The Suburban Jungle

I have added a Tip o’ the Mornin’ to my regular repertoire of hilariously funny, thought provoking and possibly award winning articles.

RealSelf.com

Well in answer to the question, Do I need microdermabrasion?  Yes. yes you do.  I don’t know exactly who you are but your skin is probably dull and the elasticity is probably slack.  Okay, I may be projecting, but along with suffering from dull slack skin, I selfishly envy fresh faced youth. It always makes me feel good to drive by a highschool, hang my head out the window and scream at the cheerleaders.  Things like. “Your pores may be small, but your such a slut and everyone knows it.” or “So what if you don’t have any wrinkles now, one day your kids will stretch your nether regions beyond recognition and your HS sweetheart will be a cheater working a dead end job, and your face will show it all.    I know what your thinking, Can I come?

If you think there’s a better way, then maybe you should try microdermabrasion.  First it sandblasts your skin with an abrasive material or ultrasound, then it vacuums your pores clean like a shag rug in the bathroom and last it stimulates new collagen production.  I have been trying to coax my collagen into regenerate for months now, so if this works, I can stop begging!  It costs $100-$200 a blast and should be done by a licensed professional –it can cause damage in the wrong hands.

Will it minimize wrinkles?  Probably not, but it can help with fine lines,  sun worshipers with skin damage and those who went through that awkward teen acne.  Who am I kidding, I still break out at “that time of the month.”  That’s when I go to an old age home, hang my head out the window and scream, “I may have a zit or two, but at least I still get my period.”

If you have an experience with microdermabrasion, please share.

I’m not gonna throw myself under the bus and call my children spoiled, as I would have only myself to blame.  I will say, however, they have an extreme sense of entitlement, which I am sure has little to do with them being lavished with gifts undeservedly.  My children want everything they see, hear about, could get as a party favor, could find in a McDonalds happy meal, a cereal box, a piñata, or view in a commercial.

“Mommy can I have that? Will you buy me that?  Mommy friends neighbor has that.  I want that.  When can I have that? Mommy? Ma? Maaaaaaaa?  MOM!  This exchange of words usually ends with, “If you mention it again, the answer will be never.”  “Never?  I can’t even have a Clone Trooper Voice Changer Helmet when I’m 25?”  “Sure.  If you still want a Clone Trooper Voice Changer Helmet at 25, you can wear it to therapy.”

“How about I get it for my next birthday, or maybe Kwanzaa?”  My son is already eyeing a camouflage pencil set for Secretaries Day, and has informed me that, although we are Jewish, he will be giving up vegetables for Lent.

My children’s Chanukah wish lists are so comprehensive, I may be forced to explore alternative channels in my gift search.  Consequently, I have sent a friendly letter asking someone who has slighted me in the past for help.  Some might say it’s more of a formal accusation, but really it’s just a hand delivered note that needs to be notarized and signed on receipt. It goes:

Dear Santa,
I have never complained about you forgetting us Jews in the past, but times are tough.  I mean, I don’t want to threaten you or anything, but let’s talk religious profiling, shall we? I’m sure the fact that we don’t believe in you has something to do with you snubbing us year after year.  Do we, a people known to produce a whiner or two, complain?  No, some of us, me included have made an effort to believe.  Let us not forget Christmas of 83’ when I sat on your lap asking for a Speak N’ Spell, a Magic Eight Ball, and Shawn Cassidy’s “Da Doo Ron Ron” 45.  I have a laminated picture from Macy’s to prove it.

Do you not bombard us with your festive songs and holiday movies made with delightfully animated reindeer and elves?  Do Jews get to go a-caroling?  No, we have one song… about kids gambling.  Has Dreidel ever starred in a delightfully animated holiday movie?  Has Snoopy, or Barbie, or a single Disney character ever lit a Menorah?  Maybe in the privacy of their own homes, but certainly never on camera (it’s in their contracts.)  We’re okay with that, because we wrote those contracts.  Sure, we take advantage of your sales and vacations.  We watch your shows, and sing your catchy songs.  We’ll decorate a tree with blue and white twinkle lights, top it with a six pointed star, and call it a Chanukah bush.

