Momma ain't raise no punk.
Our mothers nurtured us from crying babies into (less-often-crying) adults. They took care of us. They raised us. Little did they know the tiny little life hacks they were teaching us along the way made us (feel) immortal. Here are some of the tricks of the trade that contribute to our inflated sense of lethality.
Chicken noodle soup and ginger ale
Ah, chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. An elixir from heaven. This at-home remedy has been used by mothers since, well, chicken noodle soup and ginger ale have existed. It's used to treat: the cold, the flu, a fever, a headache, an upset stomach, a hangover, a broken arm, a break-up (Eliza come back, I beg you). It's also the officially required lunch of "I-faked-being-sick-to-get-out-of-school-so-now-I-really-have-to-milk-it-and-pretend-like-this-is-the-only-thing-I-can-eat-even-though-I-am-starving-and-could-run-a-freaking-train-on-those-Bagel-Bite-pizzas-in-the-freezer." There is something about the crisp tangy pop of ginger bubbles and the salty hot broth of chicken noodle that calms down the soul and makes us impervious to any and all small bodily ailments.
The all-important "junk" drawer
You may be in your kitchen, but if your mom had a junk drawer, then you're never out of reach of a potential weapon. The junk drawer is a magical, mystical, place of knick-knacks and lost treasures. A junk drawer could contain any or all of the following: scissors, dead (and half-alive) batteries, expired grocery coupons, snapped mouse traps, loose change, a calculator, nails, bolts, matches, two tickets to paradise, those little twisty things on bags of bread, and the TV remote you've been looking for. It is a virtual MacGyver preparedness kit. As Clemenza said in The Godfather, "Leave the emergency kit—take the junk drawer."
(*DISCLAIMER: Not to be confused with the father-inspired "Pantry Below The Sink Full of Plastic Bags")
Super glue on cuts
Okay, this one is a dice roll of a pick. Maybe it was just my prison guard careerist mother—but I was always taught to put super glue on cuts. I have saved hundreds of dollars in urgent care visits by cleaning a deep cut and then gluing it back together. I do not know if it is sanitary or safe. If I was a betting man, I would put all the money I saved on urgent care visits on it not being safe or sanitary. But hey, mom knows best, and I challenge any flesh wound (3cm long or less, preferably on a finger) to try and stop me.
The tennis ball garage trick
There is a hot, hot debate, about whether this was a mother idea or a father idea. To that debate I say: would a father ever really use an instrument of measure to assure safety? I once watched my father grab a tarantula with his bare hands. Dads are not interested in their own well-being. Luckily, people like us, have moms who taught them to tie a tennis ball to the garage ceiling, at just the right length to tap your windshield and let you know not to go any further forward—lest you bump into a cardboard box mountain of Christmas decorations. Safe ride=lethal driver.
Make lunches the night before
Preparedness is something that mothers have in spades. While all your coworkers are sprinting to their cars to speed to Subway so they can wolf an $8 footlong in 4 minutes and be back before 30 minutes—you are enjoying a wonderful little at-home lunch you made last night. And why? Because your mother taught you. You save money, and you have a full meal catered to your liking. So you can always remain focused, vigilant, and lethal. And you can spend the last 10 minutes of break watching Netflix on your phone.
Buy coats during summer
Winter has rolled around and everywhere you look people are dropping $100 on a good winter coat. You don't have the money. You can't buy it. You go outside in a T-shirt and jeans. You freeze. You die. This is a highly likely scenario. However, because your mom taught you how cheap coats are during the summer, you bought yours all the way back in July for $20 off the sales rack. So go out and brave the arctic tundra in a reasonably priced coat, warrior, you're a discount badass thanks to mom.
Keep a roll of toilet paper in the car
"No spill formed against mom shall prosper." There is always a roll of toilet paper crammed somewhere in my car, thanks to my mom. Its functionality spreads far and wide: spills, quick sneezes, eliminating icky bugs, preventing my neanderthal brain from spitting gum directly into the plastic door compartment, cleaning spilled ketchup on a shirt, and throwing on a car that's parked like a jackass. Mom ain't raise no punk.
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