The Teens and I

Today on my computer, I found this as my screen saver on a pseudo post-it note:

To Do list

*Fix John's watch

*Have A great Day

*Write 

*Read 

*Eat,live and do alllll the other important stuff

You finished reading the naggy list I made for you. I hope you enjoyed it.

-love your naggy son John  *__*<------you after="" p="" reading="" this="">

                  \

                    [How does he nag THIS much]

Just in case I needed help figuring out what to do today.  

Other children have less direct ways of communicating, but they are as effective.

This morning the clothes I'd washed and put in the dryer were back in the washer.  I wondered why. Having opened said dryer, the answer became clear.

One teen wanted dry clothing and thought the easiest way to get it, would involve removing all of the wash from the dryer, and puting only said teen's clothes in the machine.

I'm guessing this child in particular didn't think the rest of us would mind wet clothing.

I did ask, "Wasn't it a lot of effort to take all the clean wet clothes out of the washer; put them in a laundry basket, and dump all the damp clothes from the dryer back in the washer before putting ONLY the teen's clothes in the dryer?"

The teen answered, "Yes."  

I asked if it might be less work to have let the first wash finish drying, and simply switch out the clothes when the cycle ended.

"Perhaps," the teen responded.

Letting the world know this sequence of events and revealing teen reasoning might not be something I ought to disclose.  Humanity can only bear so much truth at any given moment, and nature has deemed it wise to only allow for the onset of adolescent mood swings, eating you out of house and home, driving lessons, dates, text messages and explaining how the books aren't like the movies even if the movies came out recently and star famous people, after we as parents have demonstrated sufficient love and commitment to these gradually maturing human beings.

Writing about teenagers and tweens and children skating the edges of adolescence, I'm spending a lot of time discerning what is their intent, and what does their action/speech really say.  

Is Puzzlement!

These days, getting time to write comes at a premium. The going price for writing a new piece is sleep.  Editing comes at the expense of dishes, and posting, well, that cuts into life when everyone else is up and about.   I'm not complaining.  I'm explaining why you might be complaining about the sporadic nature of this blog.  I'll be over here, trying to convince a teen to do the dishes from the extra supper cooked, and get another one to take a practice S.A.T.   Getting to know teens day by day, I'll just state for the record, and I mean this with a full heart:  Potty training was easier.  

Over at Aleteia Today

Hopefully, we'll both be healthier and holier. Thanks Peter.

Now, I have to fulfill my part of the deal.  

The Job of Not Sleeping

Yesterday I dealt with bedtime.  Today, it's time to get up!

Alarm clocks and alarm apps do little to rouse the slumbering adolescent. Schedules and bus times, breakfast and the occasional need of others to have access to the bathroom also hold little weight in any discussion with teens about about getting up in the morning. Experts in parenting books about teens advocate talking to your children about conflicts which occur regularly, to brainstorm about how to problem solve such issues.

That sounds great in theory, just like diets, budgets and five year plans. 

Read the rest over at Eat Sleep Write!

Things I Teach My Kids that I'm Still Learning

By definition, if you are a parent, you are a hypocrite.  Why? Because you don't want your kids to bang their heads against brick walls until they are injured even though you doing  the exact same thing injured you but also taught you better ways to get around obstacles.  We want to by nature, short circuit the process of growing up and make it easier.  It is out of love and stupidity about the learning process that we do this, but it is also absolutely true. We hope they will do better than we do, but often the reality is that kids are here on this earth to make us finally shape up and do the things our parents always told us would make our lives soooooo much easier if we did.   Some day I'll mature past 15. 

10) Eat healthy.  Pass me that diet coke, I need to start my morning.  Yeah, I got pinged on that this morning...stupid smartie kids.    

9) Stay organized and write it down. (This part I would do if I could find a working pen).  I can find everyone else's assignments, but can't keep track of my notepad for more than two days at a time.  Nubby orange (why is it always orange?) crayons and dried up felt tip pens don't cut it. 

8) Read directions 3 times before you start a project.   Pshaw. Who has the time? I'll just skim and intuit.  It will work.  Really.

7) Go outside, breathe the fresh air and play.  Step away from the screen. (Cue irony alert, she wrote a blog...ummmmmm MOM? There's the door, go do it)!

6) Dress nice.  It matters.  Memo to me...get hair cut.

5) Learn new things that are hard.  (Is that like how you've been working on the same piano piece for 5 years Mom? Or the guitar where you can play maybe 2 chords?) yeah. yeah. yeah. Having 4 teenagers is really really really fun.