Santa, my Roth IRA is down 40%.  I deserve a little holiday cheer.   You can look me up, I’ve been nice, and I’d like to keep it that way.   My daughter wishes to receive the “true to life” –and possibly poisonous– Zhu Zhu pets.   She would also like the “now true to life on the streets” Bratz Doll, which comes complete with Brazilian waxing kit and requisite diaphragm.

My son “just has to have” the new Guitar Hero “I Choked on My Own Vomit Tour,” a super Bakugan the size of his head, and some alone time with my daughter’s Bratz doll. I will forward you the unabridged version via zip file. I look forward to us all getting along!

Sincerely,
Frustrated Jewish Mom

P.S.  I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot here.  I didn’t mean to sound so hostile.  Santa, just tell me what a girl’s gotta do to get some Christian love?   I can be naughty if necessary (wink, wink).
HAPPY HOLIDAYS

One of my biggest pet peeves in Disney movies is the killing off of moms. It truly irks me that when I go to a “kid flick,” I have to worry that it will reinforce the innate fear that children have about confronting their parents’ mortality. Yes, I am aware that some Disney movies are based on fairytales which date back hundreds of years. Most of these stories involve the loss of the mother prior to the beginning of the story, hence the existence of the wicked stepmother. With this said, what about Disney movies that exterminate the moms with scenes that could give Steel Magnolias a run for its money? I haven’t even let my children see Disney tearjerker’s like  MORE…

Okay, if you wanted more of me, you finally get it.  I am doing a daily post for Nick’s ParentConnect.com on how to find time to do stuff for YOU.  Yes, I am their Celebrity host for the month of November.  Either they are seriously hard-up or I am getting “awesomer.”  What a fitting turn around from my last post… Humiliation on the Roller Rink, Circa 1984!  I read on Page 6 that Patrick Star was slotted to host this November, but was forced to decline after an unforeseen jellyfishing incident. Also, he is illiterate, though reading was not a prerequisite for the job.  I will be toiling away at my keyboard all month, so you can get stuff done. If you have had just about enough of me at one post per week, I must warn you, you will be getting an annoying update every morning that links you to that day’s Me Time problem and solution.  I hope you stick around, read some… and even comment or join the site!

Yours,

Jenny From the Blog

Me Time Challange Link

I don’t have time for my Hubby:

Remember when you first met your honey? That look of love in your eyes? The way you could just go to a restaurant or a movie without having to call anyone but the reservation line? Do you remember when you could “get it on” in places other than your bedroom… with the lights off… while trying to catch an episode of The Amazing Race… and praying no one wakes up hungry, wet, or scared? It seems like forever ago, right? The idea of a date seems arcane, and the thought of uninhibited sex is nostalgic. Well, you’re together now, so you need to make time to enjoy yourselves.

How to find time for your mate: MORE

I don’t have time to work out:

There used to be a time before kids and before my 30’s when I ate chicken wings, nachos and burgers freely. Now I can trace the outline of a single Cheeto in my belly. Even worse, my thighs seem to be having a love affair with one another, which makes walking in corduroys a very noisy endeavor. If you want the bod you had pre-babies, you have to work at it. So, I will help you find ways to work working out back into your schedule.

How to find time to work out: MORE

I don’t have time for a hobby:

Since I loooove writing, this is one challenge I have a lot of experience with. I can tell you that it’s not easy to find the time. Our hobbies, crafts, and other creative endeavors get left behind by feedings, diaper changes and helping with homework. But whether you like to write, draw, knit, crochet, paint, sculpt, take pictures, play an instrument, scrapbook or make crafts, you don’t have to let go of the things you enjoy. Here are some creative ideas to find time for your artistic side.

How to find time for a hobby:  MORE

Leo: “Hello I’m Leo here with June of the Little Einstein’s and welcome to the Red Carpet for the annual Toony Awards. Unfortunately, my sister Annie is with Rocket and Cooper Anderson in the Gobi Desert. I’m told they’re singing baba waba Osama to Beethoven’s 9^th, in a bunker that strangely resembles Salvador Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory” picture of melting clocks.

