A True Story......Dedicated To All Of You Who Have Raised Daughters

My Daughter Turns 22........

It all started about a week before the 12th of September (my daughters
birthday). It was late, I think around 10:00 p.m., and really pouring
@ss rain outside. Heather calls me on the phone and say's "Mom, I
need you to bring me your electric skillet, because I'm making
'chicken dinner' and our oven doesn't work" (She and Jeff had just
moved into a house with a couple of their friends.) So I reply
"What's wrong with your legs and your car?" She informs me that Jeff
took the car to work. So off I go, struggling to balance the skillet,
my purse, the truck keys, a huge umbrella, and hoping all of the feral
cats I feed are out of the way and somewhere safe and not under foot
while I dash to the truck. That's how hard it was raining…..I needed
an umbrella to get from the front door of our house, to the truck,
which was parked in our driveway.

I no sooner got into their house, and she has me boning chicken with a
dull knife on a dinner plate, because, a.) she meant to buy
boneless, skinless chicken breasts, b.) it's the best knife they
have, and c.) she can't remember where her cutting board is.

I don't particularly like cutting up raw meat, especially chicken
(gross) and doing it with a dull knife really drags out the process,
but I figured Heather (a selective vegetarian) probably hates it even
worse. So she played with her cats, Soloman and Sheeba, who were both
milling around my legs, hoping for a bite of chicken trimmings while I
did the work. And since the broken oven/skillet borrowing thing is
what created the whole scenario, I decided, while driving home (in the
still pouring rain) that an electric skillet is what she's getting for
her fast approaching birthday.

And she did. Way larger and much nicer than either of my electric
skillets. Heather was thrilled when she opened it, and I thought
'Yep, you know she's all grown up when you give her a kitchen gadget
for her birthday - and she appreciates it'.

About 5 days later, I still had'nt had my electric skillet returned to
me. Heather forgot to bring it with her when she came over to our
house to open her gifts, but informed me that I could pick it up the
following Saturday night, because Jeff and their roommates were
having a birthday BBQ for her at their house, and Michael and I were
invited. Yay. So here comes Saturday night, and off we go!

We took her a beautiful dozen of enormous, pink, long stemmed
Ecuadorian roses, I made a pretty yummy looking strawberry cheesecake
for her, and we had 10 cans of silly string we kept stashed in the
truck. We no sooner get inside their house, and she puts me to work.
First, she roped me into taking care of the roses, cutting and
trimming each one, and arranging them all in a vase, because (in her
very words) "she had guests she needed to mingle with". And as I
watched her sashay off, I thought to myself 'what the hell are we'? I
hadn't seen any of those guests lavish her with a dozen roses or a
homemade strawberry cheese cake. And went on to think 'Okay little
missy, you just wait……' as thoughts of all that silly string waiting
in the truck sprang into my mind.

Now, I'm thinking Heather must have some sort of internal buzzer that
goes off (much to her advantage) because the very second I finished
with the roses, here she comes……..and now, she's got me making
hamburger patties. By this time, people are starting to pour in.
Seems her birthday BBQ is actually a birthday BBQ, kegger (like 3 of
them), with two huge trays of jello shots in the fridge, and no where
left to park for two streets over. And every new kid who shows up,
Heather drags into the kitchen to meet me. Oh well! They would each
end up there anyway at some time to load up on jello shots, and
really, they weren't too hard to work around. Heather had Soloman and
Sheeba locked safely in her room, so no felines were winding
themselves around my legs or napping on my feet, however, some counter
space would have been nice.

So, all this fun, and no one has yet to offer me a beer. The kids
forgot to buy paper plates, and they were out of wax paper and clear
wrap, as well as aluminum foil, so I'm pounding out burger patties and
sticking them between sandwich baggies, then finally I reached the end
of that 10lb. Hamburger roll and Heather's buzzer goes off again.

"Mom……" she says so sweetly as she enters the kitchen, "would you mind
cutting up the condiments for the burgers?" And I go "I don't know,
do I have to use the same dull knife I cut the chicken up with the
other night?" Silly question….as I remembered suddenly that was their
best knife, then went on to think that if I were Heather, I would use
some of that money I taped to one of her birthday gifts before
wrapping it, to buy a real kitchen knife. But then reality hit me,
and I thought 'now why would she spend money on a kitchen knife when
she could, would, and probably already had spent the money on new
clothes that she'll just throw on her bedroom floor?' Besides, I'm
the only one who uses a knife in her kitchen, which I decided was
probably a good thing right at that time, because Heather was half
looped, and it was no doubt in everyone's best interest that she not
be wielding a knife, dull or otherwise.

