Quick & Funny

THE BEST OF THE BEST OF THE SHORTEST SO THEN STORIES

Some of these sparkly little gems will probably be NEW to you — and they’re less than 400 words each — so gobble them up quickly!

Click here for How to Shock Everyone during your Wedding Vows:

How to Shock Everyone During Your Wedding Vows #funny #wedding #vows #bride #groom #humor #marriage

Click here for Human Head Found Where?
This news article is cracking me up - look how they describe this bizarre event! #funny #strange #humor

Click here for
What is Mark Hiding?

What is Mark hiding? Mark: Why do you ask? (Hmm, methinks he doth protest too much...) #funny
Click here for Um…is She Hitting on Me?

Boom-Chicka-Wow-Wow! Is She HITTING on Me? #funny #treadmill #stairs #humor

Click here for Vaginas on Parade:

Vaginas on Parade! #funny #parade #holiday #humor

If you enjoy these posts, please consider subscribing by email since Facebook is changing their algorithm again, so you probably won’t see my posts there even if you follow So Then Stories FB page!

Subscribe HERE for a couple FUNNY new posts per week!

Thanks and HAPPY NEW YEAR!

— Darcy Perdu

(Do you have any funny stories to share about weddings, day drinking, musical-treadmilling, human heads, or Vagina Parades?!)

Tiny Bite-Size Funny True Stories - Deliciously Funny! @sothenstories

What Happens when the Elf reports MOM’S bad behavior?

Ellington, Elf on the Shelf, turns his tattle-tale focus on MOM this Christmas -- and you won't BELIEVE what he's tellin' Santa!  #funny #sexy #Christmas @SoThenStories

So then…I wake up at 3 am to the sound of click-clacking. I pop downstairs, peer round the corner, and see two tiny red felt feet scurry out of sight. My laptop screen is glowing, so I cross the room, lean in…and what to my wondering eyes should appear – but EMAILS from Ellington, our Elf on the Shelf, to SANTA!

Hey Santa,
Ellington the Elf here, reporting from the Perdu household! My vertigo’s still acting up, so rather than fly back and forth to the North Pole, I’ll just email you my reports!

Day 1
So excited to meet my new family, Darcy (Mom) and David (Dad) and their darling kids, Tucker, age 8, and Chloe, age 5. I’ll be on the lookout for any naughty or nice behavior to report back to you!

Day 2
Look, Santa, I don’t want to tell you your business, but the naughty ones in this house are NOT the kids. Oh sure, they bicker and whine a bit, with the occasional fib – but the one I REALLY need to keep an eye on is the Mom!

When she made breakfast this morning, the Dad asked, “Are these real eggs and bacon?” “Of course,” she replied. Nope. Egg Beaters and Turkey Bacon. He asked for regular coffee and she snuck in Decaf. For dinner, she assured the kids she served “real” hamburgers. Nope. Veggie Burgers. So she’s a liar. Maybe for a good cause – but still – a liar.

Day 3
When the class mom called for volunteers to collate papers at school today, Darcy, the Mom, said she couldn’t because she had a “doctor’s appointment.”

Then she watched the Dr. Oz show on the DVR. That is NOT an appointment.

Day 4
She straight up lied to the kids today on the way home from school. There’s no way Chuck E Cheese, Toys R Us, AND Game Stop are ALL closed for renovations.

Plus she gossiped at great length with her friend about Mrs. Kobar, one of Chloe’s teachers who’s allegedly very short-tempered and cancels recess when the kids are rowdy.

Day 5
While watching TV tonight she passed gas with such a foul stench, I had to gasp for air. She blamed the dog.

They do not even HAVE a dog.

Day 6
She tells the kids never to swear, but when she was alone on the freeway today, she let loose a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. Honestly, Santa, I cannot even TYPE them for fear my hands will go straight to hell. Omigod, now she has ME swearing! She’s corrupting me, Santa!

Day 7
The Mom does do lots of nice stuff with the kids. She helps with homework, makes crafts with them, and plays silly games.

But tonight when she was baking cookies with Chloe for teacher gifts, I noticed she set aside all the misshapen, over-cooked ones for Mrs. Kobar.

Day 8
She’s not terribly organized. Before bedtime tonight, when Chloe suggested pulling out her old 1,001 Deluxe Bead Craft Kit and Tucker requested his 99 Paints & Goop Set, the Mom said she couldn’t find them in the toy closet. I suspect foul play.

Day 9
The neighborhood association called today for volunteers to deliver ballots door-to-door, but she said she had a “doctor’s appointment.”

Yep, you guessed – Dr. Phil on DVR. And the irony? The episode was “Nasty Neighbors” about residents who sue, sully, or sex each other up! It was scandalous and provocative! Honestly, after the third time, I could hardly watch it anymore.

Day 10
While rummaging in the closet for wrapping paper, she found the fancy toiletry bag-shaving kit she bought her husband last Christmas. It had never been used! She uttered some profanity and was about to bring it downstairs to confront him – but then she smiled, dusted it off, and wrapped it to give him THIS year!

Day 11
A new low. She stole quarters from Tucker’s piggy bank for the parking meter in front of the manicure place.

(And that polish is too pink for her skin tone. I’m just saying.)

Day 12
Possible redemption? She donated 3 bags of items to Goodwill today!

But guess what’s in the first bag? Yep! Chloe’s 1,001 Bead Craft Kit and Tucker’s 99 Paints & Goop Set!

Day 13
When her husband asked about his DVR recordings, she innocently said, “Oh, I don’t know how your golf tournaments got deleted.”

I know how, Santa. And I know WHO. Her head’s tilting accusingly toward the kids, but we all know who’s deleting shows to make room for Scandal and Outlander!

Day 14
She told a telemarketer she couldn’t talk on the phone because she had to go walk the dog. Still no dog, Santa.  NO DOG.

She works from home so she has lots of conference calls. The other people on the line think she’s studying the spreadsheets when she’s saying “yes, good point” and “mm-hmm” but she’s really reading Facebook updates!

Day 15
When her family mentioned they’re running out of clean clothes, she said she’d planned to do laundry last night but got sidetracked by other “important things.” I’m no detective, Santa, but that empty bottle of red wine might be a clue.

Day 16
Whenever her husband asks what she wants for Christmas, she smiles and says she has everything she needs: a loving family and a lovely home; she just wants everyone to have a happy, healthy holiday. But then she turns up the volume on all the jewelry commercials – and leaves catalogs lying around, open to pages showing beautiful tennis bracelets. She does not even PLAY tennis, Santa!

Day 17
When Tucker yelled downstairs that he’d accidentally knocked over all his Legos for the 4th time today, she hid in the pantry eating Oreos until her husband went up to clean up the mess. She was giggling, Santa. GIGGLING!

Day 18
Her friend tried to make her join her for a Zumba class, but she said she had a “doctor’s appointment.”

She watched GREY’S ANATOMY on NETFLIX. Oh come on! She’s not even trying anymore. Those aren’t even REAL doctors! Have you no shame, woman?

Day 19
Darcy called the relatives today about Christmas Eve dinner at her house. She “confided” in Aunt Bernice that Darcy’s sister Della really doesn’t care for Aunt Bernice’s jello fruit salad and could she please bring Brown Sugar Sweet Potatoes instead.

Then she “confided” in Auntie Fran that Della made some uncomplimentary remarks about Auntie Fran’s zucchini bread loaf, so could she please bring Brown Sugar Sweet Potatoes instead. Della said no such things!

