….O.M.G. Ya’ll!
Having a f’in Monday.
You know what they say…
So, remember the other day, when I encouraged other parents to go support their kids at concerts, even band concerts, even when they were in high school? And remember how I preened because I’d been to almost every one of my kids concerts? And you were all like “oh give me a break, no one’s that’s perfect!”? Yeah, remember that?
Yeah. That. Now? I’m having an f’in Monday.
You see, there are SOME concerts I don’t go too – namely those that involve Honor Band/Choir in cities farther then 20 minutes away. I have good excuses, of course – I go to ALL THE OTHER ONES, we have a dog with separation anxiety that can’t be left alone, there’s my other kids to think of, the car isn’t in tiptop condition and some trips I just don’t trust it on, no really I don’t want to chaperon a bunch of kids that aren’t mine, that you won’t let me beat throw off the bus throw things at, you know, like punches help ensure good behavior, in my own way, of course. (Oh stop, I’m kidding. Sort of.) Point is, there are a lot of reasons why I usually skip those long distance concerts. (Though, to be COMPLETELY honest, had someone paid my way? I’d have happily gone to the ones two years ago in Spain/France. Just sayin’.)
Well, it’s time for Honor Choir, and my 14 year old daughter (naturally) made it, and it’s in Homer this year – a two hour drive away. The permission slip came home last week, I signed it, and returned it – forgetting that this time? ALL THE INFO WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PERMISSION SLIP. The permission slip that was just turned in. That had all the info on it. Like time, place, bus info, etc. Yeah. THAT permission slip.
Which brings us to this morning.
In typical Monday fashion, I drug The Girl out of bed, with force and grumbled words and muttered threats, and sent her on her way for breakfast at Papa’s, and a ride to high school. I sent the youngest down after that… and got the phone call at 7:45am, just moments after The Girl had walked into her school.
My daughter. In tears. Honor Choir. Bus gone already. Mom, we forgot. Mom I don’t know what to do! Mom…
Ugh. I’ve been doing this parent thing for over 16 years now, and I’d NEVER EVER NOT ONCE fucked up a field trip. Not even the early morning bus rides. I make sure I have secondary parents to call and make sure we don’t sleep through the alarm, I set more then one alarm, sometimes I even STAY UP ALL NIGHT just to make sure my baby gets on that bus at some god awful hour in the morning, in the dark, to see some wonderful Alaskan thing or another, to sing with other schools, to play instruments with them, whatever. I NEVER FORGET.
I forgot.
And she was crying.
And I was crying.
Oh, the tears!
So, I asked the secretary if I were able to get the girl child to Homer, if they’d let her sing? They called the teacher’s cell phone, and no answer. They were dubious. We were dubious. My decision was already made. I told the girl to wait there, I’d be there in a minute. I called the sister (yes, more tears!) and woke her up, and got her to take the dog for the day. I called the Papa to let him know what was going on, and assured him that the car would make it even if I HAD TO PUSH IT. And if you knew the size of that last hill? You’d realize what a feat that would be! I grabbed the laptop in case I had to stay because they wouldn’t let her on the bus, and I had drive her home too. I grabbed a coat, put on my shoes (sandals, no socks) my bra (impressive, I know) and dashed out the door.
Without even COFFEE first.
The girl and I, we had fun on the way down. We reasoned that even if they don’t let her sing by some EVIL TWIST of ass-biting MONDAY type fate, we would spend the day together in homer, laughing and chatting and giggling as we always do when we’re out and about. We chatted, and giggled, and threatened to “Keel you. keel you ded. like with a rock or sumpin!” (Don’t ask – it’s a teenager thing! It’s on a sticker, apparently. It’s also hysterical when you’ve only had 2 hours of sleep and are on an emergency road trip. And have the mind of a teenage boy. Trust me.)
We had almost gotten to Homer, I was making pretty damn good time. (Going Exactly The Speed Limit. Honest. (ha!) Though we did mysteriously hit a time warp that had us making the 1.5-2hr trip in just 1hr 15 minutes or so…) I called Mom to make sure I knew how to get to the high school, then I called the high school to get notice to our Choir teacher that I was coming, she WOULD be there – just an hour late or so. Everything was looking up! They couldn’t possibly tell her she couldn’t sing once she got there. It was going to be OK!
I am driving slowly through Homer, looking for the right turn off for the school, and hey! what’s that? Oh yes. SIRENS AND SHINY LIGHTS. Behind me. Following me. Pulling. Me. Over.
Crap.
