But.......

She really is quite delightful and if you are reading this blog thinking it is all hell, it is not. 

She is a very kind, sweet typical teenage kid.  Even better!  She loves me and she needs me- just in a different way to how it use to be. 

And if you are asking where this deeply insightful thought has come from?  Yep, its wine!  It's Friday.  Rugby is on and wine is following.

Oh, that and......... she is away for the weekend.

I Don't Remember You Asking Me To Do That!

Why is the sour cream still on the table?

Why is that wet towel still on the floor?

Why is the cat still sitting beside the bowl looking hopeful?

Why is the washing still on the line?

Why is the archeological dig that is my car, still full of her random stuff?

I know what I said, I know we made eye contact and still........ nothing........

What is going on?

Theory 1.  The task is way to complex as it IS hard to line up the fridge with the sour cream container.  

Theory 2.  The ipod has ruined her hearing.

Theory 3.  It is the  general breakdown of civilisation as we know it, one teenager at a time.

Theory 4.  It's my mothers fault.

Theory 5.  I need to introduce fish oil tablets into her diet.  Tried this once but apparently they tasted REVOLTING - like fish even!!!

Theory 6.  She was reading a text or thinking about her last Facebook conversation and my voice was 'blah, blah, blah, sour cream, blah, blah"

Theory 7.  Stupid song lyrics have stolen her waking thoughts and they are repeating in her head. in her head, in her head, head, head, in her head, better off dead, so listen instead.....

Theory 8  In the night, in her biohazard bedroom, life forces build civilizations inside her ears. 

Theory 9.  That Vivaldi music I played her as a baby, to increase the Alpha rays and her brain function actually  erased all active memory cells.  "Hmmm what sour cream, what fridge, who is this woman nagging me......."

Theory 10.  It means NOTHING to her, seems pointless and is not worth the time it takes to register the request and there aren't really any consequences anyway so
"
.......I am going to wander off
go the have a shower,
cause I want to,
right now,
why is she looking at me like that? 
Must be because I am wearing her shirt,
didn't think she would notice.
Oooohhhh, there is something shiny,
and here is a mirror
what's in this drawer?
Cool, my favourite TV show....."

It's My Car, It's My Radio!!!!!

I lack the generational understanding that comes with songs that repeat the last word of each sentence- over and over.   I can however, come up with some REALLY funny mixes of words that 'sound like' what is being blasted out of our car stereo.   Mostly it is mocking and not received well.

'Are they talking about me when they say sexieeeeee?'

"No!  MUM!"

I am trying to understand how MY car radio has been hijacked by radio stations that talk utter rubbish and that the only volume to be had is that decibel just over the normal rate of conversation.   That means anything said in the car is YELLED.  Then, strangely enough, when I turn the volume down,  the conversation is maintained at the YELLED rate.  Are our kids so use to listening to ipods that we have deafened an entire generation or two?

"I would catch a grenade for ya"  -really?  Then I hope you would be quick enough to throw it back before it exploded!

"gonna kick him to the curb unless he looks like Mick Jagger"- He was old and ug (and short) when I was young, so what is the deal?????


"its like an eyeball stuck on my plate...."  Which actually turned out to be saying 'an ipod stuck on replay' but I think mine sounds closer.  Go ahead, listen.


Did my parent say what rubbish these songs are?  Yes they did!!

Am I turning into my parents.........no............

"Alex, did you know that song said 'love you' 52 times?"

'You counted??? You're weird Mum"

"No, not so weird, its just the words of the song are so uninspiring I have to do something to keep myself awake!  Can we pleeeeeze go back to the stock market review on the old people station?" 



 

Santa's Little Helper

Just before Xmas, Alex and I were driving along,  locked in the same car (that coupled with the 'if I am good, I will get good loot' aspect) she was VERY chatty.  We discussed 'cool mother's'

'everyone thinks she is cool'
'she wears cool clothes'
'she is more like a sister'    Oh doG- spare me!!!
'she lets her kids  __________" insert SO many things, start with your own personal pet hates.
'she doesn't really growl'   must have some seriously good drugs then???

