The Wurst

So it turns out that I am the worst at blog remembering. I go through life noting funny things that happen, thinking, hey, I’ll blog that. Then I forget and that sucks. Also ADHD. And busy life, and things.

Elder son proposed this the other day: Hey mom, how about if I go with Max to Mounds next weekend?

Me: WTF is Mounds? More info please.

Son: It’s a longboard race and weekend thing, like camping and then longboarding.

Me: So weed and pot and ganja, then?

Son: Mom! I totally don’t do that.

Me: I know. But also I’m wildly savvy. Large group of older teen/younger twenties male humans, all of whom share a love of a thrill seeking sport, in tents kind of out in nowhere. There is no way that will not include alcohol and drugs.

Son: Well yeah. But that’s not what I’m there for.

Me: I’m aware of that, you’re a pure sportsman.

Son: Right. Wait, are you being sarcastic? Mom.

Me: Well here are your options: No. Or, I go with you! Mom in the house!

Son: Oh god.

Mom: I will totally blend in. I will braid my hair in two braids and wear a beanie and look like a longboard girl. Or dude, your choice.

Son: Oh god.

Me, really warming up to the idea: This will be awesome. I swear no one will be able to identify a mom in their midst. I will say words like “dank” and “steazy.”

Son: Mom (increasing despair in voice, facial expression switching between shock and utter tragedy)

As it turns out I am going, totally going to tent it up at the longboard rally! Super cool for sure. My son is asking questions like, “Mom, are you going to, like, walk around busting people for pot?” “Mom, can you, like, not really talk to anyone?” “Mom, can you not say dank?” My answers vary with the level of diabolical feeling inside me. I vacillate between elaborate scenarios in which his humiliation is extreme, and calming scenarios in which I am both unobtrusive and subtly cool. All in all I’m enjoying the dark power I hold until the event, wherein he will see that I am really just there to help oversee safety and good decision making. And food.

I’m totally pro-male range of emotions and human expression but I expect that this will be somewhat of a large-scale episode of Jackass. The whole prefrontal cortex thing seems especially desperate in boys, when related to physical feats of daring and showing off. All in all I’m looking forward to being a super dank fly on the wall. Or mom in the tent, as it were.