Knowing that I may lose whatever respect you may have developed for me – that is respect you’re developing for me, right? – it is possible that the time has come to expand on the note I scribbled in my notebook a month ago.
The note?
My son’s got gas.
So small, isn’t it? A four-word sentence with more gravity, more depth, than one little sentence has a right to.
It’s not like there isn’t a warning beforehand. There’s a look on his face that I’ve come to recognize, immediately followed by a two-word precursor to a potentially life-changing event. Like the imperious command of “Scratch” – my cue to run my nails along his back until I am dismissed – there is also a far more subtle “Hey, Mom” – followed by an almost Mona-Lisa-like smile – that makes me run out of the room.
Why would a loving mother, a woman interested in what comes after “hey…” no matter who says it, go skittering out of a room as fast as possible after such a statement?
Because like I said, my son’s got gas.
Don’t get me wrong. This is not regular gas; not “whoops! sorry about that” gas; but hair-frying, clothes-wrinkling, room-clearing gas.
I hold myself responsible. Was it something I ate during pregnancy? Should I have not eaten only Mexican food, potatoes drenched in Tabasco, those little canned oranges and, so help me God, canned sardines?
Perhaps it has something to do with my weather-predicting hair? Could the ability to stenchify whole rooms be The Boy’s equivalent of my ability to detect humidity?
I’ve lost your respect, haven’t I?
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47 comments:
No, you haven't lost my respect.
You have just reinforced my belief in your ultimate common sense and ability to survive the coming zombie apocalypse.
You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to RUN LIKE THE WIND, BULLSEYE!!!
There is no way you're going to lose my respect as either a humorist or a writer by writing a post about gas.
I mean, I have a 16 year old son with some wicked gas of his own. I can relate.
Multiply that times two teenage boys here - no respect lost!!
I always thought blogs were a great place for farts. They get to expand into their inherent funniness.
And what Bill said!
Honesty is always to be respected! At least you get a warning, right? Not to compare a child to a dog but.....we had a Brittany Spaniel that would jam her big ass under our bed. Quiet girl. All of a sudden in the middle of our sleep we would be awaken by a stench so horrible that we couldn't even breath!
Have you considered converting your car to run on methane?
oh dear. tmi.
I'm afraid I have experienced the same situation in my family! lol
At least he warns you. That, for a teenager, is the equivilent of a hug.
(you could always whip out a bic propane clicker and threaten to set it on fire....I saw a guy do that once, burned a hole in his sweats and removed all local hair. Laughed till I cried.)
ALL sons have gas. And all sons revel in it.
Being able to "burp" out the alphabet, using their anal sphincter, is cause for celebration...according to sons.
So no, Pearl, no loss of respect. You're just a member of a large club. We're called MOBAG--Mothers of Burpers and Gassers...(Did you pay your membership fee for 2012? If not, you might not be eligible to attend the national conference. This year it will be hosted by the city where Spam was first thought of.)
No, you've gained my empathy. My older son was like that. Thankfully he's long been living on his own now. It was .. milk. Hide the milk, cheese and yogurt from him and you might not need to hide yourself any longer.
No mother, reading this, would lose their respect for you. And I agree with Sioux .. ALL sons have gas.. and mine also has the ability to say words with burps. He insists it is a gift that not all have , I am telling him about Sioux's son.
love you ... think about those little instant shot room deoderant sprays .. just don't get a dog, they fart too !
Oh, the Joy of Sulfur Based Organic Che-mystery.
guys at work call the passing of gas "crop dusting"
when I heard that I almost fell to the floor with laughter.
funny though, your name didn't come up.
I still respect you and am smiling about the fact that I'm many state-lines away from your son.
xoRobyn
It doesn't matter what you say as long as it's well-written! So, you're fine.
It was definitely the potatoes and little oranges - that healthy food is some bad stuff!
"Hair-frying, clothes-wrinkling, room-clearing gas" should be registered as a deadly weapon I'll bet if he learned to control it he could take out all those flying ninjas who think they are so clever.
Somehow the things we do in our lives always comes back to get us in the form of our own offspring.
All of us mothers and grandmothers can empathize!
What is it about men - they seem to be so proud of their farts. :)
mybabyjohn/Delores said...
Have you considered converting your car to run on methane?
WHAT A GREAT IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!
From what I understand, daughters have (terrible) gas too. ;)
Well, you had me until you said your hair frizzes in damp weather. NOW I have absolutely no respect for you.
