Saturday, April 25, 2009
Adventures in Real Parenting: Just Another Saturday without a Nap
Of course, I would say I'm taking a break and then the people around me would hand me all sorts of material. They hate me, don't they? It's also amazing what getting more than three hours of sleep will do for a person.
It's Saturday morning. The woman down the next cul de sac is shaming me horribly by being out walking up and down, up and down the street while I sit here on my slow-metabolism butt reading blogs and listening to Saturday Morning Flashback (1983, back when I weighed 101 pounds, wore a girl's size 12 jeans and was working on having wrinkles instead of battling them). I don't know what one calls the thing wrapped around the neighbor's head, but she's pulling off that look beautifully. That's two reasons not to like her.
I'll bet the roof of her mouth doesn't hurt either because she had the sense to not roll out of bed this morning, pop some amphetamines and then proceed to eat three brimming bowls of Cocoa Puffs with a pot of hot tea loaded with sugar. At least the milk was skim. Uh huh.
The birdbath I put out the other day has tipped over, but I'm loathe to go outside and set it upright and refill it. I knew when I placed it the other day, it was unstable. Poor birds. Must they suffer the lack of high quality H20 because I'm afraid to leave the house at the moment because every fifteen seconds a carpenter bee the size of a cargo plane hovers outside my window daring me to step outside......?
Garbo is full of one liners this morning. She seems more rested today, too. She's expecting a little friend over later and so is cramming in as much snacking and alone time now as she can. She has a daily quota of both, apparently.
Me: Before you do anything else, you need to tidy up your room.
Garbo: If by tidy my room, you mean eat this White Castle frozen cheeseburger, then okay.
You know how I wrote about what a nurturing mother I'm not? I suppose one could say that the fact that these children continue to live proves that I nurture them just enough.
MathMan called the exterminators to come back and, naturally, now the ants have disappeared. I guess overhearing that phone call was warning enough for them. However, the standard poodle sized roach I stomped yesterday morning was undaunted.
It's a gorgeous day here so I'm hoping that MathMan and I can make it over to the old place to dig up some plants to bring to the new garden. Not that the new garden is ready, but why let silly details stop us from doing things backward.
So now it's hours and hours later. Alcohol is being/has been consumed. The aforementioned plant digging never happened, but we did manage to have a nice quiet dinner with The Dancer. We spent at least a half an hour grinding her down about the cost of college. Aaaahhhh. I'm relishing this shoe on the other foot thing. It feels mighty fine, oh yes it does. No longer is it a case of "but I need this, can I have, but you said, all my friends, blah, blah, beg, plead, whine...." No indeedy. It was us coming from all different angles, reiterating, repeating, reviewing, making our case, questioning her reasoning, and generally filing down her resolve. I believe we are making headway.
She'll thank us some day when she has money for extravagent things like food and shelter. Until then, she can flip me off behind closed doors all she likes. I consider it a sign of a healthy mother/daughter relationship. It's tradition. I did it to my mom, my kids do it to me......
So the kid count is thus: Garbo's friend has come and gone. A good time was had by all except The Dancer who swore if she heard the current Miley Cyrus single The Climb one more time, she would climb something, dragging the karaoke machine with her so that she could hurl it back to earth from great heights.
Now we are plus one in the kid column. The Ninja's friend The Jedi is over for the night. Good lord, they are like a pack of wriggling puppies shot through with testosterone and root beer. Clearly, they have no shame or they know MathMan and me well enough to know that there's little we'd be shocked about. Some might say we seem like the "cool" parents, but that's a real conundrum when someone finally does go beyond the limits and you're left mouth agape or blushing. Cool goes right out the window.
We're sitting here and it all starts pretty innocently. The Ninja asks his friend why he's not allowed to have text, MathMan and I, misunderstand the question and hear "Why can't you have sex? " Our eyes meet and we laugh because we're mature like that.
We stop laughing long enough for MathMan to do a Public Service Announcement along the lines of "No one better have sex at your age, but if they do they must use condoms." See how MathMan is sucking up to the Father of the Year people? He's so naively optimistic that he has a chance.
The Ninja announces that his friend carried a condom around in his wallet for a while. His friend smilingly confirms this and then goes on to tell us that, after a while, he got tired of carrying it and jacked off in it to see what would happen.
At that point, I was nearly on the floor, dying. I was half embarrassed beyond all belief and half ready to pee my pants from laughing. He described a bubble at the end of the condom and the difficulty he had putting it back in the package when he was done. I didn't catch all of the detail (thank goodness) because by this point, I couldn't breathe anymore......
So here I am again, thinking I might need a break (might?), but the minute I say that, someone will be lighting their farts on fire or tapdancing on the driveway wearing nothing but a neon orange feather boa, tube socks and a smile or making an initial streaking run through the neighborhood.
And that's just what I have planned......