“Don’t talk to anybody, Mom”

Posted on Wednesday 18 February 2009

Adorable Child just called from school.  It seems that she needs me to rush right up there (*snort!!*) to sign a form.  (It’s the last day, Mom!)

Sorry, AC.  Can’t rush up there right now.

So she says it’ll be okay if I come at lunch-time and meet up with her to sign it.  Oh!  And while I’m at it, could I please bring her some chicken nuggets from Micky D’s….


I say that sounds like fun!  We haven’t had lunch together in ages!

**crickets chirping**

AC:  No, Mom!  Just bring the lunch and leave it with me.  I’ll meet you outside the cafeteria, and you can sign the form and give me the food.

Polimom:  That doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me, Dear One.

AC:  It’s not.  But it’d be too embarassing!

Polimom:  No lunch?  No form.

AC:  Okay…. you can come.  But just sit there!  Don’t talk to anybody!

LOL!!!!!   Should I wear the bright pink wig from Halloween, do you think?  Or just the glasses / nose?

10 Comments for '“Don’t talk to anybody, Mom”'

    February 18, 2009 | 11:33 am

    Hysterical! Just hysterical!! Too bad she didn’t allow you enough time to find that mustache and beard ensemble I’ve heard you have stashed around there someplace … you could have gone as a ‘Pinetuckian”. You still have your corncob pipe, straw hat, and overalls, don’t you?

    February 18, 2009 | 12:25 pm

    Oh, that’s too good! I just read the post — how about an update?

    My kids are 5 and 2 — but I’m sure that I will be having conversations like this in the future…

    February 19, 2009 | 8:14 am

    What – no going there dressed up as “Bikini Grrl” from American Idol? Or maybe carrying a ten-foot tall sign saying “I’M AC’S MOM!!!”

    Life with teenagers… ;)


    February 19, 2009 | 8:22 am

    She makes me crazy sometimes!

    I showed up, and she met me to say that she wouldn’t be able to eat with me after all — she had “lunch detention” and had to go sit in a separate classroom and be silent for the duration. (Ooops! Spit that gum out before class next time, AC!!!!)

    So I went into the lunchroom anyway, and snagged several of her friends and shared the two lunches with everybody. Kids kept coming up to me asking if I was AC’s mom — a question they really didn’t need to ask, since I was wearing a sports jersey with her last name writ large across the back.


    THEN (remember that danged form?) — I went to the lunch detention room, and the teacher let me come in. AC was dying of embarrassment.

    “Mom!  No!  Please!!!!!” — when I poked my head in the door…

    February 19, 2009 | 11:18 am

    For added fun laugh and snort whenever your daughter says anything. Technically thats not speaking.

    February 19, 2009 | 11:52 am

    My version of AC didn’t have much choice, seeing as his mother was a substitute teacher – and oftentimes would get an assignment at the school where we attended.

    Of course, he also never got into the habit of chewing gum.


    February 19, 2009 | 12:42 pm

    Priceless! Nice work.

    February 19, 2009 | 12:47 pm

    Oh Poli, my heart is full of pride! Great work!

    For the record, my nearly 30 yr old, who moved out of NOLA last summer, called the other night to tell me, “Mo-o-o-om, you HAVE to go to Muses for me and send me all the cool throws.” “But it’s going to be freezing and your dad has to work so it will only be me, no grandson to grab the doubloons!” “Mom, you GOTTA go. It’s MUSES! You KNOW it’s my favorite one.”

    Guess where I’ll be tonight. Oh yeah, and the box is ready so I can pay to ship all this crap to her. She’ll still bitch and accuse me of keeping all the “good throws.” LOL

    February 20, 2009 | 6:10 pm

    I hope you realize, Slate, that you’re at least partly responsible for my being such an embarrassing mom. You’ve given me such encouragement, without which I may not have had the nerve to be such a pain!


    And I wish I could be there with you at the parades!!!

    C Stanley
    March 7, 2009 | 1:22 pm

    This was a hysterical and timely post for me as we’re in the throes of the adolescent mortification period.

    My favorite way to provoke my daughter is to take her shopping and go into the store called “Hollister”. For anyone unfamiliar- it’s a California surf vibe place and it seriously is so dark inside the store that I have no idea what we’re buying (perhaps that’s intentional.)

    Dear daughter is horrified when I comment on this lack of lighting, and constantly tries to shush me. It’s gotten to be such a running gag that I now enter the store by grasping for the walls and turning in circles as though I can’t locate my daughter…or other times I’ll comment that I’m going to bring my husband’s Petzl head lamp next time (he’s an avid cyclist who does night riding- and of course the headlamp itself is fodder for a lot of teen embarrassment too.)

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