'Oh well,'' I said "lucky you have such a cool Mum"  this was greeted by silence, then in sad 40 something desperation  

"I'm cool????????"

I immediately wished I had shut up and basked in the silent glory of knowing,  I AM cool, I have ALWAYS been cool and I don't need a 15 year old to validate me.

'No, Mum.  Not really"  came the reply in tones that you would use for breaking to someone the death of their cat.    If she mentioned how cool the other Mum was I was going to pull over and chuck her out in the mean streets of South Auckland!!!  Maybe even by the hair.

We drove on.

Silence stretched, we passed a house with blow up Santa sleighs on the roof and Xmas lights and 'house bling' (word I have now invented) of all description.   One of the larger pieces was a blow up sleigh- Santa,  Reindeer,  presents and rather randomly, a penguin perched on the back of the sleigh, hanging on to Santa.  It was exceptionally windy for December and the wind was catching the random penguin and making him rock back and forth, at pace, in rather a suggestive manner.

I laughed, pointed and said "Hey, check out the penguin that is humping Santa".  Dead silence!  Followed by a sigh and a slow turn of the head.

"Mum.  You are trying too hard."

I wanted to burst out laughing, slap my leg, throw my head back and roar with laughter.  Instead I chuckled with unmoving lips and used resistance exercise to tighten the muscles on my face that threatened to expose mockery. 

So many things begged to be said!!! 

She is darn lucky I am this cool!

The Massive Wobbly....

Alex was home for a rather brief time these school holidays and in between a stint at the beach with her buddies and rowing camp there were things for her to do, such as laundry, rubbish ridding...... the ever present BEDROOM tidy.

Since she was only home for 3 days in between, I began to ask on the first day about the "above normal tasks that this poor child would be expected to attend to"!!!!!


"......have you done your washing?"
".....you will need to do some washing?"
"......what clothes are you taking?"
".......what the hell is this and why is it moving across the floor and leaving a slick?"

And..........

After many repeated conversations (if me saying, and her appearing to listen, is a conversation???) nothing happened.

Eventually, enough was enough and I said 'we are going to do your room'   After the lead balloon hit the proverbial floor, we started (well I started)
Time elapsed and 1 rubbish bag, 1 full laundry hamper, 1 made bed, 1 mostly clear floor, 1 wardrobe with visual floor later things (in my mind) were coming together.

I asked Alex to get the Spray and Wipe and clean a mark off the wall.  She squirted with no consideration for the carpet directly in line and finally  the patience snapped.

"DON'T SPRAY DOWN THE WALL ONTO THE CARPET IT WILL STAIN IT!!!!!!!!!!"

This was followed by the very predictable throwing down of items and stomp outside with random words surfacing "mean.....murmur, murmur.... my room.... murmur, murmur ....mean....like it....murmur, murmur....4th element of the periodic table....... (nah, not that one, but ever hopeful)

Suddenly the massive wobbly came on.  Not her.  Me!  I lost my cool and threw the laundry basket all over the room, emptied the rubbish bag onto the previously made bed, tossed cushions, cleared the desk in one dramatic sweep.  Then, not spent I walked through the house finding all the lying round items, and chucked them down the hallway into the room.  The room looks surprisingly 'usual' so I stomped to the front door and delivered (at volume) the pièce de résistance "YOU CAN COME BACK NOW......... YOUR BEDROOM IS HOW YOU LIKE IT!!!!" 

The slam of the door sealed the deal.

In our house, me being cranky is not a usual element and in this case I even surprised myself.  Short term, there was an effect and next time I saw the room it was very tidy.  Long term............ the room is still not my scene, but maybe a little crack in the rock???

Once she was little......

Over Xmas I spent some time with the mother of a little girl and we were laughing about the silly things that kids do.  Those sweet, innocent things that make you laugh- later!

