My 11 year old has not been feeling well. She developed a summer cold last weekend and a low grade fever. I generally don't take my kids to the doctor unless they have a high fever and lethargy, so we managed her symptoms at home the first 3 days. Her throat became increasingly sore and it hurt to swallow so I took her to the pediatrician.
I actually hate her pediatrician's office. I've hated them for years. Their office staff is horrible and I don't like the doctors either. But they are close to my house, so I never switched them because I'm lazy and it's convenient. I only take them for well checks and everything else I go to Health First.
BUT last time I went to Health First, they told me I had an outstanding balance of $140 from a visit 18 months prior and they never billed me and I had been there MULTIPLE times after that. So I paid the balance and vowed I would never go back; I am boycotting them.
My daughter's appointment was at 9:10 am. At 8 am, I told her she would need to be dressed and ready to go by 8:55. I made her breakfast and got myself ready.
Of course, she was not ready to go. She was taking her sweet time. She came downstairs wearing black leggings and a black tee shirt that was 2 sizes too big. Covered in lint. "There is a lint brush in the drawer, go take care of that."
She shrugged, "Nah, I'm good."
I can always count on my kid to wear the scrubbiest thing she owns to the doctor. I was annoyed.
We pull up to the office and my daughter groaned and rolled her eyes, "Really mom? You are making me go to the baby doctor?!?!?"
"It's the pediatrician. She sees kids up until they are 18."
"She sees babies!"
"Listen, I'll switch you over to a family practice doc but today you have to go."
She sat down in the "sick" lobby and crossed her arms. I went to the front desk to check in. The receptionist was unwelcoming and rude. Typical.
I sat down and updated our information. I observed parents coming in with their young children. I watched a little boy- 2 years old maybe - with his hands pressed against the aquarium, admiring the fish as they swam by.
Then I heard a whisper in my ear, "Stop looking at all the kids. You are being a weirdo." I can't even exist in the presence of my child.
Before long, they called her back. They weighed and measured her and then brought us to an exam room and asked the typical questions.
"Does she still take Flovent and abuterol everyday?"
"No. We discontinued that 4 years ago."
She has not been prescribed this medication for 4 years yet every visit they still ask.
They did the rapid strep test and then we waited to see the doc. She walked in and informed us that the strep test was negative and looked in her ears and throat. She diagnosed her with a viral infection and then told me a bunch of things already knew in a condescending manner.
Then she turned to me and said, "Do you keep lotion in the house, mom? Because your daughter has dry skin on her face and she really needs to moisturize everyday."
Did this b*tch just ask me if I keep lotion in the house?
Of course! What kind of a question is that? My children have more skincare products in their bathroom than most anyone I know. You'll find: St. Ives lotion, Aveeno lotion, Eucerin, at least 15 Bath and Body Works lotions, charcoal bars, charcoal face mask, apricot scrub, face wash for the day and night, make-up remover wipes, they even stole my Argan oil.
Here's the thing. I remind my children to do things - to wash their face, brush their teeth, clip their toenails, use lotion and chap stick - but I don't micromanage their hygiene. You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make them drink.
This child is 11 years old. She is going into the 6th grade. She is of above average intelligence. If she has dry skin on her face, it is her own fault. What does this lady propose I do? Be this guy?
Does she think I'm going to rub lotion on her face before bed every night? What else? Am I supposed to wipe her ass to ensure she's doing a good job of it?
I was slightly annoyed. I gave the doctor a half-smile and looked her in the eyes and said, "My daughter is 11 years old. She is a big girl. She is responsible for maintaining her own hygiene so I'm going to need you to look at her and tell HER everything you just said to me."
She looked at me like I was a b*tch, but she did just that. Good - maybe she'll do it now.
Then we went to go check out. The lady at the desk asked if she could schedule her annual well check for me. I was like
Just kidding, I didn't do that but I wanted to. I hate that office and that condescending pediatrician. I smiled sweetly and said, "No, not today. Thank you."
It's easy to feel judged when you are a new mother. Everyone has a different parenting philosophy and they think theirs is the best. You have the breastfeeding nazis and the unapologetic formula feeders, the working moms and the stay at home moms, the co-sleeping moms and the strict scheduling moms.....it is all so exhausting and you constantly feel like you have to justify your decisions.
