We have a chore chart.
Here at Casa del Sassy, we do not have a full time staff, so as any good parent would do, we make the teenagers work. Hence.... chore chart.
Every afternoon, I remind the teenagers about the chore chart.
"Who has dishes?"
Giant teenager comes down the hall..... "AWWW, I hate dishes." (Seven and one half minutes of teenage whining ensues. Mucho complaining about the chore chart. An argument regarding fairness. Etc...)
Then, the most delightful thing. Giant teenager starts doing the dishes! Only seconds into his chore, I hear something unexpected. Giant teenage boy is humming, 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas!'
I love, LOVE to experiment with the human condition, so as soon as dishes are done (really people, about 4 dirty cups and 4 spoons) I assign giant teenager another task.
"Will you vacuum the hallway for me? Please?"
(Giant moans of teenage woe ensue. A few suggestions on who else should run the vacuum. A request for payment. Etc....)
Then, it happens again!
Giant teenage boy is vacuuming the hallway and humming, 'Deck the Halls!'
The vacuum cleaner belt broke and instantly the holiday humming spell was broken. He announced an urgency regarding a pirate game and that was the last of the humming.
For now.
Merry Saturday!
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
My Poor Husband
The Bossman is such a good husband. For several years now, every time we would take the family on a trip in the pick up truck, I would be very scared. And weird. And mean. And, basically a giant pain the rear end for the entire trip. Especially the driving part.
Recently, I saw my little old doctor, and requested some medicine that would help me with this problem. PrissE was instrumental in helping me with this. I believe her exact words were, "Gurl, just go get a pill."
With that, a prescription was written, and then picked up at the friendly Walmarts pharmacy. I just needed a car trip to try the stuff out.
Yesterday, we went on a car trip.
The Bossman and I needed to take Jag on over to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas for his annual check up. This trip would combine all my 'triggers': a long car ride, a doctor, a teenager, heavy traffic and brake lights.
We loaded up the truck and left at 3:55am. At 4:00am, only one small block from our house, the Bossman decided he forgot the GPS device and we needed to turn around. I snapped at him one time, then fished the pill from my bag and took one. Let's just see how this works.
In about 20 minutes or so, I felt relaxed. I no longer wanted to jump out the truck window and walk home to never leave my house again. It only took 20 minutes! A little further down the road, I became very sleepy. It was still dark, after all, so I reclined the seat and slept for a long time. I woke up and still felt great! I talked to the Bossman, and began a closer monitoring of the truck radio, but all was still really good.
As we got closer to Dallas, we would have an occasional conversation about the meaning of brake lights or the positioning of street signs. I think Jag and I had one brief conversation about pointing out things on the side of the road for dad to look at while he was driving in heavy traffic, but all was still going really well. I was being..... pleasant.
Instead of loud terrifying gasps from the passenger seat while I strangled the door handle and constantly checked to see if my seat belt was safely fastened, I would occasionally say, "Oh! That startled me!" And, the Bossman would laugh.
I felt so relaxed, that I found it easy to channel Dr. Phil. I would say to Jag and the Bossman something like, "You know I have this travel anxiety. Why would you (fill in the blank here of some irritating Y chromosome activity)?" Then, I would tell them that Dr. Phil would say they were working against my success. Jag thought those moments of counseling were funny at first. After a while, he put a movie on the DVR, and settled into the head phones.
I was busy trying to trick the GPS device when I asked the Bossman what he thought about the new medicine I took. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, that pill didn't shut you up, but you're being nice and funny. I think it's worth it."
Jag decided to chime in with, "Yeah Mom, you should take them more often."
We're home.
Recently, I saw my little old doctor, and requested some medicine that would help me with this problem. PrissE was instrumental in helping me with this. I believe her exact words were, "Gurl, just go get a pill."
With that, a prescription was written, and then picked up at the friendly Walmarts pharmacy. I just needed a car trip to try the stuff out.
Yesterday, we went on a car trip.