Quincy is not here because he is attending a rally for “Out” magazine. Not that an effeminate black male who is scared of the dark and plays multiple instruments including the flute, piccolo, and triangle has to be gay, he’s just exploring his options.

But, we are on a very important mission right here in Orlando Florida, cartoon capital of the world. Let’s check in on June who is with the cast of Blue’s Clues.”

June: “Hi Joe, I want to ask what is on everyone’s mind… What are you wearing?”

Joe: “I have on an green on green striped tuxedo by Ralph Lauren purple label. Side Table drawer is wearing a runner from Isaac Mizrahi for Target and a vintage Tiffany lamp.”

June: “Well she is truly glowing. Teehee.  Let me ask you Joe, is your acceptance speech written in your handy dandy notebook?”

Joe: “It actually is, and the notebook was encrusted by Judith Leiber to look like a handbag.”

June: “Fabulous may I see it? I see a crying boy in a monochromatic shirt, a can of gasoline, and a pack of matches. Hmm, these clues can be so hard to decipher. Leo back to you”

Leo: “Well it looks like another banner year for the Latinos. Regretfully, Handy Manny will not be able to make it due to a citizenship issue however, he did build the stage. Dora is up for best actress in a Series Over-Using the Word “Aaabre”. She appears to be solomente. This is a smart call after last year’s awkward celebratory french kiss with her cousin Diego and that highly disturbing make-out session with her pet monkey, Boots. June do you have any celebs over there?”

June: “Yes, I am watching the Mystery Mobile pull up, and what an entrance! Shaggy, Scooby and what looks like the 1976 Harlem Globetrotters have appeared like magic out of a huge puff of smoke. They seem to be heading this way however, it may take some time as there legs are spinning, but they are actually not moving…Ah, welcome fellas today must be very exciting.”

Scooby: “Reah, reah, rexciting.”

Shaggy: “Hey, like do you have any snacks, we’ve like got the munchies.”

Scooby: “Reah, runchies.”

June: “I actually do not, try the E! booth they don’t pay that vampire Seacrest the big bucks for nothin’. Hey Leo, getta load of that clown walking down the carpet.”

Leo: “Yes, June there’s JoJo and right behind her are the Disney princesses, who as you probably heard spearheaded a recent movement forcing cartoonists to draw underwear on all female characters. This of course is in response to circulating internet pictures of a fully plucked Daisy Duck exiting a limo on her way to Minnie Mouse’s “2 Weeks Jack Free” celebration… Monterey Jack, that is. Let’s ponder that while I send it back to June and the cast of Rugrats.”

June: “Hi, Tommy and Angelina Pickles, your show is up for it’s holiday special “Santa Woks” is that a cooking show?”

Tommy: “No, I have a wittle twouble tawking… I’m 1.”

June: “I see, well as you probably know you are one of the only Jewish cartoon families ever drawn aside from the short lived series “Moisha and the Shiksa.” And here you are nominated for a Christmas special. Angelica, don’t you feel it’s your responsibility to be role models to young Jewish children and to break stereotypes?”

Angelica: “We took our image very seriously as we calculated the estimated earnings of ‘Santa Woks’ vs. our original script ‘2000 years of Bondage.’ Which by the way we are producing, but in another film genre. We just signed Ron Jeremy on to play Moses’s staff”

June: “Well I’m sure Quincy will want to check that out. Leo back to you.”

Leo: “Everyone is still waiting to see if Barney will walk the red carpet. He has been rather elusive after rare footage was released on YouTube of him purveying fire whiskey to minors and singing “I love you, you love me” to Callou, Little Bear, and Oswald during a raucous sleepover. This ended in the wee hours of the morning after they allegedly took turns riding Thomas the Train.”

“Well that’s our time…Enjoy the show! Leo OUT!”

I’m not gonna name names, as I would certainly be one of them, but there are distinct qualities that describe most Facebookers.

