My throat feels like someone’s been rubbing it with sandpaper for hours. Sipping tea helps but only while I’m sipping it. Immediately afterward, it’s back to the pain. Breathing seems to acerbate the situation.
In other equally painful news, my youngest son is going to his first formal dance in two weeks. Talk about kicking me in the chest. I was expecting four more years before this. When he asked to go to the dance and I said, sure I don’t see why not I didn’t realize it was the Sweetheart Swirl. Dang, I feel ancient.
My older son really has no interest in going. I’d be concerned at his apparent lack of interest in girls, but he’s in ninth grade, the selection is small and I was privy to this:
This past summer, our next door neighbor who’s admittedly quite good looking was sunbathing in her front yard. Her husband who’s chummy with my kids said to my son: I know you’re looking.
My son says: Geez! What’s not to look at?
I’ve also heard the same son referring to his Biology teacher in conversation as ‘The Hot Bomb’. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher that slang.
Since he’s a nice kid and pretty straight-laced, he gets away with this, although we repeatedly discuss appropriate. He likes to tease me about being ‘Patsy’ who’s some overzealous mom in commercials about drugs. “Don’t be a Pasty, Mom,” he says. I guess I would be the Patsy of teenage sex. My son asked for gum the other day and it ended up as a full-out abstinence talk. He says, I just wanted some gum.
My poor kids have freaks for parents. Anyway, for your edification, I have attached the Patsy video. I should mention…I have never done the shower thing to get my kids’ attention. Egad!