Life is funny, right? Like, how does it work that my kids get older and I get younger? Yes, I’m cute but totally fucking delusional.
My middle son turned 22-years-old a few days ago (and I’m only 26… see? Weird, right?) and we wanted to totally embarrass him on his special day. How do you do that? You take him out to Montana’s restaurant! The employees like to sing to you and clap their hands and this? is something 22-year-olds hate. But? He got a free cookie. So, worth it.
Below, son is smiling but dying inside. The middle kid is my youngest son – yes, his hair is LONG. He’s a future rock star. And the girl on the end, is my 9-year-old daughter, who thinks she’s 23. Missing, is my oldest son. He’s busy being a grown-up(ish).
It was a nice dinner… and I think the waiter wanted to hang with us. I mean, yeah, of course, because we brings the awesome, but dude, get some friends.
Son loves having his photo taken. Evident.
Didn’t get drunk at Montanas (although photo evidence shows otherwise). May or may not have gotten drunk at a party the night before. He admits to nothing.
He said he’s gonna rock 22. I rocked 22 when I was 22… just four years ago. *cough*
Damn straight, my kids know how to bring da cheese. They learned it from the master:
We gifted son with iTunes card, an American Express card and a grocery store card. All as good as cash, and that makes son happysauce.
Note: Giving your kids what they want will ensure they will not put you in a home years down the road. I’m always thinking ahead. Just sayin’.
I love Chenille yarn. It’s so soft and warm. I have a couple of sweaters made with it and I love them. And what’s nicer than cuddling up on the couch, covered with a Chenille blanket? OK, maybe eating chocolate and drinking from a giant bottle of vodka while cuddling with said Chenille yarn blanket, but you get my drift.
So, I have this red blanket made with Chenille yarn. It’s such a pretty red, so rich, so vibrant and the blanket is so warm. Obviously, sometimes, a blanket needs to be washed. And red Chenille yarn blanket is no exception. The first three times it was washed, nothing happened. I put it in the washer on the gentle cycle and dried it in the dryer on a low setting. That’s what the care instructions said to do. And I’m all about following the care instructions. DON’T DEVIATE FROM THE CARE INSTRUCTIONS. I followed the rules dammit. To a ‘T’. And yet? Something evil happened on washing number four.
Who knew I’d be sobbing because red Chenille yarn blanket hurt me? Destroyed me. Seriously. I have no forgiveness for it. Or should I blame the washer? The dryer? My neighbor?
I put blanket in the washer so it would be all clean and smell nice. I followed those care instructions like a good laundry girl and when it was done, lovingly took it from the washer and put it in the dryer. Set it to dry on low AS PER THE CARE INSTRUCTIONS. Uh huh.
This is what came out:
My blanket is no longer a blanket. It’s a pile of fuzzy red, uh, fuzz. What the hell is that? How does a blanket, which was completely intact when it was put in the washer and then the dryer, come out looking like it went through a meat grinder? ‘Splain this to me. I no longer have a red Chenille yarn blanket. Well, technically I do, but I’m guessing it won’t do a very good job of keeping me warm. At all.
I’m now covering up with an old Blue’s Clues blanket that belonged to my son when he was little.