I'm such a mom. Really. I always considered myself very hands-off where the lives of other people are concerned - especially when those other people are my children. But, apparently not.
My almost-21-year-old son moved out for the second time on Sunday, into an old house which is, presumably, in need of repair. The owner has agreed to trade work on the house for rent, and J-dub is naturally gung-ho about that. So just now he came home to check his Facebook and Myspace, and asked where I'd stored a gallon of wall primer he knew I had. I found the paint and handed it over, because God knows my lazy ass won't be using it any time in the near future, then I began asking him if he needed dishwasher soap, toilet paper, floor cleaner, carpet shampoo.
"No, Mom, we're going to the store to get all that, and a ceiling light, because the living room has no lights in it." He said something about an exhaust fan in the middle of the ceiling (???), and he was going to put a light there.
I said, "Do you know how to do wiring? Do you know you have to shut it off at the thingie?"
He laughed, of course. Silly me; he might still be a little bit blonde, but he'll never be as blonde as his mother.
After I filled his arms with a baggie full of dishwasher soap, a bottle of Dawn dish detergent, and assorted other necessities, I said, "Don't forget your paint can." As he leaned over to pick it up I added, "Keep it somewhere warm!"
The only reason I could see him smiling as he walked out the door was because he was shaking his head from side to side.