The Over Sharer -This person seems to think that a trip to the store, a traffic jam, or the weather is worth repeating. They give updates like a minute to minute log. “Sitting in traffic.” “When will it stop raining?” “Just left SB, grande cap, mmmmm.” The Over Sharer is also the most enabled of all personalities. Other Over Sharers are constantly responding to their minute to minutes with fascinating epiphanies like “LOL” or “Rain makes me sleepy” or “Love Starbucks J” (Yes, let’s not forget the smileys, winkeys, and frowneys.)

The Workout Addict and the Closet Alcoholic -These people are actually the same, personality-wise. They feel the need to tell you what they’re drinkin’ or what they’re doin’ in the gym… and the stats. I think they’re both sending signals that require intervention. “20 mile jog, 500 sit-ups and feelin’ it.” “5 mojitos, ahhh” Not only do they flaunt the accomplishments of their pastimes, they like to question their friends as to whether or not to do it. “Do I climb a mountain, or go to the 10:15 spin?” “Drinks with the boys at Lucky’s, or sit on the couch with a cold one?”

The Just “is” – At first I thought these people were publishing this status by accident, but then I realized certain people do it more than others. Either they have sausage fingers and can’t work the keyboard or they just “are.” What does that mean? Is that a call for sympathy a cry for help? A Buddhist feeling of zen? You people are too profound for me. ):

The Gibbrisher -Everyone knows a Gibbrisher. This person speaks in code. Code that at least one friend understands, while the other 500 hundred friends are wondering what the hell, “is so $ due MJ explosion!” means? LMAO

The TMIer -This person is like the Over Sharer in that they have too much time, but takes it one step further by including info about last night’s sex, a bout of diarrhea, or an overly itchy rash. Anytime you talk about your own genitals in any fashion, you fall into this category, BEWARE. TMI

The Self Promoter -Don’t waste your time thinking, “Oh, the irony,” I know this is me. This person thinks that their business is of the utmost importance, TO YOU. They don’t want you to miss a single sale, review, TV spot, story, or promo. They ask that you join the 50 fan clubs, groups, and subscription sites that they have spent valuable work time setting up. Don’t think we, I mean they don’t check to see if you join every one of those clubs and sites! IMHO

Honorable mention: The Quoter and The Lyricist.

BTW-There will be a sequel. I would love to hear about your experiences with these personalities and the other personalities you have encountered.

OMG I almost forgot please join my fan page on FB , seriously!

For notifications of new posts, enter your email address:

Rss

Follow me on Twitter

I am now freelancing for iVillage, which is an amazing site for women.  They cover enough issues to give me work and let me keep the humor in my essays.  Those pieces will not be printed on my site as it is against my contract.  I will give you the links as I get them and I am so happy to share the news with you all.  The first article is

Do You Have a Case of Nanny Envy? I hope you read it, tweet it, FB it, email it, and continue to enjoy me here at Suburban Jungle!

Thanks for your unwavering support!

J from the B

PS- if you haven’t read iCan’t iStand the iApple Store, do so.  It set new records on my site!!!

Today I took my first trip to the Apple store. Oh, the Apple store. Like it’s namesake in the Garden of Eden, or in the hands of Snow White’s evil stepmother, it was so inviting and enticing. There it was, in all of its overcrowded, minimalistic splendor.

People were taking courses on their iMacs, downloading apps on their iPhones, and buying $500 earbuds for their iPods. They were opening their iWallets and paying an iFortune for their iWare. The phrase, “there’s an app for that” echoed softly throughout the store. I was unable to find the source of this subliminal whisper, though I know there was probably an app that could help me. I walked toward the Genius Bar, aka customer service for Apple users, and was helped by quite the iLoser.

“iHello Ma’am, how can iHelp you?” The i’s were silent, but I could tell they were there.

“I have a problem with two of my iPods. One has a picture of an animated iPod on it, which appears to be deceased.” I do not lie. Apparently, when your iPod’s hard drive is corrupt, most likely from cavorting with a PC, a cartoon iPod man appears on the screen with a frown and x’s for eyes. Even in death there is some cute gimmick. PC never cutely croaks, it just “crashes,” demanding hours of conversation with India. I actually felt somber looking into iPod’s lifeless eyes, like I should say a little something before recycling it.

