Big Sister and Sons

Some mornings when the girls wake up early I let them play on their iPads for a little before-school zoning.

It’s a tactical strategy, really. I need time for my coffee to do its magic. Seep into my bloodstream before I can strategize my day.

A couple of days ago as I sipped my brew at the end of my daughters’ bed, I recognized my own voice coming from the speakers of Grace’s shiny, white mini.

It turned out that while filming her most recent Barbie stop action short; I was simultaneously caught in a telephone conversation with my gal pal Monica, a conversation neither sophisticated nor intellectual in regard to the television show The Sons of Anarchy and its male cast….

A snippet went something like this:

“OMG, Jax Teller…he’s soooo cute!”

“Maybe I should date a biker?”

“I have, like, such a major crush.”

“They shouldn’t have killed off the Prospect.”

“I loved him!”

“Right. Right. Right.”

‘Season 5 is on Netflix!”


To say it’s embarrassing to be taped in a conversation without your knowledge is obvious. Hearing your own voice is weird.

When you’re a tax-paying forty-two year old mother, and big brother catches you acting boy crazy sixteen?

It’s most definitely embarrassing, but also kind of awesome.

I may be creeping toward middle age, but girl talk and cute boys are forever.