Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Teenage Beginnings

One of the things I always told myself, especially before having children, was that I would always remember what it was like to be a kid. I would be hip, in the know and relate to my kids. I do fairly well at this. When my sensitive 9 year old girl bursts into tears when Daddy teases her, I melt and explain to her Daddy exactly what she's thinking and feeling. I was sensitive. When the 4 year old boy runs into his room and screams over and over again, I chuckle and remember how much I hated it when my mom wouldn't let me play at the park, or go outside, or run with knives. I remember those feelings, vividly.

When my oldest daughter turned 13 in January I wasn't too worried. It's February. I'm now worried. Seriously folks, how the hell did one month change me? AND her? I can't tell you for the life of me what I felt like when I was 13 other than insecure and I hated my parents. H.A.T.E. (in retrospect, I shouldn't have hated them with such an intensity, they weren't that bad...I was!) But it seems all other memories and feelings have fled my memory banks. This is not fair. And in this past month she has baffled me at least a million times, but I will blog about two of those times. Just two. And those two have me flipped out.

My husband picks me up from work one night and hands me the cell phone that we all share, my daughter, husband and I. (It began as my daughter's phone. but then she got grounded, I lost service to my phone, so we took hers. We allow her to use it to communicate with her friends on weekends and holiday times.) He says, "Read this series of text messages and tell me what you think." I know my husband. He can be a little.....overprotective. Sometimes he panics to the point of irrationality. So, I quietly take the phone, expecting it to be nothing. I was horribly wrong.....

The messages were from a friend of hers that I know, Dad knows her too. My daughter has been to her house for her birthday, rides the bus with this girl. This girl is also a very smart young lady, good brain. She uses it to text horror messages to her friends about kidnapping, killing and burying some "little bitch". And then...several hours later, texts, "Ha ha, just kidding. Hope I made you pee a little."  Um. Seriously?

Turns out, this was supposed to be a prank and this girl thought we would appreciate it for the creative writing aspect of it, and my daughter agreed to let her do it!! I do not know what the hell possessed these kids to think that my husband and I would find that type of message funny. I made sure that both my daughter and her friend were aware of the consequences and panic caused by these actions.

Then a few days later, another text. "Wait until we are somewhere private." and it's from a boy. O. M. G. I'm really about to die a very unexpected death from heart failure at the age of 35.So, I have that uncomfortable talk...AGAIN...with my daughter. How boys are, what they're really thinking and how hormones and feelings get caught up and...yeah, I'm so calm on the surface but my brain is screaming at me to lock her in a tower with a fire breathing dragon safeguarding her.

The thing is, she's really a good girl. She doesn't make all A's, but she works hard in school. She's generally very easygoing without giving any argument to requests we make of her. But she can be unreadable. I talk with her, she nods, maybe I'll get a smile or an eye roll. But she doesn't really talk about things. Not with any of us. Not to an unhealthy extent, I don't think...I believe it's just who she is, but it's driving me crazy. I want to know everything she's thinking all of a sudden and I know I can't. It's a terrible knowledge.

How do  you stay close to your teens?

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Where I lose my mind....

First of all; my apologies. I haven't posted .... at all. This is my red-headed step child of a blog. :) And I was without internet access and a computer for quite a while.

But tonight's post is really about my 12 year old. Rhiannon. This will sound odd, but she has always been my most laid back, stubborn child. And I say that because she doesn't argue with you. She doesn't throw a tantrum or pout or even huff and puff. By all appearances, she's listening to the rules you set down, she's nodding and agreeing with the chores you ask her to do. Then she goes off and while you assume she's doing as she has been told like a good little girl; she's doing whatever the hell she wants. This could include putting mounds of very expensive lotion into a sink full of water then adding a little mouthwash...to see what would happen. Or any other number of shenanigans.

This has been the battle since she hit...oh 4 years I would say. She was my baby that slept through the night, and through any amount of noise for a minimum of 12 hours beginning at the age of 10 months. She LOVES sleep still. Sleep does not a good child make. Trust me on this one.

So tonight's problem was the cherry on top of an incredibly long week. I came home from my second shift at work to my husband sitting in his chair staring down Rhiannon, who was sitting on the couch. First clue that shit had hit the fan.

To my raised eyebrows, my husband says; "You and I need to address an issue with Rhiannon that's very important and I just don't know what to do about."

Sooo many expletives went through my mind.  "Alright, what's going on?"

"Well, besides the fact that she's had her head somewhere other than here all day, Kayla just came to me with this cup," he holds it out for me to see. "This is her concoction of what she says is Juniper Tea. It's shit from the front yard." He peers into the cup more closely. "And possibly your very expensive mineral make up...smells funny."

I try really hard not to blow up at the fact that my $60 purchase of really good makeup (first time since I was 18 that I buy really good makeup) is in the bottom of a plastic cup along with 'shit' from the front yard.

Rhiannon finally speaks, "It's not! There's not makeup in there."

I notice she doesn't offer what IS in there. "So what is it?"

