Dear Kids Who Stole My Car Last Night…
…and I’m presuming you were kids, teenagers, etc. since we didn’t actually catch you IN the act – we do know that you’re short, as you managed to pull the seat way forward. Heh. And since we’re unsure just which batch of neighborhood teenagers that you belong too (other then not MY group, because they OH SO WOULDN’T because they know better – but we’d be having serious words right now instead of writing to YOU if they did….) I thought I’d write an open letter to you, and all the other joyriders of the world.
First things first. Thank you for bringing the car back – or most of the way back.
Weren’t expecting that, were ya? Sure, the cops had been out looking for a couple hours, and you probably were the ones that got stuck in the ditch down the way where my sister saw fresh dig out marks, but at least you DID bring it most of the way back. With a dead battery since you left the lights on, and empty tank (I know, it only had 1/4 tank in it anyway. Sorry bout that.) So as it’s my only form of transportation, I do want to thank you for being considerate enough to take it back.
However, this does not forgive or forget the fact that you were assholes enough to steal it out of my driveway to begin with. I mean, SRSLY guys! From my DRIVEWAY? Sure, my dog who barks at everything, didn’t bark. And I’ve left my keys IN my car for the past 12 years. And you couldn’t have known I’d need to go pick up my girls a couple hours after the last time I came home. And you really couldn’t have realized that I would call the cops – after all, my late husband would never have called them, as he figured being a card carrying NRA member and lover of all things sharp and pointy, he could solve most things on his own.
But I am not he, and he is no longer with us.
Its just… mind-boggling. MY car? It’s a ’95 for heavens sake, an completely falling apart at the seams! The CV joint is going out (that would be the thumping you heard on the right front tire..), the heater is an external button attached to the dash with a zip tie with two settings – on and off (also known as HOT AS HELL and OMGFRIGID!). The front seat has a broken bolt and probably would fly out of the car in an accident, the ignition switch is going out… so on and so forth. Of ALL the cars on this street, you pick MINE? SRSLY?
Seriously, guys (or gals) did you really think this thing through? Is this the first time you’ve done this? I mean, parts of my keychain went missing just a couple days ago, and now that I think about it, I HAVE been going through more gas then usual.. not that I’m accusing you (ok, I am), just sayin’.
And then there’s this. Everyone in the neighborhood knows that I’ve a group of teenagers living here off an on. Everyone knows that I’m the ‘Cool Mom’ and that I would give you the shirt off my back, twice, if you needed it. Everyone knows that I’d take you for a ride if you needed to go somewhere, and if you’re one of mine or their friends, if you needed a car that badly, I would have HANDED YOU THE KEYS. All you would have had to do is ask. Instead, what you did was disrespectful, and seriously uncool.
I think you were compelled to bring it back for one of two reasons – you thought you wouldn’t get caught as maybe you’ve done it before or your simply that stupid, OR it was simply my good karma trampling all over yours – which means I’d watch my back if I were you.. because somethings gonna bite you. Soon. Either way, the car is here now, and the keys are in my possession.
I regret that now I’m going to have to start locking things up, and I feel there’s a bit of innocence lost in that. I don’t care for it much, and I don’t appreciate you stealing my Small Town Feeling away from me like you have. Next time, guys. Just ask. If you need something, just ASK.
Sincerely,
The Cool Mom.
PS. You left your flashlight in the front seat of the car with the keys when you bailed. Officer Jay would be happy to return it to you if you just call the Police Station. 🙂
PPS. My son is his Daddy’s boy, through and through. Just sayin’.
Guest Post: Coming Out.
I receive a lot of searches that deal with teenage sexuality, promiscuity, etc. both from the straight and gay point of view – the latter usually involving questions about coming out to friends and family. As such, I asked a friend of mine if he’d tell us his story, in his own words. Danny is 18 years old, out and proud. He runs Big-Brother-Fan.com, and the Big Brother Interactive game – if you’re a fan of the show (and you know I am) be sure to pop over there and tell Danny I sent you!
Thank you, Danny, for taking the time to tell us your story! Hopefully it will find someone who needs to hear it, and give them that much more strength to come out on their own.
