Something is terribly wrong in my household.
Instead of me reprimanding my kids for what they say, they reprimand me. I'm constantly getting, "Mom, you can't mention your love of beer on Facebook. You're a teacher." Really? As if the two aren't part of a symbiotic relationship.
I'm also told not to talk to my kids' friends about my politics. "Please, mom. No lectures about factories in Bangladesh. Just drive us to the mall."
There is no backlash from teens in my fantasy life.
Like the other day. When I was watching a sitcom with all three of them and a character alluded to marijuana brownies. I turned to my 20-year old. "Have you ever had marijuana brownies?"
"Of course not," he replied.
"We'll have to make them for your 21st birthday."
"Mom!" the two oldest yelled, pointing their heads towards their 15-year old sibling.
"What's the big deal? I'm sure he's heard of marijuana brownies." I turned toward Youngest. "Have you heard of marijuana brownies?"
And then I get from Oldest, "It's the beer talking. You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying," I retorted. "I'm saying we'll have marijuana brownies for your 21st birthday. It's much safer than binging on alcohol."
"You won't remember this is the morning," Oldest Son said.
And sure enough, once I woke up I got a "talking to" from Oldest. "Mom, I don't mind you talking about marijuana around me, but you're being a bad role model for Youngest."
I feel rather indignant when people try to edit me, but I had to admit that maybe Oldest Son was right. I had a talk with Youngest.
"You know, last night, what I said about marijuana brownies?"
Well...we can't have them because marijuana is illegal. Now if we lived in Ann Arbor or Boulder Colorado.... Wait. I mean...it's not just that marijuana is illegal...it's a mind-altering substance. And if you were to eat the brownies, you'd be sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Doritos laughing your arse off at Saturday Night Live. Wait. Saturday Night Live isn't that funny any more even with a side of brownies. I mean...you'd be sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Doritos and laughing your arse off at Family Guy. Wait. You already do that. All the time. You see what I mean? We don't need marijuana brownies to have a good time!
I rock sometimes.
Full disclosure: I had to look up the word symbiotic to make sure I was using it correctly. I'm still not sure, but I'm not letting you tell me to replace it.