Shizzle I Can Do Cuz I’m A Mom

May 10, 2013 By 7 Comments
Shizzle I've Learned as a Mom

Shizzle I can Do Cuz I’m a Mom

 

So, I’ve been a Mom a pretty long time now. In fact, if my Mom-ness was a person in the Province of Ontario, it would be able to drive, vote, and buy alcohol. Which is good. Mothering teenagers requires several boxes of wine per quarter. And you have to drive to the liquor store. You don’t want to take your boxes of wine on the bus. Or your cupcakes. They might get squished.

 

Since I’ve been in the game for a while, I’ve learned a few things. Not about motherhood, per se, because motherhood is crafty.

 

The only truth I’ve learned about actual mothering during my tenure is this: As soon as you think you’ve got the skills down pat, those kids change the game. They do something like get older or change who they are, or whatever. And then it’s back to square one. That place otherwise known as ‘Oh crap. What do I do now?’

 

No, what I’ve learned is about me (really, it always boils down to me). It’s been a voyage of self-discovery, this Mom & Pop operation. So, what have I found out in the last 19 (OY!) years besides the fact, as I mentioned, that I don’t really know what I’m doing and yet I seem to be doing it fairly competently (as evidenced by the fact that nobody is flunking out, on drugs, in prison, or banned from anyone’s house.)

 

I’m totally a super-hero. I know things, without even trying to know them. I can fix the most terrible boo boos with cold water, the promise of a rainbow, and a kiss.  I can hear things that are whispered, even when people aren’t at home. I can just sense when something is off-kilter or feelings are hurt. I can also do imaginary things that don’t exist except for the most special of us, like cause dishes to move into and out of the dishwasher, enable the cleaning and folding of clothes, activate the food-in-the-fridge program, and most difficult of all, turn off lights and close doors and cupboards.

 

I can make something from nothing. Well, not really, but it’s un-freaking believable what kinds of feasts I can create with a carrot, milk, some cheese, a few noodles (sprinkled with Mama glitter, of course. Don’t ask why the cupboards are bare, because it’s not that I didn’t have time per se to go grocery shopping, but more  due to the fact that I didn’t actually want to.) I can also procure bristol boards at 10:00 on a Sunday night, make igloos out of glitter glue & some styrofoam, pull kleenex from the air, and make a pair of shorts out of jeans that are too small.

 

I can shape shift. One minute I’m Florence Nightingale (see point #1) and the next I’m a teacher (You said WHAT? to her? No, that’s NOT how you do it. First, you call her up and…), then I’m Mrs. Fix-it (amazing what one can do with duct tape and a pair of dress pants), and a few minutes later I’m Mr. Rogers (Welcome to my neighborhood, won’t you please come in and eat all my food. No problem, I can just buy more…)

 

I’m a super-sleuth. I am all-knowing and can figure out mostly everything with my magical unicorn powers. And, what I don’t know, I can google in the bathroom, on an iPhone, while pretending to pee. I can also find anything, no matter where it is. Even if it’s not there, I can find it, and it doesn’t actually have to exist for it to show up when I cause it to. I don’t even have to twitch my nose or snap my fingers.

 

I can shoot daggers out of my eyes. If I’m mad, I don’t even have to say a word. I can just stare, emitting the most poisonous Jewish-guilt-tipped death rays. These looks are able to pierce even the most unrepentant child’s heart and conscience, and are far more effective than raising the voice, (a fact which has taken me 18 2/3 years to learn.) **Probably my greatest accomplishment as a mother***

 

I can travel time. I’d never have imagined it, but I can be in more than one place at the same time. It’s truly amazing. You know, I can be on a school field trip, the dentist, yoga, and my kitchen–all at once. Sometimes the time-travelling is just in my imagination, often during a particularly long and boring story about someone’s teacher’s sister and their project that..Tahiti…The gym…Adam Levine’s House…And sometimes the time travelling is on the wrong day, like that one time (or was it twice) I took my son to a Bar Mitzvah and it was the next weekend.

 

What else have I learned as a mother? Well, the usual stuff: what true love really is, patience, kindness, and understanding; fear, hope, and that no matter how many kegels you do when you’re pregnant, you’ll still never really be able to jump on a trampoline with confidence.

 

Oh, and also, that no matter how hard you try to keep it from them, your kids will eventually find out what you really were like in high school. They’re smart like that. Really smart.