~L
Coming out. It’s one of the biggest trivial problems that gay folk deal with. Will my parents hate me? Will I lose friends? Will I be physically harmed? While this may sound extreme, it’s not. I’m going to take you down the road of the gay lifestyle, and specifically – coming out.
When I was around 8 years of age, I truly understood that I was ‘different’. I knew that I wasn’t like all the other boys who thought girls were ‘cute’. I enjoyed watching wrestling a little too much, and I played around with a few of my friends at the age of 10. I understood and embraced the fact that I was a homosexual from an early age, and have never been ashamed of what I am. Nor should anyone else. No one can tell you who or who you cannot love. Anyways…
Around the age of 10, I was taken from my mother due to her extreme drug issues. I moved in with my Stepfather in Florida (from Maine). I spent a few years in turmoil, visiting my mother only on occasion and wondering if she was ever going to stop with her drug abuse. At the age of 12 I realized that she could end up dying at any point, and if she did I wouldn’t have told her everything about me. I decided that the next time she called, I was going to tell her.
When she did finally call, 2 months later, I chickened out. I know, why be afraid? But I was also 12 years old. I finally admitted to her four calls later that I was indeed a homosexual. My mother took this to heart, which disturbed me. My mother has always loved me, and she sounded disgusted to be talking to her son, a young man who liked other men. I just couldn’t understand, not in the slightest bit.
Finally after a year of awkwardness, my mother got over her issues with my lifestyle. Mainly, because she didn’t have a choice – she was a crackhead… and certainly not in a position to judge others.
Coming out to my mother was the easiest. My birth father? Not so much. When he found out, he blew a gasket – punched me in the face – physically threw me out of his house – and never spoke to me again. That is a day I don’t particularly like to relive, and no matter what I have done to try and continue contact with him – it won’t work. He doesn’t like gays, like many others in the United States.
In fact four States have so much hate towards gays they have joined the 17 others who have ‘re-defined’ marriage as the union of ONE man and ONE woman. California has gone as far as to TAKE away the marital rights that they gave gays, and potentially annul 18,000 gay marriages. It’s pathetic how hateful this world, this country can truly be.
We’re swaying from the topic now though, aren’t we? Anyways. I have three main rules that I try to explain to coming-outers:
— Be who you are.
— Don’t be afraid.
— Rely on your friends/family for support.
If you follow these rules, your coming out should be a breeze. Don’t let others bully you around, and if they try? Kick their asses. Be who you are, don’t let anyone tell you what YOU feel. Finally, rely on your friends and family for support. Some may disapprove of your “decision”, but a majority of your friends/family will still support you – and use that support to move forward and become stronger.
Keeping things on the 'downlow'
B and C might not be so pleased to have made the blog this time – but it’s really too funny not to share! Again, neither B nor C are actually kids I’ve given birth too, but are ‘mine’ none-the-less. They’re both 18, and currently couch surfing at my place most of the time. Yay me! 🙂 Good thing they’re relatively good girls, they’ve just gone through some bad stuff the past years, and are trying to pull out of it all. I’m happy to help in anyway I can – even if it’s just lending them a couch and a safe haven.
I’ve always been one to foster open and honest conversations about sex and all related sexual type activities, which has resulted in them not really asking me questions, but kinda hinting around sometimes, and then finally opening the talk. I feel special, because they DO talk to me about it, and well, statistics say that only about 19% of kids have someone they can trust to speak about sexual topics with – of course, I think of those 19%, about 11% of them frequent my house.
Lucky Me.
Anyway, as I was saying, there are open and honest conversations around here. We’ve tackled the hypothetical questions:
B: So. mom. HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING. If one were to go off her birth control, could they HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING maybe get pregnant so soon? And if so, MY FRIEND would like to know if HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING, eating everything in sight might be a symptom and OMG pass the chips, please!
Me: HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING it won’t matter after I kill you. Dead. Like with a rock or something.
I know, I’m all about being sensitive and stuff.
During this HYPOTHETICAL conversation, I pointed out that I keep condoms in the kitchen window basket, just to avoid needing these types of conversations.
