The Good Times were Rolling 2-ply (inside and outside)

Remember the story about that little girl, Goldilocks, who theoretically trespassed on the private property of those 3 bears, while they were away, unmaking all their beds and eating all their porridge? And, remember how that Mama Bear came home and knew instinctively that there had been some unauthorized crap going on in her house while she was gone? Well, the longer I’m a mother, and the more I really think about that story, the less plausible it seems….Do we really think some Random-Little-Blonde-Girl wreaked all that havoc on her own? Or- Isn’t it more likely that those idiot bears left their Teenaged-Son-Bear home unsupervised? I’m betting, that just like me, Mrs. Bear arrived home, after a lovely weekend and bearly had time to set down her purse and overnight bag, before she noticed the tell-tale signs that something was amiss.

A more believable story: Once upon a time there was a family…. A Mom, A Dad and 3 little Girls. Were these girls drama? Of course they were! Did they cry over spilt milk? Every stinkin’ day! But -they were clean little darlings, who prissed  about wearing coordinated outfits and following rules. But, they didn’t like football and they didn’t watch Zombie shows on Netflix and they couldn’t carry on the family name, so the father told the mother, “We are missing some people – our family lacks testosterone.” And so, just like that – they added some boys.

At first, the boys were no problem at all. But, they learned to walk fast, talk loudly and throw things… No matter though because their sisters were bossy little tattle-tales by nature, and helped the mother keep the bros in line throughout the early years. All went smoothly, until the girls grew up and moved out of the house. The parents soon found that, if they wanted to go absolutely anywhere together, there would be no one home to supervise the boys – also known as “holding the fort down”.

And that is when the Goldilocks story started to unravel a bit for me…

We took a risk, this past weekend, when we decided to go to The University of Arkansas to visit our daughter  for “Dad’s Day.” Obviously, it’s no problem to prevail upon a friend or two to keep our middle-schooler while we’re gone.  And, actually, it’s not really a problem to have the teenager bunk over at a friend’s house either. The problem arises, when ALL THE OTHER HIGHSCHOOLERS find out that ANYONE ELSE’S parents are out of town, they immediately spread the word, “Let The Good Times Roll!!”

We farmed our 14 year old son out and made arrangements for our 17 year old, but in my gut, I knew, this was not sufficient damage control. We’d no sooner crossed the Arkansas-Oklahoma state line, when I received a text from the mother of a high-school girl, asking if I was home, as her daughter and several friends were looking forward to a lovely evening at my house. Needless to say, those young ladies never made it over here this weekend…

Friday night passed without incident, as we proactively asked another Dad to patrol the premises. A quick “drive by” was all that was required. The following night was a different story, however. Like an errant stone rolling down a hill, by Saturday night, this one had gathered some moss. The good news had spread, through the Teenager-Underground-Railroad, that the Blanchard Parents were out of town!! By the time our friend made his rounds, The Good Times were definitely Rolling! As we heard it, our friend, walked right in, and, without so much as a “last call,” had the place cleared out in no time.

Thus, the only issues I actually had to deal with when we got home, were some minor casualties.  The first thing I noticed as I walked in the door, was a plant knocked over…

Me -“Why is my plant knocked over?”

Boy- “I think that was already like that before you left!”

Me- “That’s right Son, I went out of town and disregarded a plant the size of a small tree, tipped over on its side, because that’s who I am – I’m literally that CHILL”

He then changes the subject by complimenting me on my RENT-A-DAD program, sarcastically adding , “thanks for trusting me by the way! ”

I explained it like this, “James” I said, “If I were a Farmer, I’d know Farmer-type stuff. I’d seek out the experiences, wisdom and advice of my fellow farmers on when to plant and when to harvest. Likewise, were I a Hairstylist, I’d know all the new products with which to color your hair. I’d spend my spare time hanging out, with other hairstylists discussing the latest trends and styling tools. I’m in the Mom-business, Son, and when I spend time with other mothers, we ‘talk shop,’ and its widely agreed upon by me and my Colleagues that, as a general rule, we don’t trust anyone whose age ends in the word, ‘teen’…”

“So, I think I’ve seen everything that there is to see downstairs, and I’m about to mosey on upstairs…. I’m going to give you a 5 minute head start; I strongly suggest you get up there and make sure there isn’t any porridge mess, or EVEN WORSE: a Random-Little-Blonde-Girl!!