Rules to Date My Son

I read a hilarious blog post about a father's concern for his daughter, who is now dating age. The general consensus was that his girls shouldn't date until they are 35.

That might be a bit extreme. But since I don't have any girls, I'll defer to his wisdom.

However, his post about the rules to date his daughter set me to thinking. If we have rules about how the young men are to comport themselves when they plan to date someone's princess, shouldn't there ALSO be a few regarding the behavior of the young women hoping to date our handsome princes whom we are sending out into the world to slay the dragon, protect the castle, defend the honor of the princess whom they hope to someday receive as the queen of their castle?

So to that end, I have made my OWN list of suggestions and ideas regarding rules, regulations and stipulations to date my son. Here is the application. "Momma's Rules for Dating" follows.

APPLICATION TO DATE MY SON

NOTE:  This application will be considered incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, lineage, and current medical report from your doctor.

I.  BASIC INFORMATION

(REQUIRED FOR PROCESSING CRIMINAL BACKGROUND CHECK & CREDIT CHECK)

NAME:

DATE OF BIRTH:

HEIGHT: 

WEIGHT:

IQ:

SOCIAL SECURITY #:

DRIVER LICENSE #:

NUMBER OF TICKETS/WARNINGS FOR MOVING VIOLATIONS/ACCIDENTS:

YOUNG WOMEN’S PERSONAL PROGRESS: Completed? Yes or No. If no, please explain.

YOUNG WOMANHOOD RECOGNITION MEDALLION: Yes or No. If no, please explain.

HONOR BEE: Yes or No. If no, please explain.

HOME ADDRESS, CITY/STATE/ZIP:

HONOR STUDENT? Yes or No.

CAN YOU COOK MORE THAN MICROWAVE SOUP? Yes or No. If no, please explain.

DO YOU HAVE PARENTS?  Yes or No. If no, please indicate which wolf pack raised you.

IS ONE MALE AND THE OTHER FEMALE?  Yes or No. (If no, DO NOT CONTINUE APPLICATION!)

NUMBER OF YEARS THEY HAVE BEEN MARRIED:

IF LESS THAN YOUR AGE, PLEASE EXPLAIN:

WHICH TEMPLE WERE THEY SEALED IN:

II. ACCESSORIES SECTION:

A.     Do you own or have access to a van?  Yes or No.

B.     A camper?  Yes or No.

C.     A waterbed?  Yes or No.

D.    A hatchback with fold down seats?  Yes or No.

E.     A tattoo?  Yes or No.

F.     Do you have multiple earrings, a nose ring, pierced tongue, pierced cheek, pierced eyebrow, pierced boob or a belly button ring?  Yes or No.

G.    Have you ever ‘sexted’ anyone? Yes or No.

(NOTE: IF YOU ANSWERED 'YES' TO ANY OF THE ABOVE, DISCONTINUE APPLICATION AND LEAVE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY.  I SUGGEST RUNNING --- FASTER THAN I CAN UNHOLSTER MY PISTOL.)

III. ESSAY SECTION:

In 50 words or less, what does 'LATE' mean to you?

In 50 words or less, what does 'DON'T TOUCH MY SON' mean to you?

In 50 words or less, what does 'ABSTINENCE' mean to you?

In 50 words or less, what does ‘SELF CONTROL’ mean to you?

In 50 words or less, what does ‘INAPPROPRIATE PHONE CALL’ mean to you?

IV: REFERENCES SECTION:

Church you attend:                                     

Meeting Time and place:

How often you attend: 

Valid reasons for missing:

When would be the best time to interview YOU?

Your Father?

Your Mother?

Your Bishop?

V. SHORT ANSWER QUESTION:

Answer by filling in the blank.  Please answer freely, all answers are confidential.

