When Did the Word "NO" Become A Suggestion?

Loren and I have had many discussions about the fact that our children don't listen to the word "no" very well. We know that few children like the word no unless it works to their advantage. For example, Emily came in our room Thursday night telling us that her friend wanted her to go to the midnight premier of the final Harry Potter movie. Em is not a Harry Potter fan and didn't want to go, but didn't know how to say no. So as her friend is on the phone waiting for an answer she asks us to say that she couldn't go. Okay, I'll play this game. "No," I replied.
"Okay. Thanks."
Yes, I do comprehend the irony here. Not only can they not be told no, they can't say no unless it's to their parents.
The reason I bring this up is the following: Jessica wanting to drive to Colorado; in her father's truck; alone; FOR TEN HOURS!
"No Jessica you can't go. It's too long and too far to be driving by yourself."
Her response, "I'm 20 years old mom. I'm not a child. I'm an adult now." By the way this is her response to everything; which is the topic for another blog.
"I didn't say you were a child. Bad things happen to grown women too."
"I can get on Craig's List and look for a Ride Share."
"Huh? You think that's safe?! Really?!"
"Mom, don't be ridiculous. You can meet them before we leave if you have to."
"Oh yes, that will make it all better. They will be the same person on the road with you as they are when I meet them. Are you crazy?! Just because I meet them before you leave doesn't make them safe once you get in the car with them and pull away!!"
"Mom, you're being overprotective again."
"Oh, so sorry that I worry if you'll be safe!"
So her answer to this issue was to ask her 19-year-old step-brother to go along. He could help drive, she said.
"Your brother has no license. And it's your dad's truck."
"Yeah.. So?"
"So if you get into an accident, what then?"
"I'll deal with that when it happens. Besides, nothing's going to happen."
"Are you going to ask your dad for permission to drive his truck to Colorado?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because if I ask him he'll say no and I just don't want to deal with that drama."
"That'll be nothing compared to the drama that you'll have to deal with if he finds out you took his truck to Colorado and didn't let him know."
"He's not going to find out."
"Uh, your sisters. Hello!"
So of course she continues to make plans to leave with her step brother later that night. No amount of reasoning could change her mind. And after attending a party all afternoon, she packs in about ten minutes and leaves.
Let me also add that she is not concerned about the job she just got and was supposed to start this past Wednesday, but put off starting until sometime the following week because, "She just has too much to do first."
And the thing that just gripes me about all of this is that she will get there and back just fine. She'll start her job just fine. And she'll never understand the issue here until she has children of her own.
AND she made me go there! She made me sound just like MY mother!

The Day He's Not a Man Anymore.

What do you get when you live with a man who grew up on Monty Python, the ORIGINAL Saturday Night Live, Robin Williams and Steve Martin when they were new? My wonderful Loren! Yes, his sense of humor is original. Just like mine and the friends we hung around with in high school. I have found that on occasion it becomes necessary to explain our sense of humor to some. Especially those who are older or waaaay younger. There have been frequent times when our children have heard our jokes, rolled their eyes and walked away. Or looked us in the eye and said, "You are so weird!"

So with that introduction I have to share Loren's recent funny comment to me. After working late last night (Friday) he naturally came home quite hungry. But since it was after 7 p.m., I thought starting a big meal was not a good idea. So I suggested sandwiches. Now, Loren loves boloney sammiches (as he calls them), and he loves putting potato chips on his sammich; preferably, Lay's Plain chips. Oh, he'll settle for generic, but when he's into quality dining, it's Lay's all the way baby. 

But I digress. As he and I were discussing making sandwiches, I told him I would make his sandwich for him. He told me he could make it, but I said I would be happy to do it for him. He then became insistent saying he could make his own meal. 

"But sweetheart," I said. "You've been working hard and it's been a log day. I'm happy to do it for you."

That's when he blurted out this little beauty: "The day a man can't make his own boloney sammich is the day he's not a man anymore!"

I slowly looked up at him, raised my eyebrows and questioned, "So your manliness is based on your ability to make a bologna sandwich?"

"Yes! If a man can't make it himself, he is NOT a man!"

"Well babe, you just go for it. I would not want to be responsible for emasculating you," I replied in a very serious voice.

Ten minutes later a pleading voice calls from the kitchen. "Honey! Where are the potato chips?"

'Nuff said.

As a postscript to the above, he has also stated the following:

The day a man can't carry his own groceries is the day he's not a man anymore.

The day a man can't sit in a side car of a motorcycle with his pinwheel blowing in the wind, is the day he's not a man anymore. 

(I know. Don't ask).