  1. Jeff says:

    remember……”Payback is a bitch a mommy. . . ”

    )8-D

  2. I’m going to have fun with it while I can anyway. And I have one or two stories about you too! FYI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

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

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