When I was little and did something unbearably awful, Momma would always say, "When you grow up I hope you have kids just LIKE you!" And I would run off, her words nary a strike on my conscience. I think they put those words in the mother handbook. You know, that book that magically appears at your bedside when they first hand you THE BABY? I seriously doubt, however, that Momma knew exactly what she was wishing upon me (A plague! A plague on both your houses!) as she uttered those words.

Yesterday, "The Dude", our (yours, mine and the ex-wife's) youngest, told us about a MySpace page that he had created for school. 'Can you look it up?' dh asked, both of us quiet and content in the BLISS OF IGNORANCE. THE DUDE? He is THE SMART, he has made that page private, thus protecting dh and my virgin sets of eyes from the profanity that the ex says he has up there.

His brother, the Incredible Sulk, is not ashamed of his WICKED WAYS. After dh and I clicked on the link, I am certain that there was an audible THUMP as both of our jaws hit the floor. Not only is our eldest son 27, but he also has a large cock and likes to say shit/fuck/insert every expletive possible here ALOT! and is EVIL! OH! HE IS THE EVIL! He has taken a quiz to prove it. And to top it all off? He is a pothead. With the always attractive "smoke weed" blinkie to prove it. What else do we not know about this ball of angst? God only knows.

Dh manned the phones, calmedly, fatherly-ish. And thank GOD. Because I think I was still in convulsions on the floor from the shock. I only would've been able to manage a, "Wha? Who? Are you out of your..?" The Ex had threatened to kick the Sulk out, and if he has to come live with us? ::sucks teeth:: Whoo! That cattle prod I posted about a while back? I'm just sayin'.

Something happens to kids when they become teenagers. And now that I am NOT a teenager anymore? I think it is FRIGHTENING. My MIL told me that they don't become normal again until they are 22. And that is some distressingly long years away.

Dh and I had to go visit L.A.M.B. and Phyllis' baby (who is quickly warranting a name of her own, because she isn't a baby anymore) just to remind ourselves what they are like before they can talk. And type. And have myspace accounts.

Now that I have seen what THOSE words can do, I will spend every day of the rest of my life kissing Momma's butt so she TAKES THOSE WORDS BACK. Have Mercy, Woman!