A Mother’s Revenge

08 Sep

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   The commercials about Vegas are a lie:  What happens in Vegas DOES NOT STAY in Vegas!  Did you hear about Prince Harry getting caught with his twig and berries flapping in the breeze in Vegas and, consequently, pictures of his cute little vanilla behind, while playing strip poker, were seen around the world via the Internet?  (Did I hear one of you say, “Where the fuck was Buckingham Palace security”?)

Do you know what else I’ve discovered?  Hell hath no fury like a Queen’s rebuke of her grandson’s foolish and dangerous behavior.  Guess who is being shipped off to Afghanistan for four months to fly Black Hawk helicopters in combat where no “Hos” (whores to the uninitiated) and paparazzi can follow him?  Oh yeah, Queen Elizabeth, you rock, Sister-Queen!

Cartoon by Andy Davey from The Sun||image posted on

My children are older than Prince Harry now and at the ages when I’m beginning to look like a miniature little chubby saint to them as they look back at all they put me through.  I survived them—but barely.  The child that turned me gray overnight from all her “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas crazies” is now a very strict, church-going, uber-Christian, WWJD bracelet-dispensing mama who has summarily announced that she is going to rear my grandson in such a way that he will skip right over the rebellion phase of his life and march straight into sainthood.  To which her father and I always respond with gales of thigh-slapping FOTF laughter and commentary:  “Let us know how that works out for you, Babe.”  To illustrate the case in point, the other day this particular daughter called in total frustration over a stalemate that she and my grandson had gotten into.

“Mom, you’ve got to help me,” my daughter said.  “Your grandson is driving me crazy.  He knows his birthday is just around the corner and he is refusing to turn four years old!   What child refuses to go from age three to four?  I couldn’t wait to grow up.  I’ve planned a huge birthday party in the park for him tomorrow, and that little booger announced that, not only didn’t he plan to attend, but he didn’t plan on ever leaving three years old, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

Well now there must be a reason,” I said.  “Did my angel say why he didn’t want to turn four years old?”

“Yeah—he says he wants to stay a baby, and if he goes into four-year-old land, he’ll no longer be a baby.  Right now, he’s sitting in a corner on the floor with his arms crossed, pouting and whimpering, and giving me classic baby evil-eye, death-ray stares—as if I were the dreaded peas and carrots that he hates so much.”

Example of “baby evil-eye” |Google Image/

Later that afternoon, my conversation with my older daughter swirled in my head as I settled down for a much-needed nap.  As I thought about my kid’s complaint against her kid, a delicious sense of irony and revenge began to swell in my heart as I gave a shout-out to God:  “Thank you Jesus for giving my child a child whose temperament is just like hers.  Please, please, please, God, if you have any love for me, please give my daughter a generous taste of the crap she put me through!”  And then I dozed off fantasizing about a three-year-old terrorist sent into the field as an agent to wreak “payback” for his beloved MeMa as the words of Hamlet danced in my head:  “To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub.”

Actual picture of Agent Boo-Boo at Command Central||E Tomczyk © 2012

A picture comes into focus on a computer and shows the darling face of a bi-racial three-year-old boy drinking juice from a Sippy-cup with two pairs of “big-boy underwear” on his head which is part of his signature field outfit.  In my dream the little boy in the picture speaks like an adult and his name is “Agent Boo-Boo.”

AGENT BOO-BOO:  Hey MeMa—reporting in for our Skype update.  How yu doin’?

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Hey Baby—I’m doin’ just fine now that you’re on the line.  I notice that you’re still wearing your underwear as a double-layered helmet in protest of not wanting to be potty trained.  I thought you had acquiesced to stop wearing diapers in exchange for the roller blade bribe by your mother.

AGENT BOO-BOO:  I did.  I’m rockin’ this potty training stuff now.  I just like to mess with Mommy’s mind every once and awhile and make her think I may revert back to the big-boy panty protest days of yesteryear. Those were good times!  Just for grins and giggles the other day, I peed and pooped all over myself, just to see what would happen—I had poop in my hair, poop on my shoes, poop on my fingers, poop down my legs—I had poop everywhere!   Mommy went INSANE!  And just as other people were coming into earshot, I really almost made her lose her shit when I screamed really loudly:  “ARE YOU GOING TO BEAT ME—NO, NO, DON’T BEAT ME!”  You should have been there, MeMa—it was sweet!