As slowly as I was going – it was 10 miles over the limit (25mph? I the middle of town? SRSLY Homer?!), my taillight was out, AND he caught me trying to slip on my seatbelt without him seeing me. Heh. Heh. Heh. He was a nice guy, and I got ticketed for the lack of seat belt, and warned for everything else, AND he gave me directions to the school.
Right across the street.
I KNOW RIGHT? Almost in the clear. ALMOST.
We got her to the school, I turned off the car, hopped out of said car, and walked real fast (I don’t run. Ever.) inside, and checked in, getting her into the theater with the Choir at 9:20am, not even a full hour late. Whew. They assured me she could ride the bus home, pointed me to the bathrooms, and the nearest coffee shop, and after a hug and exchange of lunch money with the girl, I walked out.
And couldn’t see my car. It wasn’t where I’d left it. Ummmmm… yeah. Shift the gaze over, and hey, there it is, nestled all gently, bumpers sweetly kissing, the Big Ass SUV that was parked across the way from me.
I KNOW, RIGHT?!
Apparently, I had neglected to put the damn thing in park, and it went on a nice slow little roll, until it bumped bumpers with the BASUV about 30 feet behind it. Whoops? So I checked it out – no scratch, no paint, just a rubber to rubber kiss, so I did the natural thing. Jumped into my car and got the hell outa there!
Straight to the coffee shop – driving a very careful 25 mph WITH my seatbelt on, where I settled down with an IV bag of Mocha, a blueberry muffin, and Scooter – my Laptop. I discovered that what once was free wi-fi all over the Homer Area, now cost at least $5 for 4 hours of use. I grumbled, paid my $5, and then? It wouldn’t. even. load. my email. OMG so slow.
It was time to give up. After I finished my coffee, I decided not to bother going around for photo ops – though I did take the one above at the Top Of The Hill, because oh so pretty! – and headed home. Driving the speed limit. (mostly.) With my seatbelt on. Singing at the top of my lungs to stay awake. Jittery from the coffee. Only to get home, get lunch, get my dog, eat and GO TO BED.
The End.
Happy ‘effin Monday, ya’ll. May Karma treat you Kinder than me!
(and you can bet she won’t miss the damn bus TOMORROW. Don’t mind me – I’ll be sitting at home, wrapped in bubblewrap, just in case.)
One time, at band camp…
Ok, first off – how is it the middle of October already?! I mean, I know my parents (in one of their infinite moments of delusion!) used to complain that the years went by faster and faster as you got older, but this is ridiculous! People are talking about Christmas already, for heavens sake! We just HAD Christmas! Harumph. (I hear you laughing, Nana…)
Anyway, a couple of days ago was the my daughter’s first High School Band Concert. Now, I know I’ve bitched about band before, but I’m the first to admit that I’m glad we’ve made it through to the high school years, where they actually sound good almost all of the time! No clarinet squeaks, better music choices, leadership, ensembles and drumline – which we’ll get to in a moment.
Don’t they look nice?!
It was a relatively short concert, as it was only the high school band instead of both jr. high and high school – Mrs. S. teaches both. Along with the music choices, and the talent of the band, something else stood out to me that night – something a lot less pleasurable.
The audience. Or more exactly, the LACK of audience.
All through Grade school and Jr. High, it’s standing room only – friends and family, and random people with nothing better to do then count clarinet squeaks pile into the gyms, the auditoriums, the venues in order to support their children as they struggle to find their musical footing. At this weeks high school concert – their were more kids on the stage than people in the audience. Maybe it’s because high school kids drive themselves, but that’s no excuse. It’s really not.
I get a ton of referrals for people asking what their parental responsibility is for their teenagers. First and foremost, you are responsible to raise them well, to discipline them when called for, and to love and support them in every endeavor they choose to take on – every one of them. If you want your kids to make wise choices, then you have to be willing to put your money where your mouth is – or in this case, your ass in the auditorium seat – and support those choices, 100%.
You think those kids didn’t notices the empty seats? You think they didn’t notice who’s parents are there, and who’s aren’t? One teenager actually said in passing to mine “Oh! you’re mom is here! She’s always here, though, isn’t she? I forget that. Mine never are.” It was said matter of factly, but the look in her eyes betrayed the real thoughts behind it.
I’ve had my considerable behind shoved into many an uncomfortable seat over the years. Concerts and programs and plays and more concerts… I’ve sat through hours upon hours of practice leading up to the events, as well as more hours then I can count watching the performances too. I know we’re busy, we’re trying to support our kids in any number of ways – but don’t you think that being there is much more important than that extra hour of work? Don’t you think that showing up would mean more to them than having an extra gift come the holidays?