The Bossman and I needed to take Jag on over to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas for his annual check up. This trip would combine all my 'triggers': a long car ride, a doctor, a teenager, heavy traffic and brake lights.
We loaded up the truck and left at 3:55am. At 4:00am, only one small block from our house, the Bossman decided he forgot the GPS device and we needed to turn around. I snapped at him one time, then fished the pill from my bag and took one. Let's just see how this works.
In about 20 minutes or so, I felt relaxed. I no longer wanted to jump out the truck window and walk home to never leave my house again. It only took 20 minutes! A little further down the road, I became very sleepy. It was still dark, after all, so I reclined the seat and slept for a long time. I woke up and still felt great! I talked to the Bossman, and began a closer monitoring of the truck radio, but all was still really good.
As we got closer to Dallas, we would have an occasional conversation about the meaning of brake lights or the positioning of street signs. I think Jag and I had one brief conversation about pointing out things on the side of the road for dad to look at while he was driving in heavy traffic, but all was still going really well. I was being..... pleasant.
Instead of loud terrifying gasps from the passenger seat while I strangled the door handle and constantly checked to see if my seat belt was safely fastened, I would occasionally say, "Oh! That startled me!" And, the Bossman would laugh.
I felt so relaxed, that I found it easy to channel Dr. Phil. I would say to Jag and the Bossman something like, "You know I have this travel anxiety. Why would you (fill in the blank here of some irritating Y chromosome activity)?" Then, I would tell them that Dr. Phil would say they were working against my success. Jag thought those moments of counseling were funny at first. After a while, he put a movie on the DVR, and settled into the head phones.
I was busy trying to trick the GPS device when I asked the Bossman what he thought about the new medicine I took. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, that pill didn't shut you up, but you're being nice and funny. I think it's worth it."
Jag decided to chime in with, "Yeah Mom, you should take them more often."
We're home.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Perspective
Living with teenage boys gives me a whole new perspective.
Exciting news from the Bossman's side of the family! Wedding in April! We couldn't be more excited. Or, could we?
(Which is funny on this particular day because I had just returned from the beauty shop for an update of my natural 'blonde' status. Good one, Mav. You got me!)
In response to the April announcement, Fox's only reply was a question.
And so, with that..... Congratulations Aunt Joyce and Steve. We can't wait to be blonde and clueless while touching old people arms.
Random, unrelated photograph. Just for laughs.
Exciting news from the Bossman's side of the family! Wedding in April! We couldn't be more excited. Or, could we?
Me: I think Aunt J's wedding will be this April.
Mav: Who's she marrying?
Me: Really? You know, that guy that she's been dating for over 11 years. You swim at his house. Holiday games, parties.... that guy. She's marrying him. You knew that, right? You're not clueless.
Mav: **slow consideration** I might be clueless, but at least I'm not blonde.
(Which is funny on this particular day because I had just returned from the beauty shop for an update of my natural 'blonde' status. Good one, Mav. You got me!)
In response to the April announcement, Fox's only reply was a question.
Fox: Am I gonna have to be an usher again? I don't want to be an usher again.
Me: Why not? You had fun last time.
Fox: Touching all those old people arms freaks me out.
And so, with that..... Congratulations Aunt Joyce and Steve. We can't wait to be blonde and clueless while touching old people arms.
Random, unrelated photograph. Just for laughs.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Star Wars, My Sister & Football: None of these things go together.
It's the beginning of Week #3 around here. School Week #3. So far, so good. It's normally about the middle of this week, when I start to feel a little bit anxious. A little bit like, this is too good to be true, sort of a thing. Keep your fingers crossed.
The busy is starting to really amp up around here. It's a good sort of busy. Next on the agenda. Junior High football. Yep, starts this week.
Repeat after me: I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.
We're seriously considering medicating my sister for this. She's not ready.
I thought I was ready. After all, I've already done this one time. In my mind, I was ready for this. I kept my cool right up until the first day of full pads, full contact. Then, I found out I wasn't as ready as I thought. No worries. I didn't embarrass anyone. I worried quietly in my own home. Over eating just the right amount.... you know, the normal 'mom' response. Then, I went to a card class and shared my cell phone picture of these sweet baby boys. All the ladies gave me just the right amount of encouragement. Now, I'm fine again. For now.
