Friday, April 18, 2008

Dude! Mom!

My son and I live a relatively normal existence. Each school day his alarm goes off at 6:15 a.m. and he promptly jumps up to shut it off. He then returns to bed and attempts to ignore the sunlight drifting through his window. During that time I have already removed myself from slumber, put a pot off coffee on and started my ritual online. I can hear him moving overhead. He's not fooling anyone. Without fail, I will have to groggily head upstairs to rustle him.
In this morning tradition I remind him of the time like a nagging mother should. He keeps plugging along and our conversations are kept minimal. The same thing goes for when he calls me at work after school. He's home safely and is only interested in catching the latest Naruto or Yu-Gi-OH! episode. Talking to me doesn't hold a candle to the Cartoon Network. I remind him that any homework is to be done once a snack is consumed. He's pretty diligent about following this rule. By the time I get home his work is done.
Upon arrival he'll tell me about his day with the ease of unclogging our bathtub drain. It takes a little plunging, but eventually he's willing to embellish upon, "Yeah, it was fine. Unhuh, yeah. What did you say? I'm sorry. I wasn't listening, Mom. What's for dinner?" That is the standard conversation between 13 year old child and 42 year old mom. That is until this evening.
It's not so much a conversation, but a conversation piece. I'd adjourned to the living room to have a round of channel flipping with the kiddo. We'll watch his program until commercial break. Then, we switch to something I find more appealing. It's a wicked game, but with my adult A.D.D. I don't mind. I was sitting in the recliner, and it hit me; the results of eating veggies. Yes, I am human and I passed gas. Don't laugh or snark. You know Brussels sprouts make you fill the room with doom. What immediately followed was a surprise to me. A greater surprise than the rumbling in my Old Navy pj's. My son's response to the audible flatus was, "DUDE!!!" My not so little boy called me, his mother, DUDE! I have gone from Mommy to Mom to DUDE!!
So, there you have it. I'm now a dude with intestinal distress.


  1. Hilarious.

    I have the horrible problem myself of calling people "Dude" far too often. I like to give a particular tall guy shit with "Dooooooode" over text message.

    I blame it on living in California.
    Perhaps Man Cub has been watching too much MTV?

  2. He's in junior high school. No MTV at this time. Lots of the shows he watches are on Nick and Disney, Cartoon Network. They must use 'dude' a lot and I just haven't noticed. I've caught myself calling him that, but to hear him say it so emphatically at me just threw me for a loop.

    ...and particular tall guy. Hmmm wonder who that could be lol


Say what!?