Photo by: Francesco Sighieri

Rumors, Misconceptions and Outright Lies

by Lori of "Lola is 40"
Photo by: Francesco Sighieri

So, am I the only mom who literally jumps for joy every school day as soon as my kids walk out that door? Who fist pumps the air while yelling, “YEAH! THEY ARE OUTTTA HERE!!” No? Some of you are hesitant to admit it. I understand. But if you tell me otherwise? You are a bunch of liars.

Look, I adore my kids. But sometimes that adoration is better bestowed from afar. Personally, I don’t believe there’s a mom out there who isn’t thrilled each and every day when her kids leave her for a few precious hours. And while I’m at it? I’m going to dispel some other silly rumors and misconceptions that my children have believed for far too long. So, listen up kids! It’s time Mom gave it to you straight!


1. I cry every time you walk out the door, when you leave to go to school.

Maybe. But kids? Those are tears of joy. And when you are gone? I play all of your video games, eat all of the junk food in the pantry, drink all of the soda, and have parties with all of my friends who come over just to see old pictures of you guys. But don’t worry…they are only interested in the naked ones of you in the bathtub. Okay. All untrue. I’m just messing with you. And for the record? I do not cry when you leave the house for school.

2. I clean the house every day because it is my passion and I love to do it.

Really guys? No. I clean the house every day because I live with animals. More specifically? Pigs. Every last one of you. From your dirty underwear on the floor, to the toenails in the carpet and the boogs pasted to the walls in your bedrooms, you guys are in a word? Vile.

3. I live to do laundry.

Ummm? Were you paying attention to number 2? Look. Laundry is a necessary evil and it has to be done. Emphasis on the word evil. Your clothes smell like sweaty feet mixed with mud, body odor, and sometimes bodily fluids. Really? That grosses you out? So sorry. And by the way, the fact that every dirty article of clothing has been removed from your body “inside out”? Icing on the cake. A mom loves nothing more than to have to stick her hand down the inside of a filthy, sweaty sock to put the “right” side back in, prior to washing. Same goes for the underwear. The government should issue me a free hazmat suit for this job. If I were smart I’d just leave all of the clothes inside out and let you wear them that way. It would save me at least 15 minutes a week. If you think about it…you would only be wearing them inside out until you remove them again, turning them right side in. So, technically you’ll only look silly every other week. I say that’s a fair trade off for the amount of time I would save on laundry day.

4. I don’t mind driving you to school when you miss the bus.

Actually, I really, really, really mind. Which is why I wake you like 5 hours before the bus comes. Throwing your little butts in the car and rushing to get you to school in my pajamas and slippers, where I get to wait in bottleneck traffic with the other undressed moms who are trying to drop their kids off without even so much as a drop of coffee in my system, is my idea of purgatory. It is a huge waste of what might otherwise be a glorious morning of toilet scrubbing and laundry. To avoid driving you to school, I will go to great lengths. I will go as far as to chase the bus 1/2 a block down the street while screaming, “WAIT! STOP!! THEY ARE COMING” while all of the neighbors stare in shock because my robe has come undone and I am flashing my double “A”s for all to see. Not like that has ever happened(ahem).

5. I love to help you with your homework.

This one is going to come as a bit of a shock, but contrary to what I am always telling you? I do not know everything. As a matter of fact? I know very little. My memory is like a sieve. I can’t remember the state capitals or where Argentina is on the map. And I definitely can’t keep up with countries changing their names. So, Latvia is Estonia? The Congo is Zaire? Holland is the Netherlands? Who knew? The names change so much it’s like keeping up with P.Diddy. Is he P.Diddy? Is he Sean Combs? Puffy? Who can remember? Also, I can’t tell you the difference between an acute or obtuse angle. I don’t remember what the French Revolution was about. The only formulas I remember are the kind that come in a can for feeding infants. Your science projects scare the bejesus out of me. Even the general topics elude me. I mean what the hell are “Plate Tectonics”? As long as I’m coming clean, you should know that I secretly use Google to answer any and all homework questions. Then I take full credit for having all of that knowledge myself when in fact I am speaking words that I do not and never will understand. And by the way? What the hell is “New Math?” Was something wrong with the old kind?

