A Side of Mayhem (aka "we'll have the usual...")

I know I've often relayed the silly...or...outrageous...or downright head-scratching conversations that seem to occur on a regular basis at mealtimes in this household. But hey, it's been at least a week or so since I've had anything along those lines to report, so we're way overdue, right? Ha! Careful what you wish for...

In recent years I've found that I'm not very hungry at dinnertime, so rather than sit at the table and not eat, I tend to either hover nearby, hanging out and chatting while the boys chow down, or wander in and out taking care of other chores and catching bits and pieces of whatever they happen to be discussing. So the other night I had gone upstairs to put laundry away, and when I returned to the kitchen I caught the words "cesarean section" coming out of Husband's mouth. I stopped dead in my tracks and gaped at him, while he met my startled gaze with a half-apologetic, half "please rescue me, I don't know how I got myself into this" look. It turns out that this debacle got underway with Derek mentioning Julius Caesar in the midst of talking about his upcoming Social Studies Midterm. Husband couldn't resist making a wisecrack, "Oh, you mean like the salad?" Derek took this at face value, however, and responded that in fact, the salad is named after an entirely different Caesar. Not to be deterred, Husband then jumped into the muck with both feet: "Well, you know what IS named after Julius Caesar?" You guessed it, the c-section. But did beloved Husband exercise the sensible option, to just stop right there and deftly change the subject before it got any more delicate, tricky, and potentially embarrassing? Of course not! He went on to explain exactly what the term means, and how Riley was born via c-section because he was positioned the wrong way...oy! TMI for the pre-teen set!

And although I didn't believe it possible, the situation proceeded to get even worse. Riley, puzzled by the information, decided to seek clarification: "Dad, didn't I come out of Mom's...inappropriates?" Oh. Good. Grief. But immediately I encouraged, "It's okay, honey, you can use the correct term." It was all he could do to whisper the v-word--and just when I was admiring his adorable innocence, and thinking about how I would go ahead and give him permission to use the more generic "girl parts" until he was older and could handle it without mortification...Goofball Big Brother opened up his big Middle School mouth and crowed, "Yeah, it's just the female version of a winkie!" Okay, that's it, I give up, you're all grounded! Actually, I believe at that point I remembered some extremely urgent task I needed to accomplish immediately...in a far-removed portion of the house. And from now on, I might be boycotting dinner altogether.

However, would you believe there's a footnote to this tale? (Yes, brace yourself...) This addendum will serve to illustrate two points: 1. The Y-Chromosome Influence is so pervasive in this family that I may have been incurably infected (Can that even happen? Like a grownup version of Boy Cooties? Well if so, I definitely have it); and 2. We might ALL have a bit of a video game problem these days. Here's what happened...we had just finished lunch at a restaurant and the guys had all gone to the restroom to wash up. When they returned, Husband reported that there had been "much giggling" during the...proceedings. "What happened?" I absentmindedly inquired. (What the heck was I thinking? Have I learned nothing in the last decade about what's hilarious to the Male Species? Sigh.) Husband described how Derek had nearly, due to a temporary attentional lapse, shall we say "missed the mark"...and hit his brother instead. When I turned to give Derek the patented Mom Glare, he unabashedly declared, "What? I can't control these things!" And what retort popped into my mind--and out of my mouth before I could swallow it back--in that instant?  "Ha! I guess you had a Pee Power-Up!" (You know, like when you're chasing someone in your game, and you get a certain number of points, and receive special strength or speed or blasting ability for a set amount of time...a Power Up? Oh, never mind...like I said, we may have to institute a 12-Step Program to deal with our family-wide Video Game...issue.) Maybe I'd be safer just inviting myself over to OTHER people's houses for meals...any takers? Hello...dear friends...cherished family members...anyone?