 

And you? What shizzle can you add to your Mom-sume?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Embarrassing Situations, Family, Humour, Life Lessons, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , ,

Oh Woe Is Me Otherwise Known as Today’s Litany of Complaints

August 28, 2012 By
Oh, woe is me. Watch me complain about all the terrible things that happen to me

source: www.bloglovin.com

 

 

There’s a rut in the air. Not rutting, perverts and readers of historical fiction. Me. I’m in a rut.  Oh, woe is me.

 

It all stems from this bad mood I have today, which all stems from the fact that apparently, my daughter doesn’t have enough throw cushions for her dorm room. Which you know, makes me the most horrible mother in the world.  Because she’s deprived.  Which then puts me in a bad-ish mood since I’m supposed to be this big ole expert on parenting teenagers when I’m just this loser whose kid can’t understand why it’s worth it to buy one’s textbooks at Amazon.ca in order to save $10.

 

Obviously, all of her textbooks are new fucking editions this year.  So, she can’t buy used. And, she has all half courses. And, of course, second term she takes psychology again but NO the second professor does not use THIS psych 101 textbook, (s)he feels the need to use a DIFFERENT $130.00 book that my kid who doesn’t even really like school will need to buy.

 

Take a breath.

 

And, also, in case you were wondering, the money tree we have in the kitchen does not, contrary to it’s name, grow money.  It’s all a lie.  You know what else is a lie?  That when you’ve had two glasses of wine you’ll remember whether or not you changed your tampon.  So, when you can’t find the string the next morning but there’s a wrapper in the garbage but you seem to have pre-alzheimers, which is worrying in itself and you can’t remember if that’s from before your went to the bar or after.  So, now you can spend weeks wondering if there’s a little cotton tube floating around your uterus poisoning it, and even though you don’t need your uterus anymore, it’s a nice-to-have.

 

Take a breath.

 

Sure, also, you’re the worst mother again because your kid sits at home all the time and can’t seem to make plans and even when he does, the other kid’s mom makes him cancel because she always does. Or, your son makes plans at the same time you have to go to the Mandarin Chinese Buffet with your in-laws for their 50th Wedding anniversary (OMG Congratulations, right?!) so then YOU have to make him cancel. Plus, you’re going to California for the first time for a wedding, and you’ll have to wear a bathing suit in front of a whole bunch of people who like to work out but you don’t work out because you’re too lazy and keep getting hurt, and you’re going to the Mandarin Chinese Buffet where there are NO healthy calories.

 

Take a breath.

 

It doesn’t make it better that the night before the day where you’re in a rut you lay awake till all hours trying to fall asleep and the harder you try the less successful you are.  So, you pick up your phone and start looking at Instagram and reading blogs and other websites, which gets your brain going and you fall asleep less. Then, your husband tells you that you couldn’t fall asleep because you didn’t have sex with him which is stupid because first of all in women sex makes you stay awake (unless it’s really boring and then you fall asleep during) and also, there is no way you’re having sex with three teenagers walking around the house because they won’t think it’s Mommy and Daddy wrestling and instead will be incredibly traumatized and will need therapy and as I mentioned, there is NO money tree.

 

Take a breath.

 

It doesn’t help that I had a great time reading all the amazing books that publishers sent me this summer except once I finished one I picked up the next and didn’t pause in between to write the reviews and now I’m behind in my reviews which I promised myself wouldn’t happen again, partially because I seem to be having memory problems that I’m worried about.  I’m not sure if the memory problems are due to stress, an actual medical condition or the fact that I think I may be developing a sensitivity to caffeine which may be the most distressing thing to happen to me in a long time.

 

Take a breath.

 

Luckily, I’m a happy person and I don’t stay in a rut for long.  I can already feel my cheerful and positive nature pulling me out.  Because my life doesn’t really suck.

 

As long as I don’t weigh myself tonight, I should be ok.

 

In case you were concerned.

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Embarrassing Situations, Humour, Kids, Life Lessons, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , , ,

To My Son on his 13th Birthday

July 30, 2012 By

image source: http://romero-britto-pop-art-and-hug.blogspot.ca/2011/07/romero-britto-imagenes.html

 

Phew.  Today is the day that you, my baby boy, turn 13.

 

Seriously, I never thought we’d make it this far.  I’m not even kidding. You. As a baby. As a toddler.  As a preschooler. You challenged me.

 

You know what?  We did it.  Together.