THE GRANDMOTHER:  (laughing hysterically) Oh, no you de-ent, Boo-Boo?  Child, you are too much!  You know your Mama doesn’t beat you.  But that sure was a good payback on MeMa’s behalf, Baby; because it reminds me of the time your Mama fell out in a full-blown tantrum in a restaurant when she was three.  As I removed her from the table so that she wouldn’t disturb the other diners (thinking we’d go outside and I’d have a stern talk with her), she screamed at the top of her lungs while being carried like a sack of potatoes as she made her bones turn to wet noodles and tried to slither to the floor:  “DON’T SPANK ME, DON’T SPANK ME, PLEASE, I’LL BE GOOD. . .SOMEONE HELP THE CHILD—SHE’S GOING TO KILL ME!”  When your Mama settled down and we returned to our table, all the diners waved and blew kisses to your mother as if she had escaped the guillotine while giving me the ol’ evil eye.   Well, I want you to know, your MeMa doesn’t put up with any shit.  I gave the other diners the evil-eye right back and summarily announced to the entire room:  “I did not spank this child, but if one of you says one thing to me, I swear to God, I’ll wipe the floor with you, because your judgmental asses have no idea what this pint-sized terrorist puts me through on any given day!”

AGENT BOO-BOO:   I’ve got one better for you.  If you liked the poop story, you’ll love what I did in FAO Schwartz the other day.  You know that giant toy elephant by the escalator?  I suctioned-cupped myself to one of his legs and demanded Mommy buy it for me.  I refused to leave the store without him.  Two security guys had to untangle my fingers from the elephant and Mommy had to carry me kicking and screaming out of the store.  Everybody in the place was in a state of shock except for the other babies who started crying and screaming in solidarity because Mommy refused to give in to my demands.

FAO Schwarz|image from

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Oh Lord, have mercy, baby boy.  I shouldn’t be laughing at this story.  And I’m glad she didn’t buy you the elephant for a whole host of reasons.  Your poor mother . . . but wait a minute; I refuse to feel sorry for her.  For every FAO Schwarz story you have, I can tell you at least five more that your mother did to me from here to the Middle East and back, and what she didn’t do, her sister (your Aunt) did.  My worst times with your Aunt was over her picky eating habits as a toddler.  Which reminds me, are you still on strike against vegetables, ’cause I know you inherited that from your Aunt?

AGENT BOO-BOO:  You know it, MeMa.   No vegetable of any color will ever cross these lips—as God is my witness.  Mommy and I had a four-hour showdown the other night over peas and carrots.  Finally, she was so exasperated with me that she laid down an ultimatum:  “If you eat your vegetables, Boo-Boo, you can watch your favorite movie tonight, but if you don’t eat your vegetables, you’re going to bed immediately.”

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Yikes!  What did you do?

AGENT BOO-BOO:  While Mommy was washing dishes, I slipped away from the dinner table ever so stealthily when she wasn’t looking; put on my Madagascar PJ’s, and put myself to bed.  It was my way of saying, “IN YOUR FACE, WOMAN—DEATH TO PEAS AND CARROTS!”  By the time Mommy came looking for me, I was asleep and not one pea or carrot entered my tummy.  My enemy was defeated—yet again.

THE GRANDMOTHER:  But Honey, you missed your favorite movie.  Would it have killed you to eat a couple of peas and carrots?

AGENT BOO-BOO:  Never, I tell you—never!  When one is dealing in warfare, one has to use desperate means, even if it requires great sacrifice.

THE GRANDMOTHERYep, you are your mother’s child, all right.  Anyway, your mother called and asked me to coerce you into turning four years old.  Your Mommy is trying really, really hard to be a good mother.  So why don’t you cut her a little slack on this issue, march bravely into year four, and when you come down on the train at Christmas time, Grandpa will take you to see the Shrek Ice Show.  We hear you’re really into Shrek these days, and three year olds can’t go down the Shrek ice slide—only four year olds can.

AGENT BOO-BOO:  Really?  Hum . . . Okay, MeMa.  It’s a deal.   But there may be a slight problem coming to visit you by train this time.  The last time we were on the Acela, while Mommy was using the potty, I found a funny looking red button next to the toilet and I pulled it.  Just like magic, a bunch of men in uniforms came and banged on the bathroom door asking Mommy if she was okay.  Mommy was really embarrassed and yelled through the door that she had a “rambunctious toddler who had gotten a little out of hand.”

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Oh Darling, you weren’t supposed to pull that button.  It is an emergency button to summon the conductors if you’re in trouble.  Don’t touch that again, Sweetie.

AGENT BOO-BOO:  Too late, MeMa.  Apparently, there are two red buttons in the Acela bathrooms, and on the way back from visiting you and Grandpa, I found the other red button before Mommy saw it.   This time lots and lots of men in uniform came to watch me poop and they gave Mommy the evil eye and shook their fingers at her.

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Oh, Lord Jesus!  Well, we’ll blame it on your allergy medicine and book you under an assumed name for your Christmas travel when you come to see Grandpa and me.  Amtrak only checks the IDs of adults—not the toddlers.  Although, I’m beginning to think that trains and planes should require baby picture IDs, because with what you’ve just told me and remembering your mother’s antics when we traveled with her, an evil genius with a couple thousand toddlers could probably take over the world.

