Good Enough For Walmart

You've seen this video, right? If you don't have the 6:45 to laugh your butt off, cringe, and gape in wonder at the wide world of weird out there, then let me sum up. She has taken pictures of actual Walmart shoppers dressed in their...finest attire. Kinda scary actually.

Anyway, here's how I got the sweetest compliment EVER from The Transporter.

I had taken a nap and my new ultra short hair looked a bit weird. I was wearing my uniform: jeans and a t-shirt, Danskos. I was pretty sure the rest was fine, because it better be since that's what I wear. Like all the time.

I was concerned about the hair. I'm still in the experimenting with different looks stage because it's a really GREAT cut and I can do at least 6 different things that look really different. So I decide to ask The Transporter. Teenagers know when their parents are embarrassing.

“Mom, you're going to W A L M A R T. You could wear ANYTHING.”

“But I'm meeting Dad to help him pick out his new glasses. I'm don't want to embarrass him.”

“Mom, you could come to my school and meet all my friends looking like that.”

I think that's the ultimate compliment from a teenager.

What's the best compliment you've gotten?

~Tina

A Day in the Life

It's amazing to me what teenage boys do behind closed doors. Yes, I know, because they can no longer close the door. At least not if they want some of the flow of the swamp cooler to waft through the place, which even they realize is so necessary with FIVE of them crammed into The Transporters less than pristine room.

It's been absolutely hysterical to listen in on them. Not on purpose, I'm not that controlling of a mother, but I am in the next room. I like to write sitting on my bed, in my newly remodeled sanctuary. I hear everything that goes on next door.

They are the kings of multitasking. Usually, there's a computer going with Minecraft (amazing game, requires creativity and thought and that you build your own world to “play” in), each had a DS in hand, they've reverted to elementary school and are catching Pokemon and trading them. Much of the conversation revolves around each monster's particular attributes and the debate gets heated. Meanwhile, SoccerBoy usually has brought over his TV and XBOX so two of those complete systems are also up and running. They're playing Halo, while playing Pokemon, while talking, and not just among themselves, they're on XBOX live and I hear SkinnyBoy's voice! I don't know how they do it.

One day the conversation left Pokemon and went to, of all places, differences in the criminal justice system in the US verses Spain. Loved being a fly on the wall for that one. I'll sum it up by saying corruption knows no country boundaries, apparently. The consensus was that it's bad all over, with politicians getting away with whatever they want. What amazed me though is that all the clicking of controllers, sliding of styluses, and building of worlds ceased during the discussion. I wonder what other topics have made them stop everything to talk.

They stay in that room for hours. We're talking twelve straight. They feed themselves. The Transporter will fire up the grill and make everyone hotdogs. Or they'll order their own pizza. They won't remove the used paper plates or those pizza boxes from the room, though. Maybe it's some sort of shrine to go with all the empty Arnold Palmer tea bottles which are in a pyramid of sorts in one corner.

Many of them spend the night. On the last day of school we had six. The boy from Spain cracked me up. The other guys just stay in the same clothes for days on end as the cycle of gaming and talking and eating and multitasking begin for another round.  Not Mr. Spain, he wore “suit” pj's. You know, the shirt with buttons and matching pants. With piped seams. Very classy.

We were THE house where everyone has gathered since we moved into the neighborhood. It was my secret wish that even when they got into their late teen years, they'd still want to hang out here. I didn't think it would happen though because our basement is so Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, and the upstairs not a lot better. They don't seem to care. I guess all they want is to be left to do what they want, and occasionally have something to eat to fuel the many tasks at hand.

What have you learned about the species of teenage boy in your travels? Are you THE house? Would you want to be?

Senior Citizens & Cell Phones

(google free images)

Disclaimer: no senior citizens, or citizens of any age who fit into this category of cell phone users were meant to be harmed by this post. I'm merely stating my frustration, er opinion, regarding how SOME seniors (and others, like Our Youngest Teen) use their cell phones.

The cell phone is a marvelous invention. We can call someone who is NOT at their home! I don't mean to call to have a long, meandering, private conversation that everyone in the waiting room has to listen to one side of. I'm talking about important things like suppose you've got the pukey flu, and your dear mother is at the grocery store fetching some items for you, only you forgot to say diet ginger ale, so you try her cell phone.

Except The Nutritionist's definition of cell phone is an item I keep in my car to make an emergency call to my husband should I need assistance. She doesn't carry it in her purse. She doesn't turn it on unless she wants to make a call. What's a pukey girl to do?

Call The Swede, who always has his cell phone, in fact, has bluetooth in his car so that he can safely answer EVEN IF HE'S DRIVING. This, by the way, is the highest level of cell phone usage. Always at the ready, and SAFE.