Times are rough all over right now, but trust me, the two hours spent in support of your teenager will go far in shaping the person they are to become. So its time to get off our asses, record Heroes like every one else in the audience did (or come to my house and watch it since I DID record it) and support your teenagers. They may act like it’s no big deal, but it is. They’ve just been trained to accept you won’t be there.
Surprise them.
Surprise yourself.
It’ll be worth it, to both of you, I promise.
Oh yeah – drum line. I’m doomed. My 9 year old watched their performance in AWE. “OMG MOM THAT WAS SO AWESOME!” Drums. Somehow, I think in a couple of years? I’ll be missing the squeak of the clarinet…
Better Parenting Through Google!
Take Two!
Like I mentioned before, I like to wander through the referral logs for Parenting Teens Blog to see what has brought you fine people to view my meanderings about my teenagers. Some are quite normal, and then there are others that boggle the mind, as well as make me laugh out loud. So today, we’ll explore a couple of the funnier ones, and answer some apparently burning questions. Ready? Here we go – in no particular order:
Best words to get a girl
I’m pleased to say that I’m number one in this search, for talking about my daughter’s wake up calls on her cell phone. But I need more information to answer this particular query. Are you buying the girl a present? If so, the words should be poetic and lovely and knee meltingly romantic! Are you trying to get a girl to do something? Try asking nicely! “Please pass the salt?” is better than “Pass the salt, wench!” Right? The third possiblity is that the girl is what you are trying to get. See the above two answers – Ask nicely, and try poetry. You know what they say about flattery, after all!
My teen don’t do house chores!
Uh. DUH. It’s like pulling teeth – it always is. Get used to it. Same answer for “teen is lying a lot” and “moody teens”. I mean, really? It gets better. When they’re 25. I hope. By the way, I bet your teen don’t talk well so good sometimes either!
Preteens or teens get pregnant?
Uh, yes. They can. That’s what happens when you have sex, without protection, without thought, and with another person. That’s also how you get STDs. Just sayin’.
And then there’s “sleeping nude with teenagers in the house”.
Trust me. The LAST thing a teenager wants to do is catch a peek at mom and dad naked. Sleep however you want, you can be absolutely sure your teenager isn’t trying to cop a peek. Because OMG ew! On a more serious note, however, don’t underestimate what kind of positive impact you’re positive body image will have on your kids as they develop theirs. There’s nothing wrong with being naked, folks. Some are more comfortable then others, of course – if you even have to question, then throw on a robe as soon as you crawl from between the covers, ya know? There’s a lot of middle ground here, so measure you’re comfort level, and that of your teens (who are all going OMG MOM DAD EW GROSS AHHHH! at this point) and behave accordingly. It’s really not that hard, folks. Try some common sense.
And last, but not least, the one that cracks me up every time I see it: Why am I promiscuous?
Because you either can’t keep it in your pants or you forgot to keep your legs closed.
So there ya have it – the latest Google fun. However ya’ll got here – I’m glad you came, and hope you stick around!
Atlantis.
Wassat? I’m a softy? And I can never say no to my kids when they call in tears needing a cat rescue from a roommate who wanted to toss her to the dogs? Which results in LOADS OF WACKY WEEKEND FUN as the little shit rescued from said roommate DISCONNECTED MY CABLE MODEM and I thought things were BROKED and OMG NO INTERWEBS WHAT DO I DO? besides tighten the cord again et voila, internets are back and omg Lessa is insane and the kitten is lucky I didn’t wring it’s CUTE WIDDLE FURRY NECK?
Surely you jest.
Meet Atlantis.
She would be the blue eyed kitten that I didn’t want (in the OMG SO CUTE I WANT kinda way) that went to B when she moved into her own place after staying with me for that space of time. Got a call from B in a panic Friday, because she was in anchorage and her roommate was freaking out about “having to deal with this damn cat I didn’t want anyway” and going to throw her outside to try her luck against the stray dogs and traffic.
I know. I’m a softy. She’s supposedly staying here “until I can figure out something, mom! I swear! I’m so sorry! Only a little while!”
Damn kids anyway.
And obviously, the Pup is completely smitten. That cat doesn’t have to walk anywhere when the Pup’s around, treating her like a princess, carrying her to the bathroom for potty time, making sure she’s fed and safe from Deogi who thinks OMG NEW TOY THANKS MOM!
And how was YOUR weekend…If it were bad, here. Play this. Speakers up and on. You’ll feel better. Honest!