Alex had a prime place to do her 'things' and that place was the Supermarket.  She once sat in the trolley and reached behind and took out the green bucket we were about to purchase.  She put it on her head (as you do!) and began to sing.  She made noises and sang, inside the bucket, the whole way round the shop.  Mostly the noises were just 'ah (pause) ah, (pause) ah"  then, after some time of her favourite 'ah' song she cracked into Barney "clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere clean up, clean up, everybody do their shirt"  (No explaining, for many years, the difference between 'shirt' and 'share')  People walked past, some laughed, some frowned, some made no eye contact.........


Another time she sat in the trolley while I chatted to the woman behind me in the check out line.  Eventually the woman said "have you got a big weekend planned?" pointing to Alex and the conveyer belt.  I turned to find that Alex had taken many, many packets of condoms from the left of the aisle, (where normally they have the 'tempt' items, go figure!!!!) and put them on the conveyor on the right- many, many packets,  my guess is about 15, piled up and fast disappearing down toward the checkout and  into our shopping!  Not really the look I was after!!!


Shopping embarrassments did not only occur in the supermarket.  Once as we drove home with the shopping sitting on the seat beside Alex, she reached into the bag and found panty liners.  Normally fairly unfun items one would think- but no!  Open the packet!  Have a play!  By the time I caught on what was happening, she had opened the packet, striped off the sticky piece and stuck them on the window on the other side of her carseat.  We travelled  home with about 8 stuck to our window.

 Another of her favourites was the tricky questions in the aisles-


"Mum, do you believe in GOD?" heads turned- damned if you do, damned if you don't.....
"Mum, why is that man so black?" yep, he heard, but hopefully doesn't speak English???!!!??
"Mum, I'm going to ...... blahhhhhhhhhhhh, splat! (cue green and carrot-y puddle)"
"Mum, why do boys smell"  Oh, where to begin!






The justice is that one day Al will have her own children and one day she will also laugh at these stories.  Just not yet........

".......and they have taken her to A & E ......."

The camp was apparently fantastic for the first 6 days....... then came the mountain biking activity and as per a previous blog, riding is a SERIOUS business.  At least she would have had her helmet on, fitted properly and strapped up, feet in position, hands at ten to two.......

She crashed!  In spectacular fashion!  Apparently landing on the bottom of the pile, under another child (miraculously unhurt) and two bikes (one wreaked beyond repair)  and mostly on her face.  On the road.

The school rang doing their best to be calm when they knew nothing about her damage, after all we ARE talking 'one egg, one basket' stuff,  be careful when you talk to the parent of an only child!!!!!

She was checked out, no breaks, teeth okay, slight concussion and released back into their care for one more night.  The staff, bless them,  woke her every hour and she was obviously okay when I spoke briefly to her in our code "how are you on a scale of 1 to 10?"  Since she has been little this is our secret code to tell me how she is feeling without anyone else knowing.  ( 1 being the lowest, 10 being the highest)

Her monotone voice told me "9"
Jeez are you for real??????  You just crapped off a bike, have concussion and your abrasions didn't need stitches???? Don't you need me?????
"Okay, so you are okay?"
"Mum" came the flat voice "I told you, I am okay, its a 9"

She arrived home the next day.

When I saw her, sitting in the chair at home I couldn't believe the damage.  She looked like the son in the Cher movie 'Mask' (google images and find out!!!)  She was so swollen on the right that you couldn't even see the beginnings of her black eye and the reason she was monotone was that her lips were so swollen that she couldn't move them and vaguely, she resembled Angelina (only more beautiful and more moral)

She ate for two days through straws!

She hobbled round that house on bent knee and sore elbow.  She was a trooper!

What is the teenage irony, I hear you scream???

Had it happened to me I would have been on a Zimmer frame for months if not years!  We are not even two weeks later and she looks amazing!  Only a couple of pink spots on her face where the scabs have healed!!  Back to rowing, back to running, back to normal.

My basket has one tough egg!