Yep, It’s Friday the 13th Again

Dear Kid,

Hold onto your friggatriskaidekaphobia (ooooh, big word. Means fear of Friday the 13th).

Did you know that Fr13 shows up at least once every year? 

Did you know Friday the 13th shows up at least once a year? DearKidLoveMom.comOnce upon a time, no one worried about Friday the 13th because the only days of the week were Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (and like most triplets they kept changing places with each other). Then Days of the Week were invented and Friday the 13th became the red-headed step child.

Being the kind of mom I am, I conducted a careful scientific study about Fr13 (and by “careful scientific study” I mean I drank a Diet Coke). I can now conclusively say that on Friday the 13th you should avoid walking under a black cat. If a ladder crosses your path, be sure to look in a broken mirror while holding a rabbit’s foot (preferably attached to the rabbit who still – presumably – has a use for it).

See how helpful science Diet Coke is?

Hope you have a great Friday the 13th, because it’s going to come around again in October.

Love, Mom

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Stop! Right Now! You Don’t Want Your Mother to Get The Wrong Idea!

Dear Kid,

Stop! Put down the phone!

More importantly, put down your thumbs.

Do not text your mother. She might get the idea you're communicating. DearKidLoveMom.comDo not text your mother.

Do not call, Tweet, send a Facebook message, or email.

Do not send a carrier pigeon or smoke signals.

Your mother might get the idea you’re communicating.

When asked a direct question, respond in monosyllables. Even better, respond in emojis. Do not use words. And for heaven’s sake, do not expand on your answer.

Your mother might think you’re communicating.

Do not offer to start a conversation (unless it involves asking for money). Do not give the impression you are open to continuing a conversation (unless it involves asking for money).

Your mother might suspect you’re communicating.

Do not provide details, no matter how meaningless, even when asked. Be vague. Feign ignorance. Use IDK and TBD liberally.

Otherwise, your mother might interpret your actions as communication.

Do not provide information about classes, professors, students, teaching assistants, tutors, or study groups. Do not acknowledge that you have roommates, suite mates, study mates, or mates. Do not provide clues about how you spend your time. Do not comment on the weather. Reply to all inquiries with “It’s fine.”

Otherwise, you might actually be communicating.

Love, Mom



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Hair Today

Dear Kid,

It is Talking About Hair Day. It isn’t really, but (just like every other day) part of getting ready to face the world involves fluffing our folliculars.

As we go about fixing the fur, tending the tresses, managing the mane, I thought some tonsorial factoids might be in order.

Seriously, you know NOTHING about hair. I am an expert. DearKidLoveMom.comPut down your brush, and pay attention.

Hair grows approximately ¼ to ½ an inch a month. Unless it’s growing in an unwanted area in which case it grows approximately ½ foot per day.

A wet strand of healthy hair can stretch to 30% more than its original length.  When it gets to 31%, it will snap like a brittle twig and ruin your ‘do.

Hair can tell a lot of tales. It can tell a forensic scientist where you’ve been, what you’ve eaten, who you murdered, and how you feel about puppies. It can tell a suspicious spouse that someone has been in close contact with your jacket.

The scientific term for split ends is “trichoptilosis.” No one cares.

Hair is 50 percent carbon, 21 percent oxygen, 17 percent nitrogen, 6 percent hydrogen, 5 percent sulphur, and 70% tangles.

A single hair has a lifespan of about 5 years. Unless you’re LL Cool J or Michael Simon.

Hair grows fastest when you’ve gotten a cut you really like. It grows slowest when you’re trying to grow it out. 3 inches. Before your blind date Saturday night.

Love, Mom

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Thinking About French Fries…

Dear Kid,

I’m thinking about French fries.

Which are not French. Nor are they handy.

Just to be clear, apples are not really a good substitute for French fries (in case you weren’t sure).

apples are not really a good substitute for French fries. Damn Diet. DearKidLoveMom.comFrench fries were (possibly) invented by Belgium villagers (who didn’t call them French fries because that would be ridiculous). During WWI, American soldiers in Belgium had French fries and fell in luv. The official language of the Belgian army was French, and the Americans (who were not exactly well versed in geography and geopolitical history) call they called yummy fried-ness French fries. Americans still call them French fries because A) Americans and B) Belgium is for waffles.