 

Before you arrived on the scene, I didn’t feel like our little family was complete. And, after you did, it was.  You were SO wanted.  Never, ever forget that.  The third time is definitely the charm, because you completed our circle of five.

 

When I was first pregnant, I was sure you were a girl.  But, we went to the ultrasound, your sister and I, and you obviously, and the technician asked,

 

Do you want to know the gender?

 

Of course I said yes. I hate surprises, after all.  When she pointed and said, There’s the scrotum, I was shocked.  I answered her with a perplexed,

 

But girls don’t have those.

 

No, they don’t. Nor does anyone have your unique Jonah-ness.   They couldn’t see that magic in the Ultrasound, now could they.

 

You are one of a kind.  If they bottled your energy, they could fill up a whole warehouse of 5Hour Energy drinks.  From the moment you started crawling at three months, I knew I had my work cut out for me.  You kept me running, that’s for sure. That’s when you weren’t laid up with one of your ear infections or other illnesses. You were a brave little guy, going through seven sets of ear tube surgeries, the first when you were only nine months old. I don’t know how someone could have been so happy and smiley when they were sick all the time, but you were.  Luckily you got all of that out of your system, and now, other than the occasional Wednesday-itis, you’re healthy like the proverbial horse.

 

J, your creative naughtiness is legendary.  Singlehandedly, you have dispelled any delusions I had about my mothering skills. You left me breathless, you had me stumped.  Looking at the results of some of your antics I just scratched my head, wondering WHY.  Or HOW.  or even WHEN.  Along the way, though, I’ve learned a lot. About myself, about you, about patience. You taught me to breath. You taught me to look below the surface.  Today, I am who I am because of you.  The bravery and maturity that I see as you own and overcome the challenges that come with your ADHD completely astound me.

 

Today, I apologize.  For not knowing. For not understanding what you needed every day.

 

Your brains.  They are huge. That’s all I can say.  I think you knew more than me when you were 10 years old.  I truly look forward to what the future holds for you. As long as hacking isn’t on the table, I’m fine with whatever you choose to do with your great mind.

 

You are so full of love, even though you keep trying to act all mature and teenager-y. I know you don’t actually think I’m as embarrassing as you say I am.  When I try and hug and kiss you in public, I’m sure that you would like to kiss and hug me back, but you don’t want other people to be jealous of us.  Some of my best nights, in fact, are laying in bed with you reading or watching movies.  I know I cling a bit to you, but you’re our youngest.  I need to keep you small for just a while longer.

 

What can I say to you on your 13th birthday, except that today you are a man.  I can’t wait to see you read the Torah at your Bar Mitzvah, and witness you take your place in the Jewish Community. Even though you say religion is dead, I know one day the pomp and circumstance will mean something to you.  Now, you do it for me. So I can swell with pride as you smile and look toward your future.

 

Kid, you were lucky you were cute when you were little, or we may never have made it to this moment.  But, I’m so glad that we did. And, I’m so happy that we have you in our lives.

 

I am honoured to be your Mom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Life, Life Lessons, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , , ,

The Sisterhood of the Time-Travelling Short Shorts

May 26, 2012 By

I have a pair of the most amazing shorts that I bought at a vintage store when I was 21 years old. Those shorts travelled throughout Israel, Egypt, Greece, and then on to Germany.   They finally landed in the traveller’s corner of London,where they resided for another six months before returning to Canada.

 

Israel and Greece backpacking trip

 

Can you find the shorts? They’re second from the right, first row.

 

Look at my LEGS!! There’s definitely something to be said for schlepping a 70 lb backpack around Israel’s uneven terrain. Oh, and also for Egypt’s water. Aah, the Tourista.  Wasted on the young and firm.

 

Unfortunately, the shorts were shrunk.  The cause? Not hot water, that’s for sure. Beer, chocolate, a distaste for exercise, babies, and a love of junk food and television ensured that those shorts were a couple of sizes smaller than my body.  Sadly, my amazingly cool shorts ended up in a drawer.  For a very long time.  But, I kept them. You know, in case they ever un-shrunk. Luckily for them, early on they were disqualified  from the closet organizing mantra ‘If you don’t wear something for one year, toss it’.  My shorts survived endless closet purges that my peasant tops, tie-die dresses and clogs did not.

