This week: Parenting skills. Get some. 

Most of the time, I try to put my best foot forward when I’m getting to know someone new. I bet some of those people walk away thinking, “Oh, that Elizabeth. She’s such a fucking lady.“

I’m more relaxed with kids because, let’s face it, kids are dumb. I can just be any ol’ way around them and let my *real* self come out because they don’t know the difference.

On Saturday, I spent most of the day with Cal and seven of her friends. I think it’s pretty great when a kid hangs out with her parents at an amusement park because it probably means she’s too busy to do other activities like huff gasoline or enter beauty pageants.

Eight hours in, things were looking pretty good. Everyone still had all of their limbs. They were all speaking to each other. Harv only gave ONE lecture about manners. I put on a shameface while he was talking to me, and I promised not to step out of line again. The kids pretended not to notice when I was getting a scolding, but I could sense relief that they weren’t the ones getting reprimanded. I’d like to think that I was taking one for the team.

If the team consists of one adult who can’t act straight.

Why the lecture?

I sat in front of a rowdy group of boys during a show. Kick Kick Kick. A few seconds of peace. Then Kick Kick Kick. After a few minutes, I turned around and said something like “JESUS, WHO DO YOU KIDS BELONG TO?”

I’m not proud. I mean, what if these boys had never heard Jesus’ name before? What if they didn’t *have* any parents? Maybe they were there out of the goodness of some charity that sent orphans who didn’t know Jesus to amusement parks.

Well, at least they weren’t out huffing gasoline or strutting their stuff in beauty pageants. I choose to focus on the positive.

Ever said anything out of frustration to young peeps?
image via Married to the Sea. com

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the full list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Read gooder books

Hi. It’s good to see you again. It’s been a while. Like…a whole week. It was just really hard to write a blog post from jail.

JUST KIDDING. I SWEAR. Also, to the people who I used to date that have previously been or are currently incarcerated- I was not making a dig at you. Y’all have taught me everything I need to know in life about eating whole meals with just a spoon, even tough pieces of meat, and creating fine weaponry out of toothpaste caps.

Going to jail is one of my biggest fears. That, and mothers of ugly babies asking me what I think of their offspring.

I try to be prepared for all of life’s obstacles, so I’ve devised a plan to keep me out of the shithouse if I’m ever doing time.

After watching a lot of movies about incarceration, it’s clear to me that people who are locked up like to earn at least two masters degrees (usually, one of them is in psychology or religion) or acquire useful skills they can use “out there.” They seem to like to read a lot. That’s when this brilliant plan came to me. BAM!

Prison book club.

I can see it now: Women badly in need of eyebrow grooming and dental work, shedding a tear or three over the last few pages of a touching novella, comparing notes about character flaws and the Mametian twist at the end.

So, I need your help. I’ve had the misfortune of reading a lot of terrible books in the past few months. What’s your favorite book of all time? Anything you’ve read lately you’d like to suggest? I’d like to gather your recommendations. Just in case.