Monday, March 1, 2010

The Dream Ruiner

Some people have dreamcatchers.  Some people are dreamweavers.  I recently discovered that I am the Dream Ruiner.  I'm a mother, and this is my story.

The other day, Middle Son burst in the back door from school and yelled, "MOM!  I need to get a horse!"  I set down the gin and tonic and bon-bons and engaged him in some quantity time.

ME:  "What do you mean you 'need to get a horse'?"
MS:  "I really want a horse, and I figured out how to do it."
ME:  "Entertain me."
MS:  "The garage is empty, and so he could stay in there, and we could make a little paddock in the corner of our back yard."
ME:  "The garage is empty because it is going to collapse.  Why do you think we tell you to push on it or throw your basketball at it when there is a bad storm?  Insurance money doesn't get mailed for nothing."
MS:  "Okay, it can stay in the shed."
ME:  "The family of opossums already live there, and they may be rabid."
MS:  "Well, I can feed it with my allowance."
ME:  "But who will pay for the equipment that comes with it, or the vet bills, or the ride to the knacker when it dies?"
MS:  "You are such a Dream Ruiner, Mom!" 

And I realized that he's right.  I'm here to RUIN DREAMS.

Current Husband had dreams when we met that I was a good cook with whorish tendencies and a fun outlook.  Five years later, DREAM RUINED.  He's still here, almost 20 years later, a broken and bitter man.  (Actually, he's incredibly happy, because I am a good cook with whorish tendencies, but that doesn't make a good story, does it?  I'm an entertainer, not a historian.)

Oldest Daughter is turning 13 on Tuesday, and I took her for lunch at one of her favorite restaurants in Iowa City over the weekend (they serve wine - Mommy's dream is GRANTED!).  OD loves Andy Samberg, and is a disciple of all of his work.  We're driving around looking for parking and see a white college kid with huge dreadlocks, and OD starts screaming.
My probable future son-in-law, Ras Trent

OD:  "RAS TRENT!!  THAT GUY LOOKS LIKE RAS TRENT!  Pull over Mom and take a picture of me with him!"
ME:  "Are you insane?  I'm not pulling over."
OD:  "Why not?  It would be so funny!"
ME:  "I'm not pulling over my car to park illegally so my almost 13-year-old can ask a pot dealer if she can pose for photos with him."
OD:  "MOM!  It would be so funny.  I can't believe you won't do it."

I fumed while looking for a parking spot, thinking about how ridonkulous she was being, and then visions of about 100 photos of me with friends from the Eighties and early Nineties flashed through my head.  Me with a guy in a bear costume in downtown Chicago.  Me in hunting gear holding a plastic Uzi to a drunk frat boy in a bunny costume.  Dressed like Yoko Ono with my hair dyed black.  As Brent Musberger.  Mr. Howell.  A hippie.  A nun.  A pregnant bride. Gilda Radner.  Mama Smurf.  The list goes on and on, and it's real. 
Hey kids!  Look at Mommy getting a college education!
(And no, I wasn't pregnant.  This is in the way-back machine, when it was fun to PRETEND to be pregnant.  No one is laughing now.)

And yet, OD is denied a photo with Ras Trent.  DREAM RUINED. 

Even George the Superpet felt the chill of ruined dreams today.  He kept begging to go outside, and I thought, "Well how sweet, the dog is ready for spring!"  I looked outside, hoping to see him frolic in the sunshine, and instead I put down my coffee and sprinted for the back door.  George was standing in the backyard with a scraggly squirrel tail hanging out of his mouth.  I ran over to him, opened his mouth and shook his head until 3/4 of a dead squirrel came out of his mouth.  I could hear Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein's screams from inside as he watched one of his brethren fall from George's jowls.  I brought George inside and actually washed his mouth out with a washcloth, which I promptly threw away.  

George's dream of eating a squirrel?  DREAM RUINED.
Washcloth's dream of being a clean, fluffly washing apparatus?  DREAM RUINED.