Day 20
The kids rarely fight, but tonight I think the Mom and Dad got into a huge fight after drinking some after-dinner wine! They went right to their bedroom and locked the door – played music to cover the sounds, I guess, but I could hear them wrestling and moaning and exclaiming, “Oh God, Oh God!” I think they even knocked over a lamp!

Day 21
The gift she brought for today’s Book Club Secret Santa exchange looks suspiciously like the one she received at last week’s Neighborhood Secret Santa exchange! Regifting alert!

Day 22
When the kids asked for dessert, she swore there was no ice cream left. As soon as the kids were asleep, she opened a bag of frozen peas that concealed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s!

Day 23
She sang lots of Christmas Carols with the kids while seeing the lights on Candy Cane Lane tonight. But after 9 renditions of “Let It Go,” she claimed she couldn’t remember the words anymore. How does THAT happen?

Day 24
About 18 relatives came to Christmas Eve dinner at the Perdu house. I’m actually impressed — she’s been cooking all day; the house is decorated; the gifts are wrapped.

Aunt Bernice and Auntie Fran gave a bewildered Della the stink eye. Darcy just smiled sweetly and shoveled in some more Brown Sugar Sweet Potatoes.

At the Christmas Eve dinner, she loudly let one rip and exclaimed, “Tucker!” Tucker protested his innocence while the adults shook their heads and the kids giggled. Tucker laughed too — but Santa, you and I both know who’s passin’ Brown-Sugar-scented gas tonight!

After dinner when it was time for clean-up, she told her husband she had “digestion difficulties” and was going to use the upstairs bathroom for privacy.

But while the relatives were cleaning the kitchen downstairs, she went upstairs to her bedroom instead! She locked the door, pulled out some book about colors – something about shades of grey? – and reached for some kind of strange magic wand — and you’re NOT gonna BELIEVE where she PUT the–

OH NO, she saw me! I’ve got to skedaddle lickety-split. More later, Santa!

–Ellington the Elf

I narrow my eyes. That little son-of-a…

With arched brow, and malice on my mind, I coaxingly call out, “Oh, Ellington? Little Elfie, where are youuu?”

–Darcy Perdu

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All posts on So Then Stories are true, with only the names changed – except THIS post which is completely fiction. I mean, come on, y’all – you know I never pass wind! Ne-vah!

(If Elf on the Shelf reports YOUR naughty behavior to Santa, what would the report say?)

Parenthood’s an Art — AND a Science!

Science of Parenthood

So then…I meet two witty, hilarious broads at a writing conference and find out they’re the masterminds behind the amazing blog, Science of Parenthood.  I was a big fan already because their illustrations, captions, and posts about parenting are so funny and SO TRUE!  I was very excited to meet Norine Dworkin-McDaniel & Jessica Ziegler in person and discover they’re both really chill and friendly.

So of course I’m delighted to announce they just published a fabulous Science of Parenthood book just in time for the holidays!  If you’re looking for an awesome gift for you, your friends & family – check out this colorful, fun, funny book of cartoons, stories, and quizzes.  You’ll nod your head in recognition of so many parenting scenarios — shake your head at the unpredictability of kids — and literally laugh out loud!

Enjoy this Q&A with Norine & Jessica, then go buy the book right HERE!

Q & A with Norine Dworkin-McDaniel & Jessica Ziegler

Our book, Science of Parenthood: Thoroughly Unscientific Explanations for Utterly Baffling Parenting Situations, is like our blog … but like our blog on STEROIDS! We utilized the blog to road test–perhaps we should say “field test”–material, and now the book contains the kinds of cartoons and writing that fans love to find at Science of Parenthood, along with all new cartoons, infographics, flowcharts pie charts and quizzes that we created just for the book. About 90 percent of the book is brand new material.

Divided into four sections–biology, chemistry, physics and mathematics–the book lives in the chasm that exists between our collective hopes and dreams and expectations of what parenting will be like … and the brutal, slap-you-upside-the-head reality of what parenting actually is. We cover all aspects of pregnancy, birth and the hilarious frustrations that come with early childhood (tantrums, picky eating, diaper blowouts, illness, sleep issues, play dates, toy creep, homework battles and encounters with crazy parents (not you, of course, we mean other parents). And you know what? You don’t even need to be a scientist to “get” it.

Our goal is just to make parents laugh. Because when you’re a parent, you NEED to laugh. Humor is a survival tool. After your tot has gotten the top off a jar of Vaseline and smeared every surface within reach–as happened to our friend Gail–or tried to “help” you paint a room and ended up covered in blue paint–as happened to Norine’s sister Shari–you have to laugh. Or you’ll end up sobbing. Or wearing one of those fancy white jackets that buckles up in the back.

Why science? Are either of you scientists?

Not at all. We’re moms dealing with the same kind of crazy stuff everyone else is. Science just makes a great metaphor for the frustration, exasperation and humiliation that comes with everyday parenting. Think about Einstein and how he explained his theory of relativity: “Sit on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour; sit with a pretty girl with an hour and it feels like a minute. That’s relativity.” Well, that’s parenthood too. One minute you’ve got a newborn covered in goo and then next, you’re watching teary-eyed as they skip into kindergarten without even a backward glance or a kiss goodbye. And yet, when you’re into your third hour of Candy Land on a rainy day, time seems to stand still. (If you haven’t played Candy Land with your toddler yet, trust us on this. The scars never really heal.)

Where did you get the idea for Science of Parenthood?

Our “eureka” moment came when Norine’s son, Fletcher, came home from school talking about one of Newton’s laws of force and motion: An object at rest stays at rest unless acted on by an external force.

Says Norine: “That instantly reminded me of Fletcher with his video games. He’d sit on the couch and play games all day if I didn’t confiscate the iPad. I jotted down, Newton’s First Law of Parenting: A child at rest will remain at rest until you want your iPad back. Later, I posted that on Facebook. It got a good response, so I started posting other parenting observations and giving them a math or science twist, like Sleep Geometry Theorem: A child will always sleep perpendicular to any adult laying next to them. Both of these are fan favorites and two of the very few cartoons we pulled from the blog to include in the book.

“As a writer, I’m always looking for new ways to tell stories. And in that eureka moment, it struck me that math and science make fantastic metaphors for telling the universal stories of parenting. Like scientists, we parents are always fumbling in the dark, searching for answers, wondering if we’re on the right track and second-guessing our methods. And because a picture is still worth a thousand words, I knew that these science-y quips would be a lot more popular on social media if they were illustrated. So I called Jessica and asked if she wanted to illustrate a book of these funny observations.

“Jessica was the one who saw that Science of Parenthood could be much bigger than a single book. She saw the potential for a blog and a social media presence and ancillary products. She quickly secured a domain name for us and created a Facebook page and Twitter feed. She began illustrating the observations I had already banked. Two weeks later, we debuted on Facebook; a week after that we rolled out the blog. Now we’re three years in, and along with Science of Parenthood, the book, we have mugs and magnets and posters featuring our images. Earlier this year we published two collections of humorous parenting tweets—The Big Book of Parenting Tweets and The Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets.

Where can readers find Science of Parenthood?

Science of Parenthood is available as a soft-cover and e-book on Amazon right now and in bookstores. (http://amzn.to/1DcVllh).

And you can always find Science of Parenthood on Facebook (www.facebook.com/scienceofparenthood), Twitter (www.twitter.com/sciofparenthood), Pinterest (www.pinterest/sciofparenthood) and Instagram (www.Instagram.com/scienceofparenthood).

