Karma: When I'm 64

I found myself giving the kids an introductory lesson on the principal of Karma the other day in the car. We were driving to the grocery store (of course) and were cut off by some obnoxious driver (read: male) who apparently really NEEDED to get to Wegmans (I assume PBR was on sale). The kids were aghast at the brazenness of this errant driver- it was the childhood equivalent of a glove slap, and Mommy had been challenged to a duel. They wanted me to follow him and make it right (put him in time out), and when I refused, they wanted to call Daddy. Instead of calling in the big guns, I took the opportunity to explain my devout belief in Karma, and how the universe would make right what I couldn't. They were intrigued, and I was proud. In honor of the successful parenting moment I even decided against falsely parking in the "expectant mothers" parking spot like I usually do, lest Karma prove my point and come get me.

And so the other night, after an especially challenging family dinner, I spent some time thinking about Karma as I lay tearfully rocking in the fetal position under the dinner table in the usual after-dinner puddle of spilled milk and dreams. In my half-conscious state, I had a perfect vision of Karmic justice:

"Daddy! Mommy's fantasizing under the kitchen table again!" 

You see, someday, if I do my job, these children will be grown, and I will be OLD. And if I do my job well, they might even invite my old ass over for dinner. And when they do, I fully plan to seize the opportunity to make sure Karmic justice is done. Which means I have no choice but to:

1. Enter their house, early, without knocking. Hopefully they will be in the bathroom/shower, where I will also enter without knocking.
2. Throw my coat, my purse and all of its contents, (and a few random leaves, twigs, and small wild animals I somehow picked up on my way into the house) ALL over the floor of the entryway and the front room.
3. Leave my shoes on, and immediately find a way to leave muddy (orthopedic) footprints on their couch, kitchen table, the comforter of their bed, and as an added intriguing bonus: the hood of their car.
4. Ask them what they are making for dinner, and then no matter the answer, faux vomit, possibly so realistically that I ACTUALLY vomit. On the floor.
5. (Track vomit footprints onto the hood of their car.)
6. Take the remote (preferably prying it out of their hand) and turn on a bizarre cartoon that has the unpleasant side effect of causing them to have acid flashbacks.
7. Turn said cartoon's volume up as loud as the TV will allow.
8. When they tell me its time for dinner, fall on the floor and scream and cry about having to turn off my favorite hallucinogenic cartoon.
9. Sit down to dinner, look at the painstakingly prepared food on the table, and commence gagging.
10. Ask for demand a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
11. Refuse the peanut butter and jelly sandwich because the jelly is on the wrong side.
12. Feed the peanut butter and jelly sandwich to the dog.
13. Demand Cheerios.
14. Refuse the Cheerios because they look slightly oval instead of circular.
15. Feed the deformed oblong Cheerios to the dog.
16. Pour my milk on the floor.
17. Cry because I spilled my milk.
18. Cry so hard I need to roll around on the floor for emphasis.
19. Roll in my milk.
20. Cry because my shirt is wet.
21. Take off my shirt.
22. Demand ice cream.
23. Eat ice cream.
24. Cry because eating the ice cream with no shirt on is making me cold.
25. Insist that someone "hold me" while I eat my ice cream.
26. Make said person spoon feed me the ice cream.
27. Cry because I have an ice cream headache.
28. Punch the person who fed me my ice cream too fast and gave me an ice cream headache.
29. Cry so hard I fall asleep in my bowl of ice cream.
And finally, the piece de resistance:
30. Somehow manage to poop in every toilet in the house and flush NONE of them.

Hopefully whatever they feed me has a LOT of food coloring.

 I'm not saying this will be easy. Or fun. I don't make the (Karmic) rules. And if true what-goes-around-comes-around justice is done, and everything does, in fact, come full circle- they will no doubt take one look at thier eldery, shirtless Mom sleeping in her ice cream bowl, and they will swell with love and pride.

And then take a BIG gulp of wine.

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