“My other iPod only charges on docks like my iHome, and my iBose, but not my iUSB, or my iCar Adapter, or our iDogs or any of the other iParaphenalia I have spent my hard earned cash on.

“Well, your iPod sounds fickle,” said iFreud, explaining it in a way that would suggest my iPod’s problem was more personal than technical. “Do you guys have an appointment?” he asked.

“Guys?” I said, looking around for someone that must have been hovering over my shoulder.

“You and your iPod,” he said, as if I had rudely discounted my iPod’s feelings.

“Well, being that my iPod is fickle, it’s no surprise that he is also extremely picky about who we make our appointments with.”

“Just fill in this form,” he said, pointing to the screen. “Ummm, I see we have an appointment available next week.”

“I’m sorry, did you say next week? You can’t see my iPod till next week? We don’t live nearby and…wait, what’s that iPod? Oh, right. Listen, I don’t want to offend you, iPlato, but iPod is iPissed.”

“Well, we have two convenient locations to accommodate you. Just fill in a time that works, and I’m sure a Genius here at the bar will be happy to assist,” he said, respecting iPod’s space, and also looking at me as if I were insane.

“iPod, you what? You don’t think he should be allowed in the Genius Bar? No, iPod I will not ask iDork his iQ.”

“You’re a PC aren’t you?” the iTwerp asked me, with a derogatory tone as if it were a racial slur. If I were a Mac I would obviously appreciate the simplicity of the system and the ease of making an appointment.

“Yes, I am.” I said proudly. “Why, are you going to try and convert me?”

“Nope, there’s an app for that!”

For notifications of new posts, enter your email address:

There are certain phrases that you imagine hearing, years before they may ever be spoken. As an adolescent, you dream of those three little words “I Love You,” being said with something other than a familial connotation. You envision the intoxicating “I do,” and long for the significant, “Congratulations, it’s a (put sex here).”

The phrase I heard today didn’t represent one of these reveries. Instead, I got the ever-dreaded question “Mommy, where do babies come from?” and more specifically, “How do they get out?” This is not the first time I’ve been asked this question, but it’s the first time I considered answering it honestly.

I’ve given quite a few explanations over the years: The stork, the basket on the doorstep, “out of mommy’s bellybutton.” I’ve even given the seldom used, “We found you in a trashcan,” explanation. An excuse used by my own dad, who on too many occasions told the tale of how they first heard my echoing cry, and then debated whether or not to take me out.

How is this happening? Just last week I reiterated, with strong conviction, the existence of the Tooth Fairy, and now I’m about to share the reality of how one enters the world? While I looked around the crowded diner for signs of eavesdropping, Jake said, “Do they come out of your belly?”

“They can.” I said, hedging.

“So they have to cut your belly open and take the baby out?”

“They can.” Still hedging.

“How do they put your belly back together?”

“Stitches,” I replied, knowing this would not be the end.

“RYAN… RYAAAAN!” Jake yelled to his sister, “You’re gonna have surgery, ‘cause you’re a girl and girls grow babies.”

Ryan, who was previously occupied with the jelly packet mountain she was building, looked up in horror.

“Whaaat, Jake??” She cried and looked to me for some explanation.

“No Ryan, go back to your jelly.” I said soothingly, redirecting her. “Jake, there’s another way,” I whispered, bracing myself for the look I was about to see. “Babies can also come out of a Mommy’s vagina.”

No amount of bracing could have prepared me for the grossed-out, confused, gape- mouthed, unblinking eyes that now stared at me.

“NUH-UH!” He said in horrified denial, as if I was saying it to be funny. Like telling him if he eats too many watermelon seeds, he’ll grow a watermelon vine in his belly.

“It’s true.”

“WHAAAT, babies come out your VAGINA??”

The families that hadn’t been paying attention to us before quickly turned, as “vagina” is not the usual morning conversation fare.

“Shhh, Jake we can’t scream the word vagina in public,” I whispered thinking, this wouldn’t be the first time (see the “Let’s Name Our Dog Butt Munch” article).