About The Authors

Norine is the primary writer for Science of Parenthood, the blog, and Science of Parenthood, the book. A longtime freelance magazine writer, Norine’s articles have appeared in just about every women’s magazine you can buy at supermarket checkout as well as on The Huffington Post, Parenting.com, iVillage, Lifescript and Scary Mommy websites. Norine is the co-author of You Know He’s a Keeper…You Know He’s a Loser: Happy Endings and Horror Stories from Real Life Relationships (Perigee), Food Cures (Reader’s Digest) and a contributor to several humor anthologies, including Have Milk, Will Travel: Adventures in Breastfeeding (Demeter Press). She lives with her husband and 9-year-old son in Orlando.

The daughter of famed New Yorker cartoonist Jack Ziegler, Jessica is Science of Parenthood’s co-creator, illustrator, web designer and contributing writer. In her “off hours,” Jessica is the director of social web design for VestorLogic and the writer/illustrator of StoryTots, a series of customizable children’s books. Her writing and illustration have been published on The Huffington Post, Vegas.com, InThePowderRoom.com and in Las Vegas Life and Las Vegas Weekly. Jessica was named a 2014 Humor Voice of the Year by BlogHer/SheKnows Media. She lives with her husband and 11-year-old son in Denver.

Together Jessica and Norine published The Big Book of Parenting Tweets and The Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets earlier in 2015.

If you would like Norine and Jessica to visit your book group, contact Norine at norine@scienceofparenthood.

Oh, SOMEONE’S bein’ SASSY!

So then…I figure I’d best share some o’ my Memes so you can see some of the funny stuff goin’ on over on my So Then Stories Facebook page (which you should totally follow!)

Tools Used When My Teen & I Disagree

You know that funny character in the movie...?

 

Wait - I'm in the Russian Bride Club?

 

For a Healthy (or FUN) Halloween...?

 

Parenting for the WIN!

 

Oh your belly can only support a ring?

 

Wanna make your son speechless?

And as you know — there’s a CAKE for that!
AND a PARADE!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Go ahead – make my day!  Tell me your favorite!)

I MUST Kidnap a Spaniard!

I MUST Kidnap a Spaniard! (the hilarious true tale of my OBSESSION!) SoThenStories.com
So then…I shriek, “NOOOOOOOO!” with such volume and anguish, you’d think a pack of wild zombies had just eaten my entire immediate family AND the last pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

But no, this shriek is due to a devastation so profound, I’m literally frozen in torment.

Let me explain from the BEGINNING:

I’ve already burned through fabulous period TV series like Downton Abbey, The Paradise, Mr. Selfridge, and Call the Midwives. 

NetFlix keeps asking if I’d like to watch Grand Hotel – but I keep resisting because it’s filmed in Spain, so I’d need to read English subtitles!

As a world-class multi-tasker, I’m always doing something else WHILE I’m watching TV, so having to read the screen just won’t work.  Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.

But then one day, I take a little lunch break and figure, “Well, I’ll just watch the first episode while I eat, then go find something else to watch while I work on spreadsheets, open mail, do computer work, etc.”

So I’m watching the first episode of Grand Hotel about this luxury hotel in Spain owned by a wealthy family in 1906 and their interactions with the hotel staff –

and I’m all “la-la-lala-la” when suddenly BAM!  Major plot twist!

Then BOOM!  Another twist!

Then a murder mystery!

What?

So of course I have to see what happens in the next episode, which is also action-packed and mystery-intensifying with more plots and subplots.

BOOM-SHAKA-LAKA!  Shit is going down, people!

I repeat:

SHIT.IS.GOING.DOWN.

So now I have to see the NEXT episode, and I can’t do anything else because I have to read the damn subtitles – but honestly, I’m RIVETED!

Every chance I get, I zip over to the big screen TV to watch more episodes of Grand Hotel.

My family’s perplexed since they’re not used to seeing me watch TV without doing something else.  And quite frankly, when they suggest using the big screen TV to watch one of their shows, they’re a little taken aback when I scowl and hiss menacingly.

But here’s why:

MYSTERIOUS

This is unlike any other period show I’ve ever seen.  In addition to the gorgeous costumes, the class differences between the hotel’s owners and staff, the antiquated customs of the early 1900’s – there are mysteries to solve, schemes to expose, and culprits to discover.

Grand Hotel is one of the most addictive series ever!  There are mysteries upon mysteries at this luxury hotel!  Some last several episodes, some last a whole season – so we have the satisfaction of seeing some mysteries solved, but always have several others brewing.

There are some good people – and some VERY, VERY bad people – and sometimes you don’t know who’s who.  There’s a large cast of characters and there’s always something going on with all of them!

The show’s like a thriller, packed with suspense and action surrounding murder, blackmail, kidnapping, and many more secrets I can’t mention due to the possibility of Spoiler Alerts!

ROMANTIC

Over the 3 seasons of the show, there are many romances, but the one featuring the two main characters Julio and Alicia is SPECTACULAR.  It’s very suspenseful because there are so many genuine DANGEROUS obstacles in their path.  They’re gorgeous, smart, brave, clever… You’ll literally SWOON every time they’re on screen together.

I am madly in love with Julio –
AND madly in love with Alicia –
AND currently working on a time-travel machine so I can go live with them in 1906 Spain for a thrilling threesome while we solve mysteries together.

SCHEMING

Oh the scheming!  There are so many fabulous, over-the-top characters who conspire dastardly deeds and don’t hesitate to throw other people under the bus (or motorcar, as the case may be).  You hate them.  And you love that you hate them.

FUNNY

As you get to know the motivations, history, and obstacles of certain characters, you can’t help but laugh when they find themselves in certain situations.  It’s not broad slapstick humor – or searing wit.  You’re just laughing because you know these characters so well – even the twitch of someone’s eyebrow can set you off.

DRAMATIC

Holy Hell, you guys.  Lots of drama.  It’s not quite melodrama – but there are some scenes that get pretty close – and you know what?  I LOVE IT!  It’s frothy and fun and awesome!

If you set your timer back to 1906 in Spain when husbands ruled the wives – marriages were sometimes arranged – the poor had to kowtow to the wealthy – judges could be bought – then you’ll enjoy this romp through the troubles and turmoils of everyone connected to Grand Hotel.

WILL YOU LIKE IT?

I realize this might not be everyone’s cup of poisoned tea, but if you’re interested, it’s available on NetFlix streaming.  There are 3 seasons, which total 66 episodes of about 40 minutes each.

If you start to watch it and don’t like it – DON’T TELL ME.  I’ll be as offended as if you’d called my precious newborn “hideous and stinky.”

But if you like it – DEFINITELY TELL ME.  We’ll gossip about the characters for hours, swoon over Julio and Alicia, and scream “Siiiiiii-mo-netta!” every time we see each other!

“THE SHOW SOUNDS AWESOME, DARCY, BUT WHAT MADE YOU SHRIEK ‘NOOOOOO!’?”

Because I’m on episode 58 of the 66 episodes, fully invested in all the characters –

fully enthralled in all the suspenseful mysteries –

fully engaged in the romantic entanglements –

when SUDDENLY AND WITHOUT WARNING…

…the English subtitles stop.

STOP.

As in my beloved and reviled characters are all still speaking rapid-fire Spanish on the screen, but I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE SAYING!

I punch remote control buttons for language and subtitles and everything else, but the subtitles DON’T come back!