A. If I were shot, the last place I would want to be shot would be:

B.  If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my:

C.  A Man’s responsibilities are:

D.  The one thing I hope this application doesn't ask me about is:

E.  What do you want to do IF you grow up?

F.  When I meet a guy, the thing I always notice about him first is:

G.  What is the current going rate of a hotel room?

I SWEAR OR AFFIRM THAT ALL THE INFORMATION ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH OR DISMEMBERMENT.

Applicant's signature:  (that means sign your name, sugarplum).

Father's signature:

Mother's signature:

Bishop’s signature:

Thank you for your interest in dating my wonderful son.  Please allow four to six years for processing as your application will be added to the stack of potential dates for my son in the order in which it was received.

To prepare yourself, start studying “Momma's Rules for Dating” which is available online in WORD and PDF formats for your convenience. There will be an examination.

Momma’s Rules for Dating

Rule One:  

If you have asked HIM for the date and pull into my driveway honking your horn, you'd better be delivering him a package of cookies, because you're sure not picking anything up around here. Decent people come to the door for introductions and pleasantries.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my son in front of me.  You may glance at him, briefly, so long as you do not peer at anything below his belt. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off my son's body, I will remove them with a wooden spoon.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for girls of your age to wear their blouses so loosely that they appear to be falling off their shoulders or so tightly as to restrict blood flow.  Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.  Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise:  You may come to the door with either your bra strap showing or your blouse 2 sizes too small, and I will not object.  

However, in order to ensure that your blouse does not, in fact burst open or fall off during the course of your date with my son, I will take my glue gun and fasten a granny shawl securely in place to your shoulders and collarbones.

Rule Four:

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you.  Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you. Chastity is a virtue for guys and gals both.

Rule Five:

It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about homemaking, crafts, and other Relief Society topics.  Please do not do this. I am not interested.  The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to be dropped off back to your home or apartment, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early, because I need to read my scriptures and do more homework before I go to sleep.'

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular gal, with many opportunities to date other guys.  This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my son.  Otherwise, once you have gone out with MY young man, you will continue to date no one but him until he is finished with you.  If you make him cry, I will make you cry. And yes, guys DO cry when their hearts are broken and trampled just like girls do.

Rule Seven:

As he stands in your front hallway, waiting for you to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not think you are being cute. You are being stupid and discourteous. If you plan to be late everywhere he’d like to take you, then you should not be dating my son.  “Putting on your makeup”, a process can take longer than painting the Golden Gate bridge, is not a reasonable excuse for making my son wonder if you are just stringing him along.  Instead of having him just stand there cooling his heels, why don't you do something useful? Spackle on a little less makeup and try letting him see the ‘real you’ who can actually tell time!

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my son:

1.      Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.  

2.      Places where there is darkness.

3.      Places where there is dancing without lighting, holding hands, or happiness.  

4.      Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce you to wear shorts, or t-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka-zipped up to your throat.

5.      Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided. Movies that feature chain saws are okay as long as they aren’t R rated. Disney movies are okay. Hockey games are okay. But, old folks homes are even better.

Rule Nine:

Do not lie to me.  I may appear to be a heavyset, wrinkled, lined, flabby, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been.  But, on issues relating to my son, I am the all-knowing, merciless goddess of your universe.  

If I ask where you are going and with whom, and what time you expect to return, you have ONE chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  I have a pistol, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me because I don’t miss when I shoot.

Rule Ten:

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Should you decide to pay for the date, remember that it takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car revving in my driveway for a group of Emo chicks coming over for a rave (see Rule #1). 

When my hot flashes start acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to turn on the pressure hose while I watch you sit in your car impatiently and also when I wait for you to bring my son home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my son home safely and early, then return to your car.  There is no need for you to stand on the porch for an hour playing tonsil hockey. Otherwise, I have a pressure hose with your name written all over it.

The stressed, tired looking face at the window is mine.

Can I Have a Cup of Money?

Immune to reality I am not.

Everyone is making cutbacks and cut outs in today's economic circumstances. We are teetering towards the brink of collapse both individually and nationally.

