Welcome to another Mommy Moment! If you’re not sure what it is, head over and read all about how Mommy Moments at the Monster came to be.
Today, I’m so excited to welcome Deb from San Diego Momma! Deb is mom to two little girls (she calls them Toots and Booger…I’m pretty sure those aren’t their real names!), she’s a blogger, a writer, and she’s funny. You’ll see when you read her Mommy Moment!
Go grab a cup of coffee and a donut, ahem, I mean a low-fat muffin, or depending on the time of the day maybe some wine and chocolate, and sit back and enjoy the story!
The day started quietly enough, which is always a tip-off. With two kids around, silence in my house is something to be feared and loathed.
I’d spent the morning preparing eggs, bacon, pancakes and other breakfast foods designed to assuage my guilt at leaving my family so I could work on a Saturday. After eating, with bellies full and moods bright, my kids hunkered down to a little TV, while I heaved my laptop case over my shoulder, made to leave, and called out to my husband, “Don’t screw anything up!”
He likes when I elevate myself to a higher parenting standard.
I took one last look at Toots and Booger, ages four and six, snuggly on the couch, and thanked God we were all healthy, happy, and relatively unscathed by the vagaries of life.
Smugly, I left for work. Like I said, all was quiet.
And this is where God laughs.
I received the phone call about an hour later. So you know, at least I had sixty stress-free minutes. Sixty minutes of believing all was right in the world and that my kids wouldn’t be too emotionally scarred by my tendency to OCD vacuum every room in the house 86 times a day.
I answered the phone after my husband left two messages. Because here’s a tip: When your husband, the one who you told to “not screw things up” is home with the kids and calls twice, you pick up. So it was on the third attempt to reach me, that I figured it must be important.
“Hello?” I said, not a little irritably.
He spoke in a rush. “People! Sex! On TV! Neighbors! Babysitter!”
Couldn’t this wait?
“What?” I shouted. “The neighbors are having sex with the babysitter?”
I think this was the part where my husband wished he married someone from Mensa.
“No!” he blubberled. “Booger was watching a porno! In the house! On the TV! On the house TV! In this house! OUR house!”
Well this couldn’t be good.
“How did she get a porno on TV?” I understandably questioned. I knew he’d screw things up!
“I think she was trying to get Little Bear On Demand, and things went downhill from there!”
“Hee hee!” I chuckled. “Little Bare. Bare, B-A-R-E, get it?”
And that was probably the part when my husband wished he’d married someone with virtue.
Through more back and forth and yelling and inappropriate joking, it came to light that Booger, my innocent four-year-old, happened upon a lively episode of “Suburban Cougars” as she scrolled through the recorded Little Bear episodes on our television. Somehow, she managed to locate, select, and purchase the porno and proceeded to blithely watch as my husband washed the breakfast dishes in the next room. Even better, she’d chosen the “Play on all TVs” option, so the porno blared from every television that happened to be on in the house, which sadly, is usually every single one of them.
Oh and then! And then, the scheduled babysitter strolled up to our home, knocked on the door, and stood there until my husband finally heard the doorbell (read: washing dishes) and answered said door only to realize his little baby girl was watching eight naked people go at it in a car wash (those crazy suburbs!). Aptly, the babysitter left, never to return, because now we’re the weirdo swinger house on the block.
There’s more! It was a hot day and all the windows were open to let in air. Just the day before, new neighbors moved in next door and given the robust, um, rabble rousing on the TV, surely heard some untoward sounds emanating from our home.
This was decidedly not a quiet day.
After I heard all the horrible details, I hightailed it back home to vacuum my daughter’s brain 86 times and explain to the neighbors and babysitter that we weren’t a porno house. But first, I tried to talk to Booger, who surely was traumatized and destined to be a stripper or hooker due to early onset porn exposure.
“Booger?” I scanned her face for signs of distress.
“Hi mama,” she answered.
So far so good.
“How are you?”
“Fine, but I couldn’t find Little Bear on TV.”
“That’s OK. So…” I paused. I was real good at this damage control business.
“Can I go outside now?” She skipped up from her sitting position.
“Sure honey,” I watched her sweet little baby back as she left.
My husband followed my gaze and asked, “So right. We’re just going to ignore it and pretend it never happened?”
I nodded, “Good plan. And…”
His eyes told me he was preparing for a lecture. “Yes?”
I took a deep breath. “When I say ‘don’t screw things…'”
And that was probably the part when my husband wished he’d married someone who told less obvious jokes.
P.S. The above is all true, except for the part where we ignored it (forever). After much back and forth, my husband and I decided to broach the subject with Booger again, who appeared to be no worse for the wear. Of course, we won’t know for sure until she’s 16 and not a stripper.
Thanks for sharing, Deb! I told you guys she’s funny! I can relate (Hey Mom, skip this paragraph)…my lovely children didn’t find it on TV, they found it in my dresser drawer. In the form of a toy. And that’s all I will say since I’m sure my mom is still reading.
There’s no manual out there for what we do, so sharing stories like this helps us all learn from each other.
Now head over to San Diego Momma and say hello to Deb. If you are a Twitter addict, you can find @sandiegomomma there too, and on facebook as well. And if you are a new follower, make sure to tell her that I sent you!
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