6. I love to pack your lunch every day.

Again. Untrue. This task falls somewhere after scrubbing toilets and before unloading the dishwasher on the list of “fun things for mom to do”. In short? It’s a huge pain in the butt. Not only is the actual packing a pain, but so is the shopping for that extra meal every week when you could so easily buy whatever cafeteria crap is being sold and passed off as nutritious fare. Listen, I know I could be packing you a much healthier alternative with REAL food groups as opposed to the ones the school invents (I don’t think tater tots and fried mozzarella sticks are a part of any balanced meal, but nice try) but the truth is? I don’t want to. I grew up on hot dogs, Twinkies and coke and I’m just fine. I’m sure you will be too. I grew up on hot dogs, Twinkies and coke and I’m just fine. Ummmmm…brain fart. Sorry. I think it has something to do with preservatives.

7. Your father and I live for you and only you and would be perfectly happy if no one ever called us by any other name than “mom” and “dad” because that’s all we are, and actually we should just legally change our names because we have no use for our old first names anymore as we have no life outside of you kids.

Believe it or not, my name is not Mom. And Dad? He has a first name too. And we were people with lives and interests and hobbies and careers before you were born. I, for one, have interests that go beyond creating vacuum lines in the carpet. I know. Shocking. What are they? I can’t remember. But I’m sure there’s something else out there beyond cleaning the wax out of your little ears with Q-tips and making you sandwiches with the crust cut off. Cut diagonally, not straight across.

8. I keep every piece of art you’ve ever made.

Don’t get me wrong, I love your art and at first I kept every finger painting, every playdoh sculpture and every coloring book you had touched. But after the collection began to take over the house I started being more selective. Also, as you guys are getting older I feel like we can be more honest with each other. And by honest, what I mean is this: If the art you make is good, I keep it. If it sucks? It goes in the garbage can. Like that thing you made at the kitchen table using colored paper, left over stickers from my scrap-booking, and pipe cleaners? What was that? A monster? A sculpture? Who the hell could tell? Besides, it wasn’t made very well. It just fell apart in my hands. And when I say fell apart in my hands, what I mean is, it fell apart when I was pushing it to the bottom of the trash can. Oh, don’t give me that look! All moms push the bad art to the bottom of the trash can when we don’t want you to know we’ve thrown it away. It’s a perfectly legal move. Check the mommy rule book.

9. I, like all moms, am perfect. I (we) never burp, fart, or swear.

Actually, this one is true.

10. I think you are the most talented, smartest, most angelic, perfect creatures on God’s Earth.

I guess this means that you think just because I’m your mom and I adore you, I’m deluded? Come on, kids. A little credit, huh? I happen to be very aware of each of your strengths and weaknesses. We all have them. They make us human! Like for example, Kid 1? You are very talented musically. It blows my mind. But your study habits? They stink. Don’t worry, Dad and I are prepared to turn the basement into a little apartment for you, as we predict you will be living with us for many, many years to come. Kid 2? You are an incredible artist. But if you moved an slower to get from point A to point B? You’d be moving backwards. Kid 3? You are extremely intelligent. You are also capable of spinning your head 360 degrees if the mood strikes. So, how’d I do? And here’s the best part. I couldn’t love you any more if you were perfect. Because I love your imperfections just as much as I love every other part of you. That’s the truth. Furthermore, I wouldn’t change anything about my life where you boys are concerned. Not a stinky sock or a snotty nose.

That’s one rumor that we can dispel here and now. I wouldn’t change a thing.


My name is Lori Stefanac and I’m the creator of Lola is 40. I am happily married with 3 boys and I work (sometimes) as a Speech/Language Pathologist. At least that’s what I am trained to do. But truth be told, I am a writer. Scratch that. I’m a wannabe writer. I have no skills and no training, and I’ve never published a thing. I just know that I love it and I have to do it. Also, people tell me I am fairly good at it. So, damn it, I am a writer. Which also makes me a liar. But it’s my blog so what the hell. I am also a cartoonist. Another lie, but let’s go with it. I DO have an artistic flair, or so I’ve been told. Besides, Lola sort of created herself…she just popped into my head one day and I’ve been carrying her around with me for a year or so. Of course you know that is a figure of speech…I wasn’t actually carrying a little cartoon version of myself around in my pocket…that would be weird. Wow, I’m so off track…where was I? Ah, yes, I’m a writer, a cartoonist, and a liar. That is my background. And Lola? Well, she is an extension of myself. The biggest difference between us is that she never has a bad hair day and she often has the ability to say things that I cannot or will not. She’s quite uninhibited that way. I’m a little more polite. A little. Anyway, that’s my story. I hope you enjoy Lola.

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