The way we chose to raise our children is slightly non-traditional. We always were really into gentle parenting and natural consequences which means that we didn't spank our kids, do time outs or "punish" them in a traditional sense. That's not to say that they have NEVER been spanked in their lives but it is VERY rare for us to put our hands on them and we are not really big yellers either. We believe very strongly in natural consequences.
For instance, when they were younger, if they didn't pick up their toys, those toys would go away for a while. If you refuse to put on your jacket, the natural consequence is that you will be cold. If they were acting like a**holes, the natural consequence is that you will have to go somewhere alone and work out your feelings until you are not an a**hole anymore. I don't need to spank you or sit you in the corner, you live and you learn.
We encouraged our children to be independent but we also have always been accessible to them. I never spoonfed my kids. When they were learning to eat, I put food down in front of them and let them eat with their hands and then they learned to eat with their own spoon. I switched them to open top cups as soon as they could drink out of them. I let them play alone and entertain themselves. I allowed them to do things on their own and help me with things. Sure, it made life messier and was sometimes inconvenient but that's how they learn.
We tried to make them independent but I nursed them until they were 2, we allowed them to co-sleep with us until they decided they didn't want to anymore (which was 8 and 9 years old), I carried them alot.
We have always spoken to our children honestly and directly. I never spoke baby talk to them, we told them the correct terms for their body parts, we always let them know that they could tell us ANYTHING and I have always been honest with them and tried to explain things in age appropriate ways. They sometimes asked hard questions -Do kids die? Why do some parents leave? Where do babies come from?
I never shied away from their hard questions and I never acted freaked out. I always told the truth to them. I have made great efforts to speak to them like fellow human beings - to not condescend them and to take their opinions into consideration. They've helped make family rules, they get a say in the big things and little things. While my husband and I have ultimate veto power, they get a say too. We've worked to build a relationship on mutual respect. We are not because-I-said-so kind of parents. I will always explain the reasoning behind why I do things - not because I have to but because I would like the same respect paid to me. I never felt like I needed to control them. I am not a dictator. I am a mother, a teacher, a guide.
We always wanted our kids to know they could do anything. They had dolls, toy kitchens and "girlie toys" but also Lincoln Logs, a play tool set, a dump truck, a doctors kit. We exposed them to Barbies and comic book characters. We rarely "no" to fun things. I let them play in the rain, take off their shoes and walk in the grass, I let them stay up late to watch fireworks, I took them to museums and fancy restaurants. We've lived in their kid world but we also have let them tag along in our grown up world.
I can't even tell you how much sh*t I had to hear about it. My kids are never going to independent, they are going to commit crimes because I don't spank them, I'm going to need to get the breastfeeding mom dorms when they go away to college....
That is how we have chosen to raise our children. Does that mean that I think the way we are raising them is the best way to raise kids and that people that raise their kids differently than us are doing it wrong? NO WAY. It is the best way for OUR family and it is the only way that I know how to be.
I felt less judged during the elementary school years because a lot of the things that matter in the early years don't matter as much but as my kids have been creeping up in age, I definitely feel more judged.
I was at a friend's house the other day and I was telling a story about my children or one of their friend's. My friend (who reads my blog) was laughing and said, "Why don't you blog about this stuff?"
For many reasons, because I value the privacy of my children and their friends. Some things are off limits and also, I don't want to be judged.
I've lived in the teenage world for a little while. My daughter is one of the last of her classmates to turn 13 and she has a lot of friends the grade above her so most of her friends are getting ready to turn 14 and 15. Here is a small sampling of actual things I have heard come out of actual middle schooler's mouths:
"You got margaritas?"
"So....there was this 5th grader watching PornHub on the bus today."
"4:20 Blazin'!"
"What else are we supposed to do if they never let us be alone together?"
"Waterfalls of jizz...."
"Who wants to play 7 Minutes in...."
"Seventh graders at my school smoke weed but it's not even good weed though. I don't smoke but I'm probably going to vape."
"My dad says I have to be 21 to, you know, "do it", but I'm not going to follow that rule."
"Dude! There is a lady in the Guiness Book of World Records for most queefs in a row."