I have 8 episodes left to go on a series I’m OBSESSED with – and I have no way to know what’s happening!

The subtitles just disappeared in the middle of an episode!  What if the translation company just STOPPED TRANSLATING the series in episode 58?  Maybe they ran out of money!  What if THERE ARE NO SUBTITLES for the rest of the series?

My heart rate increases.  The room spins.

I’m about to run screaming into the streets, grabbing the first Spanish-speaking person I find, kidnapping them back to my house, and forcing them to translate word-for-word EVERYTHING that’s being said!

I’m screaming “NOOOOOO!” so loudly that my 16-year-old daughter Chloe comes running in, certain that ninja warriors are attacking me.

“What?! What?! What?!” she shouts.

“My…my…Julio!…Alicia!” I stammer, pointing to the TV.  “Siiiiiii-mo-netta!”  I wail.

Chloe calmly clicks into Settings and changes the Accessibility button to Closed Caption.

My subtitles come back!  I hug her enthusiastically!  I jump and dance and cavort about!

All is right with the world.

Honestly, I was ready to fly to Spain and hunt down each actor and actress to find out what happened in the last 8 episodes.  But thankfully, my subtitles return and I watch the rest of the series.

It is FANTASTIC! 

I absolutely adore binge-watching this charming, mystery-laden, romantic, captivating period piece.

And this portion of my life will henceforth be known as, “Hey, remember that time Mom went off the rails for two weeks and did nothing but watch Spanish-language TV?”

WORTH IT.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Have you seen Grand Hotel? Do you want to join me in my time travel machine back to 1906 Spain?  PLEASE tell me the names of your favorite binge-watching shows because I’m in serious withdrawal over here now that I’ve finished Grand Hotel! HELP!)
Grand Hotel Alicia and Julio

Sometimes, Only My Kids Really “Get” Me

Sometimes Only My Kids Get Me FINAL
So then…we cozy up to the teppanyaki table to celebrate Chloe’s 16th birthday — for our family dinner with her brother Tucker (18), her dad David, and me.

And since these Japanese restaurants pair you with other diners at the communal tables, we squeeze in next to a family of four also celebrating a birthday.

We quickly make friends with them, of course – ‘cause we’re charming like that.

Our tableside chef is slicing and dicing veggies – while shrimp, beef, chicken and fried rice are sizzling all across the hot grill – creating the most tantalizing aromas!

It’s such an impressive array of colors and scents, I say, “I wish I had one of these teppanyaki tables in my kitchen!  It’d be so cool to chop and grill all these delicious foods at home!”

My family members raise skeptical eyebrows.

“Mom, you’re not exactly known for your cooking,” says Chloe.

(She’s right.)

“Well, maybe I could get a job here – and they’d train me how to cook like this!” I say.

“I’m not sure you can be trusted with all those sharp knives, Mom,” says Tucker.  “You’d probably cut your hand off!”

We all laugh.

I say, “Yeah, but if I could still cook after something like that—”

My son brightens and says, “Hey, yeah, that could be what you’re known for—”

“Exactly,” I say.  “That could be my hook!”

Pause.

Then we suddenly realize my unintended pun – “that could be my hook” – like my claim to fameand like my missing hand would be an actual hook

My kids and I BUST UP LAUGHING.

David and the other family just stare us.

Which makes us laugh MORE.

WE CANNOT STOP LAUGHING.

“That could be my hook.”

“My HOOK!”  Bwahahaha!

Oh my God.

We’re snickering over that for hours.

Much to the dismay of everyone around us.

Sigh.  Sometimes only my kids get me.

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Wouldn’t you love a teppanyaki grill table in YOUR house? And wouldn’t YOU laugh at the accidental hook joke? Wouldn’t you, seriously now!?)

Would You Like Some Vagina…Cake?

So then…we’re celebrating my daughter Chloe’s 16th birthday today — but she bought ME a cake!

Before our celebration plans tonight, she and her old brother Tucker snuck off to the store so she could order this cake for me:

Vagina Cake (RAW)

I die laughing.

I love Chloe’s sense of humor!

And I can only imagine the baker’s expression as he was asked to write:

“Thanks for pushing me out your Vagina.”

First of all, what choice did I have?  I certainly couldn’t keep her in there!

And second of all, why did the baker capitalize “Vagina?”

Does he think that’s someone’s name?  (I guess it could be a car’s name – like, “Thanks for pushing me out your Toyota before the train hit us.”)

Either way, those rapscallion kids of mine are snickering up a storm as they hand me the cake.  And I must say – it is delicious.

Several visitors have been in and out of the house today – and yes, we ask everyone who arrives:

“Would you like some vagina…

cake?”

Horrified looks quickly give way to laughter when they see the cake.

But it does raise an interesting point.

Why AREN’T we sending cakes and gifts to our moms on our birthdays?  After all, it’s the anniversary of the day they spent hours in agonizing labor to grant us life!

So am I suggesting that my kids should give me cakes and gifts on Mother’s Day…AND on my birthday…AND on their birthdays?

Why, yes – yes, I am.

Who’s with me?

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Do you agree we moms should get cards and gifts on our KIDS’ birthdays too? What goofy shenanigans do YOUR kids get up to?)

WHAT’S KILLING SEXY TIME & HOW TO FIX IT

What's Killing Sexy Time -- and How To Fix It
Hey, ya know what’s sexy?

Olivia Pope of Scandal knows.

Picture Olivia’s intense stare when she says, “I’m handling it. It’s handled.”

That’s right, we love when you spouses handle things.

Why?  Because usually we are handling everything.  EVERY thing.  We are hands down, the most likely to be hands-on, handily handling ALL the things.

We’re handling kids, meals, bath times, bed times, homework, house work, work work, doctors’ appointments, sports schedules, and a million more things.  Every little mini-crisis lands in our laps:

“The dryer’s broken!  Where’s my soccer uniform?  I need 24 cupcakes for school tomorrow! The dog’s vomiting!  The baby’s vomiting!  The baby’s vomiting on the dog!”

And yes, we get hugs and kisses and snuggles from the kids – and sexy play time with you – and we LOVE our wild, madcap, frantic, frenetic lives.

But we’d also love it if you handled a FEW more things.

(Naturally this doesn’t apply to you amazing couples out there who manage to split all the duties PRECISELY 50-50 – or couples who are perfectly happy with the current division of labor.  You’re incredible — and I want to visit you on your Flying Unicorn Farm and eat Fat-Free Bon-Bons under your Living Rainbow of Color-Coordinated Butterflies while Fairy Sprites braid our flaxen hair.  So just skip to the next post, Super Awesome Couples!)

But for those of you who agree that our mates (male OR female) might benefit from a Gentle Reminder about how SEXY it is to handle things, I’ve consulted some of my friends to prepare this list that MIGHT apply to your husband – or your wife – or your live-in lovah!

Whether you’re a guy or gal — working outside or inside the home, working for a paycheck or not – whether you’re in a hetero- or homosexual relationship — sometimes one partner ends up handling most things (The Handler), while one partner skates by (The Skater).

See if you recognize your partner (or yourself!) on this list, then see the tips for how to score more sexy time!

1) The What, Huh? Mate
This is the easiest move some of our spouses make – they simply ignore the laundry that needs folding, the lightbulb that needs replacing, the car registration that needs renewing.  They figure we Handlers will eventually notice and dive right in to take care of it.

And if we point out something that the Skaters have passed three times without handling, our Skaters deliver Academy Award-winning performances for their innocent delivery of the line, “What, huh?”