"...." she mumbles.

"What?" I almost scream.

"Hershey's dark cocoa, Thyme and Juniper."

I'm half tempted to make her drink it. But instead we go into this long, little bit heated discussion about the consequences of her thinking she knows what the hell thyme and juniper is in the first place; the possibilities she didn't think of...stomach ache, allergic reactions, the three year old getting it, etc...

I grounded her for her entire spring break. And not just any grounded. But she has to sit on our "naughty bench" until her dad needs her help with housework, caring for and entertaining the 3 year old or whatever. All day. Just so we know exactly what she's doing and when.

This is going to be a long freakin' 7 days. Which reminds me of how my mother would always tell me that she was punishing herself more than me when I was grounded.

What was I thinking????

So...any insight? My husband is about to lose his mind. He's disabled and can't get up as often as raising children really requires. I'm too poor for daycare. I'm tempted to drop them all off at a shelter. (kidding...slightly.) (no, I'm really kidding) (seriously...I'm kidding)
........ Yes...I will look back on this and laugh one day, right?

To be continued???

Saturday, June 26, 2010


I'd like to say I have the solution. Experts would like to say they have the solution. Supernanny would even like to show you she has the solution. Okay, Supernanny probably does.


I've never met a child like my son.

*smack on the head*

What was I thinking? "Yay! A boy! A sweet, loving, momma's boy!"

God laughed.

I have a little boy that puckers his lips to kiss you and when you are 1/2 an inch from his face...he runs away.
I have a little boy that yells back at you. If you don't yell at him, he stares at you, as if a contest. Once you move to beat his ass appropriately punish him; he runs. He hits Mom, Dad, Big sisters. If he is hit back; he laughs. He is put in timeout. He screams or just sits there. After a few minutes, he comes out and hits you just to prove that you didn't do a damn bit of good.


What was I thinking?

Both of my girls were drastically different. Like night and day. I didn't figure there could be a third 'type.' I just assumed my boy would be a doll. Well. You know what they say about assuming. Rhiannon never really threw a tantrum. When she did get upset, she was sent to her room and told she could come out when she was done crying. Before we knew it, she was done crying and playing and keeping herself entertained. Kayla did a lot of screaming. She would be sent to her room, didn't work. Finally we learned with her that if we put her in a corner it worked a bit better. She grew out of it quickly.

This boy is STRONG WILLED.

He's my karma, ya know? When I was a teenager I had a little sister that did a whole lot of screaming. Tantrum throwing. I blamed my mother. She obviously didn't know what the hell she was doing and obviously spoiling my sister.


Sorry Mom.

I am firm. Consistent. Loving. Kind. Stern. Scary. None of it is working. I really hope he just grows out of it.

Okay, now that I have that off my chest, I have to admit that I started this blog and then really wasn't sure if I should keep it going. Well, I decided that I would. I'll only post once a week, but it will be here. Spread the love. :0)

Monday, May 17, 2010



It's the hardest thing to learn and the hardest thing to teach. It's inevitable that one day our children will fail at something. It's inevitable that one day, we will fail them. Yes. Inevitable.

My six year old, Princess Kayla, has the hardest time with losing games. It's all about having fun until someone else wins. :0) Do you have this child?

My ten year old is experiencing her first taste of failures at school. (Oh Lordy!) It's really hard for me as a mom to balance out the "do your best" with the "If you don't pass school, I'm gonna kill you!" emotions. The main reason is because as parents we don't want to accept that our children might fail. At anything.

They will. Prepare yourself now.

But so will you. So have I. I have had that sneaking, haunting suspicion that when I didn't take the opportunity to sit my child down daily to do extra homework....I failed her. When I stopped playing games out of frustration of having to console and explain each and every time that losing is part of playing and playing is just for fun....I failed her. Every time I say "no" to something simple because of my headache/fatigue/whatever, I start to feel like a failure.

Failure is a part of life, but the thing is that we must grow and learn from it. It's hard to repeat, but I do. I constantly tell my children that if they fail, they must try again and change the outcome. There has to be a change, regardless of what it is that they fail at.

So, if you are feeling like a failure, get used to it. :0) And then change something. Even if the only thing  you change is your attitude. We can't all be perfect all the time. Right? This applies to parenthood too.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

I'll Never

Do you remember this fun game?

"I'll never tell my child something as stupid as this hurts me more than it hurts you."
"I'll never spank my kids."
"I'll never let my child go to bed without dinner."
"I'll never ground my kids."


The first time I spanked my daughter, I cried. Literally. I walked out of the bedroom and cried. Despite the fact that previous to the spanking I had used every other possible parenting technique and she had so quietly, stubbornly and kindly refused to do as I had asked for over an hour and my head was trying to detach itself from my neck, I cried like a freakin' baby. My daughter? Sat on her bed and continued to not clean her room.

Obviously-I've spanked my kids. See previous story. Honestly, I don't spank my kids as often as I have thought of spanking my kids. I truly die a little bit inside. No matter how much of an asshole they were.