B: OMG mom. I’d be so embarrassed to go into the kitchen and be all just grabbin a condom mom – it’d be mortifying!
Me: and these hypothetical conversations arent?
B: True..
Me: Child, you are in my kitchen 18 times a day getting something to eat. I can’t see you from where I sit at the desk. How could I possibly tell the difference between cup o’noodle packaging, and the condom box opening?
B: …you have a point.
Me: Remember that point. AND WRAP IT.
B: Yes ma’am.
See? Sensitivity is my middle name. Or is it sacrasm? Smartass? Something like that. Anyway, along with such hypothetical questions, there are the ever amusing overheard conversations that go like this:
B: I need to get my HPV Vac shot soon.
C: I have to go to the public health too – get tested again.
B: Yeah, we can go together.
C: You can hold my hand when they take my blood because OMG needles freak me out and I FLIPPED last time.
— Please note, this is the one who let the other one pierce her belly button with a sewing needle. Just sayin’.
B: What? You just have to pee in a cup for that one! Chlamydia and Gonorrhea are pee tests, it’s the others you have to give blood.
— Yes, I know, I think she’s incorrect on the Chlamydia test, but let’s go with it for now..
C: Alright! Pee tests I can do!
B: I mean, want me to hold your hand while you Pee? I can do that if ya want me too.
C: Oh. Yeah. That’d be helpful. Not.
— sarcasm is a fine art with these two. *L*
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAH! That convo is SO making the blog!
B and C: MOOOOOOOM!
And you’d think it would end there. But no. There’s still the matter of the HYPOTHETICALLY NEEDED EPT. Which I went to purchase today. Now, I went this afternoon, because the girls, B and C were both home, and all the boys were not. Naturally, by the time I GOT home, another girl was here, and so was my son. Whoops. So I try to keep it on the downlow. I search for the right bag – and CAN’T FIND THE TEST. I search again.
The Pup: Whatcha lookin for?
Me: Feminine type items. Don’t ask. You’re too young to be a Feminine.
The Pup: Ok!
Still can’t find them. I call the store to see if they are still at the check stand, no go. The girls are like frantic. I’m chuckling. We look again.
The Pup: HEY! Is THESE it? (She holds up the EPT and box of condoms proudly.)
Me: Yup! Thanks kiddo. I’ll take it back to the girls.
The Pup: I know what one of them IS mom!
Me: What? (I didn’t hear her. I didn’t mean for her to TELL me..)
The Pup – as loud as she always is – crowed delightedly: A PREGNANCY TEST!
You could have heard a PIN DROP. Then the laughter hit. Oh. My. Gawd. We all busted up laughing, as I went back and tossed the EPT to a MORTIFIED girl, followed by the box of condoms for her personal stash. I am positive that she’ll think twice about NOT using the condoms next time, if only to avoid the embarrassment of the 9 year old calling her out on her deeds… For the record, the test was negative. But as they left to go off to a friends house, I got a very bemused and chagrined and laughter filled..
B: Way to keep things on the downlow, mom. Keep working on that, huh?
Then they swiped a box of frozen pizza, some chips, a soda, and left for the evening.
Admit it. You TOTALLY wish you lived at MY house, now, don’t you?
Psst. Is this thing on?
Why, hello there. Fancy meeting you here. you thought I forgot all about you, didn’t ya? I didn’t, of course, I’ve just been doing my best to stay afloat with my million other blogs I write for, as well as a new client that’s determined to drive me insane. In fact, since he didn’t call me two days ago like he was supposed too, I told him I wasn’t working weekends – and to call me Monday.
Heh.
I know. I’m a bad girl. Whatev.
I had intended to do NaNoWriMo this month, and I also had every intention of doing NaBloPoMo if I didn’t do the other, but as you can see, that is SO NOT HAPPENING. No blog post every day, no word count of astronomical proportions. Heh.
Novel wise – I do have someone who’s reading the first draft of AbO for me, but well, he adores me so I don’t see anything but glowing praise forthcoming. Not that I hate glowing praise! I just want it from an agent. Heh. I am still working on revisions to that one here and there, though. I also have another idea that I was going to use for Nano, but I sorta never got around to it, and how the hell is it halfway through November again anyway?! I swear, it’s mind boggling how fast this year has gone. Christmas commercials are on the boobtube for crissakes! Sigh.