A closer look at the football photo reveals a super cool, most awesome twin thing..... the boys are in the right number order for who was born first. For some reason, that is stinkin' cool to me. I hope they get those numbers for their official game jerseys.
We survived the long holiday weekend. Thank you Spike channel for the 'Star Wars' marathon. If there's ever been a better series of movies ever made, I don't know what it could be. My sister refuses to watch 'Star Wars'. Any episode. This may be my great failure in life. I somehow must figure out a way to persuade her to watch. Any ideas?
Look at us. Today is her birthday. Mom says we look alike. 'May the force be with you' on your birthday. Make your life complete by watching a 'Star Wars' movie. Go ahead and do it.... all the popular kids are watching....
The busy is starting to really amp up around here. It's a good sort of busy. Next on the agenda. Junior High football. Yep, starts this week.
Repeat after me: I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.
We're seriously considering medicating my sister for this. She's not ready.
I thought I was ready. After all, I've already done this one time. In my mind, I was ready for this. I kept my cool right up until the first day of full pads, full contact. Then, I found out I wasn't as ready as I thought. No worries. I didn't embarrass anyone. I worried quietly in my own home. Over eating just the right amount.... you know, the normal 'mom' response. Then, I went to a card class and shared my cell phone picture of these sweet baby boys. All the ladies gave me just the right amount of encouragement. Now, I'm fine again. For now.
A closer look at the football photo reveals a super cool, most awesome twin thing..... the boys are in the right number order for who was born first. For some reason, that is stinkin' cool to me. I hope they get those numbers for their official game jerseys.
We survived the long holiday weekend. Thank you Spike channel for the 'Star Wars' marathon. If there's ever been a better series of movies ever made, I don't know what it could be. My sister refuses to watch 'Star Wars'. Any episode. This may be my great failure in life. I somehow must figure out a way to persuade her to watch. Any ideas?
Look at us. Today is her birthday. Mom says we look alike. 'May the force be with you' on your birthday. Make your life complete by watching a 'Star Wars' movie. Go ahead and do it.... all the popular kids are watching....
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I have to appreciate in my own time. Please, don't rush me.
It's Teacher Appreciation Week at our school. It's May. There are only a few more weeks of school left, and I just had a light bulb moment. Someone should notify Oprah.
Dearest Teachers: I have come to realize I appreciate you more in August and September. At the beginning of the school year, when there's still some bounce in your step and some glimmer of hope in your eyes. The beginning of the year is exciting and full of fledgling dreams. Everything and anything seems within reach. I appreciate you because I know you’re ready to face the new challenges and I know you’re ready to do what needs to be done. Or, at a minimum, I know you're ready to teach to a state mandated test, resulting in future funding for our school. There’s no mountain too high, no valley too low…… etc, etc.
In May, we’ve lived through all those life lessons. I’m not as excited to appreciate you after you’ve ‘done what needed to be done’. I know. It’s necessary. Boys have got to do their growing up. I totally get it. I’m just tired and would rather just wish you a happy summer than spend a day appreciating you at a luncheon. I still baked you some brownies. Totally drug free brownies, so you can enjoy them, honest!!
I feel the need to go on. Let me just update all of the blog-o-sphere.
For example:
To the teacher that ripped my two little guys a new one for a minor infraction while ignoring your own child two steps away holding an innocent third party in a head lock: I’d like to wish you a happy summer. (P.S. If you would have looked up, and taken one breath you would have seen the Bossman over your right shoulder ready to calm the situation with his own off-spring. My baby daddy is so cool like that.)