 

When my son was small, I fit into the shorts once again, probably 10 years after their first go-around.   How?  Blame it on the kid and his unique brain.  I’m not proud of my tactics for managing a toddler who turned out to have ADHD, but I used to put him in the gym daycare so that I could have two hours without him workout in peace. Consequently,  I was in pretty good shape.  Stairclimbing, weight lifting and body pump classes worked just as well at the back packing, although they weren’t nearly as much fun. (Did you know they don’t serve cocktails at the gym?)

 

After a while, I got bored of my workouts, renewed my love for movie popcorn, and sadly had to place  the shorts right back into their drawer. Oh, sure they sort of still fit for a while.  But only when I was in the mood for a denim wedgie.

 

Another 10 years passed.  I still didn’t throw those shorts out.

 

In the last year I’ve dropped about 10 lbs.  Apparently the combination of losing a job, having the stomach flu twice, and hot yoga work like the trifecta of appetite control. Last weekend, I worked up the courage to try the shorts on.  And, they fit.  I thought I looked amazing.  Those legs shorts represent 43 years just fine.

 

 

Following the excitement of being able to easily zip up the time travelling shorts, after posting braggelicious ‘look at ME in my shorts’ pictures on Instagram, and tossing my head in derision as my daughter coveted my denim, I decided to go outside and plant a garden whilst wearing them.

 

And I asked my kids to take pictures of me gardening.  You know, for the BLOG.

 

Big MISTAKE.  Probably the biggest one EVER.

 

I learned a valuable lesson yesterday.  Listen carefully.  I will only say this once.

 

Do not look at pictures of yourself gardening in your 20-something short shorts, especially those taken from behind. 

 

Personally, I’m happy to maintain the illusion that what I see in the mirror is a 360 reality.  Most of the time I like the way I look from the front.  Sometimes I like the side view (sans muffin tops).  But, generally, I choose to believe that there is no view from behind.  I’m just like those babies who hide their faces when they’re doing something naughty, ‘If you can’t see it, it isn’t there…’ I’m good with denial as I head into the second half of my life.

 

Thanks to the miracle of digital cameras, the offending pictures are gone.  I’m lucky. I’m not a movie star, and nobody put my bent over, cellulite-ridden, short-shorts-clad tuches on the cover of Star Magazine.  I’m lucky that there is no permanent record of my rear view that day.

 

However, I think it’s time that the most amazing shorts and I part ways.  First, to ensure that there are no more pictures of me wearing them. But also, because it’s time to move on, to let them (and me) have new adventures.  In the spirit of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Shorts, I’ve passed them on to my daughter.. After all, she’s got the legs for them.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Getting Older, Life, Teenagers, travel, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

On My Daughter’s 18th Birthday

May 3, 2012 By
mothers and daughters

photo: chicken-scratch.ca (google)

What I wanted most for my daughter was that she be able to soar confidently in her own sky, whatever that may be. 

– Helen Claes

It was 18 years ago this morning, May 4th, at 4:55 am, that I first held you, my beautiful girl in my arms.  I was young.  So young.  But, I wanted a baby, and you  were the one for me.  I remember being pregnant, and dreaming of a dark, curly-haired moppet with white skin and ruby lips running through a field towards me. And, that’s exactly what I got.  I got you.

 

Daughter of mine, the time has flown so fast, that if I try to stop and catch a breath, a moment with you will be lost forever.  Its like I blinked once and we were celebrating your first birthday.  I blinked again, and you were off to school.  Blink, and you turned 13, and made us so proud as you read from the Torah at your Bat Mitzvah.  Then you turned 16, learned to drive, got your first job, and your second.  Each of those milestones was exciting. This one, unlike the others, I hate to say, is breaking my heart just a tiny little bit.

 

It’s hard for me to admit it, but this birthday means you’re one minute closer to leaving us.  As of today, you’re an adult.  In two months you graduate from high school, and a few after that, off you go to follow your dreams.  I’m not melancholy because I worry about you.  I know that whatever you do, it will be fantastic.  Because, that’s just how you roll.  I’m melancholy because I want to keep you close, not let you go.

 

Even though we have some spectacularly explosive mother daughter moments, the kind that tear us apart for moments at a time, I know that they are necessary so you can grow, so you can flex your muscles as a strong and independent woman.  As you emerge from the years of teen angst, and finally begin to draw closer to us once again, it’s time for you to spread your wings and fly away.  So, I promise you, I will let those difficult times just fade away, and let them be lost amongst my hoarded memories of precious moments together, of your sweet smiles, and of even the briefest of hugs.

