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Child to Teen at 1,000 mph

My oldest daughter has her first hickey. It just makes a parent proud, you know (insert HEAVY sarcasm).

Yesterday, she was supposed to have softball practice after school. Instead she told her coach she had a headache and skipped practice to hang out with the boyfriend. The coach called me after practice to ask how she was (the coach and I have had conversations before, so I liked that she was proactive and made sure I knew Autumn missed practice). Needless to say, Autumn was busted. I picked her up, and we drove straight to the boyfriend”s house where I had a talk with both of them as well as let his mom know what was going on.

Autumn pretty much hated me for doing that. (What else is new? She hates me all the time. She fills out quizzes on MySpace saying how she has a good relationship with her dad but not her mom. I am an ogre don”t you know?)

Apparently I have choices, and I didn”t have to behave in the way that I decided to behave. The boyfriend has been having a bad week, and I apparently made it worse. Darn it all.

If looks could kill, my mutilated body would have been found sitting in the driver”s seat of my minivan as it was parked in the boyfriend”s driveway. (Autumn had never been to boyfriend”s house, and she wouldn”t have known where it was, but I knew because another daughter had gone to a birthday party at a neighbor”s house a couple of weeks before.)

My only regret — I didn”t know about the hickey until a couple of hours later.

***

And I STILL haven”t been able to get a copy of the long-term absence form. On Wednesday, I followed up my earlier request and was told by the secretary that if she didn”t get around to it this week, she”d have it done Monday. Who thinks I”m going to wait patiently until Monday? Anyone? Bueller?

Thanks for playing.

Three More Years

The countdown has begun. My oldest child has started counting the time until she is 18 and able to move away. Or more specifically, move out of her mother”s control. Because her mother has these unreasonable rules and demands. Obviously her mother doesn”t realize that in just three short years, she will be 18, a high school graduate and able to move out of her parents” home.

The other day, the daughter and I had an argument. And the daughter was sent to bed. Her dad went up to her later, and she let him know she plans to move out in just three years.

And in 3 years, she will probably be ready to move out, but she won”t have to move out. But the problem is that she thinks three years means now. She is practically an adult, right?

In the first three years of my daughter”s life, I counted her age by months not years. There was so much about her that changed month to month that it wasn”t enough to say she was 1 or 2. I had to say she was 16 months or 25 months because those ages were so different from the month before and after them.

Next month she will be 15, and I realize she is at another one of those fast changing moments. She is 179 months. And over the next 37 months, she will be changing so much that I feel like I should be stating her age in months again.

The problem is that when she was 6 months, she had no idea what 36 months would be like, but at 179 months, she thinks she knows what 216 months will be like, and she wants to fast forward and claim it all here and now at 170 months. Why wait?

I know because I”ve been through it that the changes she will go through in the next 37 months are going to be just as transforming as the months between 6 and 36 were, but she can”t see that yet. And to me, allowing her to do some of the things she expects me to allow feels like demanding a 6-month-old baby behave like a 36-month old toddler.

She is practically 15. And I keep making her life miserable. For instance, I wouldn”t let her hang out after school with her boyfriend. She doesn”t understand why I have objections to her just hanging out with boys. And I try to let her know that I don”t let her just hang out with girls in town either, but she thinks it is a boy thing. I just don”t think it is a good idea for teenagers without money and with lots of time to just “hang out.”

And it is me, not her father, who won”t let her do these things. Or at least, she sees it that way. Even though her dad and I discuss and agree with almost everything, and some things, I even defer to him (like the decision about driver”s training), she thinks I am running the show and preventing her from doing things.

I won”t let her date. When she has a school dance, I volunteer. If she wants to go to the movies, I say she has to be dropped off and picked up by her parents, and we might stay for the movie too.

Because she is 14.

The biggest problem for her lately is that we did not sign her up for driver”s training. She qualifies for driver”s ed when she turned 14 years and 8 months. She believes she should be signed up, and we said no. This screws up her schedule. She has planned out those next three years. She imagines herself driving to school. She pictures having her own car or driving her dad”s truck.

The reasons we said no are numerous, and not all of them had to do with her. One of the biggest reasons was timing — the class is before school for four days a week, and I believe for six weeks. Before school means 6:45 to 7:50 a.m., and someone would have to take her there. This means I would have to leave home at 6:15 a.m. every morning and drive in a direction that is opposite of where I work. It also means that the other three children would either get ready for school without a parent at home, or would also have to leave home at 6:15 a.m., almost 2 hours before they actually have to be at school.

Several months ago, all three of us (the 14-year-old, me, and her dad) agreed she would not take driver”s training in April. It was reasoned out, and we all agreed. But the day before the class began, the 14-year-old brought home paperwork and begged to go. All of her friends would be taking the class. She needed to go.