What about Youngest Daughter, you might ask?  None of her dreams has been ruined.  (Yet.)  Because like Chuck Norris, YD is the reason Waldo is hiding.  Her dreams will not be denied.  She won't want a photo with Ras Trent, she will marry him.

And then my dreams?  RUINED.
I am a mother, and this is my story.


Its all fiction said...

I laughed so hard my boss sent me an email to get off facebbok. I don't know why he thinks it would be funny. Anyway follwed your link from blogess and I am staying here for a while too.

Your hostess... said...

Love it! I'm cracking up. That's what moms are for, I'm glad mine ruined my dreams early enough so I wouldn't be completely crushed as an adult!

Your Hostess @


i had this whole big response typed out to email to you and then it shot me down! you are a no reply blogger! Here's how to get email responses to the comments you leave on blogs: Customize, Dashboard, Edit Profile, and click Show My Email Address, Scroll down and click Save Profile. If you don't want to use your regular email address, you can get one for your blog. I did.

so now that that is done, was this from a 'wedding party' we had those too - someone is bride, groom, etc?

oh my god AND word verification. you are KILLING me smalls

Abby Annis said...

I thought that was our job are mothers. I don't feel like I've done my best if I haven't ruined at least one dream a day. ;) Even better if you can pass that gift on to your animals. Thanks for the laughs.

Anita said...

Is that Ashton Kutcher in your bride photo? You ARE young! There's proof!

GrandeMocha said...

I can top Dream Ruinier, I'm the LIFE RUINIER.

My son told me I was ruining his life by trying to explain subtraction with borrowing by using pretzel sticks & rods. 10 pretzel sticks = 1 pretzel rod. I told him that's why I am here, I give life, I ruin it. Score! As if guilt would get him out of math!

Julie, The Wife said...

It's true, GM. Subtraction does ruin lives. I have a friend whose daughter wouldn't subtract at school because "her parents told her never to borrow". True story.

@Anita, CH told me I look 12 in this pic. So, CH,, are you saying I look really young then, or really old now?

RubyTwoShoes said...

I haven't been here in a while, but you may remember that when I first came i promised to return if there was more talk of alcohol (i think it was a post about martinis?!) and then I open this page and in the first para is the subtle, but not entirely necessary, reference to the fact that you were kicking around having a G&T. And so i will return again.

Lisa @ akawest said...

My hubby and I ruined our daughter's dream when we announced that we had no idea where she got the notion that after high school we would be buying her acreage. We were taking a walk on Christmas, trying to discuss her post high school plans, when she explained how she would be starting her farm with the land we would buy. We will be growing tomatoes this summer. That is sort of like farming. We will be paying the mortgage. That is the only land we can afford.

Life Between Naps said...

Hilarious! Great Stuff! You had me at Chuck Norris... you had me at Chuck Norris.

The Insatiable Host said...

Dream Ruiner!
Home Wrecker!
Wine Theaf! is going on here????

You are totally to get her a horse...let her know that each day it takes 5 bails of hay to be pitch-forked off the floor full of shit and piss. Another 5 bails to replace on the floor. 1 bucket of feed, 2 apples and oh yes, 1hr of brushing/grooming. Not only that each day you have to ride, walk and clean the horses teeth. She may feel intruiged at this..ney my friend...this is when you tell her your AMAZING, SKILLFULL, and BRILLIANT frined Mrs. Insatiable had a horse when she was 12 and while she was picking it's hoofs (another fun game to play....why you ask? Well who doesn't like to pick shit outta horse hoofs???) and it bucked (up on two legs) and then...well this is amazing...knocked me THE FUCK down and stepped on me!

That fucking horse died the next day...truth, i have no idea how; however, after thinking about it, my father may have poisoned it...

I am getting off topic; however, the point is, if she wants a horse that will squish her, take all her time, make her smell like a pile of shit and then die...sure. Happy Birthday little lady!!!



PS... sweet pic mami!

WTF Wednesday @

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