Handler:      Really? You didn’t see that the clean dishes need to be emptied from the dishwasher?

Skater:         No. I didn’t even notice.

Handler:      You’re eating your cereal with a fork.

Skater:         Oh, yeah.  Um.  I…I…like it that way.

2) The False Flatterer
This person cleverly dodges tasks by telling his/her partner, “Oh, you do that so much better than I do.”

Oh please, buster!  I invented this move!  I was pulling this on my Mom when I was a teen: “Show me how to iron my uniform skirt again, Mom – you’re so great at the pleats!” or “I just can’t make pancakes like you, Mom, they taste so much better when you do it!”

And yes, I might decorate a Frozen-themed birthday cake better than you – and I might sew these Girl Scout badges on the sash better than you — but do you really think I’m buying that I should put the kids to bed every night because I’m “better at it?”

Or that I should handle the taxes and medical insurance claims because I’m better at that “sort of thing?”

Skater:      We should tell the karate teacher that Junior’s ready to move to the next class level.

Handler:   OK, his phone number’s over there.

Skater:      Oh, you should call him.  You’re so much better at that stuff.

Handler:   Really?  I’m better at CALLING people now?  Is this a sophisticated skill that I’ve honed after years of practice?  What specifically makes me more qualified than you to call someone – is it my diction?  My articulation?  My ability to punch numbers on a phone screen?

3) The Horn Tooter
These are the mates who trumpet their triumphs to the mountaintops.

My friend K. bathes her young kids nightly.  Every few months, her husband R. will handle it, then march into the living room, plop down on the couch with a huge sigh as though he’s slayed a thousand dragons, and announce dramatically, “I gave the kids a bath.”

(Naturally my reaction would be to praise this behavior in hopes of it recurring!  If it were me, I’d fawn all over my husband:  “Oh thank you! That’s awesome! You’re amazing!”)

My friend K. just gives R. the stink-eye and says, “Whaddaya want – a parade?”

She teases him, like “I give those stinkin’ kids a bath every stinkin’ night, mister!  Don’t be actin’ the martyr just ‘cuz you entered the Splash Zone once in the past six months!”

4) The Procrastinator
This is the partner who absolutely agrees a task needs to be done (awesome!) – and absolutely agrees to do it (hooray!) – but postpones it by saying, “I’ll get to it.”

My friend M. says his wife will tell him, “Don’t worry about the painting mess the kids made on the kitchen table, I’ll take care of it.” Or “There’s laundry on the couch, but I’ll get to it.”  She’s claimed those tasks as hers, so he works on other things around the house.  But eventually people need to use the table and the couch, so he ends up handling her tasks too.

“Her timing is brilliant,” he laughs.  “As soon as I finish what she said she’d do, she sails in and says with a smile, ‘Oh, I was just about to do that! Thanks!’”

5) The Delegator
Some hubbies handle the “outdoor chores” like mowing the lawn, repairs, and pool care – and some delegate those things to a gardener, handyman, and pool guy.  That’s fine, baby!  You got extra cash to out-source some tasks?  Awesome.

However, things can get a little dicey when the Skaters delegate duties to the Handlers.

If you find yourself running around town, desperately searching for great Christmas gifts for your husband’s relatives, wrapping them, boxing and addressing them for shipping, then handing a pen to your hubby to sign the cards during a commercial break while he’s watching the game, you just might start to wonder if you’re the executive assistant to the CEO!

That’s all fine and dandy if he’s reciprocating somewhere along the way by handling some of your stuff – or at least rockin’ your world on the regular!

6) The Dismisser
This is expert level task-avoidance.  This is the mate who declares that the item doesn’t need doin’ at all!

Whenever you say something like “The washer’s making a funny noise, so should we—” or “Maybe we should talk to the teacher about—” or “Before this becomes an issue, we should—” this mate will say, “Nah, it’ll work itself out.  Leave it alone.”  And you never know – is that sage advice – or just an avoidance tactic?

Handler:    Hey, can you please help me set out the folding chairs and tables on the patio for the birthday party?

Skater:      Um yeah OK.  (helps puts out one table and a few chairs, then turns to go)

Handler:   Wait, we have more to put out.  We have 20 people coming!

Skater:      If people need more chairs, we can just get them out as we need them. Everyone’s not gonna sit at the exact same time.

Handler:   (fumes internally while setting out more chairs: &%$*#@!)

Increase Sexy Time!
So if your partner is a What, Huh? Mate, False Flatterer, Horn Tooter, Procrastinator, Delegator, or Dismisser, you know first-hand that it’s difficult to feel frisky when you feel resentful.

But when you can count on your mate to just handle it, now that’s sexy.

So don’t be afraid to speak up.  Tell your Skater, “Yes, honey, your ass looks great in those jeans – and yes, I love all the things you do for our family – and how hard your work – and how you make us feel loved and happy – but you know what I find really erotic?  Handling stuff.”

Forget the flowers and chocolates and fancy restaurants.

Change that lightbulb, make that appointment, bathe those kids, or empty that dishwasher – now that’s sensual!

Sure, a ripped Channing Tatum or a suave Ryan Gosling can certainly get me hot and bothered – but a guy who sees something that needs to be done – and just does it?  Holy hell, that’s a Fast Pass to Sexy Town!

— Darcy Perdu
My post originally appeared on Scary Mommy.

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(Is YOUR mate a False Flatterer, Horn Tooter, Procrastinator, What, Huh? Mate, Delegator, Dismisser – or a new breed all together?  Dish the dirt!)

What Diabolical Bedevilment Is This Kid Up To NOW?

What Diabolical Plan Is My Kid Plotting Now? #funny #alarming @SoThenStories.com

So then…my teen son Tucker asks me to print a strange attachment. I’m busy on the computer so I just glance at it briefly, but it looks to be an IRS penalty letter and a flight itinerary to New York.

I snort because surely the IRS can’t be hounding my son to pay income taxes for a job – since HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE. (not that I’m bitter and resentful about that at all – not that I sweated my balls off working at Grandell’s Amusement Park in Louisiana’s hot humid heat when I was a teen – not that I think he should fill out a few more applications to be gainfully employed for the summer – cough cough)

So I print the attachment and go on about my business in my home office.

Tucker continues his flurry of activities throughout the house, occasionally calling out a question.

I try not to be a helicopter parent, but after awhile, I wonder if I should be concerned by his inquiries over the past few hours:

“Do we have a Polaroid camera for an instant picture?”

“Can you print out a W2 form please?”

“Where’s my passport?”

“Do we have any balloons?”

“Where’s the duct tape?”

What the hell?

Is he running away from home?

Is he an international fugitive?

Is he taking HOSTAGES?

Am I one of the hostages?

Just now he said, “Don’t come in the pantry, please.”

Trust me, buddy, I won’t.

I continue my phone calls and work emails, while posting some of the above questions on Facebook to see what my pals think. Comments range from:

“LMAO”

to

“I’d go in the pantry if I were you”

to

“Are you alive? Should we call the police?”

I figure I’d better check out what nefarious activities he’s up to, so I pop in his bedroom and find this:

You're Snorting What with My WHAT? #funny @SoThenStories.com

Tucker’s not there – just a bunch of foreign currency and his passport.

What country accepts euros AND pesos AND quetzals?

Hmm, maybe I SHOULD go see what’s in the pantry.

