Sponsored Schtuff
More Cooking Schtuff
RSS Schtuff
The Recipes
Main dishes. Side dishes. Desserts.
Over 155 recipes for you to peruse - and more coming all the time!
The Photographs
Pictures, pictures and more pictures.
Join me in my journey with a Nikon D90 (and a very tolerant family).
The Rest
Spin Cycle. RTT. Family.
Click here for a sampling of everything else. A little of this, a little of that...
Posts Tagged ‘teenagers’
For all of my bloggy friends that have very young children: In case you’re worried that once they become teenagers they’ll stop saying cute and funny things, I’m here to tell you…
…they’ll very likely become disgusting.
Oh, wait, this is supposed to be supportive. Sorry about that. Anyhoo, yes, they will still say things that will crack you up.
A little background information: our favorite waiter at our favorite restaurant happens to share the same first name as Beloved (imagine that – a waiter named Beloved). For the purpose of this post, we’ll refer to the waiter as Be. Now, Be The Waiter loves us – we’re fun, naturally, we love food, of course, and then again – we tip well. A couple of weekends ago we had an excuse to go to our favorite restaurant two nights in a row, the second night with The Young One and Miss J, who was visiting from Texas.
There were all sorts of indulgences that night, in the way of an upside-down banana rum cake that I shared with Miss J, and just a smidgen too much Hendricks gin for Beloved, who became quite, er, jolly.
How jolly you ask? Well, when the dinner was over and the check paid, Be The Waiter came up to me and gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek, like he usually does. This night, Beloved felt he should get a hug and a kiss instead of a handshake and said so. Be The Waiter may have been a tiny bit startled, but not being one to offend a customer that consistently tips 20%, gave Beloved a warm hug and peck on the cheek (and, if I might add, probably enjoyed it, if you get my drift. Nudge, nudge, say no more…).
I drove us home, teasing Beloved about being amorous with the wait staff at the restaurant. The kids were in the back seat, rolling their eyes at us as usual, so Beloved turned around and asked, “I didn’t embarrass y’all, did I?” (Are you kidding? He was banking on it.)
“What? Never!” exclaimed The Young One. “We’re always up for a little Be on Be action.”
At which point I nearly ran us off the road from laughing so hard.
But I think I need to confiscate the boy’s computer.
At least according to The Young One, who grumped through the morning like a Disney dwarf with bursitis. I’m sure the fact that 47 of his closest friends chose to call him at 10:00 p.m. last night to talk about the impending first day of high school while I yelled, “GET TO BED ALREADY!!” in the background didn’t help. Nor did the fact that we were both up at the crack of absurd this morning.
When I was in school, we had to be there at 8:00 a.m every morning, and we left each and every day at 3:00 p.m. (well, until my senior year when the really bright kids, like myself, managed to weasel in a study hall for first and last periods, meaning we could show up an hour late and leave an hour early). We had 6 periods a day, and lunch. This was true even when Darling Daughter was in high school (although they had block scheduling and managed to fit in 8 periods by having them attend 4 a day on alternating days).
Not so now – school starts here at 7:20 a.m., which means the bus comes at 6:45 which means he has to be at the bus stop no later than 6:35. He has like 11 periods (don’t ask me how they manage this; I have NO idea) and they get out of school at 2:38 p.m.
2:38 p.m. What, if they stay an extra two minutes all of the teachers will implode?
At any rate, he got off this morning without any tears or drama on either of our parts. I don’t have any desire to wax poetic about how my baby is a mere four years away from college, or how he grew into a handsome and reasonably responsible young man seemingly overnight. There will be no sappy prose about him starting a new phase of his life or his impending journey into young adulthood.
Mostly due to this conversation this morning.
“Young One, stop abusing your lunch!” I scolded, as he swung the paper bag around. He immediately raised it in front of his face and began poking and slapping it around.
“Take that, rotten lunch! Good for nothing! Bad lunch – BAAAAAAD lunch!”
It’s going to be a looooong year.
With the exception of Oldest Son and Darling Daughter, all of our kids have a Facebook page. There is a probably a very good reason reason the two oldest don’t have a Facebook page – namely, Beloved and I do.
Jolly, Miss Jacki and The Young One are all our “friends,” a state of affairs that may very well change after last night, when Beloved and I decided to comment on Miss Jacki’s status.