Now, the whole time I was standing there in the kitchen working harder
than I ever remember working in my own kitchen, I kept seeing Jeff
dashing about here and there, and started to wonder 'who's out on the
patio manning the grill?' and decided to go take a peek. Sure
enough……there's my Michael, sweating over the hot coals. Hmmmm…….

So, I'm back in the kitchen working that dull @ss knife on those
tomatoes and pickles, surrounded by tall, hungry, half drunk young
fellows who decided enough with the waiting for food, and started
grabbing for condiments as I cut them, and asking me "why aren't there
any paper plates?" (As if I we're the one personally responsible for
that screw-up.) Then here comes Jeff with an empty platter. He
reaches into the refrigerator and magically produces another 10lb.
meat roll. "We need more burgers!" he says frantically! And with a
hint of desperation in his voice asks me "would you mind?", then gives
me a big hug as he hands me the package of burger. I told him I
didn't mind, and added "but personally, if it were my party, I'd be
pushing the hot dogs". "That's right!" he exclaims "we have hot
dogs!", and as he spoke……like 'poetry in motion', he made one fluid
movement and Viola ! ! ! out of the fridge comes this industrial sized
package of weenies. And as he skips off in the direction of the
patio, happy as a kid with a new toy, he shouts back at me "But we
still need more burgers, okay?"

Then, in comes this girl named Stephanie with a small package of
chicken breasts she brought to throw on the grill (apparently another
selective vegetarian). She stands out in my mind - but not because of
the three one inch long spikes that stood straight out from where they
were embedded in her flesh just below her bottom lip (which was a mere
fraction of the piercings and tattoos she sported). But instead,
because she didn't know you were supposed to wash chicken, and trim
off any unidentifiables before cooking it, and that whole process
starts by first thoroughly washing out the kitchen sink. So, now I'm
feeling like anything but a guest, with 'unpaid Home Ec. Teacher' at
the top of the list. Plus, my feet are starting to hurt, and I
figured Michael probably felt about the same way, so I went and found
him and said "lets get the hell out of here".

So there it is. I'm going to think long and hard before attending
another one of Heather's parties. At the very least, I'll have to
make sure I get plenty of rest the night before. Oh yea, and try to
remember to bring a sharp knife with me next time.

And yes…..Michael, myself, and 8 of her friends (who were quick enough
to grab a can) completely buried Heather's butt in silly string before
we made our departure. That almost made it all worth while, watching
her happily greet even more guests, in all her purple, yellow, green,
blue, and pink glory, as we drove away from the house.

On Sep 14, 12:39 pm, bonbon wrote:
My Daughter Turns 22........

It all started about a week before the 12th of September (my daughters
birthday). It was late, I think around 10:00 p.m., and really pouring
@ss rain outside. Heather calls me on the phone and say's "Mom, I
need you to bring me your electric skillet, because I'm making
'chicken dinner' and our oven doesn't work" (She and Jeff had just
moved into a house with a couple of their friends.) So I reply
"What's wrong with your legs and your car?" She informs me that Jeff
took the car to work. So off I go, struggling to balance the skillet,
my purse, the truck keys, a huge umbrella, and hoping all of the feral
cats I feed are out of the way and somewhere safe and not under foot
while I dash to the truck. That's how hard it was raining.....I needed
an umbrella to get from the front door of our house, to the truck,
which was parked in our driveway.

I no sooner got into their house, and she has me boning chicken with a
dull knife on a dinner plate, because, a.) she meant to buy
boneless, skinless chicken breasts, b.) it's the best knife they
have, and c.) she can't remember where her cutting board is.

I don't particularly like cutting up raw meat, especially chicken
(gross) and doing it with a dull knife really drags out the process,
but I figured Heather (a selective vegetarian) probably hates it even
worse. So she played with her cats, Soloman and Sheeba, who were both
milling around my legs, hoping for a bite of chicken trimmings while I
did the work. And since the broken oven/skillet borrowing thing is
what created the whole scenario, I decided, while driving home (in the
still pouring rain) that an electric skillet is what she's getting for
her fast approaching birthday.

