<p>He wasn’t that big so I sort of thought, okay, bag one, that should do it, mum will hurry him off to the loo. Then, no, she’s just standing in the aisle not making a move. Okay! Hand over bag two…and so on. We were all scrambling to find bags in our seat pockets.</p>
<p>The little bugger was sitting two seats away from me. Counting was unavoidable.</p>
<p>Why didn’t the flight attendant direct his oblivious mom?</p>
<p>I get sick watching others barf.</p>
<p>The mom handed the full bags to the flight attendant! Afterwards, she called him over to ask us if we had any vomit on our shoes! </p>
<p>Haha. Bet they didn’t think of that when they signed up for a life of exotic travel.</p>
<p>Sinner’s Alley had a barf series at one point.</p>
<p>I think my favorite name for it is horking.</p>
<p>That mother had some major ■■■■■■■…</p>
<p>Alu,
The barfing discussion began at around post# 5741, should anyone have reason to go back and read this stuff! Ok-- I know I am avoiding/stalling/killing time when I go track that stuff down!! Time to do last minute shopping before s#2 heads to some 3 week program in PA.</p>
<p>Hidey-ho, barflies! I have no idea what’s been going on in this place for the past couple of weeks, so you guys will have to fill me in. </p>
<p>I’ve been distracted by the revolving door of college kids not only at my house, but in the homes of parents whose kids graduated with mine. Just like no one told me that 9 hours of unmedicated labor was preferable to a driving lesson with a belligerent 15-year old, somebody might have horked up the truth about the college years. So, I am starting a list of indisputable facts about the college years from the alcoholic haze of the orange booth.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: The following list is not for the faint of heart. If you think your kids are perfect, I’m sure they are, and good luck with that. I’ll check back with you in a couple of years. Also, if your oldest is in Eighth Grade and has a GPA above 3.5, and you know for a fact that your son would never think of trying to jump his parents’ car over a home-made ramp at the high school…well, just ignore this post altogether because, basically, we’re from different solar systems. </p>
<p>Otherwise, feel free to contribute to the list!</p>
<p>THINGS I WISH I’D KNOWN ABOUT THE COLLEGE YEARS</p>
<p>Move-In Move-Out
Freshman move-in is fun! You’ll go orgasmic over designer linens and clear containers that fit perfectly under the bed. Freshman move-out is less fun because they’re coming home, and they’re bringing all of their $h*t back to your house. But, it’s okay, because you look forward to getting closer and hearing about their college antics and all of the good friends they made…</p>
<p>Sophomore move-in is a pain, and the compressor thingie that sticks out of the back of the mini-fridge isn’t so cute, anymore. But, you’ll walk back to the car feeling content and satisified that your second-year student has moved into an on-campus apartment with an actual living room and a kitchen where she can learn important life skills, like DON’T BLOG ABOUT YOUR ROOMMATES! Sophomore move-out is back breaking, and you find yourself lingering around the elevator trying to kipe a hand truck.</p>
<p>By the third-year, you’re a well-oiled machine…All of the stuff that worked during the first two years still works, and your college junior is moving into a student house or her first real apartment. You give them your old kitchen table, and you start to think about painting your frontroom.</p>
<p>Move-out this year may come sooner than expected. Turns out, the fun International House is full of alcoholic slutnuggets and thugs with cans of Stella in one hand and bricks in the other. Exit Stage Left, and you’re looking for a new apartment the week before midterms.</p>
<p>This is when you announce that the Manson family could be living down the hall, but you’re not going to help with another move until they graduate. Your fashion sense is limited to baseball hat hair slathered down by sweat, crew socks, cargo shorts, and trade show teeshirts. And, it bothers you only slightly that you found a pair of panty hose tied to the frame of her bed. </p>
<p>At least, they’re out of the house…for now.</p>
<p>Another classic from slugg and all’s right with the world.</p>
<p>Indisputable facts about college, take two
Summers Back Home-Sweet-Home
Yeah, right. While you’ve been rhapsodizing about the conversational heights you and your young adult are about to achieve, he (at least my <em>he</em>) has been perfecting his Cone of Silence techniques. “Yeah,” “Sure,” “Right,” “Fine” are about the best you can hope for. Want a full sentence with subject-verb-object? Plan to settle for “What do we have to eat?” in a depper baritone than you remembered from last year.</p>
<p>Something about the freshman year time away from one another turned me into Gullible Mom. After helping to unload the <em>stuff</em> into the dining room, I’m certain I was very clear that all would be put away before my daughter left for her summer job (ten days after arriving home). But in those ten days, I heard things like, “I just need a few days of downtime before I tackle everything” or “It’s my only chance to see my old friends before I leave” or “But I want to spend time with you tonight”…each declaration accompanied by puppy dog eyes. Darn, she’s good…everything is still in the dining room, and somewhere along the way I lost my status as She To Whom One Must Listen. When I recently sent her an e-mail and mentioned her breach of promise, she replied with the observation that she missed me, she’d loved the fun things we had done in her ten days at home, and wasn’t that way more important than a picked-up dining room? And in my new role as Gullible Mom, I have to agree.</p>