 

My girl, you are so incredible. You bear an amazing strength of conviction, honesty, and most of all, incredible self-confidence.  I can’t imagine another young woman your age who knows who she is, what she wants, and more importantly, what she doesn’t, like you do.  I know I wasn’t at all like that.  You are so much better than I was at your age, and for that, I truly admire you.

 

You are so talented-your eyes see beauty where mine see nothing.   Your fingers can create, your body moves to the music like no one is watching. When you smile the world lights up around you.  You are magical.

 

My daughter, my sweet baby girl, on today, your 18th birthday, I wish for you the stars.  I wish for you everything and then add to that infinity.  I wish great love for you, wherever you find it.   I wish that your dreams, whatever they may be, come true and if they don’t, that you make them happen.  I wish for you all of the beauty of the world, but the sadness too, because sadness makes you stronger and sadness makes the happy moments seem even more joyful.

 

My Sky, I know that forever you will be mine, and I will be yours.  Because you come from my dreams. And that’s forever.

 

There’s something like a line of gold thread running through a man’s words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. 

– John Gregory Brown

 

Filed Under: Getting Older, Kids, Life, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Inspiring Social Responsibility in Your Teen

April 11, 2012 By

Teens and social responsibility

One thing that I have tried tirelessly to do is get my kids to volunteer, to share their time, give of themselves.  Each one of them participates in their own small way, but its always an uphill battle, a nagfest, or something needs to be in it for them.  I don’t know if I’m a failure as a parent in this area, or if I haven’t set the right example to them, but they are not as committed to volunteerism as I would like them to be.  I know that I have come to enjoy giving my time a bit later in life, so maybe my progeny will as well.

To help me out with encouraging my children to have social responsibility, Joanna Ferensowicz of STELLAAorg shared some tips with me intended to  inspire my teenagers and encourage them to think that volunteering is great idea.

Have a look at STELLAAorg’s website to learn more about this amazing organization that promotes literacy as a way out of poverty.  I love writing my monthly blog post for them.

Without further ado…

Today’s teens are tomorrow’s leaders. That’s why it’s important to inspire social responsibility and global citizenship in our teens. The issue is how? Many teens are lacking the motivation to do something other than socialize. As parents, we know that teenagers and too much time can be lead to too much TV, video games, or even experimentation with substances. Their first thought is not how can I do some extra work. It’s more like, how can I get out of doing this work?

Here are 3 ways to motivate your teen to become a socially responsible person. It will give them a new perspective on life while improving their self-esteem and developing new skills for their future careers. Who knows, you might even learn something yourself!

1. Find their passion! If it’s music and maybe they play an instrument, than take them to an elderly home to do a music hour. The key is to show them how to help others while enjoying themselves!

 

2. Teach by example! Your teens are not going to want to volunteer or help others if they don’t see you living a socially responsible life. Do you use your time to help others? When was the last time you volunteered your time?

 

3. Show the good! Many celebrities and probably your teens’ idols are affiliating themselves with charities and non-profits to make a change in the world. Why not use it to motivate your teens to do the same? Google your teens favorite artist or celebrity and research their social good. Then start up a conversation at the dinner table (if you’re lucky to get your teen to join you!) about the ‘cool’ things that artist has done. Be sure to have some examples of how your teen can do the same in their community.

www.STELLAA (www.stellaa.org) is a Canadian non-profit organization who’s mission is to eradicate poverty in sub-Saharan Africa through literacy and education. Visit http://www.stellaa.org/actnow.html to find out how you can ActNow!

Filed Under: Life, Teenagers Tagged With: , , ,

The Birthday Meat Feast Part 2: Chicky’s Fingers

February 2, 2012 By

This isn't a restaurant

Generally, my philosophy.  But, I have 20 nieces and nephews, 2/3 of them under the age of 12.  Several of them were descending upon us to help ring in the age of the driver.  And, to them, Chili made 2 ways is not the dinner of champions.  I needed another choice of vittles to feed them at The Studly 16th.

I thought about what the Birthday Boy used to eat for the two years he was stuck on just fruits and vegetables until he ingested a plastic bag and we found out he had PICA.  The only protein we could get into him, besides Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, was Chicken nuggets/fingers.  (The story of the Dinosaur burgers and how we got him to eat ground meat is for another post). So, based on past success with tiny people, I settled on  Chicky’s Fingers

Not to be conceited, but these poultry digits are really good.  The childrens were beating on each other for them (well, not really, but that’s what it sounded like. I could swear, as my kids get older, my tolerance for small humans gets lesser.)

