Go tell your mother ...

So. Parents. They raise you, they love you, they scold you.

As everyone knows, I've always had a great relationship with my mom. She's the best. We had some rocky times in the "Stacy's Mom" era, but I'll let bygones be bygones going through midlife (and/or empty nest) crisis's.

My dad, not as good. I think it turned south when I stopped liking the visits to the hardware store. It only escalated when I started disagreeing with him and talking back. Not to mention the fact that we are very alike in personalities, especially when you're looking at our stubborn side. But somehow, someway ... he started talking to me after I moved away. Figure that. Dad still insists on talking to me in the morning before I've had my coffee and the obligatory 30 minutes "wake up time." But oh well, I suppose.

My mom has this odd way of conning me into work and getting me into trouble with her little adventures. "Let's go look at the pond," she'll say. Three hours later, I'm wet from fishing out a Frisbee. It starts with going down to the water's edge (fun). Then we move a couple rocks around (fun, but makes you start to sweat). Then Mom sees something in the pond, so I go in to pick out (fun, with wet feet). Here it comes, "Well, since your feet are already wet, why don't you go in further to get that Frisbee out." As I'm waist deep in water, looking at her dry on the shore, I realize I've been suckered again. And how the hell did this Frisbee even get in there, it's not ours...

One would think I would learn and start saying no---but it took me 21 years to realize she was doing it in the first place, so who knows how long it will take to see them coming and head them off at the pass...

And as if having one cunning and ruthless (okay, I'm taking some dramatic license here) mommy isn't enough, I've also been "blessed" with a second set of surrogate parents. And they're crazier than my first set. I try to think back now, to remember how it all happened.

Here's the cliff notes version: In college, newspaper advisor says the big man in SS was asking about you. I shrug it off. I get a call from the registrar in the SS office asking if I want to work there. Okay, cool a job. I remember the interview ... was really an interview? Asked about my hours, I said newspaper comes first. Asked how fast I could type.

I was intimidated by Tiff and Kim's relationship, and all the things I needed to learn about the office. Soon, I was spending more time there than anywhere else on campus. Then, whoohoo a summer job! Other than being locked in the dungeon it was awesome.

Somehow or another, I befriended a Viking fan *gasp* And I was told that I was the younger version of Kim. I think the parent thing started when Kim went to the business office. I think I was supposed to convince him to give her the plant...

The epic War of the Plant from the Copier Room, spawned the "Go tell her..." growls. I think this resulted in the "He's a loser come work for me." Which begot the "What can she give you that I can't?" retaliation. She countered with "He keeps you in the dungeon and I buy you pretty stuff" and the villagers cowered at "Go tell your father..."

But what probably blew the ship out of the water was, "I don't care about sparkly stuff, she left you. Who signs your checks? Who's your daddy?"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the shudder heard 'round the world.

Oh the stories I could tell... How about the time that she (this tale recounts the time when I was there, I hear this trick is still an active one) snuck into his office so much stealing mints that he went through a full bag in a week or so. He buys new mints, fills it up and gives me (me?!) the executive order that she is NOT allowed in the office. Especially HIS office.

I plead the fifth and will not say anything that can be held against me in the court of jeffy ... but the long and short of it is that she came in and hid the mints.

And guess who got blamed? Yepper, yours truly. However, I had the "locked in the dungeon" story as an alibi and remained in both their good graces.

And so the saga continues. They are the king and queen of bicker and banter. And for people who are supposed to be vying for my affection, I seem to be caught in the middle. I hear more of "what did you tell her, and you're ratting on me" as well as "make him think this, do this for me" then "Stacey loves me more."

And let me tell you, though both are amusing, I much prefer the competition of making Stacey happier. After all, we all know how vain I am.

So Friday, I fall into the same old pattern again. And, like true parents, I tell one something and the other one instantly knows about it. And, unlike my real parents, "my mother" scolds me for having to hear it from "my father." (And as a side note, I'll probably get yelled at for blowing that cover, because the father didn't know that I didn't tell the mother.)

Alas, at least my real mommy loves me, even though she tricks me into working.