Life Lesson #652: The Frienemom


Words that describe me would be sassy, dramatic, animated, boisterous. Words to describe my husband….all the opposite of above and loyal. My husband is loyal to the bone to me. 
Keep that in mind as you read this post.
We have a 17-year-old son. A junior who is dating a sophomore, a young girl we will call Ariel. She is smart, intelligent, and funny. I really like her. Not that he knows that. Her mother…not so much. Without going into detail let it be said that I don’t respect her mother. She presents herself as more of a friend to not just her daughter but my son as well.
On prom night, we were the transportation for the lovely couple. When we arrived to pick up Ariel son asked us to wait in the car. We did but only with the understanding when they came out, we would take a few pictures of them.
I mean I just paid out the wooha for a tux, dinner, tickets, and gas. I was getting som flipping photos!
Well after 10 min the frienemom comes out. (I remember visibly sighing when she appeared because of her state of dress.)
 I digress. Here’s how the conversation went.
“Hey, Jacob said he didn’t want to come out and take photos. Ariel and I can email you some of the ones we took in the house.” As she giggled blue takes a deep drag from her Misty 100.
“Well I told Jacob I wanted to take his picture before he came in. So you can tell him that he can either come out and have his picture made or he can come out and we can go home.” She looked at me and laughed and then stopped when she realized I was dead serious.
I mean like I want picture in a house when I can have photos under a flowering tree!They came out, we had some lovely photos made. It was a hit.
Fast forward 2 weeks later.
Apparently, frienemom doesn’t want to let Ariel come over anymore because I was rude to her. My son asked me if I was. And my response was. “Yeah! You know me and you shouldn’t have sent her out. Well if she doesn’t want to let her come over then that’s her choice.”
Later that day he wants to know if he can go over to Ariel’s. They are having a big family dinner. I say I don’t care.
Then my son, who should know better, calls his dad and wants to know the secret to making our prize family sweet gravy. They are having ham at Ariel’s. My husband looks at me then back at the phone with a wolfish grin and says, 
“Powdered Sugar.”
Here is punch line. Powdered sugar is absolutely not the ingredient and it’s an even worse substitute.
Cheers Frienemom.