40 posts tagged “teenagers”

Just think of all the ways you've heard that phrase completed.

One day a few months back, Antic plopped down on the sofa across the room.
"Hey, mom, don't we have some fireworks left over from the 4th of July?"

I feign uncertainty.
"Maybe. Why?"

"I'm bored. I want to light some firecrackers."

"You can't just set off fireworks any time you want. It's only allowed on specific dates. You know that, right?"

"Nobody cares."

"I care. Besides..."

"Yeah, yeah. You think they're *dangerous* but you're just being lame. I'm not going to hurt myself. Dad, c'mon. Do you know where they are? Tell mom to chill."

"Your mom just loves you a lot."

"Well if you loved me, you'd let me blow things up."

Ah, the things we do for love. While it won't persuade me to unearth explosive off-season contraband to satisfy a bored teenager's whim, love has been the motivation behind much of what I've done for the last 18 years or so.

For love, parents willingly...
put careers on hold
give up sleep and personal time
rig homes with adult-frustrating/child-protective devices
trade in sporty convertibles for safe, practical cars
act as unpaid tutor, chauffeur, maid, and event planner
sacrifice privacy, tranquility, and order
shop wisely for healthy foods and prepare nutritious meals
provide the best possible educational opportunities
plan vacations to kid-friendly places
set a good example, even when it would be more fun not to
put up with slammed doors, obnoxious replies, and stony silences
offer guidance, companionship, and someone to talk to
experience pain, regrets, and uncertainty
experience joy, contentment, and pride
and so on.

Perhaps this is what I'll tell Antic:
I say yes to most of what you want, because I love you; I say no to some things you want for the same reason.

Sleeper and Antic watched one of the Spider-Man movies on the Roku box the other day, and had this conversation at dinner.

Tobey Maguire sucks.
Yeah, he's lame. They should have picked someone better to play Spider-Man.
Maybe Vin Diesel.
Or how about Keanu Reeves? He's a terrible actor, but even he'd be better.
Wait, wait. I've got it. Jason Statham.
Yes! But he'd need a gun. And a car.
Yeah. He'd be like: "Webs are for wankers. Where's my Audi?"

They don't like Kirsten Dunst either. They'd probably cast Jessica Alba.

A friend of Sleeper's invited him to go to her school's Homecoming dance. He doesn't care much for school dances, but he's a nice guy and the kind of friend you can always count on, so he agreed.

Yesterday evening:
The transformation begins.
He showers and shaves.
"Mom, have you seen my dress shirt?"
Shirt found, he dons his suit, borrows black socks from dad, slips on dress shoes.
"You're looking sharp, kid."
He's texting with the girl while I run a lint roller over his suit to remove stowaway cat hair.
(Never get a long-haired white cat, people.)
"Arrrrrgh! I don't believe it."
"What's wrong, hon?"
"It's tomorrow. The dance. Not today, like she originally said. Tomorrow. <big sigh> Oh, well. At least I can get out of these clothes."

And we get to do it all again tonight. Probably even the missing shirt.

We're sitting in the movie theater. The lights are down, 'pre-previews' advertising is underway. This ad plays:

...

Just as it comes to an end and the theater falls silent for a moment, Antic's voice rings out for all to hear.
"Ah, I thought they were gonna do something cool."

I have been in a strange state of mind lately. Uninspired. Uninterested. Unmotivated. I haven't felt much like blogging, haven't taken or posted any photos, haven't reviewed or edited my vacation video and stills, haven't read many books, etc. It's weird and quite out of character. I hope I snap out of it soon. If you see the old me rattling around somewhere, send it back, please.

As long-time readers know, I'm a self-confessed black thumb. Nonetheless, I have taken the plunge and planted a perennial garden. It looks beautiful, at the moment. My fingers are crossed that I have not embarked on a program of unintentional plantricide.

Have you seen Paris Hilton's video response to the McCain 'Celebrity' ad? LOL.

My eye doctor has given me a trial pair of new multifocal contact lenses. (Multifocal. LOL) So far, so good. It seems the new lenses have reduced my need to hold things at arm's length to read them. Ah, the joys of aging.

I read the other day that home values have plummeted 20%. And we may not have hit bottom. That sucks.

School will be starting soon. The boys don't seem excited. Hmmm. Imagine that.

Speaking of teens and their special perspective on life, here's a funny Notice to Teenagers I ran across. 

An entry for the Writing Prompts group.
This weeks prompt: Write a scene that turns on a ransom note - for something other than a human being.

Josh plops into his chair, kicks off his sandals, and swivels around to the computer. He taps the space bar and pulls his microphone into speaking range. Taps it again. How strange; he doesn't remember shutting it down. He reaches under the desk and presses the power button on the tower. Still nothing. The timing couldn't be worse. He's got plans to enter a three-on-three tournament with Matt and Len. Maybe there's a blown fuse. No, that can't be it. The desk lamp is working. He crawls under the desk and checks the power strip. Wait a minute! He pulls the tower forward a bit, turns it toward him. There's a folded piece of paper taped to the back. He opens it and starts reading.

