Monthly Archives: August 2012

Give My Kid Some Homework For His Birthday

Photo via Omer Wazir via Flickr.com’s Creative Commons. Click on the image to be brought to his fabulous photostream!

In an effort to undo some of summer’s brain drain honor of my son’s birthday, I am giving you the opportunity to ask him questions.

This idea fascinates me, and yet I am simultaneously terrified.

I mean things could go horribly awry.

I’m relinquishing all my control to a soon-t0-be teenager, people.

If you don’t know TechSupport – the pseudonym that I use to refer to my son — you probably haven’t been reading my blog for very long.

That’s okay.

Here is a crash course.

How do we get this party started?

In the comments below, ask any questions (serious or wonky) about me or his dad; about life as an only child; about 13-year-old boys; anything technology related, like what to do when your iPhone freezes up; or anything else you’ve got rattling around in your head.

But let’s keep this rated PG okay? Pervy questions will be deleted for being pervy.

You have until 8/12 to ask Tech a question, and then I will force ask Tech to respond to your questions in a guest post before he returns to school in September.

I don’t know what I’m more excited for: your questions or his answers. I have a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night no matter how you slice this pizza, it’s going to be delicious. Unless there are anchovies. Because anchovies ruin an otherwise perfectly good pizza.

Happy birthday, son. Best present ever, right?

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

Mo-Mo-Mo. Hawk-Hawk-Hawk.

TechSupport called while he was away at overnight camp.

I knew something had to be really wrong to get a phone call.

He had to be sick. Or dying. Or have head lice.

But no.

He called to ask permission to get a mohawk.

“It’s for the Fight Song. Can I do it?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, knowing my husband always gives Tech a good brush-cut before school starts in September.

“Tell the director.” Tech said. “He needs to hear it from your lips.”

“Hi, Renée.” I heard the director smiling through the phone.

“It’s fine.” I laughed.

Imagine if your kid came back to you — after four weeks of being away — with this haircut:

How would you feel about that?

Also, if you like to vote, head over to Rob Shep’s awesome blog where he is hosting the 2nd Annual Blogging All Star Challenge, and vote for Team Ricky.

Right now, only 3 votes separate the two teams. This is tight people! I’m the chick in green — not the one with the mustache — in case you couldn’t tell. Wes Molebash didn’t know about my crazy curls. But boy did he create awesome caricatures of everyone.

Tweet this twit @rasjacobson

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

My 12-year old son recently shared his 7th grade yearbook with me, so I pulled out one of mine from a box in the basement.

As I flipped through, I remembered that in 1982, a guy named Tad* was a major theme.

“Who’s Tad?” Tech’s eyebrows arched.

“Just a boy I liked.”

My son saw people wishing me luck with Tad.

He also saw a disproportionate number of people leaving me ominous messages, warning me to be careful.

• • •

I’ve been wanting to share this story for a long time, and I’m excited to share the rest of it at Kludgy Mom‘s place!

Gigi is one of my most favorite bloggers, and back in May she asked a bunch us to imagine spending the entire summer at a remote cabin on the beach with a bunch of girlfriends. We were supposed to picture ourselves, in the evenings, gathered around a bonfire, maybe with a glass of wine, sharing in great conversation and the exchange of ideas.

I’m closing comments here today in hopes that you will follow me to the bonfire where I’ll tell you about the first boy to gut my heart.

Click here & meet me at the beach.

I’ll be waiting for you.

*Author’s Note: While this story is true, it should be noted that the guy I liked was not named Tad.