As I enter the kitchen, I see this:

You're Snorting What with My WHAT? #funny @SoThenStories.com

I die laughing because it appears to be the cocaine serving for a Sweet Suburban Housewife!

Please note the cocaine lines are cut with a BARNES & NOBLE GIFT CARD!

(not a Gold Am Ex card – a bookstore gift card!)

Apparently the cocaine’ll be snorted with a rolled-up BED, BATH & BEYOND COUPON!

(not a hundred dollar bill – a linen store coupon!)

And the baggie containing the cocaine is helpfully labelled, “Cocaine. Keep until June 2016”

That’s exactly how I label all my dry goods!

But I promise you, THIS IS NOT MY COCAINE!

First of all, I’d never tamper with a Bed, Bath & Beyond 20% Off Coupon – those things are like GOLD to me!

Second of all, IS there an expiration date for cocaine?

Third of all, I don’t do cocaine!

I do Ben & Jerry’s.

(which is FAR superior to cocaine)

So clearly, this little scene is my son’s handiwork.

And yes, the “cocaine” is flour.

But it’s oddly gratifying to know that even if my son were the ring leader of an international drug cartel, he’d be organized enough to LABEL his drugs and provide an EXPIRATION date.

I imagine that’d be quite impressive – and a real time-saver – when the cops bust him and take the drugs into evidence.

The last thing you want is a lab tech to stick his pinky in the powder and declare with a grimace, “Tsk, this cocaine’s gone bad” – or for the British cop to shout “Oi! Sarge, come sample da heroin – seems a bit off, don’t it?”

Finally I locate my fugitive – caught red-handed with scissors and a fake W2 form.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, buddy? Somethin’ for your kitchen cocaine?”

He laughs.

“Yes!” he exclaims. “It’s so funny! I’m working on a SnapChat story about a guy whose IRS fines are so huge, he has to turn to a life of crime to pay the government!”

And sure enough, a few moments later, he shows me his SnapChat photos and text which are pretty frikkin’ hilarious!

Of course, it seems a little implausible that someone would obscenely violate drug laws in order to comply with an income tax law – but hey, who am I to question the motivation of the lead character in a fictional SnapChat story?

I’m a mother — and I’m duty-bound to support my son in all his creative endeavors — even if a Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon is sacrificed in the process.

(stifles a sob)

— Darcy Perdu

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(Any creative mini-filmmakers or clever storytellers out there? How about kids who ask questions so bizarre, you’re almost afraid to find out why they want to know? DO you agree Ben & Jerry’s is far superior to cocaine?)

Signs Your Daughter MIGHT Have Borrowed YOUR Shower…

So then…I pop into my bathroom, when I see something that makes me suspect that my teen Chloe MIGHT have borrowed MY shower to shave her legs.

I spy this upon the shower wall:

Signs Your Kid MIGHT Have Borrowed Your Shower #funny @SoThenStories.com

1st Thought:

Aww, how sweet.

2nd Thought:

Hey, that’s a lot of shaving lotion.

Then I see this written underneath:

Signs Your Kid MIGHT Have Borrowed Your Shower #funny #kids @SoThenStories.com

Ha!

When I see her later, I give her a hug and say:

Me: “I loved my surprise message in the shower today! That was hilarious!”

Chloe, grinning: “Well, I do love you.”

Me: “Why didn’t you finish the second sentence?”

Chloe: “The one that says ‘Sorry for wasting?’”

Me: “Yeah, why didn’t you write ‘Sorry for wasting shaving lotion?’”

Chloe: “Because I ran out of shaving lotion!”

Bwahahaha!

‘Tis no matter. I can always buy more shaving lotion –

And I always love to receive love notes from my family!

Of course, this isn’t the strangest thing I’ve found in my shower! 

— Darcy Perdu

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(What or who is the strangest thing you’ve found in YOUR shower? Do your kids leave you little love notes?)

HOME HERO

HomeHero Ad 429

If you know an elderly relative or friend who could use some home help, but you’re not sure where to find pleasant, reliable, capable staff, you might want to check out HomeHero.

When you don’t live in the same town as your loved ones, it’s difficult to find someone you trust to help them out when they’re not physically able to handle certain things.

The company was created when founders Kyle Hill and Mike Townsend saw how much their parents struggled when interviewing, hiring, and managing in-home care for their grandparents.

Frustrated by the antiquated home care system, Kyle and Mark used technology to consolidate this highly-fragmented market. They created video interviews of candidates and developed smart systems to find, interview, hire, manage, and pay the caregivers.

They already have 800 caregivers onboard – and they’ve helped hundreds of families across Southern California find senior care for their loved-ones. If you’re looking for affordable quality home care, check them out at HomeHero. 

(This is a sponsored post with Mums the Word Blogger Network and HomeHero. All opinions are my own.)

EMBARRASSING Teen Texts – from My Own Teen!

So then…my teen daughter shoots me the glare of a thousand blazing suns and motions for me to BEHAVE.

And for no reason!

I’m merely sighing, foot tapping, and looking pointedly at the clock in a subtle effort to indicate to the two employees sitting behind the desk of this tutor center that it’s well past our appointed appointment time.

Chloe, age 15, whispers, “Stop that!” and nods her head toward the employees.

I whisper mock-seriously, “It’s fifteen minutes past our appointment with the manager! I’m a super-important busy woman with super-important things to do!”

Chloe whispers, “Shhhh!” then texts me fast and furiously on her phone so the staff can’t hear us:

TextAAAA1

Tsk – she’s worried I might embarrass her when we meet with the center manager. How about the appalling lack of punctuation and grammar in that text she just sent?

Chloe took the mock SAT test earlier this week, so today the center manager will tell us the test results, recommend which areas Chloe needs to strengthen, and try to sell us on a package of SAT prep tutoring sessions. Many of Chloe’s classmates study for the SAT and ACT at this center.

If you’re wondering why on earth Chloe thinks I might embarrass her in the meeting…

1) I’m a mimic.

Not in a mean way. Just in a “that-seems-cool/fun/awesome-I-want-to-do-it-too” sort of way.

So if we’re on the dance floor and you’re bustin’ some sweet moves, I will instantly copy those moves. Not to make fun of you. Just because it looks cool and I want to do it too!

If you’re humming a song when I pass you in the grocery store, I’ll still be humming that same tune 3 aisles later.

If you have an accent, I will speak in that accent. To your face. I don’t even realize that I’m doing it. It’s an unconscious mimic reflex!

If you’re Southern, a slight drawl will creep into my inflection.

It’s undetectable at first, but eventually my speech pattern will emulate yours, even if you’re from New Yawk or Bah-ston.

Now if your accent is British, French, or Australian – my involuntary imitation of your manner of speech is either adorable – or awkward – or mildly annoying.

But if your accent is Spanish or Asian – my unintentional simulation can come off as slightly racist.

But I swear I’m not racist!

Honestly I’m not! You can ask my ethnically-diverse friends and relatives!

I genuinely make an effort to curb this inadvertent replication, but every once in awhile, I slip. My kids are there to shoot daggers if I do.

So Chloe might be nervous about our upcoming meeting since the manager and two employees of this education center are all Asian.

2) I like lemon.

Well, that’s fascinating, Darcy, but what the hell does lemon have to do with anything?

At restaurants, I always order “a Diet Coke and a water, with lemons, lots of lemons.” Usually I get no lemons. Or one tiny lemon slice in each drink. But I like LOTS of lemons.

