Love Stinks

I often think about what I would have liked people to tell me before I had kids. You know, warned me about. Like, "Do you have any idea home much kids throw up before the age of eighteen?" or, "Do you know how much it costs to cloth and feed teenage boys and how fast their feet grow?" Well, I've got one today. A little nugget that my forty-five year old self would like to pass down to her twenty-five year old self.

Remember when you were a sophomore and somehow got the guts to ask A boy to the Sadie Hawkins dance and he said yes? Okay, remember how your Mom decided it would be really funny to take him a bouquet of flowers and a chocolate bar, because boys are supposed to bring flowers and candy to a date? You said no, you were too shy, but she prevailed because she's the boss of you and eventually you thought, "yea, that's kinda funny". Then thirty minutes before the dance he called and said, "Why don't we just meet at the dance so we can hang out with our friends?" And your Mom made you go to the dance anyway, even though you wanted to crawl in a hole. Then, he took pity on you and drove you home and gave you your first kiss and the next day told all his friends it was like kissing a Saint Bernard? You remember that, right?

When your kids get to High School, you get to relive that ALL OVER AGAIN. And since you had the brilliant idea to have four kids....use your multiplication table. Yeah. And even though he says it's all fine, and they seem to be acting very mature and responsible about the whole thing, even though he says they really like being friends without the romance. You may as well be holding the phone when He calls to say he'll meet you at the dance instead.