Eight Year Old Tells Me to Take a Vacation….to BINGO! Huh?

I can’t decide if the YouTube video I posted of my eight-year-old telling me I need a vacation is a good thing, or his way of telling me to get the hell out of his face. Anyway, here’s a funny video of my son telling me to “take a break” at BINGO. His imitation of BINGO players and winning is hilarious (well, to me anyway!), and I hope you enjoy.


He’s obviously hoping to get famous with his shirtless video.

Today I Became the Parent to an Adult

I’m the official parent of an adult. If this revelation doesn’t make a girl feel old, welp, nothing will. I never thought this day would come, for two reasons:

  1. I’m pretty sure I should be dead by now.
  2. I’m no different than any other mother who thinks their child is still learning how to crawl, and needs the cheerios cut in half.

Yes, friends… my son is EIGHTEEN today. I’m sure he’s out buying lottery tickets, cigarettes, and adult magazines (if I raised him right, he is!) right now. AFTER ALL, I planned his birth so perfectly that his admission into adulthood fell on a Friday. The party I had for him tonight should have been for me. 

My son and I age 10

I did all the work—from creation, to carrying, to pushing, to raising, to panicking…. I’m the one who had to quit drinking and smoking for nine months (give or take!), and he just pooped out into the world like, “WAT up lady! I’m gonna give you a heart-attack by the time you’re thirty.”

And I, like a naive new mother, just stared at him in amazement. 

But, all joking aside—I love this boy. :) 

 

My son is eighteen and I'm the parent of an adult.

He is now an adult, and I couldn’t be prouder.

 

Lessons From a Writer (That’s Me!): Dial-Up Internet and A Chump

I’m not really sure how it all happened but at the age of 31, and with very little effort, I became a freelance writer.

In 2006 I began writing 500-700 word articles that were keyword specific, Search Engine Optimized and rewrites. Each article required research, links, and unique content. I was working full-time as a poker dealer during the day but at night, I was living the glamorous life of a writer.

Dial-up Internet, the largest desktop known to man and street cred.

I WAS A WRITER, BABY!

Wide Open Spaces--the world was waiting for this writer

Wide Open Spaces–the world was waiting for this writer

Let me back up- I can’t remember if I ever consciously thought about, or wanted to be a writer. I kept a journal consistently during high school and early into my 20s. As the years went on, my journal became a place for vulnerability and a sort of poetry.

I wanted to write songs but didn’t know how to play an instrument so that seemed impossible. I wrote words instead.

journal and notes

The Infamous Composition Book — All the Tortured Poetry Lives Here

Sometimes I cut words out of magazines and arranged them to create “tragic” poetry—would be lyrics–if I only knew three guitar chords.

When the world shifted from ink pens to keyboards, I was SCREWED!

How the hell could computers not be a passing fancy? In high school I laughed at the typing class students (because I was so cool, being in the F.F.A and all) and swore, I would never learn to type (or sew—two decisions I grew to regret).

I went a very long time defending my high school stance and upholding the anti-typing vow.

The Beginning of My Freelance Career

I had giant balls in January, 2006 when I decided to submit a personal essay about being a new mother to a writing site. Imagine my surprise when two weeks later I received this email,

“Robin, I’d love to feature this story on my website as it is creative, humorous, and a fun read. I did edit the text quite a bit to adhere to the guidelines of writing for the Web, and to correct grammar and punctuation errors. I look forward to future submissions and strongly recommend a refresher in grammar.”

Holy crap! I was going to be famous!

Naturally, This is What I Did Next

I applied for writing jobs. Literally, thought I was on my way to a feature in Vogue.

I got my first gig within no time.

My “editor” sent five orders at a time. I didn’t choose the topic or negotiate word count or any details. The instructions for each article were simple. I didn’t know then but I know now-I was being primed for sweat-shop labor in the content mill industry.

This is what I received:

  • Topic to research (ex: Summer vacation in Paris, France-Things to do, places to stay, etc.)
  • Required keywords and density (ex: 15%)
  • Required word count (MIN 500/Maximum 1,000)
  • Deadline (ex: 24 hours)
  • Rate of pay

I spent hours perfecting each piece. I researched hostels, sightseeing, foreign travel tips, and fun ideas for the International traveler. I was bored to death and frustrated easily and considered myself to be a tortured writer like all the most famous ones before me.

I wrote a paragraph and then hastily deleted it-called it junk-in obvious imitation of the writer’s I envisioned in my head. I cured writers block with mundane tasks like preparing dinner and worked furiously into the wee hours of the morning.

I thought I was Tolstoy.

I was writing website content.

As a ghostwriter.

For a ghostwriter.

 Outsourcing Writer Actually Taught Me How to Write

I had no concept that my “work”–expertly crafted with proper keyword density and links to destinations in Paris–would be credited to some chump writer who had perfectly executed the system of Capitalism.

I knew right away that I was doing something right when after the first 5-10 articles; I received no revision requests or notes about editing. I sucked at punctuation (still do) and was honest about appreciating constructive feedback. I was inundated with requests to write more and was on cloud nine every time she commented on my skill as a writer.

BAM! I was in….

I landed this gig after to replying to a job posting  and WAS THRILLED to have “finally” made it into the world of writers.

I was being paid $1-$3 per article. HAHAHAHA…..

I didn’t know enough to bitch about it.

It didn’t take me long to see I was being “scammed” by another writer. I was so new and naive but extremely arrogant as well.

I refused to read articles that offered advice to new writers. I wanted to figure it all out myself. I didn’t want to spend hours researching the industry of writing.

I just wanted to write….and, meet Oprah.

After all, I was published online after my very FIRST submission. DUH! I was a natural.

Today, I am writing full-time, learning about punctuation, and developing a career that I’m proud of.

I’ve had to put the creative writing on-hold for the moment, but I’m not going to give up. I’ve still got some junk in the trunk that’s gonna need some editing, and a place to live.

You’re Not The Boss of Me, These Two Are

The CEO and CFO of “Robin Matteri Writer”

CEO and CFO of ME--My Boys

 

 

 

….. the company doing business as, “Mom!”

 

I may not punch in and out, and do not have hours consistent to you regular folks— ya know, like, Monday to Friday. The wages may be borderline on nothing, but, the fringe benefits are enormous.

Thanks for supporting us by reading my writing…. it’s appreciated by everyone.

My son and I age 10 1293832509587

My Imaginary Boyfriend–Direct Quote From My Son… GASP!

I don't text your imaginary boyfriend.

From the Facebook Archives—A classic conversation between me and my oldest—I think he was about 15 years old at the time. His wit will never stop making me laugh.

 

Me: “Give me your girlfriends number, I want to text her.”

 

Tyler: “No. I don’t want you texting my girlfriend. I don’t text your imaginary boyfriend.”