The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

“I can’t believe I’m sending my child to school dressed like a ragamuffin!”

“I am so perturbed right now, Kirsten, I’m going to sell you to the gypsies!”

“Do you know how many hours I have to work to pay for this closet full of clothing that you never wear?”

“Who turned the heat up to frantic!”

“Do not make me pull this car over!!!”

“Were you raised in a barn?”

“Because I said so!”

“You are skating on thin ice!”

“If (insert friends name here) jumped off a bridge, would you do that too?”

“I have had it up to HERE!”

“You cannot go out with wet hair — you will catch a cold!”

–Kirsten’s mom, circa anywhere between 1971 and today.

I always laugh about the go-to Momisms. My mom isn’t just the person who brings me birthday presents in July when my birthday is in January. I wish I was kidding about that.  My mom, the person who gave birth to me on a cold January day, brought me a birthday card and a box of pretty note cards with a fancy cursive K on the front on a hot day in July. But that is a post for another day. She is also the queen of the one-liners.

Apparently, I was the cold-catching wet-haired ragamuffin who was getting sold to the gypsies. Also, I never wore any of my clothes and I was clearly raised in a barn. Sold to the gypsies? Really? Is that a thing? Did people actually get sold to gypsies? I never once took ice skating lessons, so how could I skate on thin ice?

And yet… I found myself sending my daughter to chorus camp this morning in ripped cut-off jean shorts, a purple-flowered tank top under a green t-shirt that she had ripped the bottom third off and also cut up the sleeves, yellow flip flops and a too-large navy blue hoodie. I tend to let my kids have some freedom with their wardrobe, especially during the summer. So I surprised myself when it just poured out of my mouth, “I can’t believe I’m sending my child out dressed like a ragamuffin!”

I guess I better brush up on my on-liners, because, well, apparently I am my mother. Lord help me if I bring my daughters, who were born on a hot August day, birthday presents on a cold, rainy day in February sometime in the future.