Announcement of forthcoming toddler travel tantrum|image from

AGENT BOO-BOO:  Okay MeMa.  Chat with you later. MUAH!

THE GRANDMOTHER:  Love you too, my sweet boy!  Oh, and don’t tell your mother I used swear words while talking to you—she’ll read me the riot act!

These Boo-Boo stories are all true but are a compilation of my grandson’s antics and a couple stories borrowed from my younger daughter’s (Baby-girl) experience as a nanny. Today’s toddlers rule the day and are wreaking revenge for their grandmothers throughout the Earth. Every Baby-boomer mother went through the same terror with their toddler mothers and fathers and prayed that one day—someday—we would live to see our children tormented by the same toddler terrorist plots they put us through.  Viva la toddlerhood!

Happy 4th Birthday “Agent Boo-Boo”—our darling boy who, in real life, is an angel! ||Photo by J Tomczyk ©2012


 “I love it when mothers get so mad they can’t remember your name. ‘Come here, Roy, er, Rupert, er, Rutabaga… what is your name, boy? And don’t lie to me, because you live here, and I’ll find out who you are.’”― Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

 “In spite of the six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck – and, of course, courage.”― Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

Agent Boo-Boo in B-day party hat|K Tomczyk photo © 2012

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


Posted by on September 8, 2012 in Uncategorized


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27 responses to “A Mother’s Revenge

  1. imagesbytdashfield

    September 8, 2012 at 5:38 pm

    Revenge is when the child has a child – like them! Muah hah ha!!!!!! And nothing that happens in Vegas stays there. Oh hey-all no!!!!!

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 3:52 pm

      TD: Love the diabolical laugh! It is so true. It is so much fun to sit back and watch the show. The line that my grandson said to his Mommy about “are you going to beat me after he soiled his pants” was said in my earshot right outside my office (talk about diabolical), because he instinctively knew I’d be all over his mother’s behind if I thought she had beat him. Where do these little terrorists get schooled? Do they come to the Earth already connected to some kind of toddler terrorist cell? Too much! Thanks for commenting. I always love your comments.

      P.S. I saw the “hot Mama” picture of you on your blog. Good grief woman, you look like you’re 21! When did you have kids? 🙂

      • imagesbytdashfield

        September 9, 2012 at 7:42 pm

        You do NOT want to know when but I have an 8 yo grandson and 6yo granddaughter. Let’s hear it for L’Oreal hair coloring LOL

      • etomczyk

        September 9, 2012 at 8:06 pm

        TD: Amen, sister-friend! 🙂

      • imagesbytdashfield

        September 9, 2012 at 8:10 pm

        You might want to follow my new fashion blog. More shoes and handbags coming up soon 😉 LOL

  2. becomingcliche

    September 8, 2012 at 5:41 pm

    Oh, my gosh, how cute is he?! He and Squish should meet. They were cut from the very same cloth. When Squish was 2, he looked at me sadly as I was bagging my groceries at the store and said loudly “Mommy, I don’t want you to hit me anymore…” Had he ever been spanked? Um, no. Was I ready to then? I think so.

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 4:07 pm

      BC: I love the name “Squish.” How awesome is that? And this story about him is too cute for words. Have you written that into a blog story? Very funny. Thanks for reading and for leaving such a funny comment (I roared!). Take care.

      • becomingcliche

        September 9, 2012 at 5:11 pm

        I did write it in a blog post. And I got the comment that perhaps I should stop hitting my child. Which made ME laugh!

        Boo and Squish. The next dynamic duo.

  3. talesfromthemotherland

    September 8, 2012 at 7:57 pm

    I am just waiting for the day… thanks for a tiny glimpse into the future. What a gorgeous grandson!

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 4:40 pm

      Thanks Dawn. He is such a cutie-patootie, isn’t he? He cracks me up. I love the part of being able to spoil him and then giving him back to his parents to deal with all of the unpleasant stuff. Thanks for stopping by.

      P.S. Loved, loved, loved your “anti-vacation” blog to Peru. Too funny.

      • talesfromthemotherland

        September 9, 2012 at 5:28 pm

        I look forward to the spoiling and sending them back part… but more than willing to wait a few more years. 😉

  4. maryisidra

    September 8, 2012 at 8:27 pm

    Although I have no wee-ones (by choice) this so made me smile!! Agent Boo-Boo is a cutie 🙂 As for Prince H. Shame Shame. sorry I am laughing as I type this…

    PS; Tell the Great Boo-One Happy Birthday from Alabama please. 🙂

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 4:42 pm

      Thanks Mary. The b-day went off without a hitch and since he started pre-school on his birthday (I think that was part of the anxiety–fear of the unknown) and liked it, he’s doing very well. Take care.

