20 Questions

Except, not like the "Twenty Questions" game you played with your siblings or friends, on long car rides or walks home.

In actuality, the game I'm referring to should be called "One Hundred Million Questions That You Ask Your Mom On The Daily" so she never gets a break, or a moment, or to pee with the door shut. Nope, Moms never get much of a break... Not in One Hundred Million years.

The game is rather simple in nature:  it's you (the Mom) against all of these tiny contestants (your kids). These offspring that you grew for 10 months (not 9!), nursed, clothed, and continue to keep alive, ask these seemingly, innocent, even, silly questions.

These people throw these questions at you, (the Mom - not to be confused with Dad, because for some reason, he NEVER gets asked these questions), like little hand grenades.  Your kids pull the pin from the grenade, throw it at you, and then before you even have time to roll under a table to safety, they are throwing another bomb at you.  And you dodge, and swerve, and try to get away.  But NO!  More grenades!

Typically, this takes place before you have poured your first cup of coffee.  Or my personal favorite:   just as your head is hitting the pillow for bed.

Word to your Ma.

Emma asked me yesterday, "Mom, why do you get up so early?"  My answer came bumbling out of my mouth before I had time to edit (as is often the case), "So I get time for myself, before all of you are up in my booth.  I need to pray, journal, and think uninterrupted...like without kids around."  Big sigh, followed by direct eye contact.

She sort of finished up her smoothie with a half nod, jumped down from the counter where she had been perched, and left the kitchen mentioning something about "Homework" in a hushed tone.

So I now invite you to take a quiz.  You know, like those fun little quizzes you used to take in Cosmo magazine, when you sat on the beach, beer in one hand, smutty Cosmo mag in the other...BEFORE you had kids?!  Yeah, like that.


If your kids ask you these same questions, clap twice for each one.  If you clap more than 10 times, meet me down at Aqui's on Lincoln for an industrial strength Swirl at 5 o'clock.

And here we go:

Who's picking me up?

What's the weather going to be like today? ( Because I'm a GD Liberal Studies Major, not a Meteorologist)

What's for dinner? (asked at breakfast)

Where are you going?

When will you be back?

Do you know where my skirt / permission slip / knee brace for Basketball / lunch box / book report is? (usually, but not always followed by an annoying whine "I left it riiiiiight herrrrrre.")

Why did you take a shower?  

Why do you look fancy? (code for: I took a shower)

Why do you drink so much wine?

Why are you leaving?

How many times did you clap?  Please tell me 10 times. I'll see you in about an hour!  TTFN.