To all teachers who have labored over trying to teach one dyslexic boy how to spell: he still can’t spell. I apologize. I know it’s my fault because I told him in First Grade that spelling wasn’t a life skill he was going to need. Who knew that was a day he was listening to me? I appreciate you averaging in all those bad spelling grades with the phenomenal grades the boy gets for creative thinking making him look to the outside world all average and stuff. Hey blog-o-sphere…. Google average IQ’s of dyslexic people. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
My dream now is for some super smart computer programmer to make some new dyslexic program to alert the child that although he has spelled a word correctly, it’s not the word he intended to use. I’m dreaming the alert might be some vocal siren type thing that says, “I don’t think this is the word you meant to use. Read it out loud to someone (often your mom) so she can give you the first three letters of the word and we can try again.”
Communities must band together to save the spell check!
To all the teachers that took my boys safely all over the state of Texas all year long for UIL, sports, band, FFA or other activities: You guys are rock stars! I mean that! Thank you for showing the boys something new. They believe you when you encourage them. They are confident you have given them the training and knowledge to succeed. You’re making them better young men, and giving them life experiences to uniquely mold them. These are the things they look forward to, talk about all the time, and remember forever.
Hello world. I’m a 40 year old mom who is only a few weeks away from completely surviving her first year of high school AND her two babies’ first year of junior high school. I’m fatter than I was in August, but no worse for the wear.
Summer is on the horizon.
We’ll be pool side with our brains switched to the ‘off’ position.
Warning to people who think they're funny: The first person that tells me how they feel about my boy driving soon, will be kicked in the face. You can't cry if you were warned.
Dearest Teachers: I have come to realize I appreciate you more in August and September. At the beginning of the school year, when there's still some bounce in your step and some glimmer of hope in your eyes. The beginning of the year is exciting and full of fledgling dreams. Everything and anything seems within reach. I appreciate you because I know you’re ready to face the new challenges and I know you’re ready to do what needs to be done. Or, at a minimum, I know you're ready to teach to a state mandated test, resulting in future funding for our school. There’s no mountain too high, no valley too low…… etc, etc.
In May, we’ve lived through all those life lessons. I’m not as excited to appreciate you after you’ve ‘done what needed to be done’. I know. It’s necessary. Boys have got to do their growing up. I totally get it. I’m just tired and would rather just wish you a happy summer than spend a day appreciating you at a luncheon. I still baked you some brownies. Totally drug free brownies, so you can enjoy them, honest!!
I feel the need to go on. Let me just update all of the blog-o-sphere.
For example:
To the teacher that ripped my two little guys a new one for a minor infraction while ignoring your own child two steps away holding an innocent third party in a head lock: I’d like to wish you a happy summer. (P.S. If you would have looked up, and taken one breath you would have seen the Bossman over your right shoulder ready to calm the situation with his own off-spring. My baby daddy is so cool like that.)
To all teachers who have labored over trying to teach one dyslexic boy how to spell: he still can’t spell. I apologize. I know it’s my fault because I told him in First Grade that spelling wasn’t a life skill he was going to need. Who knew that was a day he was listening to me? I appreciate you averaging in all those bad spelling grades with the phenomenal grades the boy gets for creative thinking making him look to the outside world all average and stuff. Hey blog-o-sphere…. Google average IQ’s of dyslexic people. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
My dream now is for some super smart computer programmer to make some new dyslexic program to alert the child that although he has spelled a word correctly, it’s not the word he intended to use. I’m dreaming the alert might be some vocal siren type thing that says, “I don’t think this is the word you meant to use. Read it out loud to someone (often your mom) so she can give you the first three letters of the word and we can try again.”
Communities must band together to save the spell check!
To all the teachers that took my boys safely all over the state of Texas all year long for UIL, sports, band, FFA or other activities: You guys are rock stars! I mean that! Thank you for showing the boys something new. They believe you when you encourage them. They are confident you have given them the training and knowledge to succeed. You’re making them better young men, and giving them life experiences to uniquely mold them. These are the things they look forward to, talk about all the time, and remember forever.
Hello world. I’m a 40 year old mom who is only a few weeks away from completely surviving her first year of high school AND her two babies’ first year of junior high school. I’m fatter than I was in August, but no worse for the wear.