Riots worldwide are simply the tip of the coming iceberg and the tsunami of catastrophe that will follow from the shocks and aftershocks of discovering that we don't have an endless supply of anything but love.

Sadly, I must disagree with the Beatles and their beautiful sentiment of "all you need is love". I can't remember the last time I paid the light bill with a big hug and a kiss to the folks at the utility company. Chances are had I actually tried to do that, I'd find myself being fitted for a very unattractive day-glow orange jumpsuit.

We have two in college now.

How many ways can you spell "broke"?

I'd love to have a rich uncle or a philanthropic neighbor next door. I'd tap politely at the screen door under the carport and say "I'm a little short on the necessities of life this month. Can I have a cup of money?" 

'Sure thing!' they'd say, smiling. 'Been there a time or two and you helped me out!'

And just like we used to swap eggs, flour, butter and other things in a neighborhood barter system, they'd give me what I needed to tide me over and I'd do the same for them in either direct repayment, or by repayment in kind. Lawn mowing, bush pruning and power washing the driveway would be a good start.

Sadly, as the costs continue to escalate for everything from butter and eggs to books and tuition, we are left with a cosmic juggling act to put money here and there and, it seems, EVERYWHERE to pay for the minutia of life that has suddenly become gargantuan.

I can't remember the last time I went to the grocery store in which the prices in the intervening two weeks were the same. A nickel here, a dime over there and pretty soon everything you buy has sneaked up the price to the point that not only does a dollar not go very far, neither does a twenty.

So it is with college bills. Yet, unless you have some kind of special skill, training, education, product, good or service that everyone needs every day or almost every day, you will go broke trying to make it week to week and still have enough money left over at the end of the month just to live.

I truly feel for those who are in a hard-scrabble position of trying to live on minimum wage. But minimum wage is much higher now than it was when I had to live off of it. And even my best paying job paid below what the current minimum wage is!

Times change and so do expenses.

I realize money isn't the answer to everything, but it certainly answers a few of life's more important questions like "did you pay the light bill?" or "why don't we have anything to eat?".

We have come to the point in our spending in which everyone has realize they are in an "oh, crap" mode. When you have trimmed back all the luxuries decades ago and now you are looking at the necessities to determine just what needful things you can trim back, you know you are searching for the cup of money to help you out.

It never ceases to amaze me though, the expanded "rights" people think they need to have. While luxury items have crept in and become necessities to many people, I have tried very diligently to consider just what we truly need and what is just a 'nice idea'.


If someone out there happens to have a spare cup of money, I'd sure like to get a few bucks to buy some textbooks. If not, we will figure something out.

We usually do by making tough choices and with lots of prayers of faith. God provides. He always does.

Savage in waiting

To most people, their dog is "just a dog". But to those of us who understand the reality of puppy personality and intelligence, there is no such thing as "just a dog"

The ear of a dog can register sounds beyond our own as humans. They can discern pitches that defy our auditory nerve cells to detect.

Gypsy demonstrates this on a daily basis during the school year.

When the school buses run, which they do frequently on our street based upon our proximity to the elementary school, she barks at them all evilly. After all, they definitely contain interlopers and would be usurpers of neighborhood turf - more specifically, HER neighborhood turf.

But she saves her most evil, high pitched, ear drum splitting bark for the bus that arrives to pick up Jared.

She can tell from two blocks away that it is coming. It just sounds different. Thanks to her good training, Gypsy will sit under the carport with me and Jared while the bus backs into the driveway. This temporary intrusion into the sanctified, fortified and amplified barking area is allowed simply because she KNOWS the driver and the nurse on the bus. When a relief driver or substitute nurse has been on the bus from time to time, she looks at them with a jaundiced eye and demands to sniff them out for any evil intent on their part.

They are, after all, taking her baby for a ride in their bus and she MUST be sure that they are worthy of his companionship.

Today, she sat stock still, barking her head off as Cathy expertly maneuvered the bus into our driveway backwards so as to allow room for the wheelchair lift to come down in a safe area for loading. As soon as the bus stopped and Gypsy heard the air brakes chuffing, she turned to me with one ear flicking as if to say "Can I get 'em NOW?"

