Nancy Pelosi Hair

Nancy Pelosi has copied my hair style. Or, her people did. Either way, on the day after the election last week, my daughter opens the newspaper and said, "Mama, who is Nancy PEE LOO SEE?" I replied, "Well, she's a congresswoman from California who is currently the Speaker of the House of Representatives. And, it's PELL OH SEE." Her response was, "Well, you have Nancy PELL OH SEE hair."

Later on the same morning, while playing a snuggle game with my still sweet 9 year old boy, he queried, "How come you don't have that big hook on your nose like other old people?" WHAT? "Ozzy has one." (side note: My son loves Ozzy Osbourne)

My world was rocked like the superdome version of "crazy train." How is it possible that I have the same hair style as a woman who is 25 years older than me? Why is my son looking for me to have the same facial features as a 60+ year old man who is not exactly known for clean living? Why am I spending money on anti aging products when, clearly, at 45, I should just give up and "Bark at the Moon?"

I guess the answer is, that I am like other old people, fighting a losing battle. I remember in the early 90's going to a sorority meeting where the college women were talking about having an 80's theme party. They were all excited to go way back to the 80's and I felt very dated. I realized for the first time ever I was the oldest person in the room

But, now this is a whole new game. I'm no longer just dated, I'm now OLD. Because even though back then I was the oldest in the room, I was still younger than most of the world. Now, I'm not. I've stopped looking for new things to do with chicken. In fact, I count as one of my specialties the grocery store rotisserie chicken. I'm done with change. I'm not looking for new recipes.

However, I may be looking for a new hair do.

Clod

This experience of being a mom of a pre teen has made me look back at my own adolescence and wonder, "was I this awful?" The answer is probably yes. Confirmed today by the following message received via Facebook:

I wanted to say hi. My name is XXX and we used to be friends in the sixth grade at Butler school. You gave me a autograph book for my birthday or Christmas and it said something about the swimming team because you meant to give it to somebody else. It said PS Susa is the best.We were really only friends for about a year at Butler, I went over to your house a couple of differnt times in the fall, you lived by Washington Park. I also remember you had som sort of a accident in school. Just wanted to say hello.

What a great friend I was! What a clod! I gave her an autograph book that clearly was intended for someone else. This is how I am remembered. Until this day, I had no memory of these events. Except probably the accident. I think she's referring to when I fell though a ground level plate glass window and received some minor (thankfully) cuts. However, this did not take place in school. Why can't I be remembered for some lovely charitable act? Probably because I don't think I had it in me back then.

I guess it's pretty standard for 6th graders to be self centered and for friendships to be short lived. I can only hope that my kids will be remembered a bit more fondly. I can't protect my kids from making mistakes. Certainly, my parents couldn't either.

Smoother

While travelling last weekend, I received an email with an attachment on my iPhone. In general, I don't open attachments on the iPhone, because they're difficult to read with my aging eyes. This one, however, caught my attention.

The message was from my daughter. It read, Dear Kates Family, Please fill in the following chart as to what chores you want to do on what days. The goal is to make things run smoother at this house.

Smoother? I wondered just how much smoother she would like to see things run. We are busy people. Very busy people. Business owners, students, athletes, volunteers. We manage to work out, keep ourselves showered and presentable. We are rarely late. The house is clean (albeit we have a housekeeper every two weeks) and straightened. Really, just what is not going well, in her estimation?

For my kids, there are two fears: aftercare and hot lunch from the cafeteria. In all my years of parenting, they have never been subjected to these tortures. This email made me recall the one and only time something went wrong in our pickup schedule. The friend who forgot to pick them up realized her mistake and immediately returned to school. She found them both in the principal's office crying and holding each other. They are not shy to share their drama.

I didn't need to look much further for the explanation. You see, she forgot the attachment. So, a following message read, Here is the updated chore Schedule! If you think something might not be do able, let me know. She had filled her own chores in and her brother's. Left blank were mama and daddy's spaces.