Josh -
As you may have figured out, I have taken the power supply cord from your computer.  I'm sure you're aware that desktop computers do not operate without electricity. Sadly, this may pose insurmountable challenges to your gaming plans for this afternoon. As a backup precaution, your wireless card has also been confiscated. I regret it has come to this. But as you have not responded to polite requests, impassioned pleas, or irritated nagging, you leave me no choice. If you wish to see your computer components returned to you safely, please carefully read and complete the following steps:

1) Pick up your clothes from the floor. Dirty items are to be placed in the hamper in the laundry room. In case you have forgotten, it is located at the end of the hall.
2) Clean your cat's litter box. He has been hoping you'd do it for days, but he is much to timid to ask you. I am not, as evidenced by my numerous prior requests.
3) Take out the trash. All of it.
4) Remove your shoes from the kitchen, your t-shirt from the sofa, and the plate with dried-on salsa from the desk in your room.
5) Return the movies you rented and pay the fine. Yes, the ones the rental store left you messages about.

It's a lot to remember, which is why I've taken the liberty of writing it down for your convenience. Once these tasks have been completed, I will gladly return the aforementioned items. And remember, no cops.

Fondly,
The Kidnapper

If I ignored my alarm clock and was still asleep five minutes before I was supposed to leave for work and you woke me, I think I'd be relieved and perhaps even grateful. I'm pretty damn sure I wouldn't act like you'd done me wrong and stomp out of the house without even saying goodbye. But that's just me.

An entry for the Writing Prompts group.
This weeks prompt: Write about a person whose reputation rests on the appearance of an inanimate object.

He's just stepped out of the shower when he hears it. Oh. My. God. The garage. No! How can they be home already? He hurriedly towels off and hightails it to the kitchen in time to see his mom head upstairs and his dad come in through the mud room, a suitcase in each hand.

"Dad. Hey."
"Hi Jared. Shouldn't you be at school?"
"We got out early. Assembly. Um, I thought you guys weren't coming back until tomorrow."
"That was the plan. But I wrapped things up with my client earlier than expected. Your mother called the airline and we were able to get standby on a flight home this morning. Not first-class, but at least we didn't have to stay in that godforsaken city for another day."
"Oh."

"Jared? Come up here please. Right now."

Oh man. This can't be happening.

"Yeah, ma. Be right there."

Full of dread, he trudges up the stairs, walks down the hall to his room, peers in. What the...? His mother is standing just inside the room, facing him, hands on hips.

"Jared? What's been going on in here?"
"What? Nothing. Why?"
"You've had a girl in here, haven't you?"
"Whaaaaat? Ma, no. Of course not. "
"Jared don't lie."
"Lie? What?"
"Your bed's been made."

In his shock, he hadn't noticed.

"Yeah. So."
"You haven't made your bed since you were nine, Jared."
"I can't believe this! Dad?!"

Jared's dad walks in, leans against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

"Jane? Jared? What's all the commotion? We've only been back 5 minutes and you two are already at each other's throats?"
"She's freaking out and accusing me, cuz I did something I'm supposed to do. I can't even believe this. Dad, it's total crap!"
"I knew we shouldn't have left him. Bob, look. He's had a girl in here. The bed's made for chrissakes."
"And...?"
"This IS Jared we're talking about, Bob. You don't find this sudden tidiness suspicious? I sure as hell do."
"Dad! C'mon."
"All right. Everybody just settle down. Jane, it's been a long day. Let's go down to the kitchen, I'll open a bottle of wine. We'll talk about it. Calmly. Jared, give us a few minutes."

Bob puts his arm around Jane and gives Jared an almost imperceptible over-the-shoulder wink on the way out.

Relieved, but perplexed, Jared stares at the bed. He hears a faint scratching noise coming from the closet, walks across the room, opens the door a crack.

"Jared," Chloe whispers, "you better get me out of here somehow. If they find me and tell my parents, I'm dead."

"Well, if you want to cheer me up, you could always buy me something. That's just good parenting."

–Sleeper, age 17 

Tall and I recently watched an interesting documentary (King Corn) and we took the opportunity over dinner the other night to remind the boys that soda and other processed sugary beverages have been linked to an increase in the risk for diabetes, among other things. It's not the first time we've discussed the various health risks associated with the 'fast food' lifestyle. They're resistant to the idea, naturally. (They're teenagers, after all, i.e., resistant to whatever we say.)

I don't buy much of the stuff. When I do, I mainly purchase brands sweetened with sugar (lesser of two evils, IMHO...don't even get me started on diet drinks) rather than high fructose corn syrup. Nonetheless, the kids have plenty of options to buy their own or consume it elsewhere, and we want them to be informed so they can make good choices. We don't forbid them to drink it, but rather suggest that they avoid it, and, at the very least, limit their consumption to no more than one per day.

Anyway, let me get to the point. This morning, I noticed that my darling Antic had neatly penned "MORE DIABETES" on my grocery list.

Good to see I'm getting through. Ha.