What You need:

Chicken breasts, boneless, cut into 2-3″ strips.  However many you need.  Or even way more.

In a big bowl, toss the chicken strips with salt and pepper and flour to lightly dust.

Scramble up 3 eggs (per 5 chicken breasts) in a bowl and add about 1/4 cup milk. Stir.

Shake excess flour of chicken, dip in egg, and then dip in fancy shmancy breadcrumbs. These ones are the best because they have dehydrated potato flakes in them, as well as I’m not sure what else but they’re fabulous.

The absolute best breadcrumbs

I get them from a kosher grocery store near me, but you can use a combination of italian breadcrumbs mixed with Panko crumbs.

Heat up about 1″ of vegetable oil in a large skillet and par-fry the chicken fingers until golden on each side.

The assembly line

Lay in a single layer on a parchment covered cookie sheet.  Bake for 15 -20 minutes at 375 degrees.

Chicky's Fingers

The best part?  They freeze great! (If you’re lucky and there’s a few left….)

Dessert was Dairy Queen Ice Cream cake, Red Velvet cupcakes from Costco, and…

Cheater Brownies

Purchase a box of Ghirardelli Brownie mix from Costco

Taste like home made (or probably better)

Follow the directions.  Add sprinkles on top before baking to make it look like they’re home made.  (if you want to be very fancy, mix a whole bunch of sprinkles together. Well, that’s the party line, but really, I had all kinds of sprinkles in little tiny bags and my husband mixed them up in a container.  He’s smart, I think.)

Once, my sister mixed mashed bananas into these and they were even better than delicious.  I think the word for that is scrumptious.

Bake, cut, serve.

Let's just pretend I made these

Next stop, We’ve got an 18th birthday coming up.  And, she likes pasta.  Oh, the possibilities….

Filed Under: Cookery, Family, Teenagers Tagged With: , , ,

The Valium Chronicles: The Hairy Movember

November 4, 2011 By

Movember Moustache Styles (image source: www.bear-hairy-men.com

My son, Bubba, is 15.  He has a interesting sense of humour (I can’t imagine where he gets it from).  We just spent some quality time together at the hospital having his hand looked at.  He injured it playing football.  He’s about 1/2 the size (but with double the heart) of the other players, so it was inevitable that he’d get hurt.  He’s already had a concussion this year, which I wasn’t happy about due to his fancy brains being jiggled up. He’s upset now, because he can’t play any sports AT ALL for at least four weeks.  He asked so many questions at the hospital, several of which included the lovely ‘But Why?’ that I asked him if he was five or 15.  To my question he replied, ‘But WHY can’t I swim?’  From that last question, I assumed he was being five.

After the hospital, I took him out for a burger.  As we were sitting there, I noticed that his peach fuzz was starting to look like a hairy caterpillar.

‘Bubs, you need to shave.’

‘Its November. I’m doing Movember.’

‘Son, I have to break it to you.  You are not nearly hairy enough to do Movember.  Most likely you’d require Mo-sixmonthser. Possibly even Mo-fulleryearember’

‘I have to do Movember. I made a commitment.’

‘What do you mean you made a commitment?’

‘I’m on the website. I have $1.25 in sponsors.  Matan (his friend) gave me 5 Cents.’

‘Well, how generous of Matan.  Where did the other $1.20 come from?’

He grinned at me.

‘So, you sponsored yourself $1.20?  To grow a moustache?’

‘Well, I already have two supporters. I’m locked in.’

‘Who are your supporters?  Yourself and Matan?  You can’t support yourself.’

‘Well, I should get community service for school for doing Movember. Like a month’s worth. Its hard work growing this moustache.  And its for charity.’

‘You want a months worth of community service for attempting to grow a straggly, hairy caterpillar on your top lip, all the while raising $1.25?’

His grin got wider.  And more mischievous.  I realized, too late, that he was messing with me.

‘You are a pain in my ass, my son.’

‘Well, when I was born, I for sure pained your ass.’

‘You weren’t a pain in my ASS when you were being born.  You were a pain somewhere else.’

‘I’m sure your whole body hurt.’