“Well, I think it’s better to cut open your belly.”

“Why?”

“If it comes out of your vagina, the baby would just drop in the toilet. Yuck!”

Not where I thought this conversation would go, but before I knew it, I was explaining stirrups and spreading your legs for the Doctor.

Jake took this in with unwavering interest. I felt like I could actually see the mechanics of his mind, like watching the inner workings of a clock. Just when I thought he had digested it all he said, “How do they grow inside you?”

No way am I going there, not until he finds the Tooth Fairy utterly ridiculous. “Eggs,” I said, “Eat your eggs.”

I was quoted in Redbook magazine August, p.27 in response to the Question:  Is it ever appropriate to get “Hot and Heavy” when you’re a houseguest?

My response, “It’s always appropriate to get hot and heavy, unless you are staying with your parents.  Then it’s only appropriate to get warm and light.“

Sage advice, sage advice.

IF YOU ARE IN THE SOUTH FLORIDA AREA THURSDAY 7/23, CBS4 WILL BE RUNNING MY SEGMENT SOMETIME BETWEEN 5 AND 6:30!!!!! TIVO OR WATCH!

Last week I received a call about doing a segment for CBS4 Miami as an “Expert Mom.” It’s ironic because I am totally an expert at the mom thing, as most of you know. It’s about time the media noticed. I was told the interview needed to be soon, so we agreed on Friday. On Thursday at noon I received a call from the reporter asking, “Can I come in an hour? This is the only time I am available.”

Well, I was still in sweaty workout clothes and hadn’t had a bite to eat. Oh, and I was also researching the subject of the interview. I said, “Fine, but hair and make-up will have to take precedence. “ He agreed, and that’s when I knew we’d be friends. I jumped in the shower and recited whatever info I could remember. I then grabbed a bowl of cereal and a serving ladel.  You get bigger bites that way.  I shoveled spoonfuls in with one hand, blew my hair dry with my second hand, and put on make-up with my third. Yes, I have three hands but that is a whole other blog.

The subject of the interview was, “What can moms do with their kids when they are not in camp?” The reporter questioned me about my blog, “Oh, is that what you write about? Places to take the kids? Crafts you can do at home?” I said, “No, I write about what happens when you do those things and they go horribly wrong.”

He really had no response and may have searched for a door, but all exits were barricaded. I would not lose the interview.  Aside from some dramatic sweeping hand gestures and goofy comments in a fake accent, I think the interview went famously. In the end, I’ll look like a certified expert or a certifiable lunatic.  it’s all in the editing.

By the way, look at my armpits for a tuft of white tissue. Yes, when I was blow drying my hair and sweating I shoved tissues in to make sure I didn’t have marks on my dress. Apparently I forgot to take them out… Good times, good times.

If you are not in South Florida, I will post a link… Maybe.

PS I was asked back to do another segment on back to school bargains!!!

Dear Mickey:

Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think we need to take a break. Sure, I love the way you and your friends with oversized heads eat breakfast with my family and entertain us with your theme parks, but you ask for so much in return.

I pay a near fortune to see you, then you woo my daughter into expensive princess attire and offer pricey oversized turkey legs, costly Pooh shaped popsicles, and expensive embroidered hats with ears… that don’t really translate in the real world. I’m sorry, that sounded like I was blaming you for the economy. I’m sure you and Minnie have a ton of Disney stock options, so I know you’re feelin’ it as well.

According to the latest statistics, me and 1/3 of other American families are cancelling trips this summer and taking a “stay-cation” instead. I know you’re angry. The last time you waved at me and said, “See ya real soon,” you thought it would be sooner. I’m thankful you only have 4 fingers, because I know what you’d be waving at me now.

This summer, like most Americans, I will be visiting (Chez Pa Tio). I will take a portion of the money I’m saving and recreate much of the awe and wonder you provide, without ever leaving town.

I will save $60 on those mandatory Mickey mist sprayers, and have my family stand in the general vicinity of wet neighborhood dogs when they shake. Each night my husband and I will wrap ourselves in twinkle lights, and then we’ll run by the kids really fast and call it Space Mountain. Then we’ll slow down and call it the Light Parade. Who knows, we could wear them to bed and call it Pleasure Island.