She will be 15 next month. And sometime in this next year, we will probably allow her to take driver”s training. But she isn”t ready to drive on her own yet. And I”m not ready to make sacrifices that disrupt the rest of the family so much.

I know she will be 18 in 3 years and 1 month, but she isn”t there yet. And between now and then, there is still a lot of growing up to do even if she doesn”t yet realize it for herself.

But yes, over the next three years, she will start to do more and more things that she can”t do now. But those things aren”t given automatically, and some might not be given at all but earned instead.

***

While driving the daughter and a friend the other day, I learned I am not alone in my suffering. The daughter and the friend were talking about driving to school, and my daughter was offering to give rides to the friend, and she was refusing to allow her siblings to ride with her.

I was a bit amazed at the intricacy of her plans since she has not yet taken a driver”s ed class, passed it, passed the state test, and I wondered about what she thought she might be driving. I decided to interject a bit, and I mentioned that even after she gets her license, she might not be driving to school.

That”s when the friend spoke up and offered to drive my daughter to school. Someone has given the friend her first car. The friend is also 14, and she declared she would be driving to school even without her parents” permission because IT. IS. HER. CAR.

And I laughed and asked her who she thought would be paying for the insurance for her car. And this is just a tiny part of the growing up that will happen the next three years — when the dreams collide with the reality of life — and having a car becomes something that involves buying gas and insurance and maintenance….

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Dreams do come true

Just today, Justin age 9, fulfilled three of his lifelong dreams:

1. He broke a window with a rock. It was a double-pane window from I’m not sure where. He says it was back by our brush pile. I do not recall. I know it wasn’t installed anywhere. I suspect it was our old kitchen window. He is telling me that it was.

2. He went inside a Clark gas station, which is one of those teeny tiny gas stations where the customer barely has room to turn around, but the big wigs still decide to fulfill the tiny space with racks to increase potential spot sells. This store was so small three pop coolers (and yes, I mean coolers not machines) sit outside the store….

3. He went inside a laundromat. He pronounces that word – lawn dro mat. My dad used to call it a warshateria because that word wash has an r in it don’t you know. Nine year olds do not always get sarcasm. (Duh, he says.)

In recent weeks, he has also held a small python snake. Pythons do not take directions from photographer very well hence the missing head. It was alive, and it did have a head. It even did “number one” on another kid in a later group. The mom assures me it smells bad and lots of it. She had to buy her son a replacement shirt from the gift shop, and no, they did not give him the shirt.
withpython.jpg

And a tarantula:
withtarantula.jpg

So keep working on making your dreams come true. If it can happen to him, it can happen to you.

Thanks for playing.

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Maybe I really won’t eat her….

Mothers of Teenagers Know Why Animals Eat Their Young

After what happened yesterday, maybe I don’t completely understand….

It was 4 p.m., and the girls should have been home after the bus dropped them off. I was picking up some groceries, and I had the youngest boy with me when my cell phone rang. It was Amanda, my middle daughter. She was telling me about a problem, and I was asking her where her older sister was at. I don’t know why. Amanda is old enough to take care of it too, but I automatically defaulted to asking about Autumn.

Amanda: Autumn isn’t here.

Me: You’re kidding, right? Where is she? Let me talk to her.

Amanda: I’m not kidding. She’s not here. I don’t know where she is.

Me: Really? She isn’t there? Seriously? (I was being a little dense.)

Amanda: No. She’s not.

Me: (entering panic mode).

I’m not even sure if I said goodbye to Amanda. I hung up my cell phone, issued an order to Justin and left my half-filled shopping cart in the middle of the aisle as I booked it to the front door and my car. As I walked, I was dialing my husband’s number. I hoped she had made him aware of alternate plans, but he didn’t know anything either. He seemed much calmer than I was though.

We hung up and checked all of the voicemail messages. Between the two of us, we have three voicemail services — one for the home phone, one for my cell and one for my husband’s cell. There weren’t any voicemails. Before I left the parking lot, I was calling her friends whose phone numbers were programmed in my cell phone. I was mentally kicking myself for not having phone books in my vehicle (something I normally always have). And I was also running a mental inventory of where all of the phone numbers were at that I would want Amanda to retrieve for me as I started looking for my daughter. I hated that I was so far from home where there were things I needed, but I was also glad I was so close to the high school, so I could search the area for signs of my daughter. As I started driving towards the high school, I began crying.

I was scared she was gone. I was scared something was wrong. I also thought of scenarios where she was being a teen rebelling, and I replayed the morning argument about her cell phone. If that ended up being the situation, I felt a surge of energy that Autumn better hope gets deferred (think eat young scenario). In the danger scenario, someone else was the brunt of my energy. It was horrible. I must have made about 20 calls in that little space in time. I hated not knowing where one my children were at and having to worry about her well-being. It was emotionally exhausting.