Summer is on the horizon.
We’ll be pool side with our brains switched to the ‘off’ position.
Warning to people who think they're funny: The first person that tells me how they feel about my boy driving soon, will be kicked in the face. You can't cry if you were warned.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I recently watched Gladiator, Robin Hood and King Arthur, so now I must blog this story.
Once upon a time, in a quaint little castle, there lived a beautiful Queen. The Queen shared the castle with a Brave King and three curious little Princes. The oldest Prince had an unusual history of coming down with many a strange disease. When the young lad was only five years old, the beautiful Queen took him to the Wizard of Orthopedic Medicine for help with a slight limp. After one brief x-ray the Wizard informed the Queen that the Prince had become stricken with a very rare bone disease. This disease would live in the Prince forever, and no Wizards in the land had any idea what it would do to the Prince as he grew up. The King and beautiful Queen spent many a restless night worrying for their young Prince. How could the future King rule the land if he only had one leg? Soon, the King and Queen traveled with the Prince to a far, far away land, where a wise old Priest told them that the young Prince would likely live out all the days of his life with both legs. The young Prince could look forward to many a buggy ride because his limp would make him slower and the rare bone disease would likely make him shorter. Nary would a peasant bother a future King for those petty things.
Many peaceful years would pass. The King and Queen lived to see that the Priest was correct. The young Prince was growing into a teenager and suffered rarely from his strange and rare disease. Alas, the teenage Prince could vex the King and beautiful Queen with many a strange and wrong decision. Those tales shall wait till another dawn.
One evening the teenage Prince was sluggish and pale. He complained of a pounding in his head, and then began to wail and moan as the pounding became worse. The teenage Prince declared his pain level to be a ten on the kingdom pain chart! His constant wailing worried the King and beautiful Queen, but because the sun had already set, and the King had popped the bottle of wine open, it was decided to wait until morn to visit the Wizard of Family Medicine. The beautiful Queen administered the magic Motrin doses and the teenage Prince drifted off to sleep.
The next morn, the beautiful Queen accompanied the teenage Prince to the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair. There, the beautiful Queen was forced to wait an uncomfortable amount of time in the room of commons, where many an old person would cough on her. Finally, the nurse-jester called the teenage Prince back to see the Wizard. The Wizard of Family Medicine mashed on the teenage Prince’s face for one brief second and declared a CT must be taken!
Wait! The beautiful Queen stands to proclaim, ‘Why such a CT must be taken? Isn’t the teenage Prince suffering from the infection of the sinuses? I also suffered this ailment last week. Many a townsperson suffers this same ailment! The market square is crawling with sickness. Prescribe with your wand the magic pink pills to the teenage Prince, and save us from the CT.’
The Wizard of Family Medicine did not agree with the beautiful Queen, so the CT was scheduled. The teenage Prince was elated! Such a grand adventure he had never taken! The teenage Prince immediately called for his communication device to alert the Knights of the kingdom. Many a text was sent, and the Facebook sorcerer was contacted. Luckily, the beautiful Queen was able to stop the sorcerer before the communication was finished. All the townspeople need not know these developments.
The beautiful Queen remembers what the teenage Prince easily forgets. If a limp and one x-ray can lead to a rare bone disease, then certainly a pain in the head such as this, followed by the looming CT, could only lead to a rare brain tumor! Kingdom logic was plain to the beautiful Queen. Besides that, the teenage Prince was well known for pulling many a stunt like this.
The beautiful Queen was as wise as she was beautiful, so all these thoughts were kept silent. The teenage Prince continued to revel in the glory of facing the CT. Only moments after the CT, the teenage Prince was back on his communication device declaring to all the Knights of the kingdom, ‘Dude, it was so cool! I could SEE the radiation coming out of the front of my face!’