These statements may shock you and concern you. I am shocked sometimes, mostly fascinated. Teenagers have secrets, that should be no surprise. Speaking of teenagers secrets, I discovered these socks in my 13 year old's room the other day. She convinced some boy to buy them for her.
I let her keep them with the agreement that she only wear them in the house. Truly, socks with the word F*ck on them is not really a big deal to me in the grand scheme of things.
This is who my daughter is. She is the kind of person that would wear socks that say "My cat is cool as f*ck." I am under no delusions about who she is. People sometimes act like their kids are perfect and I'm over here like.
I do not allow my children to curse but do I think they drop the F bomb when they are alone with their friends? Of course they do. They all do. I'm almost 98% sure my 11 year old gives me the finger when I walk out of the room. I can't do anything about that.
I always have a chuckle when I'm among friends and I hear, "Kids today are BAD. I don't remember us being this bad when I was a kid."
WHAT?!?! The teenagers were HORRIBLE when we were that age, over 20 years ago now. I definitely knew kids who were experimenting with alcohol, marijuana, and smoking cigarettes. Every other word out of your friend's mouth was a curse word. Boys and girls were sneaking behind hot water heaters in friend's basements and getting to 2nd and 3rd base. We didn't have text messages but teenagers were sending some questionable sh*t through AOL messenger, and before that it was written notes. Kids have always figured out ways to communicate with their peers under the radar.
We can get on our high horse about how depraved our society is now and how things were so much more innocent back then but let me remind all the 80's babies that:
-In middle school, you walked around with your arms crossed above your crotch telling people to "suck it!"
-You slow danced with the opposite sex to "I'll Make Love to You" in the 6th grade.
- You may have drank a Seagrams when your parent's were asleep.
- You probably turned on channel 99 and watched scrambled porn with your friends after midnight and laughed when the picture became clear for half a second
- You may have discussed the president receiving a blow job in your high school history class.
- You coughed and sputtered when you tried to take a drag of your friend's cigarette
My point is not to say that all those things are okay, certainly we've been in a moral decline for decades. My father tells me INSANE stories about being a teenager in the 70's that makes my experiences seem tame. My point is that it's been the argument since the beginning of time. Every generation thinks the youth is more corrupt than they were.
1816- "The indecent foreign dance called the Waltz was introduced ... at the English Court on Friday last ... It is quite sufficient to cast one's eyes on the voluptuous intertwining of the limbs, and close compressure of the bodies ... to see that it is far indeed removed from the modest reserve which has hitherto been considered distinctive of English females...[Now that it is] forced on the respectable classes of society by the evil example of their superiors, we feel it a duty to warn every parent against exposing his daughter to so fatal a contagion."
1790- The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth; and prevented others from improving their minds in useful knowledge. Parents take care to feed their children with wholesome diet; and yet how unconcerned about the provision for the mind, whether they are furnished with salutary food, or with trash, chaff, or poison.
1926-...[The screen artists'] beauty, their exquisite clothing, their lax habits and low moral standards, are becoming unconsciously appropriated by the plastic minds of American youth.
1695- ... I find by sad Experience how the Towns and Streets are filled with lewd wicked Children, and many Children as they have played about the Streets have been heard to curse and swear and call one another Nick-names, and it would grieve ones Heart to hear what bawdy and filthy Communications proceeds from the Mouths of such...
It really is a tale as old as time. Some things are universal. It's just part of the human experience. Teenagers will always be misunderstood and parents will always be fighting the good fight to keep their offspring on the straight and narrow path.
Our kids don't think we understand what they are going through- and in a lot of ways they are right. Their world is so much different then the world was when we were coming of age, and our world was very different then the one our parent's experienced. It is the way it is, times change. The problem is not that we don't remember what it was like to be an adolescent but maybe that we remember TOO clearly and it scares us to death.
We often make our children pay the price for the mistakes of our youth. My own parents were very strict during my adolescence. They didn't want me to repeat their mistakes. I have a much better understanding of that now that I am a parent myself. While they were well-meaning, they held on to me so tightly that they squeezed the soul out of me. I nearly suffocated under the weight of the pressure.