The Swede, who is just the best Dad in the whole world DRIVES TO THE GROCERY STORE to intercept the cell-less one, and adds the ginger ale to the cart. Talk about going out of your way to help a girl. I get my precious ginger ale, and feel a bit better.

My parents aren't the only ones who treat their cell phones this way. The pattern is almost the same with my in-laws, The Advocate and The Boss. My father-in-law is an attorney (no, I don't think he'll ever retire – he's just having too much fun as an expert consultant) and his cell is his business cell, so I'm more likely to find it on. However, The Boss, my dear mother-in-law who has been through the wringer health wise in the last two years (she wins...you've heard about me in snippets, but she wins...believe me) has been in and out of the hospital, the rehab hospital, and so he's been required to turn it off, so he's been harder to reach the last two agonizing years.

I don't think I've ever reached her on her cell. However, she's a step ahead of The Nutritionist – her phone is at least in her purse.

It's not just seniors who have phone use issues that don't match MY definition of what a cell phone is for, and this particular example is a 13 year old child. Mine. When he started riding his bike to school, I needed him to have a phone so he could call and say, “I crashed my bike, come help.” However, he forgets to bring it, forgets to charge it, forgets to look at it...

I've had to result to punishment (didn't work...) and now I'm actually BRIBING him to use it. I thought, “Teenager. New technology. Wow, he's going to love this present.” Not so much. This boy who plays MineCraft, wants to be an engineer (electrical), can take apart a hobby grade (read outrageously expensive) RC car, water proof the important parts, put it back together again, won't use his phone. What's a mom to do? Five days in a row of texting me before you leave school and I'll buy you a blizzard. I wonder if The Nutritionist can be bribed...

How do you use your cell phone? Have you run into these issues with the older generation? Do your children have phones? Do they use them? Or am I the only one going nuts trying to reach people who HAVE phones but don't USE their phones... 

How to Wake a Family, The Hard Way

I don't know how I ended up being everyone's personal alarm clock, and that many of you out there will scoff and say, “She's SUCH an enabler. It's her own dang fault.” They're probably right. Which is why I'm so irritated...

So imagine this scene. I get up at 5 am, and start studying, because I study best in the morning when it's dark, and quiet, and I light my candle, and it's cozy. Sort of. Because studying isn't my only responsibility.

I am aware that (names have been changed to protect the irritating) that "The Accountant" needs to be out the door by 6:15, for a meeting, one of the "Teenagers" needs to be in the shower by a time not close to THAT and that other "Teenager" is going to be impossible to get up because he has homework to finish. I have a timer on my iPhone. I set it to BEGIN the laborious process of waking up an accountant. “Just give me ten more minutes.” I have of course planned for this, so that he can go back to sleep and not be late. I set the timer for ten minutes.

Ok, what was I studying? Oh, I left my pencil on the bedside table. Dang. Fetch pencil. Try to find spot in study. Timer goes off after about 3 minutes of actually accomplishing anything. “Ten more minutes please.” Reset timer. Realize that reset timer will not coincide with time Teenager needs to hit shower. At least that one sets his alarm. But turns it off. And falls back asleep, but when I knock on his door he will stumble to the shower and say thanks, Mom. One down, two to go.

Still trying to study. Repeated attempts to get The Accountant out of bed. I know he's tired. He stayed up way too late trying to get the car fixed so that it would be drive-able in morning. Finally I just pull off the “band-aid” (also known as sheets) and not so kindly say, “You're 20 minutes behind schedule! GET IN THE SHOWER!” “Why didn't you wake me up??”

I don't dare answer that one because there are children still in the house and murder and mayhem are best performed with no witnesses. So is the language I preferred to use at this time. Two down.

Believe it or not, the hardest is still to come. But I'll spare you the whining, the complaining, the bargaining, the denial, the tears, the procrastination, and the eventual completion of very little homework.

Not that I got much done either this particular morning.

So alarm clocks for all my men? Individual accountability for all over 13? I think so. But here's some advice I got in the wedding journal that all my shower attendees filled out with their best wedded bliss advice:

“What you find endearing about him now will drive you about flippin' insane in 20 years.” Gee, and I thought that we both liked to sleep in was a good thing...

“Don't start doing something for your husband unless you plan to do it for the rest of your marriage.”

“Honey, will you wake me up tomorrow, instead of me having to set the alarm?” “Sure, honey, no problem.”

I think I'll start the training of the teens. Like immediately. I'm already dreading tomorrow morning when I need to be TEACHING the class I was trying to study for...

Do you wake your spouse? Do you drag teens out of bed? Or are they the ones dragging YOU? Curious. And feel free to criticize my parenting at will. Your marriage advice better be dang good though...

~ Tina

P.S Teaching Matthew, Part 2, Chapters 14-28.  Precepts.  Good stuff, man.  If you can do it without being interrupted...