Which was:
Miss Jacki: Wtf 4 hours ago
Me: OMG 16 minutes ago
Be: BTW is it TLA Day? 14 minutes ago
Me: LOL 14 minutes ago
Be: WALSTIB 13 minutes ago
Me: AFU 13 minutes ago
Be: FUBAR 12 minutes ago
Me: WYSIWYG 10 minutes ago
Be: TMI 9 minutes ago
Me: SWAK 9 minutes ago
Be: SSDD 9 minutes ago
Me: STFU 8 minutes ago
Be: ASL? 6 minutes ago
Me: FTW! 6 minutes ago
Be: BRB 5 minutes ago
Me: PIA 5 minutes ago
Be: GTR 5 minutes ago
Me: MIA 5 minutes ago
Be: POW 4 minutes ago
Me: WWJD? 4 minutes ago
Be: FOAD 3 minutes ago
Me: TTFN 3 minutes ago
Be: L8R 15 seconds ago
Okay, yes – so we may have gotten carried away.
Have a lovely weekend, y’all.
Yesterday marked the end of an era.
As of 2:45 p.m., I was finally, officially, irrevocably and irreversibly done with middle school.
CAN SOMEBODY GIVE ME A HALLELUJAH!!!!
If you count Jolly and Miss Jacki (and I do) I have had a child in middle school for thirteen consecutive years. And if you’ll excuse my gratuitous use of the “F Word” French, that’s a long fucking time to deal with kids going through puberty. I don’t know how middle school teachers do it, I really don’t – if I had to deal with that many 13-year-olds for that many hours every day, I’d have taken up residence in a padded room long before now.
Because, as Bill Cosby so eloquently stated, those people are BRAIN DAMAGED.
This week has already been stressful enough, but The Young One alternately whining about the time dragging or bouncing off the walls with nervous energy has simply made it worse – even the fish shy away when they see him coming. But the very last day of middle school finally came, full of pizza parties and water balloon fights and yearbook signings and walking home with friends, and – thankfully – went.
Now the summer stretches before us, but before we know it August will be here and we’ll be going to freshman orientation, also for the last time. In fact, the new school year will be replete with firsts and lasts, new beginnings and bittersweet farewells. The end of high school for Miss Jacki, the beginning for The Young One. The first grandchild. What could very well be our last holiday gathering with all of our kids in attendance, at least for awhile.
Somebody pass the Geritol, please. Or at least a bottle of scotch.
And on that note, Beloved and I are taking Miss Jacki and The Young One to Washington D.C. for five fun-filled days. I’ll be gone from Sunday through Thursday but both Beloved and I will be taking our laptops with us (we take our laptops everywhere), so I’ll try and hop online for a few moments every day to leave a line or two and show off my new photography skills if I can. I’ll even try to check in with all of my wonderful bloggy friends if at all possible.
Have a lovely weekend, y’all.
I almost always wake up before Beloved does, especially during the week – I like to make sure The Young One is up and ready for school (he’s actualy pretty good about it for a 14-year-old boy). Yesterday, after he left for the bus stop, I went back to our bedroom to wake Beloved up.
Still more asleep than awake, he said to me, “I figured out what’s wrong with the Captain Morgan rum advertising.”
“Oh?” I asked, completely unsurprised the man was working in his sleep.
“Mmm-hmmm. There’s no girl on her knees in front of him.”
I laughed for five straight minutes – that was just so…male. And so Beloved. I’ll never be able to watch a Captain Morgan commercial again without bursting into hysterical giggles.
Why, oh why, does the dog insist on standing directly outside my bedroom door at 2 a.m., licking the tile? I dribbled coffee on the kitchen floor, too – go in there, it’s on the other side of the house. You can start on these floors after I’m up.
Speaking of the dog…does it make me a bad person because when he got loose yesterday and pooped on the crazy woman’s lawn across the street, I pretended not to notice and waited to call him in until after he was done?
The Young One may have another piece published in the school’s literary magazine. I am so glad the kid has decided to take journalism next year in high school.
The Cliche Plot
by The Young One
On a dark, stormy night, a generic, overly-beautiful girl is kidnapped by the over-sized, green, scaly dragon of some random cardinal map direction. They only person who can save her is some loser who turns completely awesome and slays the dragon with some magic sword from a “wizard”. He gets the girl and lives happily ever after.
And after THAT is divorce, child support and IRS back taxes.
The End
The child obviously has a brilliant future writing cheesy youth fiction about sparkly vampires.
For more Random Tuesday Thoughts, visit The Un-Mom.