My cell phone rang. It was home, and I heard my daughter’s voice in my ear. “Mom, I’m home.” She sounded like she had been chewed out already (I think her dad already had done that).

She had awards assembly at 2 p.m. that day, and I had mentioned it to my mom. I couldn’t go because of a field trip, but my mom went. I had forgotten all about my mom going to the assembly. After the assembly was over, my mom took my daughter out to dinner. My mom said my daughter called us, but my daughter did not leave any messages. I was furious at both of them, but I was also so relieved she was OK. I was still crying….

She was OK. Crisis adverted. But that was the most horrible feeling in the world. I am glad it turned out the way it did. It was the best scenario. Actually, the best scenario would have been to tell someone or leave a voicemail, but….

Later that night, all four children played Little League games. Steve watched Justin’s game in Houghton Lake. Mom and I took the three girls to Roscommon. We watched the first hour of Autumn’s game and the second hour of Amanda and Maxine’s game. They all won too. Amanda and Maxine won 21 to 9; Autumn doesn’t know her final score, but she knows it was a win. I won too, but I think I am still recovering. And this doesn’t mean I give up any rights to complain about her in the near or distant future. She is still, afterall, 14 with a boyfriend, and we all know what that means….

Thanks for playing.

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Teens Just Don’t Understand

Long, long ago in a time called the 80s, Will Smith was a singer not an actor. He was known as the Fresh Prince and along with some guy named Jazzy Jeff, he performed a song that I played (probably way too much) for my parents to listen to.

In your face, Mom and Dad!

(YouTube says the embedding capability is disabled, so here is the video and lyrics.

When I first heard this song, I focused on the lyric “parents just don’t understand.” Now, I am focused on the part I didn’t get then “there’s no need to argue.”

I need to hear that refrain more often especially when it comes to my oldest, age 14 with boyfriend. And yes, that is her age. She is not 14. She is 14 with boyfriend. There is an important distinction between these two ages. One is exponentially more annoying than the other.

Minor digression: The 9-year-old boy (also known as Justin aka JT) and I were somewhere, and he made the comment that parenting a teenager is a big responsibility. I chuckled thinking parenting is a big responsibility, but I think he is onto something. When the children are younger, you want to nurture and care for them. And then they turn into teens, and it is a HUGE responsibility to just keep yourself from throttling their little (but growing way too fast) necks. (End Digression)

Last Friday Autumn *needed* my cell phone since hers isn’t working right now. There would be a point in her day when she would have to call for a ride, and I agreed to hand over my cell phone thinking she would use it to make that call and be done with it. No. When I received my phone back, I had a new wallpaper. My color settings for the various buttons were now green. She was with me when I noticed, and I let her know I wasn’t happy.

Yesterday, I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled to my text messages. I had about 10 saved, but there was one that I really needed. That’s when I noticed all of my incoming and outgoing text messages had been deleted. Hmmm. Wonder who did that? Of course, she did it because she sent and/or received text messages on my phone and was trying to cover her tracks. But why did she have to delete mine? MINE?

Over the weekend, Autumn stayed at my mom’s house. Guess how long it took her to change my mom’s computer? If you didn’t know, may I just direct you to a comment in the previous post — it says that Autumn left me a comment, but Autumn was in bed by the time the comment was made and NetNanny blocks her from the Internet if she managed to be up when she should have been sleeping. No, it isn’t Autumn that commented. It is my mother, using my mother’s computer, which must be still signed in with Autumn’s name. I’m not sure if my mom knows how to change those settings, so it may be a while before it gets corrected. Sorry, Mom.

I remember being like that — thinking everything that belongs to my parents was mine to do with as I please. My mom never really said anything though — at least not that I remember. But my parents didn’t have electronics with personalized settings either.

A few weeks ago, Autumn used my laptop even after I had specifically said no. When I called her on it, she said what she always says “Sorry,” and I understand now how my dad used to tell me that being sorry isn’t enough. Autumn thought her sister, Maxine, had tattled on her (Maxine takes after HER mother and although she isn’t quite up to my level of world-class tattletale, she is making it into the running — and she has technology on her side — she doesn’t have to wait for Mom and Dad to come home; she can call them on their cell phone). But no, Maxine did not tattle on Autumn. My laptop did that. It was pretty obvious when my IM program logged me in as Autumn when I turned on my laptop. Touching my laptop, in my mind, is a high crime. It is where the neck-wringing patience really comes into play.