So I’ve learned that if I say, “May I please have a Diet Coke and a water – with a little tray of lemons?” accompanied by hand motions that form a little tray, the server knows exactly what I want – and they bring me a little plate covered in lemon slices.

I’m thrilled – and my children are mortified.

“Why do you have to make the hand motions?!?”

“It’s the only way to get the plate of lemon slices. I’ve scientifically experimented with, and without, the hand motions. It’s the only way.”

“It is NOT the only way!”

“Shut up and eat your bowl of pasta I could’ve made at home for 79 cents.”

3) I like discounts.

Look, I’m not a fanatic. I’m not price-haggling every merchant like a loon.

But if I find myself buying something at Bed Bath & Beyond when my 20% off coupon is still back home on the kitchen counter, you’re gonna hear about it. All day long. And possibly into next week.

And if someone’s trying to sell me hundreds of dollars of SAT prep classes, you can bet I’m going to inquire about a discount – or at least ask if my friend Yvette can get a discount on her daughter’s classes since they referred us to this center!

So now you know the context behind these texts:

Chloe’s texts are on the left in grey – and my responses are on the right in green or blue.

Since she told me to behave at the meeting, I reply:

TextA2A

Chloe looks horrified!

I text:

TextA2B

TextA3

I giggle a bit.

TextA4

Chloe smirks, so I respond with:

TextA4B

TextA5

I crack up laughing.

TextA6

At this point, Chloe snatches my phone and texts me on my own phone:

TextA7

Just then the door opens. The manager says, “Thank you for waiting. Please come in.”

Chloe fires me a warning look. I smile innocently. We follow the manager into her office.

— Darcy Perdu

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(What are your favorite ways to embarrass YOUR kids? Anybody else out there with “involuntary accent mimic syndrome?”)

EMBARRASSING Teen Texts - FROM My Teen! #funny @SoThenStories.com

Just never you MIND how I know — I JUST KNOW!

Don't ask me HOW I know -- but, oh boy, DO I KNOW!!  #funny @SoThenStories.com

So then…I capture your attention to make a crucial Public Service Announcement.

When you become a person of a certain age, and you think you might need to pee…

Go pee. Go pee right that moment.

Don’t hold it.

Don’t wait.

Don’t think, “Oh, I have time. This is just the initial tingling. My bladder’s a sturdy beast. I’ve waited much longer before I’ve really needed to go.”

And whatever you do, don’t drink more liquid while pleasantly biding your time.

Just find a restroom right away.

And take care of yo’ bidness.

At the first inkling you think you should be tinkling, just go.

Do not wait.

Because you may not make it.

*

Take my word for it.

*

Just never you mind how I know.

*

I just know.

*

It doesn’t matter how I know.

*

Omigod, why are you so obsessed with me?

*

Stop ASKING.

*

Stop LAUGHING.

*

It’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

*

Just…

Just trust me.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Look, it doesn’t MATTER if I’m talking about a toddler or someone my current age. Why is that important? The advice still stands. This may not even be ABOUT me. Just mind your own beeswax. So stop asking. Shut up. No, YOU shut up.)

For hilarious tales from the front lines of parenting — and my story of the most embarrassing thing I’ve EVER done — buy this rockin’ new book, I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com




Click the Buy Now button for an autographed copy mailed right to your door!

Wanna Hear Some Embarrassingly Comical Classroom Blunders?

Embarrassing & True - Comical Classroom Blunders @SoThenStories.com
So then…my Saddle Oxfords swing to and fro beneath my blue plaid skirt and white blouse, as I try mightily to pay attention to the teacher at SVA – that’s St. Vincent’s Academy, the all-girls Catholic high school.

We joke that SVA stands for “Saints, Virgins & Angels.” (cough cough)

Anyway, I strain to comprehend Mr. A, our physics teacher – because honestly, all science is a mystery to me. He might as well be speaking Japanese and drawing hieroglyphics on the chalkboard for as well as I’m understanding this subject matter.

Typically, I fare pretty well academically, but in this class, I’m skating by, strictly on the basis of memorization.

So when Mr. A begins discussing resistance of electric circuits — I get super excited that I actually know the answer when he asks the class, “What does “Z” stands for?”

Without even raising my hand, I shout, “IMPOTENCE! IMPOTENCE!”

Silence.

Mr. A’s shocked face.

Giggles and guffaws from the whole class.

Apparently the correct answer is impedance (pronounced “im-peed-ins”)

IMPOTENCE is something else all together.

And back in the days that I went to high school, IMPOTENCE is not exactly a word you heard commonly bandied about in an all-girls school, especially in front of our only male teacher.

Mr. A turns bright red.

He opens his mouth to speak, but dissolves into silent laughter.

He turns away and starts again – no words came out. Just more laughter.

He tries to write something on the chalkboard, but he laughs so hard, his hand shakes.

He tries yet another time to speak, but cannot contain his mirth.

Blessedly, the bell rings for lunch and we girls scuttle out of the classroom.

(Much later, Mr. A tells me that he went to the Teacher’s Lounge to eat his lunch and kept bursting into silent fits of laughter, while the other teachers looked at him oddly.)

I have no idea if Mr. A knows someone who suffers from that particular bedroom issue – or whether he just thinks IMPOTENCE is a hysterically incorrect answer for impedance, but I’m glad to provide him with such a hearty chuckle!

Of course, nowadays, formerly forbidden language is tossed around in daily discussion: “What’s with all the bathtubs in those erectile dysfunction commercials? Which reminds me, when you’re at the store for chips and salsa, pick up condoms. Great, thanks, pass the salt please.”

But back in my high school days, especially at a Catholic all-girls school, one simply did not talk about such things!

In fact, at our Junior Talent Show, my classmate and I served as co-MCs, so we’d take turns telling jokes as we introduced the acts.

On the first night, my co-MC asked the audience, “How can you recognize Ronald McDonald at a nudist colony?” Answer: “By his sesame seed buns!” Huge laugh.

But the school notified her that her MC services wouldn’t be needed on the second night!

Seriously! Booted from the show for a buns joke!

Four years later, my little sister Della served as MC for the SVA Junior Talent Show. In her enthusiasm, she stumbled on her words and announced to the whole auditorium of students, siblings, parents, teachers, and nuns:

“At intermission, please join us in the lobby for cocks and cookies.”

Cokes.

She meant Cokes.

Not cocks.

I never saw the nuns run so fast. To the lobby.

Ha, OK, kidding. The nuns did not run to the lobby – and they were not amused by my sister’s faux pas. But even they had to admit it was merely a mistake – and not a deliberate offer of penises. (peni?)

So between my sister’s cocks and my impotence, we’re obviously fabulous role models!

— Darcy Perdu

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(What words are commonplace now that you’d never have dreamed of uttering in the classroom when you were a kid? Ever embarrass yourself with a funny mispronunciation or wrong word?)

Perfectly Reasonable — or Daddy’s Double Standard?

So then…my husband David suggests that we try to eat dinner around 5:30 pm every day, otherwise our kids (age 3 & 5) tend to get a little hanky (hungry-cranky).

Good idea. So we follow that schedule.

Cut to three weeks later:

I let David know that I need to work late this evening. No problem, he says.

I come home at 7:30 pm to a completely clean kitchen.

Awesome! He must have fed the kids, then cleaned up afterwa—

Wait a minute.

I enter the family room where the kids and he are watching TV.

I greet everyone – hugs, kisses – and inquire about their days.

Then, when the kids are out of earshot…

Me:  Did you feed the kids?

Him: Oh. Nah. (shrugs) They didn’t seem hungry.

