My 76 year old mom is well known for her mispronunciation.

But, I think she topped herself today when she called my niece’s car a “Vulva“.

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A couple of days ago, I sat down with my husband and kids to watch an Oprah rerun featuring Dr. Oz. He was discussing the diabetes epidemic in America.

I wanted my 11 year old daughter to see the show, because she loves food that is horrible for her. If I let allowed it, she would eat doughnuts for breakfast, bologna on white bread for lunch and chicken nuggets for dinner. With extra dipping sauce.

I don’t let her. I buy plenty of fruits and vegetables, whole wheat bread and pasta and she is not allowed to drink soda unless it’s a special occasion or if she sneaks one at a friend’s house. Don’t think you’re fooling me, girl. She is in the 50th percentile for height and weight. She is healthy. For now.

I wanted her to see that, given the opportunity, she needs to make her own good decisions about nutrition. I don’t want her to end up like me. I can’t even keep sweets in the house because I have no self-control. If only I was as obsessed with laundry as I am with sugar. No one would ever run out of underwear.

My eight year old son loves all food. My mom can’t believe it. Really, it’s like a grandparents dream come true. He never asks what’s for dinner, he just sits down and starts eating everything on his plate. He weighs 42 pounds, so I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to bulk up.

My boy craves pine-nut hummus and red peppers. He eats blueberries and raw veggies like they’re going to stop harvesting them. Given his congenital heart disease, this is a good thing.

At the risk of losing readers who are also PETA members, I will admit that I have long said that I would be a vegetarian if someone else did all the food prep. All that washing and cutting…ugh.

Although I think I could survive without meat, you can’t deny that it is awfully easy to make chicken. Boiled chicken, grilled chicken, baked chicken, rotisserie chicken hot and ready for consumption on the end-cap of my local grocery store…

I don’t think my son would complain if I put him on a vegetarian diet either. Of course, he enjoys chocolate too. He’s a lot like his mother.

Which can only mean one thing.

Someday, he is really going to like beer.

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I have mentioned before that my 75 year old mother has a tendency to make slight errors in her pronunciation of certain words.

Usually her terminology is good for a chuckle, but last night at dinner she had me completely stumped when she asked, “Diane, have you seen that HBO movie I told you about yet? The one about that acoustic girl.”

I stared blankly. She continued, “Temple something…”

“Temple Grandin?”

She replied, “Yes! That’s it.”

“Mom, I think you meant to say autistic.”

Though I suppose it’s entirely possible that Temple played a mean guitar.

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