Posts Tagged ‘mom stories’

Felt Up in Walmart

December 31, 2009

I’ve been a working actress in LA for 10 years.  And, I have yet to do a love scene on camera.  I’m not opposed to it; the opportunity has just never presented itself.  I used to think that it would be very awkward … doing the scene with so many crew people looking on.  But, thanks to my daughter, that fear has been conquered … Emory felt me up in Walmart.

Yesterday, we ventured out to the mother of all discount stores to do final New Year’s Eve meal shopping (‘cuz the days of going out on NYE are SO over).  All throughout the trip, Emory was being very needy, reaching up for me and whining. I kept pushing her little arms down, giving her kisses and continuing on with my shopping.

Then, I reached the produce department.

It was packed for some odd reason.  Everyone on the hunt for the perfect potato, including me.  All that was left was a huge 10 pound bag of Russets.  So, I squeezed myself in between three people and reached up to grab this massive bag of taters off the shelf.

As I am trying to maneuver this bag above people’s heads, I feel two little hands hit both my breasts.  I look down and Emory is palming my ta-tas.  Better yet, she then started squeezing them … as if she had scored two rolls of Charmin!  I guess she had a flashback to that lovely six-month period from June-December 2008 when I was her dairy cow.  Em, I hate to tell you, sweetheart, but those udders dried up a LONG time ago.

After I recovered from my shock, I burst into hysterical laughter.  Seriously, who gets felt up by their own kid?  In public?  At a Walmart?

I gently released her grip from my mammary glands, gave her a kiss and headed for the check-out lane.  Don’t know if anyone saw it happen, probably so, which makes it that more hilarious.

So, I guess in 2010, I have nothing to fear with a love scene that takes me to second base!

Happy New Year, everyone!

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Blue balls, anyone?

November 25, 2009

I’m years away from the sex talk, but here’s a funny precursor.  My daughter loves balls.  Blue balls.  No, she hasn’t been traumatized by seeing my husband in his birthday suit.  I’m talking about a set of good old-fashioned plastic balls.

Two weeks ago, Emory’s Maw Maw bought her an inflatable castle filled with multi-colored plastic balls.  She spends hours in her fortress, tossing balls in and out.  But recently, we picked up on a trend. She only throws the blue balls.  No purple. No yellow.  No pink. Just big fat blue balls.

Blue balls have become her favorite playmate.  When it’s time for lunch, she parades into the kitchen, blue balls in hand.  They sit on her food tray next to her juice and a bowl of mac & cheese.  Time to go to the park?  The blue balls are in tow and join her in the sandbox.  The best – the balls travel to the doctor.  Try explaining that to a pediatrician with a straight face – “Yeah, Doc…she’s obsessed with blue balls.”

Not quite sure what all of this means.  Probably nothing. Then again, one month ago at a restaurant, Emory grabbed our waiter’s crotch.

Hmm…perhaps the sex talk is coming sooner than later!