Me:  They said they weren’t hungry?

Him: I didn’t ask them. They just didn’t seem hungry.

Me:  They didn’t SEEM hungry? You mean they weren’t writhing on the floor, clutching their bellies, begging for sustenance? They didn’t faint of malnutrition right in front of you? They didn’t collapse in front of the refrigerator with their tiny little fingers clawing at the door? OK, let’s just not feed them until they SEEM hungry. That sounds like a splendid plan!

He grins at my melodramatic contortions, but still attempts a lame, “Well, it’s OK to miss a meal once in awhile…”

Uh-huh. Hmmm. How interesting that the “once in awhile” happens to coincide with the one night I’m working late and he’s in charge of feeding them.

So if I’m around, dinner should be at 5:30 – but when he’s at the helm, dinner should be when the tykes send him an engraved invitation?

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great Dad – and usually pretty helpful with the kids – but this time, it’s a bit of a double standard, right?

Or do I just need to train my kids to pound their silverware on the table and chant “FOOD, FOOD, FOOD!” like li’l prison convicts when they’re hungry?
Hmm, seems like a Daddy Double Standard if you ask ME -- but YOU decide! #funny @SoThenStories.com
— Darcy Perdu

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(Any double standards at YOUR house with YOUR spouse? Lay it on us!)

Who’s Singin’ the “How the Hell Is This School Project Gettin’ Done in Time” Blues?

So then…both my kids announce brand new huge projects that must be completed before the school year ends — which is just a couple weeks away — and I suspect these projects weren’t assigned today.

Of course, this reminds me of the School Project to End All School Projects, so I’ll share this here just in case any of you are singin’ the “How the Hell Is This School Project Gettin’ Done in Time” Blues!

That Special Joy When Another Mom Notifies You Just How Oblivious Your Kid Is -- Honestly, are ALL kids procrastinators or do some kids have a special knack for being COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS? SoThenStories.com #funny

So then…she nibbles the walnut brownie I baked and comments on how nicely Tucker and her son Andrew, both age 11, are playing basketball in our backyard.

I beam. This is the first time Linda’s son has come over.  (I’d even tidied up the house and baked some “get-to-know-you” brownies.)

“They’ve had a great afternoon,” I say. “Thanks for letting Andrew come home with us after school. Tucker’s really enjoyed hanging out with him.”

Linda nods, picks up Andrew’s backpack, and heads for the patio door to collect her son. She says, “Yeah, I almost had to cancel though, because Andrew hadn’t made enough progress on his International Fair project yet. But he did a lot last night, so he’s in pretty good shape.”

My pulse quickens. What International Fair project? I ask.

She looks at me as though I’m joking. “The one that’s due Monday.”

Today is Friday.

“Oh, is that, like an optional project, like for a Science Fair, or something?” I ask hopefully.

She turns to me, backpack on her shoulder, and says, “No, this is the big 6th grade History project they’ve supposed to have been working on all semester. Surely Tucker’s told you about it?”

I’m sure I’m turning bright red from embarrassment – and bright white from panic.

“Um, no, he hasn’t mentioned it. What’s due on Monday?”

Well, now she sets the backpack down and turns her attention completely toward me, and braces herself to tell me some very bad news.

“OK, each child picks a country, then they need to write a report on 6 topics of that country, like climate, cuisine, politics, religion, stuff like that.”

I gulp.  Sweat forms on my brow.

International Fair Darcy Concern
“Each report has to be typed up and pasted on a tri-fold poster board with artwork and photos,” she continues.

“Well, um, OK,” I stammer. “I..I think we can work on that this weekend. I can run to the crafts store for the poster board. We can probab-“

“Get the flag materials there too,” she interrupts.

“There’s a flag?” I ask.

“Yes, and a costume.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, this is why they gave the kids all semester to work on it! They need to make that country’s flag out of fabric and put it on a stick because they’ll carry it in the procession. Then they also need to wear a costume that’s native to the country – it can be homemade, or maybe you have a friend or family member who has something from that country, or—“

She stops as she sees me sit down, about to hyperventilate.

I whisper, “I don’t even know what his country is.”

She winces.

International Fair Linda Explains
“OK, look, I hate to keep going, but you should know the kids also need to cook an authentic dish from their country.” She blurts it out very quickly like she’s ripping off a band-aid. “And they need to have enough bite-size servings for 40 students because all the 6th graders and their parents are invited to the International Fair – which is Monday.” Then super-fast she says, “And it’s 25% of their grade.”

She picks up the backpack again and turns toward the patio door. She looks back at me and I see indecision on her face. Should she flee the scene? Grab her son and run away, kissing him all over for having the good sense to tell her about the International Fair project months ago?

Or should she stay and comfort a fallen comrade in the Mommy Wars?

Please, my eyes beg her. Don’t abandon me. Explain more about this International Fair of which you speak. Help me, guide me, tell me my son’s frikking country, something, anything, for God’s sake. What’s your son’s country? Can our sons choose the same country? Can my son join your son and share his flag and his tri-fold and his cuisine? I beg of you…

Of course I don’t say any of those words out loud. But she can see them in my eyes. So she pats me on the shoulder, opens the patio door, and calls for Andrew.

The boys come running in. Linda says a nervous goodbye to an oblivious Tucker, hastily thanks me, hustles Andrew out the door, and snags another brownie on her way out.

Bitch. She annihilates me AND still has time to take a treat?

I shouldn’t have thought that. Of course she’s not a bitch. Why shoot the messenger when there is somebody much more appropriate to receive my wrath?

As the front door closes, I turn to Tucker, narrow my eyes, and ask in a chillingly low voice, “Did you know there was an International Fair project due on Monday?”

He stuffs a brownie bite in his mouth and says brightly, “Yeah, but it’s like a Science Fair or something – it’s optional.

I grip the handles of the chair. “Tucker.It.Is.Not.Optional.It.Is.25%.Of.Your.Grade!”

He shrugs, says, “Huh,” and takes another bite.

I look at him with wonder that this truly carefree child emanated from the womb of a Type A hyper-organized, compulsive pre-planner like myself.

“Linda said the teachers have been talking about this International Fair all semester. Did you think they would spend that much time talking about an optional project?” I ask.

He screws up his face and lifts his shoulders in a gesture of Hey, who knows what’s on the minds of those crazy teachers?

International Fair Tucker Shrugging
I take a breath. “Tucker,” I say. “Do you even know what country you have? And if you chose a country, what did you think you were choosing it FOR, since you thought the project was optional?

He finishes the last bite of the brownie and says, “Oh yeah, I chose Mexico. I thought it was like ‘Hey, where would you like to visit if you could pick any country?’ And I picked Mexico because I love Mexican food.”

“Well, I’m glad you do, Tucker. I’m glad you do. Because you are going to be making Mexican food all weekend. And a flag and a costume and 6 reports! YOU ARE GOING TO BE ALL MEXICO ALL THE TIME FOR THE NEXT 48 HOURS!!”

And thus began one of the most painful, stressful weekends in the history of school projects.

Ay Caramba!

International Fair Tucker Color
— Darcy Perdu

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Original Illustrations for So Then Stories created by Shelly at Shell Graphics

(Any projects that snuck up on you or your kids? Any surprise tests? Or how about the “oh-yeah-I-need-36-cupcakes-for-school-tomorrow-Mom” at 9:00 at night? Share your Stories and Comments below! I LOVE to read them!)

International Fair Hearing the News Color