And she did. Way larger and much nicer than either of my electric
skillets. Heather was thrilled when she opened it, and I thought
'Yep, you know she's all grown up when you give her a kitchen gadget
for her birthday - and she appreciates it'.

About 5 days later, I still had'nt had my electric skillet returned to
me. Heather forgot to bring it with her when she came over to our
house to open her gifts, but informed me that I could pick it up the
following Saturday night, because Jeff and their roommates were
having a birthday BBQ for her at their house, and Michael and I were
invited. Yay. So here comes Saturday night, and off we go!

We took her a beautiful dozen of enormous, pink, long stemmed
Ecuadorian roses, I made a pretty yummy looking strawberry cheesecake
for her, and we had 10 cans of silly string we kept stashed in the
truck. We no sooner get inside their house, and she puts me to work.
First, she roped me into taking care of the roses, cutting and
trimming each one, and arranging them all in a vase, because (in her
very words) "she had guests she needed to mingle with". And as I
watched her sashay off, I thought to myself 'what the hell are we'? I
hadn't seen any of those guests lavish her with a dozen roses or a
homemade strawberry cheese cake. And went on to think 'Okay little
missy, you just wait......' as thoughts of all that silly string waiting
in the truck sprang into my mind.

Now, I'm thinking Heather must have some sort of internal buzzer that
goes off (much to her advantage) because the very second I finished
with the roses, here she comes........and now, she's got me making
hamburger patties. By this time, people are starting to pour in.
Seems her birthday BBQ is actually a birthday BBQ, kegger (like 3 of
them), with two huge trays of jello shots in the fridge, and no where
left to park for two streets over. And every new kid who shows up,
Heather drags into the kitchen to meet me. Oh well! They would each
end up there anyway at some time to load up on jello shots, and
really, they weren't too hard to work around. Heather had Soloman and
Sheeba locked safely in her room, so no felines were winding
themselves around my legs or napping on my feet, however, some counter
space would have been nice.

So, all this fun, and no one has yet to offer me a beer. The kids
forgot to buy paper plates, and they were out of wax paper and clear
wrap, as well as aluminum foil, so I'm pounding out burger patties and
sticking them between sandwich baggies, then finally I reached the end
of that 10lb. Hamburger roll and Heather's buzzer goes off again.

"Mom......" she says so sweetly as she enters the kitchen, "would you mind
cutting up the condiments for the burgers?" And I go "I don't know,
do I have to use the same dull knife I cut the chicken up with the
other night?" Silly question....as I remembered suddenly that was their
best knife, then went on to think that if I were Heather, I would use
some of that money I taped to one of her birthday gifts before
wrapping it, to buy a real kitchen knife. But then reality hit me,
and I thought 'now why would she spend money on a kitchen knife when
she could, would, and probably already had spent the money on new
clothes that she'll just throw on her bedroom floor?' Besides, I'm
the only one who uses a knife in her kitchen, which I decided was
probably a good thing right at that time, because Heather was half
looped, and it was no doubt in everyone's best interest that she not
be wielding a knife, dull or otherwise.

Now, the whole time I was standing there in the kitchen working harder
than I ever remember working in my own kitchen, I kept seeing Jeff
dashing about here and there, and started to wonder 'who's out on the
patio manning the grill?' and decided to go take a peek. Sure
enough......there's my Michael, sweating over the hot coals. Hmmmm.......

So, I'm back in the kitchen working that dull @ss knife on those
tomatoes and pickles, surrounded by tall, hungry, half drunk young
fellows who decided enough with the waiting for food, and started
grabbing for condiments as I cut them, and asking me "why aren't there
any paper plates?" (As if I we're the one personally responsible for
that screw-up.) Then here comes Jeff with an empty platter. He
reaches into the refrigerator and magically produces another 10lb.
meat roll. "We need more burgers!" he says frantically! And with a
hint of desperation in his voice asks me "would you mind?", then gives
me a big hug as he hands me the package of burger. I told him I
didn't mind, and added "but personally, if it were my party, I'd be
pushing the hot dogs". "That's right!" he exclaims "we have hot
dogs!", and as he spoke......like 'poetry in motion', he made one fluid
movement and Viola ! ! ! out of the fridge comes this industrial sized
package of weenies. And as he skips off in the direction of the
patio, happy as a kid with a new toy, he shouts back at me "But we
still need more burgers, okay?"

