Teenagers
My oldest son is 15 and itching to get his learner’s permit. I am not quite as enthusiastic about this process and really have mixed feelings. After getting up to drive him to two-a-day football practices at 6, it would really be nice to just have him drive himself and get a few more minutes of precious sleep. On the other hand, driving in the Atlanta suburbs is scary for the new drivers as well as their fellow road warriors in a land that doesn’t use turn signals, tailgates like they were drafting in a NASCAR race and thinks 55 is just a silly suggestion for their expensive automobiles.
I spent a couple of leisurely hours at the pool, enjoying the slightly cool water and the warm day with my youngest son. The days are lessening that he will want to hang out with mom as middle school approaches next month. I ran into another mom I see infrequently and we chatted about this and that as we floated about the pool. The discussion turned to a mutual aquaintance, struggling with her boys, who happens to be a single mom like me.
It is really, really hard to be a parent. And not just a parent, but an involved and level headed parent. As my boys get older, the adventures become more complicated and the issues move way beyond giving up a sippy cup or finishing your homework before cartoons. Case in point? My oldest decided it would be a great idea to pierce his ear with a push pin and took an old silver snowman stud out of my jewelry box to highlight his handiwork. Sigh. I kept hoping it would hurt enough to put an end to it quickly, but his ear hasn’t fallen off so far. I comfort myself with the fact that a boy’s reasoning skills do develop eventually, but the latest research puts that at about twenty- eight. That’s thirteen more years of slightly stupid.
I was doing yet another load of endless summer laundry. It would seem that there was a FIFA soccer team living here not just three people if you looked at the pile of clothing in the laundry room, stacked up into a four foot pyramid smelling of sweat, pool chlorine and sun tan lotion. I grumbled under my breath as I stepped over the dog to shove the neatly folded clothes into my teenage son’s armoire. I swung open the door and sighed as I was staring at several empty soda cans and a dish growing something furry and penicillin-like.
No, this isn’t a post about Lindsanity’s woes in the courtroom this week. It is about a weird turn of events that I aptly named “Freaky Friday” after driving in the car with my oldest son. I am usually the calm one in the car, reminding him to chill out and “we will get there when we get there”. This usually just agitates him and he grumbles under his breath and turns up the noise music on his ipod in response. Don’t you just love these mother son moments? It was almost like a Hallmark commercial.
I thought it was a fluke at first, but then I started paying attention. I have acquired a super power of sorts, and it mysteriously happened at Target (twice), Costco, and Home Depot too. I apparently have the uncanny power to repel hundred dollar bills. They literally fly out of my wallet and into various retail sites! I have several friends with this same affliction and none of us can understand how we can walk into a store with a list that only has 3 items, including shampoo, dog food and a pair of pantyhose, and walk out missing a hundred bucks every time.
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