But I think the thing that bothers me more than anything is the phone. The girl is on the phone constantly. We pulled into the driveway yesterday, and Autumn walked out of the house with the phone attached to her ear. When I went inside, she told me one of my students had been calling. According to Autumn, the student had been calling “every half hour, and she is annoying.” I saw red, and Autumn heard a little bit more about phone behavior than she ever wanted to hear. Along the lines of if she stayed off the phone, she wouldn’t be annoyed…. That comment from my daughter put me in a bad mood the rest of the evening. I was just furious.

Autumn was outside, and I was putting groceries away. I knew my mom had called me several times, so I picked up the phone to call her back. I hit the talk button, and there wasn’t any dial tone. Why? Because Autumn had came inside .2 seconds earlier and picked up the phone as soon as she moved out of my eyesight/hearing range. This despite me telling her umpteen times to NOT use the phone without permission. I had to tell her this because she was grabbing a cordless handset, hiding herself in the house and would be talking for hours before I even realized someone was using our phone. I caught on quick though, but she apparently is still trying this, and it makes me want to pull the plug on every single phone we have. When I heard her on the phone, Autumn was treated to another comment from me (and so was whoever she was talking to).

At this point, the phone and I just weren’t getting along, and I forgot all about calling my mom back. My mom called again later, and I was talking to her when the call waiting beeped in. Two guesses on who it was, and the first guess doesn’t count. He was polite, but it was 8:30 p.m., and I let him know that Autumn was done with the phone that night. After I finished my call, I did pass along to Autumn that he called, and she immediately wanted to call him back despite it being around 9 p.m. Um. No. I think I was raving again about how it would be nice to not have my phone calls interrupted and to be able to use my phone when I want to. Hearing this, Autumn mumbled that she would like the same thing — and I went off again telling her SHE didn’t have a phone. To which her sister, Amanda, (dangerously) pointed out that Autumn did have a cell phone. Yes, she does, but it is not for talking hours at a time.

(Went off on a bit of a rant there.)

I intended to say something about how I am trying to not be a parent who doesn’t understand. I have better taste in purchasing clothes than my mom did (which is the part that I really related to when I first heard the song by the Fresh Prince). I know what it is like to want to talk to a boy all the time. I ran up phone bills to her dad, so I know.

I try to use these experiences to show Autumn that I am trying to be considerate within boundaries. Autumn doesn’t hear it that way. She thinks that every time I admit to her something that I did when I was young, it means that I can no longer complain/discipline her for doing the same thing. It doesn’t work that way, Chickie.

For instance, Autumn is in 8th grade and the boyfriend is in 10th. Autumn’s parents are not thrilled about this, and the boyfriend’s mom apparently wouldn’t be either if she knew. When Autumn first started going out with him, she lied to us and said she wasn’t. I knew better, but she lied because her dad told her he was too old (heck of a thing to be 15 and too old, eh?). She finally fessed up. I mentioned when I was a freshman that I dated a junior. A-ha! Autumn thought, and she actually told me “Then you can’t say anything. You did it.”

Ah yes, I did it. I did a heck of a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I want my children doing the same things. I’m not trying to be a hypocrite — I’m trying to be the voice of experience. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. If I had to do it again, I wasn’t that enamored with the junior guy. I pretty much dated him because he was a junior.

But that isn’t the point. I wasn’t bothered with the going out with — I pretty much knew it because she was talking to him constantly, so I wasn’t buying the “just friends’ line. I KNOW better. I get upset that she lies to us. I keep trying to tell her that in the very near future she is going to need her parents to trust her, and she isn’t going to have our trust if she keeps lying about these little things. I would rather have her tell me the truth than lie to me. Personally, I think the biggest problem is lying/deceit. It is this type of behavior that makes me the most angry. It goes in one ear and out the other. Right now Autumn and I are at the stage where we are talking AT each other instead of WITH each other.

If Autumn had came inside and asked to use the phone, I may have said yes, which would have meant I wouldn’t have picked up the phone to call my mom and expect to hear a dial tone. I may have said no, but I do know that the sneaky behavior — doing things she knows she had been told not to — is going to end up with consequences that are worse for her. She, however, has yet to figure that one out. I try to tell her. I mention that in the near future she is going to want to do things — like borrow our car — and how she treats our things now will play a role in what we decide. I may as well be talking Swahili….

So back to Will…

I think he should do an updated version of his famous song. So I can play it and be annoying and basically say, “In your face, Autumn!”

Alas, Will acts now, so I guess I will have to settle for this quote from Jennifer Crusie’s Faking It: “If you can’t be a good example, you’ll just have to be a horrible warning.” — Gwen Goodnight*

I need to work on that horrible warning aspect….

*In the acknowledgments for her book, Crusie notes the quote was supposedly said by Catherine Aird, but she couldn’t find documentation for it. I read it in Crusie’s book, so there.

Thanks for playing.

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