Just Call Me Mrs. Rodney Dangerfield

Yeah, you got it.  I get very little respect.

Some of this, I deserve.  I can be goofy and annoying.  There’s a ring of truth to the comments my boys sometimes make about me being immature, like when I get on their case just for the sheer joy of annoying them.  Other times, though, they fail to see my strengths.  Like, I’m not quite as dedicated to my exercise regimen as they may be.  But I’m like 30 years older than they are. Our senses dull a little with age and I just can’t seem to hear that little voice that says “Push on” when the legs want to quit running or the arms don’t want to lift those weights.  But I still do push myself…a little.  At least give me some credit for putting on those running shoes!

Tonight, after downing 6 slices of Pizza Hut pizza, Youngest Son decided to go for a run before it got too dark.  Mr. Track Star is the same little dude who used to hate me the most, cussing me out under his breath the whole entire time he ran around the community track, back when I used to bribe the kids to run a mile with me for Dairy Queen rewards.  Now he’s psycho-runner, breaking his school’s records at track meets, building bulging calf muscles doing wind sprints, mapping killer 5 mile practice runs through the neighborhood.

Mr. "I Hate-To-Run" all grown up

Does he give me any credit, though?  No.  Instead he comes home with this story about how he nearly puked multiple times during this evening’s run.  It was pretty funny hearing about how the pizza tasted so good going down but how the flavor of the sauce takes on an evil salty aftertaste when it wants to come back up.  I empathized with his desire not to throw up in front of the elderly neighbor lady who was out walking her dog and so he made himself plod on, knowing that if he stopped, the puke would flow.  But then my amusement at his clever telling of this tale vanished at the point when he said he almost quit running after the first mile, but then he decided he “didn’t want to be like MOM.” Really?

A party? No, just dinner for my "hosses"

Mr. Big Shot is running a 5K on Memorial Day.  I didn’t sign up this year.  It would serve him right if I plopped a Pizza Hut pizza in front of him Monday morning before the race, because that little voice of his may know how to keep him running through the pain, but it hasn’t been able to convince him not to down half a large pizza before going for a run.

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12 Responses to “Just Call Me Mrs. Rodney Dangerfield”


  1. 1 Paula May 29, 2010 at 8:16 am

    My middle son reminds me that we promised to exercize all the time…I know he means well but…UGH! Boys, in their demented way they probably think they are incouraging you by teasing you. Men think on a totally different plain than we do. The won’t understand how you really feel for another 30 years when they start slowing down a bit too. I give you props for tying on the running shoes! And Yea for Youngest Son for being a dedicated runner!

    • 2 les May 29, 2010 at 9:56 am

      Thanks for understanding, Paula. They DO get on my case pretty hard sometimes, but it’s nice to know they care. In fact, sometimes they actually help me get my lazy butt moving, like last week they dragged me with them to the high school track and I got in a good workout–running the track at my OWN slow pace and then running up and down the bleachers. I totally enjoyed the workout and felt really good afterward.

  2. 3 Cyndi May 29, 2010 at 12:51 pm

    LOL – he didn’t want to be like mom, huh? You mean the one that encouraged him to run in the first place? The one who is his biggest fan? Funny how we all grow up, pull away and then hopefully come full circle and realize the reality of our parents and all they did for us. Although I’m 40 and still working on that one… 🙂

    • 4 les May 29, 2010 at 12:56 pm

      Yeah, how do you like that Cyndi? Your boys will love you too when they’re older–even though they’ll no doubt make jokes at your expense. I know this because you do what I did with my guys. We’re parents when they’re younger instead of trying to be their buddies. When they’re older, then you have their friendship which is much more rewarding.

  3. 5 robinaltman May 30, 2010 at 2:13 pm

    That little stinker! “Don’t want to be like Mom” my ass! My kids do the exact same thing to me. We all go to the gym, and they give me advice on the way home. Dumb advice, not suited for a 46 year old woman. Which I point out to them multiple times.

    Who was the one who first got them running and to the gym? Yes, old, slow, Mom. You are not alone, Sister!

    • 6 les May 30, 2010 at 2:17 pm

      I knew you could relate, Robin. Living in the strange world of men and boys…you kind of have to be there to understand.

  4. 7 Dawn June 1, 2010 at 9:59 am

    I’m poked at all the time Les. The contrasts between me and my children may seem Grand Canyon like for moments … and I honestly enjoy that they are. I confess.

  5. 9 Consuella Banana Hammock June 1, 2010 at 10:32 am

    ok i have taken note. when my boys get older, they will ridicule me and not give me credit for encouraging them to do and be all they can be….

    anything else i should know?

  6. 10 les June 1, 2010 at 10:53 am

    Yes. They’ll keep you young. And make you laugh…a lot. 😀

  7. 11 tobeme June 2, 2010 at 9:55 am

    It is interesting how dumb parents are and then after we become adults how smarter our parents become. All will come in time including an amazing amount of respect and gratitude.

    • 12 les June 2, 2010 at 10:44 am

      Hi Mark. Yes, I’m going to get a kick out of watching my boys with their own kids someday. It will be funny to hear them say all the “stupid” things their dad and I have said to them.


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