4) Exercise.   Not doing it is just an excuse.   Please excuse me, I have to go fold socks. 

3) Did you ask Saint Anthony?   (Okay, this one scares me because my kids will not look until I've asked). 

2) Write thank you notes.   Do it the day of the party and whatever you do, don't lose the list.   I've learned to preemptively buy the stationary and stamps.  I'm considering making the next party list on an email so I can ensure it doesn't get lost.

1) Go to bed...on time....90% of the time.  Yeah, that will happen.  Some day.

Did I say that?

Memo: My computer is being retooled. (stupid virus).  That leaves me precious little time on the old machine.  Thus, you get a microwaved frozen leftover re-run from last summer. (Originally run on July 17, 2009). But, if you didn't read it last year, it's new to you. Enjoy!

“Don’t put stickers on the car door!”

“You shouldn’t play the piano with a toothbrush.”

“Please, give me the hammer back…Now!”

There are sentences that need no other explanation in the civilized world other than to say, “I am a parent.” Usually, they translate as imperatives that for all sentient beings, would never need be spoken.

Yet I have begun collecting them as samples of what my offspring require to survive 24 hours in my care. While on the phone with my brother, I heard similar utterances from him at his three children. “Put that down! Stop running into the window!” I started to laugh until I had to shout, “Don’t sit on the baby!” Now it was his turn, but we both recognized conversation was impossible and hung up.

My friends started giving me samples too. “What are you doing?” to a teenager stuffing an entire tortilla into his mouth in one swoop at ten minutes to six as she was serving dinner. “Who told you you could color your arm purple?” from a kindergarten mom. (It was picture day at school). “It’s a free dress day. I don’t have to wear my uniform.” was the child’s explanation. My personal favorite was “You made dinner?” from a third mother who said she’s still finding sauce stains in her kitchen from her fifth grader's experiment.

What is unsaid and unexplained about raising children often transcends what stories are told. Part of the omission is from personal shame. We can’t explain why our child had a three gallon water bottle in the middle of his room. We asked. He didn’t want to get up in the middle of the night to go the extra five feet to his bathroom sink to get a drink. We still don’t understand.

Part of it is the dim recognition that too much truth may be unbearable. Yes, she colored on the piano with a permanent black marker. Yes, he hid dirty clothes in a drawer until they fermented. Yes the toddler took a bite out of a tomato because she thought it was an apple and spiked the offending vegetable onto the newly clean floor. The amount of labor and property damage in those three sentences alone may be enough to doom the human race if universally disseminated.

When I asked my mom about these sorts of odd phrases that were coming out of my mouth as correctives of my children, she laughed and explained everything. “I told you about that when you were a kid...” “What was that? Mom? Hold on. Sweetie, stop squirting the instant mop on the wooden floor. Don’t pull your brother on a towel…”

“Mommmmm, we were playing sled.”

"What was that Mom?"

“See dear, you just weren’t listening.” My Mom answered over the phone.

It may be a dodge, but it’s a good dodge. I’m keeping it for when my kids have kids.

P.S. Today I said, and meant with all my heart, "Don't throw the cat at the chandelier." Son was tossing his beanie baby in the empty dining room and it got stuck. It's like they're secretly reading these posts!

Signs and Portents

For the adolescent house cleaning impaired, the following is a helpful checklist designed and provided by the management to help in determining if in fact it is time to clean one's room.

10) Are there designated trails to allow for ease of passage through the room? Are they clearly marked and delineated to indicate level of difficulty/skill required by the hiker? If so...it's time.

9) When the dry erase board and calendar both read September and its March, it's time. Please note, it is not relevant whether the calendar says 2008 or 2007.

8) Displacement on too small a scale design errors: translation, five coffee cups, one tall glass and two plastic tumblers in the bathroom atop the sink to allow for rinsing and midnight drinks of water is perhaps too much for the demands of one teenager's dental hygiene or thirst. If you have to bus the sink, it's time.

7) Cascade effect. If you need a bigger and/or additional trash can, here's a hint. Try emptying it.

6) Papers --house or news, homework or letters, circa 2006. It's time. I promise, you won't be quizzed on your vocabulary from seventh grade, and if you are, you should know it by now.

5) Christmas/birthday cards/presents still wrapped/unopened. Boo. I'll be regifting...soon.

4) Relics/evidence of food. Best to leave no trace. CSI should not be able to determine you ate here. Neither should mom, and she's infinitely worse than those guys on TV.

3) 10$ in change. If I clean, there will be “carrying charges.”

2) Let’s think about this for a moment. Do you really want me going through your room?

