Manic Monday Blogarrhea

The other night Mr. Lindstrom and I were lucky enough to be out and about and we found ourselves at a concert (I say that as though we hadn't purchased tickets months and months prior and secured a babysitter at the same time. As though we just "happened" upon a concert. Yeah, that'll never happen again...). I noticed a guy walking down the aisle back to his seat in this full theater, he must have thought that none of the hundreds of people seated around him a) could see him or b) were looking at him because he reached his right hand to his rear end and scratched. Now, I don't want to offend, but I want to be clear, this was not just a little rear end cheek scratch due to... say... dry skin or something. I hope you understand what I'm getting at, or rather what he was getting at. In that moment, it became crystal clear to me what I am doing as a parent: I am attempting to not raise butt scratchers.

This actually happened a couple of weeks ago, and I still laugh every time I think about it, so I want to share it with you.

I was busy putting the babies down for their naps, and the phone rang - the caller ID showed the name of my Mother-In-Law's church. I was afraid it might be an emergency (though, I cannot say I could imagine what emergency it might be, but you never know...)

the person on the other end of the line said my mother-in-law's name as though she figured that was who she was speaking with.

I said, "no, that's my mother-in-law."

person: "well, can I leave a message for her?"

Me: "She doesn't live here."

person: "Did I call the wrong number?"

Me: "Uhhhh - yes, I'm her daughter-in-law, her son is my husband, we live at our house, and she lives at her house."

person: "Well, can I leave a message for her?"

Me (rolling my eyes, and not quite sure what is so difficult for this woman to understand about the fact that my Mother-In-Law doesn't live at my house, and she could probably just call my mother-in-law rather than depending on me, a complete stranger, to pass the message along): "sure."

So the end of the story is that I did call my mother-in-law, managed to get the whole story straight (let me tell you, the message was pretty long and involved), and came to find out that immediately after I hung up with this woman (and had taken extremely diligent notes) she called my mother-in-law's house and left her the very same message. She must have figured it out.

Just think about what an awesome world it would be if instead of hearing the words, "get back to your pre-pregnancy weight" over and over again, you heard the words, "try to get back to your pregnancy weight."

Did you see Betty White's speech at the SAG awards last night? I'll try to find it and post it, but let it be known, I want to be Betty White when I'm 89 years old.