Mom you have a big butt

But in a good way, my daughter quickly added as she saw the look on my face.

Common, J. I invited you into the dressing room to get an opinion on this new Mother's Day suit, not for a critique of my bod, which I know could lose a few.

"Jennifer!" I sputtered out. "This will teach me to let you in the dressing room"

"Mom, mom, I'm saying it's good. Guys like perky butts."

So you think my butt is perky?

At this point, the sales lady who was getting stray clothes in the next room couldn't stand it anymore and started snorting with laughter.

"Yeah, I know," I called over the wall. "This from a girl who has the metabolism of a greyhound."

"She'll learn," the woman called back (prob. hoping I'd still buy the suit..which I did)

And it did not make my butt look big.

What do I really want for mother's day?

Actually to be left alone.

To be able to take my paint, my books and my french press, and go outside on the deck and not be asked "where is my black belt," or hear how messy the house is, (yes I know) or if I can play chauffeured to the daughter to the mall. Or do chores, or walk the dog.

But that's not what I said when my hubby asked me that. I said brunch and going to the races was gift enough.

At this point, my daughter launched in, and told him that HE should be able to figure out what I want.

When I told her later what I really wanted, she laughed. And kismet, the 106.9 announcer popped on and said the same thing.

"Probably a good idea you didn't tell dad that," she said after a moment. "Probably would have hurt his feelings."

Yeah, probably.

I like him, I like him not

But now, J is back to liking a guy who she had thought of as just a friend.

She had taken him to tolo - JUSt AS A FRIEND- she stressed, but now she's changed her mind.

He asked for a ride home today, since he'd missed the bus, and he is a bit of a chatterbox, and sings along to all the songs on the radio. I like him.

Although in a very serious voice last night, Jennifer told me she'd had a dream that she was driving in the car with me, home from school, and I'd said this wasn't the guy for her. She needed someone quiet and confident.

Flash forward to the future: OK, sez I. But you're not planning on marrying him, right? And it is just a dream.

NO! and well, yeah.

Well, then have some fun. He makes you laugh, which past ex b-f didn't do.

Although I think she's conflicted about actually being a girlfriend with him, since as I picked her and L. up, lo, two guys she knew were across the street, looking at J.

J admits that she thinks one's hot (this before L. gets in the car)

I can't quite see what she's talking about, but I just nod politely.

But I know enough not to mention Mr. Hot while L. is in the car.

Guys are another species

"WHY do they act the way they do," she cried in fury, after yet another boy backed way from the tornado that is my daughter.

"I think God thought it was funny at the time," I said.

And, I added, it doesn't get any better, and no, they don't grow out of it.

"Well every day, I get compliments on how pretty I am, yet I don't have a boyfriend," she continued, after cussing God for her weird sense of humor.

I explained that she'll probably be dealing with that for a good long while, as being strong woman and a girl who has a tendency to express her opinions...bluntly, some guys might not find that trait, attractive.

"Not that I want you to lose that feature," I said.

Kids are weird

As in seven-year-olds and below, according to J.

She was watching a pair in a coffee shop she and her friends frequent after school.

"And first, they ordered italian creamers, and the boy said "Oh, that makes my throat feel so good,'" she said.

"That's just sooo strange," she continued.

"And then they think they know everything about everything, and have an opinion about everything, and they have to share it with everyone...whether they want to hear it or not."

Silence, waiting for my response.

I tried to avoid eye contact.

Uh huh.

What did you just call me?

I was giving Jennifer static over what she was wearing today, as we pulled into a Starbucks for coffee on the way to school.

BZ, she mumbled.

Didn't think anything of it, as we ordered our lattes (I know, bad mommy. We were late getting out of the house, so since the first-period teacher is tolerant of tardiness, we decided to hell with it and get coffee first) I commented that men, when caught making a mistake, seem to have a default reaction: pretend in fact, they didn't, or blame it on someone else.

She thought for a second and totally agreed.

"They are all bz's" she said.

"What does that mean."

"Bitches"

"So what exactly did you call me as we were driving up?"

Mom and the ponies

Here I was today, nuts, screaming in front of the TV as Mine that Bird a 50-1 no one ever heard of horse from NM (why I liked him) won the Kentucky Derby.

When my daughter figured out how much $$ we could have made on even a $10 bet (I'll save you the calculations, it's about $1,000) she cried, why didn't we bet on that horse, I shook my head. We never bet that kind of money on a horse, sadly, it's only $2 bets. However, we'll get a chance at the ponies next week, when the fam takes me to Emerald Downs for mom's day, my annual treat.

We usually pick the horses by color, by the silks and if there's a woman jockey. Not very scientific, but it works for us.