I will cook pancakes in your likeness. Then I’ll have my neighbor with an abnormally large head come over and eat them with us. I’m sure my family will be none the wiser, as his head is really big. Have a great summer now, ya hear.

Sincerely,

Jenny from the Blog

This was written for the new site saleHOP.com.  I am now the feature writer for this awesome site.  Wahoo!  Here is a little info on it so you can be one of the first “in the know.”

SaleHOP is an online sale listing service for:
PEOPLE who host garage sales, yard sales, moving sales, estate sales, and more.
SMALL RETAIL STORES who seek a more effective way to attract new shoppers.
LOCAL EVENTS who want a cost effective way to promote their sale online.
BARGAIN HUNTERS looking for ways of saving time and money

They provide bargain hunters with a better way to find items they need at any sale or event occurring in their local area; while providing sellers an affordable and effective way to attract shoppers; in a comprehensive and feature rich website that provides a safe and fun environment.

CHECK THEM OUT

This one is tough for me to write. While finding the irony in the situation, the neurotic part of me still gets a pit thinking about it. My children had a sleep over at my Father and Step Mother’s house this weekend. Like any overly anxious mom, I am not capable of total relaxation when they are away because I am unapprised of their minute to minute safety status and whereabouts.

To make matters worse a sleepover at their house is like a carnival. They go from arcades to movies to the beach to the boat to Dunkin’ Donuts often in a 4hr span. Getting in touch with them in near impossible and guessing which activity they are doing, even harder. What if my parents make a bad decision? What if they feed them food that is not cut small enough or let them ride the escalator at the mall alone…in their flip-flops!? What if they don’t account for the beach’s undertow? What if they lose them, step on them, dehydrate them, don’t apply enough sunblock?! These types of things worry me, actually all types of things worry me, down to the pillow placement on their beds and if my son, who sleeps in my antiquated brass bed, will get a limb or worse, his head stuck in the unregulation sized slats.

That being said, I had a lovely dinner with my husband and a glass of champagne, or two, or a bottle lessens the concerns. The next day we went to pick up the kids and stayed for a BBQ. It was at said BBQ that the offense occurred. We were having desert, fresh fruit and Redi whip. Like butter, cheese or chocolate, whipped cream makes anything edible. My children, having control of the whipped cream can, joyfully and excessively sprayed it in heaping mounds, masking the fruit below. Squirt, squirt…air.

My step mother grabbed the can walked towards the trash then stopped as if a light bulb went off above her head. “Who wants to suck out the air and talk funny?” she said with the enthusiasm of an eight year old.

“Um the preteens that hang out by the dumpsters in the grocery store parking lots, maybe.”

“Huh?”

“That’s not helium in there, that’s a whippet.”

Whippet: Slang term for the inhalant drug “Nitrous Oxide.” Use causes a momentary lightheadedness due to a depletion of oxygen to the brain. In worst cases can lead to brain damage, and SSD (Sudden Sniffing Death). People also risk falling and getting a concussion.

“I’ve never done it, I just remember hearing something about it.”

“I remember hearing something about hypodermic needles on the beach, but I’m not going to play Doctor with them.”

I was trying to play it off, but my heart was pounding. In my minimal experience with whippets, I remember falling on my dorm room bed, giggling and most likely killing enough brain cells to forget the SAT words I had spent the previous year trying so desperately to drill into my head.

I have no idea what that rush would do to a 4 and 7 year old, and THANK G-D no one was finding out! Ahhh, something new to add to the list… fear of grandparents offering my children recreational drugs. A new concern, a fear I would have never imagined and I imagine some far fetched scenarios.

In all seriousness, I will use this as a warning. Take a moment to make sure your parents know that sucking the air out of whipped cream cans, computer dusting cans (Dusting), and air-horns is very dangerous and should never be used as a game. It seems so obvious to us, but intelligent people who were not teenagers beyond the 80’s may have no idea.