<p>Ha! D2 just unloaded a car packed with stuff. She had a lifelong friend along on the road trip and wanted to take her to a nearby (4 hours) place to visit old friends, but needed a ride. I told D that her stuff better be out of her little sister’s room and put “away” and until it was, no transportation for adventures. Ffor the first time ever, it is all put away before D left, good thing as she is now gone for the rest of the summer. She did fail to wash the car, but I can handle that.</p>
<p>Slugg- I am so glad your back, Needed a good chuckle, especially since I am in HS hell with DD.</p>
<p>The part about the panty hose killed me.</p>
<p>Ok… sorry to be “Debbie downer” here, but pour me a tall and frosty. Just returned from a funeral home visitation. A longtime colleague died, in some not-very-pleasant circumstances. Yuk. Life is short. Cherish it.</p>
<p>One slugghugg and a Long Island Ice Tea coming up for jym…</p>
<p>Jmmom, the opposite of the Cone of Silence is what girls seem to do…</p>
<p>8:15 a.m. (Phone rings)… </p>
<p>SluggyD: Hi, I’m waiting for the bus, and I thought I’d call to see how your weekend was.</p>
<p>Moi: (Dripping water on the carpet and trying not to electrocute myself with the phone) Well, I just got out of the shower. How 'bout I call you later?</p>
<p>SluggyD: Ohhhhhh…but, I’m waiting for the bus, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. How was your weekend?</p>
<p>Moi: (Tightening the towel knot on my head while holding onto the one around my body with my armpits…) Fine, we gave the dog a bath and cleaned out the gutters.</p>
<p>SluggyD: (Clearly uninterested) Oh…I have a midterm today. I’m really hung over because boyfriend-she-met-on-the-bus called at 2 a.m. while he was working on paper, and neither one of us could sleep, so he came over and made pancakes and spent the night.</p>
<p>Moi: (Wondering why she tells me this $h*t…) *Jeezus…are you ready for your midterm?<a href=“Thinking%20that%20I%20really%20missed%20out%20on%20this%20particular%20method%20of%20studying%20while%20I%20was%20in%20college…”>/i</a></p>
<p>SluggyD: (Now insulted because I showed more interest in the midterm than the bus guy…) Well, I stayed up all night the night before doing the lab homework, and I think the test is going to be mostly about the labs. And, I missed the review session on Tuesday because BG (Bus Guy) was here…</p>
<p>Moi: (Trying to keep from rubbing Lubriderm into my hair…) Okay, well I have to get dressed before the bug sprayer shows up. Btw, you have a dental appointment next week, and the university sent us a bill for overdue books.</p>
<p>SluggyD: Sorry, gotta go!! The bus is here! Click. </p>
<p>Moi: *Hun samler p</p>
<p>LOL. Either way, it’s not communication as we know it. All we can do is silently send them the Parents’ Curse: “May your children be just like you.” :D</p>
<p>My D is a minor queen of TMI as well. Though I suppose TMI is better than NEMI. Just wait jmmom, you’ll get a D-in-law one day and you will find out everything!! :)</p>
<p>I get more info. about my S by opening the door of his truck and taking a survey than any conversation we have had in the last 2 years. </p>
<p>The contents of the truck will often tell me where he has been and what he was doing while there. This investigative method must of course be used under the guise of some other excuse for being in the truck…usually it’s because I have to move the darn thing out of the driveway so I can get my car out.</p>
<p>Do not under any circumstances look in the center console or glove box. It is my experience that this is where the “Mom will be shocked” items are stashed. Sometimes it’s better not to know…</p>
<p>My second son cried a LOT until he was 2,didn’t sleep much until he was about 10, and found unique ways to challenge my parenting skills in death-defying ways. My mom’s favorite saying during this time was “you’re paying for your raising.” He fulfilled the Parent’s Curse and says he’s never having kids if they’re going to be like him. </p>
<p>I’m waiting on that daugher-in-law!</p>
<p>SB, I already get more info from the Best Friend of the male persuasion than I do from jmson. I’ll take anything.</p>
<p>Packmom, maybe because DS doesn’t have his <em>own</em> car, but rather drives whatever is our junkiest one, that technique is not fertile ground for me. But I am familiar with it. One of my friends has perfected the technique. Didn’t even have to go to the glove box for things that <em>she</em> finds shocking, but her S considers a big yawn. EG, the text book still in its shrink wrap from the class which just ended and in which he barely got a D. He: “Mom, we never even used the text. It’s no biggie.” Her: How would he know?!? I guess I’ll count my blessings.</p>
<p>Slugg: well stated, my chatty D always calls me when she is killing time, and I am fine with it, since i will grovel for any tidbit of her time :D</p>
<p>TMI is more fun that the cone of silence, and half the time the kids don’t recognise that silence as shock and breathlessness, but rather think mom is just a good listener. </p>
<p>God forbid any of us should be too busy to chat at their timing!! ;)</p>