Only one sunset would be endured before the results of the CT could be known. The beautiful Queen summoned the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair to learn of the results. She spoke with many a receptionist-jester and many a nurse-jester. She left many a voicemail and written message. Carrier pigeons carrying sarcastic declarations could not sway the office to release the results! The King and beautiful Queen were dismayed and full of woe. It seems the Festival of Spring had taken the primary Wizard of Family Medicine to a far away land, making it difficult to make known the results.
One more sunset would be endured before the nurse-angel of the substitute variety would request the presence of the beautiful Queen. The nurse-angel would announce that the CT was clear! The teenage Prince did indeed have a brain! It was determined that the front sinuses were inflamed. The beautiful Queen thanked the nurse angel for bringing the good news so quickly, even though it was the Festival of Spring. The nurse angel was rewarded for her good deed with a royal hand stamped decree.
And so, the teenage Prince was prescribed the pink pills of healing, and soon was cured of the pounding in his head. The beautiful Queen got to be right (again) and, they all lived happily ever after!
Till the morn the sheriffs began requesting gold coins to pay for the CT.
Many peaceful years would pass. The King and Queen lived to see that the Priest was correct. The young Prince was growing into a teenager and suffered rarely from his strange and rare disease. Alas, the teenage Prince could vex the King and beautiful Queen with many a strange and wrong decision. Those tales shall wait till another dawn.
One evening the teenage Prince was sluggish and pale. He complained of a pounding in his head, and then began to wail and moan as the pounding became worse. The teenage Prince declared his pain level to be a ten on the kingdom pain chart! His constant wailing worried the King and beautiful Queen, but because the sun had already set, and the King had popped the bottle of wine open, it was decided to wait until morn to visit the Wizard of Family Medicine. The beautiful Queen administered the magic Motrin doses and the teenage Prince drifted off to sleep.
The next morn, the beautiful Queen accompanied the teenage Prince to the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair. There, the beautiful Queen was forced to wait an uncomfortable amount of time in the room of commons, where many an old person would cough on her. Finally, the nurse-jester called the teenage Prince back to see the Wizard. The Wizard of Family Medicine mashed on the teenage Prince’s face for one brief second and declared a CT must be taken!
Wait! The beautiful Queen stands to proclaim, ‘Why such a CT must be taken? Isn’t the teenage Prince suffering from the infection of the sinuses? I also suffered this ailment last week. Many a townsperson suffers this same ailment! The market square is crawling with sickness. Prescribe with your wand the magic pink pills to the teenage Prince, and save us from the CT.’
The Wizard of Family Medicine did not agree with the beautiful Queen, so the CT was scheduled. The teenage Prince was elated! Such a grand adventure he had never taken! The teenage Prince immediately called for his communication device to alert the Knights of the kingdom. Many a text was sent, and the Facebook sorcerer was contacted. Luckily, the beautiful Queen was able to stop the sorcerer before the communication was finished. All the townspeople need not know these developments.
The beautiful Queen remembers what the teenage Prince easily forgets. If a limp and one x-ray can lead to a rare bone disease, then certainly a pain in the head such as this, followed by the looming CT, could only lead to a rare brain tumor! Kingdom logic was plain to the beautiful Queen. Besides that, the teenage Prince was well known for pulling many a stunt like this.
The beautiful Queen was as wise as she was beautiful, so all these thoughts were kept silent. The teenage Prince continued to revel in the glory of facing the CT. Only moments after the CT, the teenage Prince was back on his communication device declaring to all the Knights of the kingdom, ‘Dude, it was so cool! I could SEE the radiation coming out of the front of my face!’
Only one sunset would be endured before the results of the CT could be known. The beautiful Queen summoned the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair to learn of the results. She spoke with many a receptionist-jester and many a nurse-jester. She left many a voicemail and written message. Carrier pigeons carrying sarcastic declarations could not sway the office to release the results! The King and beautiful Queen were dismayed and full of woe. It seems the Festival of Spring had taken the primary Wizard of Family Medicine to a far away land, making it difficult to make known the results.