1) Crunchy socks. They’re fabric, soft fabric. They shouldn’t BE able to make a sound by being folded akin to the snapping of branches.

Final Notice: Failure to adhere to this simple check list could result in the "accidental" releasing of toddlers into said teenager's room.

Stand Up!

When I proposed the idea of doing stand up to my 14 year old son, he said,
"You should do it Mom."

I tried out some material. He laughed. Of course, I am his mother and I do give him a nice allowance. He's not exactly objective you understand.

So every morning I drive him to high school. In two years, he'll have a license and then my life will be radically better.

"Son #1, take child #6 to activity #47."

"I'll be a chauffeur?" He asked.
"As long as you have my car keys."
My son was silent as he wrestled with this revelation.

"How is it you turn every joy into an errand?" he finally asked.

"See, I've been 16. It won't matter that you're chugging kids all across town. You'll be so pumped. You'll say, "Hey Mom, do any of my siblings have an evening activity that you don't want to deal with? I'll be glad to drive."

"It won't matter that you drive to the same places I've been taking you for years. It won't matter that it is only ten miles from home. You'll pull into the parking lot of your elementary school and you'll drop off your brother for Cub Scouts and be thinking....(drop voice half an octave) THIS IS SO COOL.....I'm driving....with the windows down....and the radio on.....it's 23 degrees outside....It's still cool.....there's my elementary school Spanish teacher....yeah....I remember you....I had a "C" in your class....it kept me off the Principal's list....I've got a two ton vehicle at my disposal.....(Raises voice artificially high, waving) "Hello Mrs. Bailey...." (Drop voice again) I'll just rev the engine....just to make her nervous."

I am a mother of...counts on fingers...five, six..no eight, EIGHT? yes eight children.....I was never very good at math.

See...if I had been good at arithmetic, I'd understand exponents and multiplication and compound interest.

You're thinking...where is she going with this I know. Hang with me.

See, if I had paid better attention in math, I'd know that if it takes three hours to do the laundry for one child, one for wash, one for dry, one for fold and put away....that having a home with ten people, plus sheets and towels would take....counts on fingers...wait a minute...carry the 2....and...okay, 36 hours. That's Day ONE.

If I got math and it's tricky things with numbers, I'd know that fixing four meals a day for seven people, (Breakfast, lunch, dinner +snacks), that that comes out to 40 meals a day, Times Seven which results in 280 plates served in a week. If each meal takes an hour, that's 28 hours spent in meal prep. DAY TWO.

Now it gets tricky. See...I've spent 54 hours feeding people and doing laundry and I haven't brushed my teeth...and I don't know if anyone noticed, but there wasn't any sleep in those two days either....

I'm not sure if I should be operating heavy machinery at this point, but driving is a big part of my every day too. I estimate three hours are spent in the car and an additional three getting kids into and out of it. Six hours a day equals 42 a week...there are 168 hours in a week. I'm up to 106 and haven't showered.

It's getting bad.

But hey. I still have 42 hours left.

The reason I bring this up...is that I'm here. I haven't had to cook a meal..I haven't had to do some laundry...I have all this free time on my hands...so naturally I thought...Let's do some standup comedy.

It's either that or step into the back of the hotel and ask if I can do some dishes...I have all this time! I'm thinking of taking up learning cuneiform. Really, there's all these unscheduled minutes. What do I do? I've already brushed my teeth six times today...just because I can.

I'm here.

When I told people I was going to a writing conference in Dayton. They looked at me funny. "What are you going to do with the kids?" they asked.

I looked at them. "What?"

"I mean...we own a microwave.
...And a TV.
...They have a phone."

"Did you get a babysitter?"
"No."

"No?"
"No. I'm not paying their father ten bucks an hour to watch the kids. I'm just not doing it.....He did ask."

"I agreed to order pizza....

They'll be fine."

“When you have eight kids, you get asked a lot of odd questions. From really odd people. Don’t you know how this works? Are you going to have any more?

Questions that I naturally like answering to complete and total strangers on a regular basis.

The worst of it though was when I went shopping for a twelve passenger van.

“Are you part of a church or something?”
“No, it’s for my family.”

“So, you need a vehicle that big?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” His voice is getting squeaky and high.

“Really. “

“What? Do you and your husband just every few years get the urge?”
And I said….”Yes.”

“He’s really, really …really really….really really ….good.” Raise eyebrow.

Now my husband is my editor and vets my writing and stand-up bits whenever he gets the chance.

He said I should really have another really in there…just for comic effect you understand.

Love you Sweetie!