Newscoma

As I know about a kajillion pregnant women right now. I find that many people have to create their own rules regarding parenting.

I, of course, have no children of my own but have identified a few rules on being an aunt which basically means hiding what little money I have because it will go mission for crazy items such as spray candy and glitter.

My other rules have to do with not looking too shocked these days when the girls ask questions about sex. I have this stone face that I put on, I answer the questions as truthfully as I’m comfortable with and then go and drown myself in rye when they leave the room. (What is rye exactly? Maybe I’m drinking Aqua Velva, I’m not sure.)

The issue of having children around you that are moving towards teenagerdom is very disconcerting. You can no longer say things you might have before because they know what we are talking about now. Remember when kids are little they just spout what you say. Now they argue with you about them. They have learned code words that used to work to keep them out of the adult conversation loop. Now they have expanded those code words and made up their own.

Homer also advises the “Walk away and count to ten technique” which basically means leaving my nieces with me when they start the sex talk (they are tweens.) Homer will also do these things when I get overwhelmed just to amuse herself. I’ve always said that Homer was a mommyblogger who doesn’t blog.

I have now determined she is a run-of-the-mill sadist and loves to torment me.

It gives her joy. I, on the other hand, have considered a Xanax addiction. Do I have Xanax? No, I do not. Would I welcome Xanax? When the kids start asking questions about the birds and the bees, yes. Yes I would.

Things I have learned: I used to think I was the most open-minded person in the world. Nope. Not anymore. It all changes, campers, when you have kids around you. Mess with them, you will be slashed. My pacifism is over. Teaching them about music that I love will only get you looks that can be described as “Aunt Tick, you are an idiot and extremely not cool.”

I had to ask what “homeslice” meant.

Oh, I realize I’m not cool but I am cool enough to want a few things. Just one actually.

Jonas Brothers, go away. KThnxbai.

Yeah, they are “dreamy” and all but this new fascination has me missing Zac Efron. I’m serious. Actually, the oldest one has a “Pushing Daisies” fascination which I’m down with.

That’s why I love me some Mabel. She doesn’t talk although she can get mouthy at times.

Bad Bad Ivy, writing over at Shak In Style, writes a story about her son being afraid of monsters.

I can only share what I know but I realize little kids are terrified of monsters under the bed.  When I was a kid, my mother demystified the whole monster thing for me over time by saying that they were friendly monsters but that they were cursed and had to scare me to live. They were protecting me but they had to act gruff. If they were played nice with me, they would disappear.

She wanted me to feel sorry for the monsters. And, after awhile, I did. Hell, I was a kid. Parents know this stuff, but kids, well there are other things scarier than monsters (can you say greedy politicians), but not when you are four.

Monsters scare the hell out of you.

We left the monsters a cookie and pieces of candy for a week and they went away. So ultimately, we sent them away by being kind to them.

I think it’s why I’m a monster/horror junkie to this day.