I told her "You're free!" which is the signal to get up and prance around sniffing everyone and everything giddily. And yes, dogs DO get giddy. At least this one does.

Gypsy prances around on her very tiptoes with a cat-like elegance combined with her very dog-like hunting/herding reflexes well in place. Any stray scent is met with sharp attention. These helpers for Jared must show strict partisanship for Jared and Jared alone.

Other scents must be approved by Gypsy as being okay. Without that approval, she attempts to get onto the bus to drive for herself. The fact that she lacks both a driver's license and CDL as well as lacking the leg length to handle a bus seems to not trouble her in the least.

Her evil smile is enough to let you know that she is watching you VERY carefully.

Gypsy also knows what time it is.  With alacrity and accuracy, she leaps from her cushioned bed to go bark at the bus each afternoon. Each bus that passes receives it's own pitch of barking and ferocious teeth. But when Jared's bus arrives, she's all happy barks and waggly tail. She cannot contain her excitement!

Jared laughs at all of this. She is, after all, his baby savage. She loves him as a fierce protector and friend. He loves her as his buddy, pal, chum and furry companion.

Though she is all hugs and kisses and happy barks for Jared, she can turn on an interloper with a different bark in a nanosecond. She can sniff out a stranger and ask for I.D. quicker than the Feds!

Although she can sound menacing, Gypsy really isn't. She will attempt to defend us, but will readily obey when we call her off. Though, like a woman, she grumbles out one last word to let us know any new syllable we might utter is just the start of a different argument.

My rehab is going well on my ankle and I can't wait to be cleared for some light walking. I know Gypsy will be happy to see the leash come down from the coat rack. I just hope she can contain her "Wolfgang" enthusiasm and not go so fast that she churns ME into butter...

Oh the joys of having a savage in the home!

School Daze

The bus has come and whisked Jared away to school. Yes, he DID graduate, but due to his special needs, he can still attend at Tanner until he turns 21. Which is a blessing for him. I am pretty much ZERO fun around the house and cannot duplicate all that is available to him at his school.

We are on the waiting list for the only adult program in our county and have been told that whenever the call comes to have Jared enrolled that we should now take it. I hope it doesn't come until Jared finishes his 21st natal year so that he can enjoy the full day at Tanner.

He was smiling as the lift carried him  up into the bus.

I think if he had his way about it all, we'd buy him a bus to drive him around in simply because they bounce over the roadways and give him a 4x4 ride experience that reminds him of his Daddy's big truck that is now long gone. If it were possible, Jared would rig it up to jump other cars, fly over railroad trestles with a big bump takeoff and a bigger bump landing and a GPS that mapped out every single pothole and bouncy road in the county.

Gypsy was anxious to see that Jared and all of the attendant school supplies were loaded up. THREE boxes of goodies to get him started. As soon as all was loaded, she decided SHE should accompany him to the school.

Not so fast little fur bag!!! You drag your carcass off that bus!!

Jared was giddy with laughter. I'm sure he was thinking how nice it would be to have Gypsy accompany him, lie at his feet at each work station and rest on the bed beside him during nap time.

What he and Gypsy either one neglected to mention was the barking she would most certainly do since to her, everyone at the school is an interloper and must be defended against at full volume.

She would enjoy that role.

I'm sure the teachers would not.

Gypsy is currently lying on the floor directly beneath the ceiling fan sulking. I have ruined her good times for the day and she can't understand why she wasn't allowed to accompany her baby to school.

As Jared begins another year, I cannot help but smile as he smiles. This is a wonderful time for him. He gets to see his old friends and make new ones as new children join his classroom. He so enjoys the time to learn to master new skills.

Sadly, that also means that once again, the house is quiet with only me and Gypsy here.

I guess I should start the laundry so there will be some noise in the house besides the sound of my own breathing.