One more sunset would be endured before the nurse-angel of the substitute variety would request the presence of the beautiful Queen. The nurse-angel would announce that the CT was clear! The teenage Prince did indeed have a brain! It was determined that the front sinuses were inflamed. The beautiful Queen thanked the nurse angel for bringing the good news so quickly, even though it was the Festival of Spring. The nurse angel was rewarded for her good deed with a royal hand stamped decree.
And so, the teenage Prince was prescribed the pink pills of healing, and soon was cured of the pounding in his head. The beautiful Queen got to be right (again) and, they all lived happily ever after!
Till the morn the sheriffs began requesting gold coins to pay for the CT.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Am I being punked?
Last week, my teenager was on a school sponsored trip when I began texting him to find out the answers to many important questions. (I am almost fluent in 'teenager speak' and have had much success gaining information through the 'art of the text'.) Many questions were asked, only one reply was given.
'idk'
He thought it was really super funny.
On the way home from the spectacular school sponsored trip, the very same teenager began texting me a series of questions that he thought was important. (FYI - if you might need me for transportation purposes on a Saturday, then you might not want to 'punk' me earlier in the evening. Just sayin...) Many questions were asked, only one reply was given.
'Huh?'
He didn't think it was really super funny anymore.
At least I used a capital letter and some punctuation.
'idk'
He thought it was really super funny.
On the way home from the spectacular school sponsored trip, the very same teenager began texting me a series of questions that he thought was important. (FYI - if you might need me for transportation purposes on a Saturday, then you might not want to 'punk' me earlier in the evening. Just sayin...) Many questions were asked, only one reply was given.
'Huh?'
He didn't think it was really super funny anymore.
At least I used a capital letter and some punctuation.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Adventures in Substitute Teaching: My own kid in class.
Imagine my delight as I discover my own delightful teenager listed on the roll sheet of my current substitute teaching assignment! It's going to be a fun day!!
Precious teacher has left a reminder:
After further investigation, I find out that the essay was assigned two weeks ago. My teenager is currently shrinking in his seat at the speed of light. Will he disappear before the end of class? That's the question.
Sidebar with my own teenager:
Jag: Mom, I've started it. I SWEAR!
Me: That's Mrs. Substitute Sassy to you teenager. You have a busy weekend ahead of you.
(Giant eye stare, other boys chuckle.)
Me: Shall I visit with all your moms?
The rest of the class in Unison: No Mam.
Me: Great! So, we understand what's happening during this time?
In Unison: Yes.
As it turns out, having your own teenager in class has it's definite advantages. Key among them: due dates.
Precious teacher has left a reminder:
Please remind the class that the comparison/contrast essay is due on Monday.
After further investigation, I find out that the essay was assigned two weeks ago. My teenager is currently shrinking in his seat at the speed of light. Will he disappear before the end of class? That's the question.
Sidebar with my own teenager:
Jag: Mom, I've started it. I SWEAR!
Me: That's Mrs. Substitute Sassy to you teenager. You have a busy weekend ahead of you.
(Giant eye stare, other boys chuckle.)
Me: Shall I visit with all your moms?
The rest of the class in Unison: No Mam.
Me: Great! So, we understand what's happening during this time?
In Unison: Yes.
As it turns out, having your own teenager in class has it's definite advantages. Key among them: due dates.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Dilemma.
Question:
What do you do when your very own, brilliant teenager embarrasses you in PUBLIC by screaming at you no fewer than 5(five) times? A whole bleacher stand full of people must think I'm the dumbest mom in the universe. Or, maybe they just think I have the most disrespectful teenager of the day. Either way, it's unpleasant for me.
Answer:
That's my teenager pictured above in the blue underwear.
Lesson learned:
Don't scream at a blogger mom.
What do you do when your very own, brilliant teenager embarrasses you in PUBLIC by screaming at you no fewer than 5(five) times? A whole bleacher stand full of people must think I'm the dumbest mom in the universe. Or, maybe they just think I have the most disrespectful teenager of the day. Either way, it's unpleasant for me.
Answer:
That's my teenager pictured above in the blue underwear.
Lesson learned:
Don't scream at a blogger mom.
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