My instinct told me to wait until I returned home to fill in my blanks. She was waiting, with pencil in hand, when I returned to "work with me," on my schedule. So, we did. I am responsible for cooking dinner on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. I also must do laundry on Sundays. Weed the garden on Saturdays. I actually was impressed with the chores she chose for herself and her brother. Some perspective told me not to focus on the subtle critique of my home management. She is just trying to help out, and this instinct to organize everyone around her? Well, she comes by it honestly.

Sure hope things run smoother.

Mean Boys

I found out today that women don't have a corner on the market of mean girl behaviors. It's interesting to see men giving the snub, refusing to acknowledge an other's presence and whispering behind others' backs. And, it brings up all kinds of fears about raising an adolescent.

Like, will my girl be a "mean girl?" She's never shown that kind of tendency, except towards me. I would think if I found out she was a "mean girl," I could figure out a way, or consult a trusty manual to figure out a way, to nip that in the bud. I would also hate to think she could be a victim of mean girls. What would I do then? I firmly believe kids have the tools solve their own problems, so I guess the answer is to just help them find those tools.

Do people realize it when they're mean? I always wonder why people venture down this path. In the case of the man I witnessed today, I see immaturity as the underlying issue. But, when it's about kids (and probably adults now that I think about it), I think it's about positioning yourself socially. Is this why she's a mean girl to me? Is she trying to change her status from one of underling to one who's in control? One who has the power?

So, if kids have the tools to solve their own problems, where are my mean girl tools?

Bananas

It's funny sometimes how kids position themselves within the family. My nine year old knows that things are tense between our 'tween and her parents. Naturally, he is poised to take full advantage. So, any time he has the opportunity to emphasize his good behavior, he seizes the moment.

On Tuesday, a great big fit was thrown over breakfast. Seems that daddy errantly placed bananas on top of pubescent one's cereal. The audacity! Not only did she not ASK for bananas, she does not LIKE bananas on HER cereal, and further, "HE HAS NO RIGHT TO PUT BANANAS ON MY CEREAL!" Stomp, slam, etc.

Today, Wednesday, 9 year old walks up to his banana laden cereal and says, "Hmmm. Bananas. I did not ask for them, but I will eat them, and just be grateful!" Smile, preen, etc.

Mom, knowing full well what was going on says, "you're a good boy." pat, kiss, etc.

Teamwork.

Planning a Party

At some point, your kids are beyond the big birthday party stage. My kids are both in the more casual stage of celebration. I've never been much into it myself, so to me, it's a relief. I'm much more comfortable with the hang out and have fun party over the cram the water slide into your backyard and hire a lifeguard party any day. We've done both.

This year, we're taking my son, who will be 9 this weekend, and his best buddies to a baseball game. We'll have pizza first here at the house, and them cram all of the guys into the car. Note to self: husband drives said car.

But, while I comfortably state that we are beyond the big party stage, another magic moment occurs. Pubescent one reverts to being three again and gets jealous that brother is having a party. To express her dismay, she shrieks, "HE ALWAYS GETS WHAT HE WANTS! YOU NEVER GAVE ME FUN PARTIES! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO AT A BASEBALL GAME?" The temptation is to answer glibly, "get mama's drinks from the concession." Somehow I refrained.

The book I mentioned in an earlier post (Get Out of My Life! But First Can you Take Me and Cheryl to the Mall?) states that since their emotions are so confusing to them, adolescents would rather fight with you than tell you what's really bothering them. I sure wish I knew what was behind this rant. Hopefully, it will have passed and she will return to acting nearly 20 by the time I pick her up today. She vacillates from this incredible maturity to toddler ism. I never know what to expect and am rarely prepared.

In the meantime, I'm happily sending casual emails and texts to my son's friend's parents about the game/party. Hopefully everyone will be home this holiday weekend and can attend. The question is, will I need a babysitter for the toddler?

Auditions and Try Outs!

The first week of school is in the history books and all told, it was a smooth one. This week has been a different story. This is the week of tryouts and auditions so lots of stress and anxiety for our adolescent. Also, lots of running around and guessing about pickup times for mom. I'm getting tired of the assumption that all pre teens have a cell phone. I need pick up times, people! I will admit that my resolve on the cell phone is weakening. I hope that once we get a set schedule I will feel my spine once again strengthen.