  5. momshieb

    September 9, 2012 at 8:11 am

    What a really beautiful boy! Congratulations to you, to his Momma, and to the little guy!
    Love those stories; mostly because they bring back way too many memories to count, and those memories remind me of why I should be happy to have my empty nest!

  6. Valentine Logar

    September 9, 2012 at 10:48 am

    I laughed all the way through this! My mother once said to me, ‘someday you will have a daughter and she will be just like you’. I thought, no I won’t do that a child just like me wouldn’t survive childhood. I did not have children.

    Then I married a man with children, two boys. I thought, well this is fine. They aren’t mine, they don’t live with us, they aren’t girls; they can’t be like me.

    The first time they came to stay the eldest (6 years old at the time) said with hands on narrow hips and head wagging, “we don’t have to do what you say, you aren’t our mother.” I disabused them both of this absurd notion immediately.

    I realized, oh no they are bad, they might be like me just a little. Then they came to live with us. I divorced their father and through a great blessing, I retained custody of them. Working with their mother we formed a perfect union to raise them, but they were me and we all knew it.

    They were just like me! We still all laugh at how this happened.

    Glad your lovely grandson decided to enter the wonderful age of 4 years old. Mine will be doing so on October 31st!

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 4:58 pm

      Val: Great story. Just shows that God has a wicked sense of humor. Thanks so much for your most excellent comment. All the best.

  7. Mal

    September 9, 2012 at 12:43 pm

    Oh, Eleanor, I was in giggles reading this! Your little cutie pie grandson is adorable, his eyes sparkle with that mischievous gleam…and I can well imagine what a handful he must be for his mommie and the rest of son famille! 😀

    And, Eleanor, I’ve awarded you with the ‘One Lovely Blog Award’… 🙂

    • etomczyk

      September 9, 2012 at 4:59 pm

      Mal: So glad you liked this post and it made you “giggle.”

      Thank you also for the gracious award to “One Lovely Blog.” I really appreciate your support and the honor. All the best!

  8. Tina

    September 10, 2012 at 12:34 pm

    Great Eleanor! We’re awaiting our 1st GC and already, I can tell it’s going to be so interesting. Just the comments from my daughter-in-law on how she is handling her pregnancy, and is planning her delivery! I am quickly learning new skills; keep my mouth shut. )Cuz’ I look pretty silly with my jaw hanging down like that.)

    • etomczyk

      September 10, 2012 at 8:52 pm

      Tina: Congratulations. Yes, learning to keep the mouth shut is essential with the grandmother/mother-in-law dynamic. There will be plenty of jaw-dropping scenerios–that I can promise you. Take care.

  9. composerinthegarden

    September 11, 2012 at 1:55 pm

    Great post, as always, Eleanor! And Agent Boo-boo? Give him a kiss and a hug from me – what a cutie! I must say, I like being an “aunt” 🙂

    • etomczyk

      September 11, 2012 at 5:07 pm

      Lynn: I totally understand the “Aunt” sentiment. All the pleasure without the pain! Ha! Thanks for reading and have a great respite.

  10. aFrankAngle

    September 12, 2012 at 8:49 am

    Grandparents gotta love spoiling and the revenge! …. and happy birthday Agent Boo-Boo!.

    PS: E-Tom … make sure you visit for Saturday’s party … and bring your friends. 🙂

  11. Elyse

    September 16, 2012 at 9:44 pm

    Happy B-Day Agent Boo-Boo.

    I can’t wait to have grandchildren. Oh wait. Yes I can. Really, Jacob, I can wait. I mean it. Fortunately, I have great nieces and great nephews in the mean time. By which I mean terrific great-nieces and fabulous great-nephews!

    • etomczyk

      September 17, 2012 at 7:23 pm

      Hi Elyse. I never fancied myself as the grandmother type, but this little guy has definitely captured my heart. His sense of humor is off the charts which really cracks me up. (But maybe all grandmothers says that 🙂 ). Thanks for stopping by and leaving great comments (always). Cheers!

  12. Lindy Lee

    September 20, 2012 at 8:53 pm

    All the fun & none of the responsibility– when they’re little they step on your toes;
    when they’re big, they step on your heart; looking back, I like little best; one of my favorite sounds is the sound of children playing, their tiny voices are music to my ears that I miss very much from my own personal life experience…

    • etomczyk

      September 21, 2012 at 9:02 am

      Lindy Lee: As I take the time to really enjoy my grandson, I realize what most mother’s realize after the fact: I wish I had cleaned, cooked, worried less and just sat in the midst of my children when they were wee ones and relished in their delightfulness. Did the house really need all that cleaning. . .? Thanks for stopping by my friend. (For some reason I found you in spam and had to rescue your comment–yikes!)


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