When you have a kid that goes from eating everything to eating nothing, you worry. Like all things in parenthood. Another worry. So you take little angel child to the doctor. Angel child is just fine, being stubborn. Encourage blah blah blah. You notice angel child is manipulating your worrying into eating whatever the hell the little brat wants. Now it's time to put your foot down. Go to bed without dinner.

My 10 year old princess is possibly grounded for the rest of her natural life. If it's  a short life. Seriously. 10?? With the stubborn ness of a bull bred donkey. Yeah, kind of gross-but she is honestly stubborn. And here's the really frustrating thing. She's sneaky about it. She acts as if she's perfect and done everything that you've asked her to do and school is great and homework is done and ...... it's all a lie. And yes...apparently I did this all the time to my mother. 

The thing is that we as parents are doing what we can at the time whatever mini crisis hits. Sometimes it's really hard to see flaws in our children, especially when they are a lot like our own. Ya know? My advice is to forget all the "I nevers" and keep doing your best. Yes, I think time-outs are great-not for my son. They work for about ten minutes after the fact, if I'm lucky. It seemed to work well for my girls. Not much anymore. Now it's on to losing privileges and being ... you guessed it...grounded.

What are your "I'll nevers" and have you kept to them or found out differently?

Saturday, May 8, 2010

The Curse

We've all heard it at one point or another.....

"One day, you will have a child and that child will be just like you." It's also usually said through clenched teeth and sparks swirl around the head of your angry mother. These are not words to be taken lightly. Oh no, no, no. Because then, no matter what you may think, you will have a child. And said child will definitely be just like you or perhaps worse.

This is the curse. Our mothers hand it down to us at that point when they're beyond the end of the rope. They're grasping at lightning rods.

Now we are mothers/fathers. Have you uttered that sentence, yet? Have you already cursed your sweet, precious children? I have been so close. The teeth were clenched. I felt that twitch in the back of my neck. The one that makes you tilt your head sideways and envision the child/children/demon beaming out of your house. But something makes me stop.

This child/children/brat/demon is just like me and it's all my mother's fault. (I love that clause-the blame your parents clause. Because you know your children/brats are going to do it to you.)

Do I want to do that to her, yet? Is she deserving of the absolute hell I go through daily? Worrying about how well she is doing in school, is she sleeping enough? Am I making good enough dinners(think of last night's dinner and cringe..more guilt piles on top of guilt for previous worries)? Does she have friends, do I want her to have friends? Those other girls are snots. I hate those other girls. I want to strangle their cruel little necks!! Oh..where was I? She is just like me which means she probably will want to strangle them if I keep thinking this. Okay, it's all okay. Really, it's fine. Insert worries about the house, the sibling rivalry, the sibling ganging up on mom, the meal for that night and possibly twenty other things we are forgetting, which will bring us right back to guilt.

I sigh. For now, I'll keep the curse as a last resort. We haven't hit adolescence yet. That is possibly the first time those words flew from my own mother's mouth. (Uhm, thanks for that. I got three of them all like me.)

So, what is The Curse going to do to you, or already shown you?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Round of Introductions

Let me introduce you to my dysfunctional family....
This is BFF. Yes, she's wearing a shirt that says "The Lube" and making faces at me. This chick has stuck around through some pretty hard times for the last six years. Which should tell you that she is definitely and certifiably insane.

Oh, my dancing rockstar, Young Prince. He's a laugh a minute until he tells you off, screams at extremely high pitches, hits furniture and whoever may be nearby and thinks naps are for wimps. He's brought parenting to a whole new level for me.

Princess Kayla....or my tomboy. I really fought this label. Trying to be the cool anti-label, hippie cool music loving mom and all. Well, she fought back. See the princesses on the shoes? They are hand me downs from oldest princess and Kayla had a fit. The only thing that pacified her? Spiderman shoes for school....princesses for outside play. *ahem* She is the fire in our lives.

The original princess, Princess Rhiannon. My first child, she was the type of baby only dreams are made of. Seriously. She slept all night by the time she was three months old and occasionally by six weeks. Yeah, really. Okay, it took a while for her to stop crying when she learned that whole manipulation tactic at the age of nine months, but other than that....angel. Well, if you have one of those and you don't know yet....it all changes. The two year old that never touched a plug? She turned six and started putting everything in her mouth. Now she's ten and I'm not even going to start. That's a whole new post. But she's the most loving and kind person you will ever meet! Need a hug? A conversation? A picture? Princess Rhiannon is your girl.

This is a really awful picture because Princess Rhiannon was asking me how to make sure she was zoomed in and I was trying to tell her not to zoom and then...pow. Here I am. :0)

CJ (Court Jester) He's my man, my babe, my best friend, my nuisance, my polar opposite.......mostly, he's the most awesome dad ever.
Okay, now that you know my crazy family.....Check out my Friday Link....it's the Young Prince dancing. Which is totally his talent. You don't want to miss this. :0) Have a great weekend!