Then, in comes this girl named Stephanie with a small package of
chicken breasts she brought to throw on the grill (apparently another
selective vegetarian). She stands out in my mind - but not because of
the three one inch long spikes that stood straight out from where they
were embedded in her flesh just below her bottom lip (which was a mere
fraction of the piercings and tattoos she sported). But instead,
because she didn't know you were supposed to wash chicken, and trim
off any unidentifiables before cooking it, and that whole process
starts by first thoroughly washing out the kitchen sink. So, now I'm
feeling like anything but a guest, with 'unpaid Home Ec. Teacher' at
the top of the list. Plus, my feet are starting to hurt, and I
figured Michael probably felt about the same way, so I went and found
him and said "lets get the hell out of here".

So there it is. I'm going to think long and hard before attending
another one of Heather's parties. At the very least, I'll have to
make sure I get plenty of rest the night before. Oh yea, and try to
remember to bring a sharp knife with me next time.

And yes.....Michael, myself, and 8 of her friends (who were quick enough
to grab a can) completely buried Heather's butt in silly string before
we made our departure. That almost made it all worth while, watching
her happily greet even more guests, in all her purple, yellow, green,
blue, and pink glory, as we drove away from the house.

Awww! Cute story. Give her about 8 more years. My daughter was just
like her,
now she is 30. Now she thinks *I* am the one who is flighty and
irresponsible LOL.
Seriously. The lines are getting fuzzy around here. She is the one
telling me what I
should and should not do (she is a cardiac RN)...and *I* am the one
bossing my
father around and telling *him* what to do. It's just plain weird.

Sherry

bonbon wrote:
So there it is. I'm going to think long and hard before attending
another one of Heather's parties. At the very least, I'll have to
make sure I get plenty of rest the night before. Oh yea, and try to
remember to bring a sharp knife with me next time.

And yes…..Michael, myself, and 8 of her friends (who were quick enough
to grab a can) completely buried Heather's butt in silly string before
we made our departure. That almost made it all worth while, watching
her happily greet even more guests, in all her purple, yellow, green,
blue, and pink glory, as we drove away from the house.

I haven't raised any children, but I thoroughly enjoyed your account.
Everyone gets "recruited" from time to time at parties, but I've never
been the only one working in the kitchen, and not for the entire
evening.

Love the story. Wouldn't happen to me. At my daughters parties, I go along
because her dad is liable to need a ride home. I usually watch TV and play
with her cats.

Jo
"bonbon" wrote in message
...
My Daughter Turns 22........

It all started about a week before the 12th of September (my daughters
birthday). It was late, I think around 10:00 p.m., and really pouring
@ss rain outside. Heather calls me on the phone and say's "Mom, I
need you to bring me your electric skillet, because I'm making
'chicken dinner' and our oven doesn't work" (She and Jeff had just
moved into a house with a couple of their friends.) So I reply
"What's wrong with your legs and your car?" She informs me that Jeff
took the car to work. So off I go, struggling to balance the skillet,
my purse, the truck keys, a huge umbrella, and hoping all of the feral
cats I feed are out of the way and somewhere safe and not under foot
while I dash to the truck. That's how hard it was raining...I needed
an umbrella to get from the front door of our house, to the truck,
which was parked in our driveway.

I no sooner got into their house, and she has me boning chicken with a
dull knife on a dinner plate, because, a.) she meant to buy
boneless, skinless chicken breasts, b.) it's the best knife they
have, and c.) she can't remember where her cutting board is.

I don't particularly like cutting up raw meat, especially chicken
(gross) and doing it with a dull knife really drags out the process,
but I figured Heather (a selective vegetarian) probably hates it even
worse. So she played with her cats, Soloman and Sheeba, who were both
milling around my legs, hoping for a bite of chicken trimmings while I
did the work. And since the broken oven/skillet borrowing thing is
what created the whole scenario, I decided, while driving home (in the
still pouring rain) that an electric skillet is what she's getting for
her fast approaching birthday.

And she did. Way larger and much nicer than either of my electric
skillets. Heather was thrilled when she opened it, and I thought
'Yep, you know she's all grown up when you give her a kitchen gadget
for her birthday - and she appreciates it'.