Anyway – I added links to all the 451Press blogs I write for over there, so you have the actual sites linked as well as every entry in the top box. So see, I am writing… just not here. *L* I’ll try to do better. Promise.
(shut up. i know I say that all the time. *L*)
RU SRS?
I’ve talked a little bit about my kids and their cell phones before, and couldn’t help but smile when Sarah, from AT&T emailed last week, asking if I was the kinda cool mom who uses text messages to communicate with her kids – answer? YES.
Well, we all already knew I was cool, anyway.
My son uses his phone and texts on a ‘whatever, ok, fine’ sorta basis. My daughter, of course, is attached to her cell phone with an umbilical cord of need, because OMG what if someone forwards something and she BREAKS THE CHAIN and HOW will she EVER get KISSED if THAT happens? Let alone know what her friends REALLY think of her! (Describe me! Hot, Sexy, Nice, OMGUGLY – send to all friends, see who rly loves you!) It’s not only my actual teenagers either – it’s all the teens that I’ve acquired by default too. I have more teenagers numbers on my phone then adults, I think, and they text me Every. Single. Day.
Oh yes. Every forward (Remember the good ole days of chain letters, and email fwds?!) is received no less then 5 times, interspersed with “Hi mom! Dinner time? Come get me!” messages. My poor little phone is overworked and underpaid – well, not really, since I spend a mini-fortune for unlimited texting, because it’d be a MAJOR fortune to pay per message! Since my phone doesn’t demand that I delete my inbox every 20 messages or so, (and my kids’ DO! ha!) I delight in showing off my message totals to them daily. This morning? 1393 in the inbox and 1179 in the outbox.
Not only am I cool? but look at the difference there – that’s how may forwards that I broken the chain. MUHAHHAHA! Maybe that’s why I haven’t been kissed in so long…
Anyway, the reason for Sarah’s message, was to point out a survey done by AT&T recently, that shows Texting is the new way for parents to communicate with their teenagers, without the teens feeling like we’re pushing. The survey even suggests that asking your kids where they are and when they’ll be home via text is less likely to receive eye rolls and grumblings and get you an actual answer! Or at lest, if they do roll their eyes at your poor texting skills, you can’t SEE it, or HEAR it in their voices. SCORE!
At the base level, texting is wildly popular with teenagers. Why shouldn’t you join in the fun? They don’t feel hounded, they can zap you a reply quickly, and they know that you are thinking of them. Trust me – despite their protestations, they WANT to know you are thinking of them! It also isn’t as embarrassing to them as it might be when their friends are nearby and hear you desperately trying to get them to say they love you. In public. In front of their friends. Ha! They can text “ilu2” (I love you too) faster then fast, and their friends are none the wiser!
Sarah also included a couple links for the parents who aren’t so text savvy as myself, with some fun How Too information for the timid texting parent. There’s the video below, which makes me laugh every time I see it because CLEARLY that child is not old enough to be texting – and also, the mom’s a dork. Check it out:
Also, part of the AT&T Text2Connect program had Dr. Ruth Peters, a clinical psychologist and parenting expert (Wait! Don’t run away! Trust me!) working together to help aid parents and teens communicate through texting. There’s a great PDF that is worth the read – if only for the list of acronyms that you might find yourself trying to decipher!
We all want to communicate better with our teenagers – that’s a given. Teenagers can often be surly beasts that merely grunt aloud, making it more difficult then we expected. Why wouldn’t we take every opportunity to get an ‘ilu2’ from our kids, as well as an non-invasive way to keep tabs on what they’re doing, who their with, and when they’ll be home so we can breathe again?
So text your kids. Even if you end up like that guy on that commercial – pushing your budget meeting to another day just so you can spend more time texting your family (I LOVE that commercial!) – you won’t regret it, I promise.
l8r!
PS: Oh yes. I used a glitter graphic. I am SO COOL! (Stop laughing, kids.)