Hey Pearl! No loss of respect here, tho my respect for your son has gone through the roof. Indigo x
So that's what Mona Lisa's little smile was all about.
What could you possibly have against an honest-to-goodness, no-holds-barred, paint-stripping and ozone-hole-plugging nosegay like your son's fart?
Let's face it ... YOU fed him, didn't you?
Besides, they work wonders for blocked noses!
Oooo!Oooo!
BLART!!!
Ah! That reminds me of yesterdays BBQ.
Room clearing? Your son has gained my respect.
High five Dude!
cranky
You'll know he is a MATURE gas passer when he can stand in a crowd of people, tell a great joke and walk away after a silent fart that is quite deadly, leaving all the laughers wondering just who did it. Know when to hold 'em indeed!
what always amazes me is the male gender's ability to always appreciate their ability in this arena...my mom would have shot me as a child(we had to get up and go to the restroom if we knew what was decending)
hahah, girls and boys certainly differ in this topic...no lost respect here
It does indeed seem to be a boy thing. And to let you know in advance is the equivalent of a very big hug.
We had a cat whose farts could strip paint. If he let fly (and notice the gender) while I was asleep I would wake up with my eyes running.
All boys are like this, I raised two of them. The thing is, some foods produce a more noxious odour than others. Keep a notebook for a while and jot down what you've served for dinner and whether or not the fart is a room-clearer. If you notice a connection, like Hilary did with her son and milk,(in this case there appears to be a dairy intolerance/allergic reaction) then try to serve less of those foods. If there is no such connection, then it could simply be the wolfing down of food and swallowing lots of air with it as teenaged boys do. Add things such as fennel seeds, cinnamon and cloves to his diet somehow, these things (and others) have the effect of reducing flatulence.
LOL You don't call your boy "Beefer" do you? I had a friend once who claimed no vegetable had ever crossed his lips. He ate meat and bread and an occasional potato. (I know, but forget it) The Beefer was one of the most loving and enjoyable people I have ever known but he could clear a room in five seconds flat. An Olympic record.
The best way to prevent your farts from becoming smelly is to avoid eating foods that are rich in sulfur. Sulfur has an odor of rotten eggs and is notorious for causing foul smelling farts. Foods to avoid include vegetables from the cabbage family such as broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, and bok choy. Other foods rich in sulfur are meat, eggs, cheese, whole cow's milk, garlic, onions, horseradish, and sulfite preserved foods like wine and dried fruits.
That'll be $50US, thanks!
ps - charcoal tablets from the pharmacy help!
No loss of respect at all, Pearl. You speak the truth -- and make me laugh! I think guys revel in farts. Some are legendary. When my husband and I were dating 37 years ago, he was living in an apartment with a patio that bordered on a dairy farm. The air was so foul, he never opened his windows or sliding glass door. But one night, after he had over-indulged in stuffed grape leaves at an Afghan restaurant in L.A., he let out a fart that was so noxious, so incredibly room-clearing that we flung open his sliding glass door and let the aroma of the dairy cows waft in. To this day, "the grape leaf fart" is the stuff of legends!
Could be Celiac, or a dairy allergy. Or maybe he just smells.
:)
Ah Pearl,
I got 'wind' of your latest posting and felt it was 'high' time I left you with another one of my um 'eagerly anticipated' comments.
It seems with this posting, your son's fart's in the right place.
A fun-filled flatulence frenzy fantastic!
Have a good weekend, eh. Just reading you article has left me pooped out....
Definitely the sardines. They might have marinated in your uterus for the 9 months.
Talking about farts might lose you a bit of respect, but it will no doubt increase your membership. Few things grab attention like a good fart discussion.
"Got gas, how much a gallon? "
"Hire him out as a paint remover"
"Farting can cause parting"....
bwahahhahaha!
EH?? You shall not lose my respect regardless of subject, O' Pearly One.
If there is a loud fart nearby, our little dog will walk up to the person and sniff to check it out. No sneaking by that guy....plus, he is a pro himself. We survived two sons, one with lactose intolerance, which made things really unbelievably stinky around our place.
Imagine how big he would be if he didnt let it out.
Just like my sister. I don't know how such a small woman can release something so terrible. It's killed animals before, I am sure.
We say "Something died in there" when referring to each other's intestinal smells. Sadly, we say that a LOT.
Go big, or go home! If he's gonna do it, at least he's darn good at it!
Isn't b-o-y- really spelled g-a-s? My grandson was - get this - seven months old. He was lying in his crib and farted. Loudly. It was the first time we heard him giggle. They come equipped, I tell you.
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