You might think pretty much everyone eats FFs with ketchup. You’d be mistaken. When one is in Belgium, one eats FFs with mayonnaise. When one is in Britain or Canada, one eats FFs with vinegar. Malt vinegar, please. If one is me, one eats FFs with mustard, because it’s delicious. When one is in a fast food joint, one eats FFs with a burger.

Several years ago, fries got a bad rap when “Ya’ want fries wid dat?” became short-hand for the most advanced level of work at McDonald’s. In other words, career stoppage. Poor French fries.

Yeah, still want some.

Damn diet.

Love, Mom

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5 Facts About College Kids and an Important Reminder

Dear Kid,

I had a few not-so-good minutes yesterday. Not hideously CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT bad, but bittersweet.

And it’s your fault.

I got up (relatively early for a Sunday with no scheduled plans). As I sat thawing (after walking the Puppy in sub-temperature degrees) and drinking my coffee (duh) I thought, “I wonder what time the Kid will wake up today.”

And then I realized that A) I was right that you were probably still sleeping and B) I was right that you would wake up at some point later in the morning but C) you were not going to come downstairs, fuzzle-headed, to join me for breakfast.

Some of us get over the excitement more quickly than others...DearKidLoveMom.comBecause you’re no longer here. You’re back at school. Which is exactly where you belong.


Fact: It is possible for parents to spoil their kids.

Fact: It is possible for kids to spoil their parents.

Fact: It is possible for kids to spoil their parents just by being home for a while.

Fact: It takes a while for us all to settle back into our “regular” roles.

Fact: It was wonderful having you home.

Reminder: Texts are wonderful, but it’s OK with Verizon if you occasionally use the phone to call and speak with us.

Have a great semester, kiddo.

Love, Mom

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Death By Elephant and Why James Bond Is Important

Dear Kid,

Holy Moley, was I wrong.

Happy Elephant Appreciation Day! Take a moment to appreciate your favorite elephant. DearKidLoveMom.comI thought I had it all figured out.

Having put several seconds of thought together, I decided I knew how I want to die. (No, this is not morbid.)

I decided I want to be 92 and get stepped on by an elephant. Squish. Done. No lingering moments or tubes. And the idea that I’ll be spry enough to be somewhere where a rogue elephant could step on me appeals immensely.

So I got talking to some people about it (at first they thought it was morbid too, but they soon got the point). And someone innocently suggested that I should research death by elephant to see if an elephant has ever stepped on someone to kill them.

Hilarious, I thought. Great topic. Wonderful. Amusing. Adorable even.


It turns out that execution by elephant was a thing. Particularly in India where (and I quote) “Asian elephants were used to crush, dismember, or torture captives in public executions.” That. Is. Awful.

Elephants are highly trainable, and they were taught both to kill people instantly or to torture them slowly over a long period of time. These trained pachyderms signified (again, I quote) “the ruler’s absolute power and his ability to control wild animals.” Disgusting.

I can’t tell you more about this because this is a horrible, awful way to treat animals. And people.

What I had in mind was much more of the Disney version. Wait, some of their stuff with elephants is pretty ugly too.

What I had in mind was much more of the James Bond version (the old movies). No blood. Nothing horrible. Just me being spry and lively and accidentally stepping under a heffalumps hoof. Maybe while the elephant was tap dancing or something.

In any case, I hereby apologize to all elephants. I will go think about other things.

Love, Mom

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It’s Bobblehead Day! (Don’t Ask Why)

Dear Kid,

Today is Bobblehead Day. The little figurine type of Bobblehead, not the woe-is-me-I-had-waaay-too-much-fun-last-night type of bobblehead.

Happy Bobblehead Day 2017! DearKidLoveMom.comDon’t look at me like that, child, I just report these things—I don’t (usually) make them up.

Bobbleheads have been around for a long time (and by “long time” I mean over 100 years) when Mr. Bobble realized he had overproduced little springs and needed a use for them (yeah, I made that part up). Bobbleheads started in the mid-1800s (I told you it was a long time ago) with cats (no one knows why—these things just happen) and then in the 1920s moved to sports figures.

These days it is possible to get almost any kind of bobblehead figure. Warning: don’t test me on this one. I went to the internet and looked. Don’t. You’ve been warned.

If you’re not a crazy Bobblehead fan (and you didn’t overindulge last night), I suggest celebrating today by nodding at a nearby tree and moving on to something more interesting.

Love, Mom

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