About 5 days later, I still had'nt had my electric skillet returned to
me. Heather forgot to bring it with her when she came over to our
house to open her gifts, but informed me that I could pick it up the
following Saturday night, because Jeff and their roommates were
having a birthday BBQ for her at their house, and Michael and I were
invited. Yay. So here comes Saturday night, and off we go!

We took her a beautiful dozen of enormous, pink, long stemmed
Ecuadorian roses, I made a pretty yummy looking strawberry cheesecake
for her, and we had 10 cans of silly string we kept stashed in the
truck. We no sooner get inside their house, and she puts me to work.
First, she roped me into taking care of the roses, cutting and
trimming each one, and arranging them all in a vase, because (in her
very words) "she had guests she needed to mingle with". And as I
watched her sashay off, I thought to myself 'what the hell are we'? I
hadn't seen any of those guests lavish her with a dozen roses or a
homemade strawberry cheese cake. And went on to think 'Okay little
missy, you just wait..' as thoughts of all that silly string waiting
in the truck sprang into my mind.

Now, I'm thinking Heather must have some sort of internal buzzer that
goes off (much to her advantage) because the very second I finished
with the roses, here she comes....and now, she's got me making
hamburger patties. By this time, people are starting to pour in.
Seems her birthday BBQ is actually a birthday BBQ, kegger (like 3 of
them), with two huge trays of jello shots in the fridge, and no where
left to park for two streets over. And every new kid who shows up,
Heather drags into the kitchen to meet me. Oh well! They would each
end up there anyway at some time to load up on jello shots, and
really, they weren't too hard to work around. Heather had Soloman and
Sheeba locked safely in her room, so no felines were winding
themselves around my legs or napping on my feet, however, some counter
space would have been nice.

So, all this fun, and no one has yet to offer me a beer. The kids
forgot to buy paper plates, and they were out of wax paper and clear
wrap, as well as aluminum foil, so I'm pounding out burger patties and
sticking them between sandwich baggies, then finally I reached the end
of that 10lb. Hamburger roll and Heather's buzzer goes off again.

"Mom.." she says so sweetly as she enters the kitchen, "would you mind
cutting up the condiments for the burgers?" And I go "I don't know,
do I have to use the same dull knife I cut the chicken up with the
other night?" Silly question..as I remembered suddenly that was their
best knife, then went on to think that if I were Heather, I would use
some of that money I taped to one of her birthday gifts before
wrapping it, to buy a real kitchen knife. But then reality hit me,
and I thought 'now why would she spend money on a kitchen knife when
she could, would, and probably already had spent the money on new
clothes that she'll just throw on her bedroom floor?' Besides, I'm
the only one who uses a knife in her kitchen, which I decided was
probably a good thing right at that time, because Heather was half
looped, and it was no doubt in everyone's best interest that she not
be wielding a knife, dull or otherwise.

Now, the whole time I was standing there in the kitchen working harder
than I ever remember working in my own kitchen, I kept seeing Jeff
dashing about here and there, and started to wonder 'who's out on the
patio manning the grill?' and decided to go take a peek. Sure
enough..there's my Michael, sweating over the hot coals. Hmmmm...

So, I'm back in the kitchen working that dull @ss knife on those
tomatoes and pickles, surrounded by tall, hungry, half drunk young
fellows who decided enough with the waiting for food, and started
grabbing for condiments as I cut them, and asking me "why aren't there
any paper plates?" (As if I we're the one personally responsible for
that screw-up.) Then here comes Jeff with an empty platter. He
reaches into the refrigerator and magically produces another 10lb.
meat roll. "We need more burgers!" he says frantically! And with a
hint of desperation in his voice asks me "would you mind?", then gives
me a big hug as he hands me the package of burger. I told him I
didn't mind, and added "but personally, if it were my party, I'd be
pushing the hot dogs". "That's right!" he exclaims "we have hot
dogs!", and as he spoke..like 'poetry in motion', he made one fluid
movement and Viola ! ! ! out of the fridge comes this industrial sized
package of weenies. And as he skips off in the direction of the
patio, happy as a kid with a new toy, he shouts back at me "But we
still need more burgers, okay?"