‘Not really.  Not my whole body.  And not my ass.’  He was pushing it, so therefore, so would I.

‘Your ass probably hurt while you were birthing me.  I’m sure of it.’

I gave up.  Because it probably did.  But, that boy is SHAVING!

And in other news, my Noshember is over because Big J is home from his business trip.   Now, shaving my legs…THAT’S A PAIN IN MY ASS.

Filed Under: Family, Humour, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , ,

The Valium Chronicles: Going-Out Advice to My Teenager

October 29, 2011 By

Girls Gone Wild.

My daughter left yesterday for her first trip away with friends.  They took the train to Montreal to ‘have fun’ (as she put it).  Although she is 17, and the drinking age in Montreal is 18, I can clearly imagine what the ‘fun’ will entail.  Before you judge me, I don’t condone any types of illegal activity or teenage drinking. But, realize that I’m not stupid, and more importantly, I need my girl to know that I’m not stupid.  It’s better that she doesn’t lie to me, and understand perfectly well that I’m aware of what she and her friends are doing, and be told this from HER mouth, rather than see get a big surprise when I see the evidence on Facebook. This is how I keep her SAFE. Also, I’d have to back track and freak out on her afterwards.  That would completely go into the not fun area of parenting.

Its hard to imagine your babies growing up.  But they do.  And they go to Montreal, or wherever, and to University Hallowe’en parties, and wear Barbie costumes and makeup, and smile at older boys. They have to. It’s life.  But life is more complicated now. Teenagers have too many choices, too many wrong paths to take.

When I was a teenager, my parents’ advice consisted of:

-Don’t be stupid

-Be home by 12 or else

I’m not kidding. That was it.  There were no cell phones to reach me with, and they figured they’d raised me right, and / or they didn’t think there was a whole lot of trouble to be gotten into.  Truth was, I was a bit of a goody two shoes, and although there was probably trouble to be found, mostly I stayed out of it (or so goes the party line.)

Obviously, the world is different these days.  Not only do teenagers party more, drink more, and think they’re smarter, they are so connected that word of any excitement gets around faster than Superman can change in his phone booth (what’s a phone booth, you ask?  Forget it you’re too young to be reading this)

Plus, there’s a whole new world of drugs out there much more extensive than the ubiquitous pot that was readily available ‘in my day’.   According towww.drugfreeworld.com, these are the street names for ecstasy alone.

Ecstasy street names

OBVIOUSLY, the best advice is ‘Don’t Drink at all.’  (The advice of  ’Don’t Do Drugs. You Could Die.’ is non-negotiable, and actually agreed upon by both of us). But, while her following the drinking advice would be highly desirable, the probability of it being the actuality is not that…umm..probable.  So,because its ultimately important to me, as her parent, to to keep her safe,  I talk to my kid before she goes out into the world as an adult in a frank and non-judgemental way.

This is the advice I gave to her  (along with the usual ‘You’d better answer my text messages within 3 minutes or I’m hunting you down.’ She calls this stalking-I don’t know why):

  • Don’t leave your drink unattended. EVER EVER EVER EVER
  • Don’t invite anybody you meet back to your hotel room. They will text it out and you’ll have a trashed hotel and be out on the street, before you can blink. Or, they’ll be psychokillers, and then..(well, unimaginable).
  • Don’t get drunk and walk around the street tippling over and barfing into an alley.  Not to mention dangerous, its really not classy at all.Don’t get drunk and act stupid, more specifically, don’t get so drunk that you don’t know you’re so drunk and acting stupid.
  • Don’t wear a skirt so short you can see your panties (she assured me, by the way, that she was wearing booty shorts under her Barbie costume).
  • Don’t post ‘Girls Gone Wild’ pictures on your Facebook, particularly in a live play by play manner.
  • Those boys are ‘older’ (I didn’t elaborate, but she knew what I meant).
  • If you sense trouble, get out. No fun is worth trouble.
  • Use your brains. Don’t take drugs. Eat your vegetables. Act like I raised you.

And off she went with her little suitcase, some cash, and probably a mickey hidden in her purse.  And I cried, just a little.

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Teenagers, The Valium Chronicles Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Wordless Wednesday: Graduation

October 26, 2011 By

Yesterday I wrote a post about time passing that was exceedingly sappy.  And then I got this text from my daughter:

My baby is growing up

So, do you blame me for writing sappy time passing posts now?

Filed Under: Family, Humour, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
« Older Posts