Speaking of strength, oh, to be "Philippines" in the Miss Universe pageant. Never had a problem in 22 years of existence, but is thrilled to be in Las Vegas! Either she has great perspective and realizes that the problems of a bodacious beauty queen are minimal in comparison to a 22 year old in Pakistan; or she always had someone solve her problems for her.

Here's hoping that when I see my kids hit 22 they will be able to honestly answer that question and these years of struggle will teach them how to solve their own problems and learn from these experiences. That's what my folks did for me.

Water

Yesterday, I had planned an end of summer bash for my kids. We were going to a water park and they could each take a friend. One of the friends told us that certain coke cans were worth $5 off admission and though we don't drink coke, we did manage to collect 4 cans. Everyone was ready.

Enter tropical depression #5. We woke up to torrential downpours Thursday morning. However, radar indicated that things were merely overcast at the water park which is about an hour away. I called a friend to verify and all systems were a go. Then, I went to check the park website to find out when they opened for the day. Gotta beat the crowds, you know. Well, turns out they're only open on Saturdays and Sundays!

So, not only am I letting my kids down, but their two friends as well! How did I not think to check this? How is it that a water park in Louisiana where it's 500 degrees at night isn't open every single day in the summer? HOW?

Back to tropical depression #5. Kids are home, no water park and they can't play outside. I'm wondering what kind of medication I have and if it will be potent enough. I decided to have the two friends over to "hang out," -- we don't have play dates anymore -- too cool for that. Turned out to be a good move. Here's why.

The sick but properly medicated side of me absolutely loved watching and hearing the two 8 year old boys torture the two pubescent girls. At one point, the girls hid in a closet from them. My job was to be the lookout. I did a poor job.

I baked cookies. 3 dozen and they all were eaten -- by the kids. I got 2. That's good, because I didn't need more than that. The wii got a good workout but there were no fights. I'm thinking of making the wii only available when friends are over, because that's the only time when they don't fight over it.

In all, a good day. One friend, the 8 year old boy, stayed the night. The funniest part was how they (the boys) wanted to know EXACTLY when the adults would be going to bed. Kept verifying and asking over and over. So, mom and dad knew something was up. I figured there was more harassment of the hormonal one, but I think they fell asleep before the evil plan could be executed.

They woke up this morning showering her with suspiciously generous compliments. I'm anxiously awaiting what happens next.

New reading!

A friend suggested I pick up "Get Out of My Life, But First Can You Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall?" I've mentioned to a few people, and they already know about it. How is it that I have never heard of it? At first glance, I think it could be very helpful.

Today was "schedule day," for the pubescent one. I had to walk a half a block behind her because I was embarrassing her by making her carry an umbrella. School starts Monday. I'm still struggling with the idea that she should have a cell phone. Most of my friends have gotten their kids a phone. I'm holding out because I'm not convinced it's a good idea. Of course, EVERYONE had their cell phones today. Oh well, mean mom #1 here for the umbrella and the lack of cell phone.

Here's to the other mean moms out there!

What happened?

Welcome to my blog about being the mom to a adolescent girl. Today was a particularly bad day (and we've had lots of them lately), so I thought I'd sit down and write. Writing is therapy for me, and as I was going along I figured there are probably other moms and maybe some dads who are feeling my pain. A friend suggested that I start a blog, and I came up with a title that I've used a couple of times in facebook postings, "Magic Moments in Puberty." So here we go.

I'm thinking that I'll come here and vent instead of opening another box of wine. Scratch the word "instead." Most of the time it will be after opening another box of wine. Because this kid is forcing me to consider chemical imbalance as an optimum state of being.

Today's theme was "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE A MOTHER LIKE YOU!" Yesterday it was "I COULD GO OUT ON MY OWN, YOU KNOW! THAT IS, IF THE WORLD WASN'T SO UNFAIR!"

All of these things I understand. I guess I probably uttered them at some point in my life. I don't remember spending hours screaming though. Tears and yelling. I'm so tired.

What do you do when you're stressed out about your teens and pre-teens? I've got wine and ice cream. Would you like to join me?