Then, in comes this girl named Stephanie with a small package of
chicken breasts she brought to throw on the grill (apparently another
selective vegetarian). She stands out in my mind - but not because of
the three one inch long spikes that stood straight out from where they
were embedded in her flesh just below her bottom lip (which was a mere
fraction of the piercings and tattoos she sported). But instead,
because she didn't know you were supposed to wash chicken, and trim
off any unidentifiables before cooking it, and that whole process
starts by first thoroughly washing out the kitchen sink. So, now I'm
feeling like anything but a guest, with 'unpaid Home Ec. Teacher' at
the top of the list. Plus, my feet are starting to hurt, and I
figured Michael probably felt about the same way, so I went and found
him and said "lets get the hell out of here".

So there it is. I'm going to think long and hard before attending
another one of Heather's parties. At the very least, I'll have to
make sure I get plenty of rest the night before. Oh yea, and try to
remember to bring a sharp knife with me next time.

And yes...Michael, myself, and 8 of her friends (who were quick enough
to grab a can) completely buried Heather's butt in silly string before
we made our departure. That almost made it all worth while, watching
her happily greet even more guests, in all her purple, yellow, green,
blue, and pink glory, as we drove away from the house.

"bonbon" wrote in message
...
My Daughter Turns 22........

It all started about a week before the 12th of September (my daughters
birthday). It was late, I think around 10:00 p.m., and really pouring
@ss rain outside. Heather calls me on the phone and say's "Mom, I
need you to bring me your electric skillet, because I'm making
'chicken dinner' and our oven doesn't work" (She and Jeff had just
moved into a house with a couple of their friends.) So I reply
"What's wrong with your legs and your car?" She informs me that Jeff
took the car to work. So off I go, struggling to balance the skillet,
my purse, the truck keys, a huge umbrella, and hoping all of the feral
cats I feed are out of the way and somewhere safe and not under foot
while I dash to the truck. That's how hard it was raining...I needed
an umbrella to get from the front door of our house, to the truck,
which was parked in our driveway.

I no sooner got into their house, and she has me boning chicken with a
dull knife on a dinner plate, because, a.) she meant to buy
boneless, skinless chicken breasts, b.) it's the best knife they
have, and c.) she can't remember where her cutting board is.

I don't particularly like cutting up raw meat, especially chicken
(gross) and doing it with a dull knife really drags out the process,
but I figured Heather (a selective vegetarian) probably hates it even
worse. So she played with her cats, Soloman and Sheeba, who were both
milling around my legs, hoping for a bite of chicken trimmings while I
did the work. And since the broken oven/skillet borrowing thing is
what created the whole scenario, I decided, while driving home (in the
still pouring rain) that an electric skillet is what she's getting for
her fast approaching birthday.

And she did. Way larger and much nicer than either of my electric
skillets. Heather was thrilled when she opened it, and I thought
'Yep, you know she's all grown up when you give her a kitchen gadget
for her birthday - and she appreciates it'.

About 5 days later, I still had'nt had my electric skillet returned to
me. Heather forgot to bring it with her when she came over to our
house to open her gifts, but informed me that I could pick it up the
following Saturday night, because Jeff and their roommates were
having a birthday BBQ for her at their house, and Michael and I were
invited. Yay. So here comes Saturday night, and off we go!

We took her a beautiful dozen of enormous, pink, long stemmed
Ecuadorian roses, I made a pretty yummy looking strawberry cheesecake
for her, and we had 10 cans of silly string we kept stashed in the
truck. We no sooner get inside their house, and she puts me to work.
First, she roped me into taking care of the roses, cutting and
trimming each one, and arranging them all in a vase, because (in her
very words) "she had guests she needed to mingle with". And as I
watched her sashay off, I thought to myself 'what the hell are we'? I
hadn't seen any of those guests lavish her with a dozen roses or a
homemade strawberry cheese cake. And went on to think 'Okay little
missy, you just wait..' as thoughts of all that silly string waiting
in the truck sprang into my mind.

Now, I'm thinking Heather must have some sort of internal buzzer that
goes off (much to her advantage) because the very second I finished
with the roses, here she comes....and now, she's got me making
hamburger patties. By this time, people are starting to pour in.
Seems her birthday BBQ is actually a birthday BBQ, kegger (like 3 of
them), with two huge trays of jello shots in the fridge, and no where
left to park for two streets over. And every new kid who shows up,
Heather drags into the kitchen to meet me. Oh well! They would each
end up there anyway at some time to load up on jello shots, and
really, they weren't too hard to work around. Heather had Soloman and
Sheeba locked safely in her room, so no felines were winding
themselves around my legs or napping on my feet, however, some counter
space would have been nice.

