Can I put my arms like THIS?

Ohmygoodnesssomeonehelpmeplease…..

As if I don’t have my hands full with Tyler and his new flame, the red headed girlfriend, now Jordan, my 12 year old with over-flowing hormones has apparently been hit by the love bug as well.

I should have known, he’s been giving me hints. He’s told me at least half a dozen times that he really needs to get a girl a Christmas gift, and he’s been pretty serious about it. “Mom, we HAVE to get her a gift.” When I’ve inquired about what she likes, the typical 12 year old boy response has come back at me: “I don’t know. She likes purple?’”

Okay. That’s good. At least he’s not asking me to buy him a purple g-string, right?

I got home from work today, and he asked if she could come over.

“For what,” I asked. “Does she need tuba lessons?” (That didn’t go over so well.)

‘Um. I don’t know. So we can hang out?’

I don’t think he had bathed since Saturday. It looked like a wrecking crew had marched through the living room while I was at work. And he wanted his new love to come over?

“Sure, I said. But you might want to sanitize, deodorize, and vacumize first.”

On any other day, that very same request would have been met with loud protests of how unfair I am, and how unjust it is that he needs to clean up, and not have missing gum stuck behind his ears.

Throw a girl in the picture and it all changes.

He cleaned up the living room first and did a bang up job. He even straightened the couch cushions. Maybe I should get a cute female to just live here with us? I could let the house keeper go entirely.

Once that was done, he took a shower, then he came down here and said, ‘How do I look, should I clip my fingernails?’

‘Absolutely,’ I said. And while you’re at it, I need my checkbook balanced and the toilets scrubbed.

Seriously, he was ready to do whatever needed to impress this girl, and I was prepared to make a list.

“You can clean the fridge out if you want. She might look in there and you don’t want to make a bad impression.”

No luck on that one.

She finally arrived, I met her mom, and left them in the living room to watch TV, just outside my VERY wide open bedroom door.

I walked out a few minutes later when my super neighbor stopped by. We walked into the living room to find the love birds watching a movie, but more connected at the hip than conjoined twins.

Call a surgeon quick, I mean they looked like they were sewed together.

Yeowza! My neighbor started giving me goo goo bug  eyes like WHAT THE SAM HELL ARE THEY DOING and I’m all like, I know, I know.

I discreetly called Jordan into the kitchen and whipsered, “Um, could you please put some air in between you and the female?”

He’s all like “air, how much air?’

I said, “pretend like I’m sitting smack in the middle of both of you, because that’s exactly where I’ll be if you don’t scoot your a** over.”

He followed me into the bedroom and whispered, ‘well, how close can I sit?’

I mean REALLY. HE’s TWELVE!

I thought if I had a magnifying glass, I could easily just look with the naked eye and see the hormones oozing out through his pores, except I should NOT use the word NAKED in this blog, it might be bad karma.

I said, “no part of the left side if your body should be touching her.”

“None?”

“None.”

“Well, can I put my arms around her like THIS ?(and he uses both arms to make a circle)”

I said, “Good grief child, this is a movie in the living room at 5 pm on a Monday, not a wrestling match, although I am sure you would like that. You get ONE arm, not two. And no body parts down the side touching.”

My little lovebirds, this weekend, all cleaned up.

He’s 12 years old!

“Not two arms?”

“One arm. And I damn well better be able to see both hands.”

<SIGH.>

“Okay.”

Sheesh.

Does anyone know the minimum age to throw a child into the monastary?

I need some spiked eggnog and an Oreo truffle or six. Quick.

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