So, all this fun, and no one has yet to offer me a beer. The kids
forgot to buy paper plates, and they were out of wax paper and clear
wrap, as well as aluminum foil, so I'm pounding out burger patties and
sticking them between sandwich baggies, then finally I reached the end
of that 10lb. Hamburger roll and Heather's buzzer goes off again.

"Mom.." she says so sweetly as she enters the kitchen, "would you mind
cutting up the condiments for the burgers?" And I go "I don't know,
do I have to use the same dull knife I cut the chicken up with the
other night?" Silly question..as I remembered suddenly that was their
best knife, then went on to think that if I were Heather, I would use
some of that money I taped to one of her birthday gifts before
wrapping it, to buy a real kitchen knife. But then reality hit me,
and I thought 'now why would she spend money on a kitchen knife when
she could, would, and probably already had spent the money on new
clothes that she'll just throw on her bedroom floor?' Besides, I'm
the only one who uses a knife in her kitchen, which I decided was
probably a good thing right at that time, because Heather was half
looped, and it was no doubt in everyone's best interest that she not
be wielding a knife, dull or otherwise.

Now, the whole time I was standing there in the kitchen working harder
than I ever remember working in my own kitchen, I kept seeing Jeff
dashing about here and there, and started to wonder 'who's out on the
patio manning the grill?' and decided to go take a peek. Sure
enough..there's my Michael, sweating over the hot coals. Hmmmm...

So, I'm back in the kitchen working that dull @ss knife on those
tomatoes and pickles, surrounded by tall, hungry, half drunk young
fellows who decided enough with the waiting for food, and started
grabbing for condiments as I cut them, and asking me "why aren't there
any paper plates?" (As if I we're the one personally responsible for
that screw-up.) Then here comes Jeff with an empty platter. He
reaches into the refrigerator and magically produces another 10lb.
meat roll. "We need more burgers!" he says frantically! And with a
hint of desperation in his voice asks me "would you mind?", then gives
me a big hug as he hands me the package of burger. I told him I
didn't mind, and added "but personally, if it were my party, I'd be
pushing the hot dogs". "That's right!" he exclaims "we have hot
dogs!", and as he spoke..like 'poetry in motion', he made one fluid
movement and Viola ! ! ! out of the fridge comes this industrial sized
package of weenies. And as he skips off in the direction of the
patio, happy as a kid with a new toy, he shouts back at me "But we
still need more burgers, okay?"

Then, in comes this girl named Stephanie with a small package of
chicken breasts she brought to throw on the grill (apparently another
selective vegetarian). She stands out in my mind - but not because of
the three one inch long spikes that stood straight out from where they
were embedded in her flesh just below her bottom lip (which was a mere
fraction of the piercings and tattoos she sported). But instead,
because she didn't know you were supposed to wash chicken, and trim
off any unidentifiables before cooking it, and that whole process
starts by first thoroughly washing out the kitchen sink. So, now I'm
feeling like anything but a guest, with 'unpaid Home Ec. Teacher' at
the top of the list. Plus, my feet are starting to hurt, and I
figured Michael probably felt about the same way, so I went and found
him and said "lets get the hell out of here".

So there it is. I'm going to think long and hard before attending
another one of Heather's parties. At the very least, I'll have to
make sure I get plenty of rest the night before. Oh yea, and try to
remember to bring a sharp knife with me next time.

And yes...Michael, myself, and 8 of her friends (who were quick enough
to grab a can) completely buried Heather's butt in silly string before
we made our departure. That almost made it all worth while, watching
her happily greet even more guests, in all her purple, yellow, green,
blue, and pink glory, as we drove away from the house.


Well, I'm a daughter, and not to be smug-- I'm sure my mom has some wicked
stories about me. But I think that must top all of them.

On 14 Sep, 10:39, bonbon wrote:
My Daughter Turns 22........

Must print this story out and whenever someone asks me if I ever
regret that I never had children, I'll hand them a copy

Mind you if I ever had a daughter she would have been much better in
the kitchen by the time she was weaned or she'd have died of
malnutrition. As the chief case in point, the first time I cooked for
Dave- nothing fancy I wasn't trying for a candlelit dinner and 3
courses, all I was doing was frying some frozen French fries, frozen
garden peas and burgers. This being back in the days when a real
butcher was not such a rare beast (We used to have 8 between here amd
Whitechapel and now I couldn't tell you where the nearest one is!) the
butcher mum used made his own beef burgers and they were truly
splendid

So I've popped the chips in the fryer, the peas in water and the
burgers under the grill and am sitting there chatting to my new BF
whom I really liked (occasionally have to remind myself these days
about that..) when we start to notice an odd smell at first it's just
a little but it gets stronger and we both sit there waiting for the
other one to say something.

Then I remember that the burgers are sold frozen and have this little
plastic sheet between each one to make it easier to seperate
them......

Guess what I had forgotten to do!

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

I think I'm one of the young ones on this list!

I remember my best friend going out and buying me a wire whisk
"because I don't care if /you/ beat eggs with a spoon, but I'm making
eggs PROPERLY when I'm over here." (I believe he has also bought me a
ladle and a knife, and is threatening a new frying pan.)

--Fil



My Daughter Turns 22........

Must print this story out and whenever someone asks me if I ever
regret that I never had children, I'll hand them a copy

Thanks to all who read the story. Sorry it was so long, but I wrote
it as I remembered each detail that had unfolded that evening.

Things haven't changed too much in my relationship with my daughter,
except for now days, instead of me waiting on her, I'm waiting on my
adorable little grandson.

Does a mother's work ever end?

-bonbon

On 15 Sep, 13:06, Enfilade wrote:

I remember my best friend going out and buying me a wire whisk
"because I don't care if /you/ beat eggs with a spoon, but I'm making
eggs PROPERLY when I'm over here."

I use a fork to beat eggs, I don't even own a wire whisk- perhaps I
should get one-just lately I keep buying odd bits fot the flat today I
got one of those wire racks for keeping bottles etc tidy in the
bathroom

I'm terrible with domestic appliances. When Dave was almost ready to
come out of hospital, one of the nurses (Evangeline) said it would be
a real help when Dave got home for helping his back to heal if I
ironed his t-shirts

There was a long silence followed by me saying "Okay but do you
recommend any particular iron? I am going to have to go out and buy
one"

My mum was a compulsive ironer, she even ironed dusters and tea towels
and she would stand in the middle of the room whilst ironing and go on
about how much she hated it so it's left me with a kind of phobia
about ironing I gladly pay extra for non-iron things

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

"Lesley" wrote in message
oups.com...
On 15 Sep, 13:06, Enfilade wrote:

I remember my best friend going out and buying me a wire whisk
"because I don't care if /you/ beat eggs with a spoon, but I'm making
eggs PROPERLY when I'm over here."

I use a fork to beat eggs, I don't even own a wire whisk- perhaps I
should get one-just lately I keep buying odd bits fot the flat today I
got one of those wire racks for keeping bottles etc tidy in the
bathroom

I'm terrible with domestic appliances. When Dave was almost ready to
come out of hospital, one of the nurses (Evangeline) said it would be
a real help when Dave got home for helping his back to heal if I
ironed his t-shirts

There was a long silence followed by me saying "Okay but do you
recommend any particular iron? I am going to have to go out and buy
one"

My mum was a compulsive ironer, she even ironed dusters and tea towels
and she would stand in the middle of the room whilst ironing and go on
about how much she hated it so it's left me with a kind of phobia
about ironing I gladly pay extra for non-iron things


My mom was a laundry maven. But she took great pride in it and didn't
dislike ironing. But even she never ironed a t-shirt. Of course she always
folded them neatly while they were still warm fresh out of the dryer.

I have an iron around here somewhere.

I worked in a laundry in high school for a while, ironing mens dress shirts.
Each of my kids, grandkids gets one lesson on how to do it properly. And
only one.

They have stuff now you can spray on clothes so the wrinkles will fall out.
And the way I'm build, most of the wrinkles in my clothes get stretched out
pretty quickly.

When we first married, Charlie made the mistake of showing my how he likes
his t-shirts folded and which way he like his shirts to face when they were
hanging up.

We've been married forty years now, and I still don't do his laundry. If he
is being particularly nice, and if I need the dryer, I might at least smooth
his stuff out on the bed so it won't wrinkle before he gets to it.

If I were rich, I would pay to have someone iron the sheets though.

Jo