My husband and I were both pretty good kids. My husband did some questionable things during his middle school years but in high school he stayed out of trouble completely. He just ate cheesesteaks and played video games until I came along and corrupted him. I had a terrible mouth but I was a good student. I never have tried drugs, I've never smoked pot ever in my life. I got drunk once with my cousin when I was 16 and never drank again until I was, like 26. I did like the boys a lot but that didn't make me a bad kid. That's just biology.
It definitely shaped who I am as a person, and also the way I have chosen to raise our children. Stay with me, people- this rambling will come full circle.
We have big kids now which means they have bigger problems. The consequences of their actions now can have long-lasting impacts. That being said, we still parent our children the way we always have. Which can be hard because everyone is watching and everyone is judging.
I don't expect my children to be perfect. These are the years that they will come of age. They will certainly make mistakes. You have to make mistakes- that's how you learn who you are, that's how you develop life skills. You live and you learn. Life will teach you lessons and these years will be full of them. They will fall in love and have their hearts broken. They will probably do and say things that I don't approve of. That's all par for the course.
They know right from wrong, they know our opinions and expectations on most everything. My job now is to provide them with healthy boundaries, keep them safe, pick my battles, provide them with opportunities to grow as individuals and love them.
I do not own my children. I can teach them and guide them but I don't control their thoughts and beliefs. They will have to gather their own life experiences and develop their own truths. They will make their own decisions about things. They will make their beds and lie in them. That's how this life thing works.
I know that people will judge me. They will judge the fact that I am allowing them to do online school, they judge me because I allow my daughter to participate in band with high schoolers, they will judge me because I let my daughter wear eyeliner and keep her f*ck socks, they will judge me for always speaking honestly about everything, they will judge me for not grounding and beating them them.....I could go on and on but like I said before, it becomes exhausting.
I just have to remind myself that this is how we are, it is the only way we know how to be, and we have done a damn good job so far. I don't have perfect children but I have amazing children.
I am worried but not WORRIED about the youth. I think they will be just fine. I think the kids nowadays are great. They are no better or worse than the generations before them. Many of them are smart, funny, and kind. I am encouraged and I think the future is bright. This generation will go on to do great things, they will do what all the people that came before them have done - "figure it out." Then, in 20-30 years, when their children come of age, they will lament about the moral degradation of society and reminisce about the innocence of their own youth.
My oldest daughter turned 13 on Wednesday. I have a teenager. She sure does act like one already, so my life is not jarred by this transition.
The night before her birthday, I went out to dinner with my husband and some friends. Afterwards, I picked her up from band practice. "Did you bring me home leftovers?" she asked. "No, but you can fix yourself something when we got home." She was hangry and was being a huge beeotch about it. "Mom! That's not fair, I only had a bowl of soup and I didn't get to finish it because you rushed me!"
Keep in mind, she knew ALL day that we had to leave at 5:40 but she decided to come downstairs to eat dinner at 5:34 because she was busy doing her hair. Not my fault.
She just kept running her mouth. Finally, I'd had enough. "I just want to remind you that 13 years ago, I pushed you out of my actual vagina so I'm going to need you to show me a little more respect."
She laughed, "You are grossest person in the world." Truth.
Thirteen years ago, she was born. I can see it so vividly in my minds eye- watching her head come out of my body, her bird-like cry, the way she curled up on my chest and fell asleep - night after night as she transitioned into the world. I remember the years in between then and now. Curled up with her on the couch watching Strawberry Shortcake, her tiny hands on my face, the pitter patter of little feet through the house.
But now, she stands before me, in a woman's body and stares me straight in the eyes and I find it hard to believe that she was ever a baby, that her heart beat inside of me. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
The past few years have certainly been challenging, as we have navigated this strange world of puberty and middle school and life.
Even though she was being grumpy the day before her birthday, she is mostly agreeable. I would say that we have a close relationship. We are very open with each other and while she doesn't tell me everything, she tells me a lot of things.
I always offer my grown-up perspective on things which sometimes she appreciates and sometimes she hates. It depends on her mood. "OMG, mom! I don't need your lectures." I am quick to remind her, "I'm your mother, not your friend." (That's a whole other blog, for another time)
She loves doing hair and make-up. She can french braid her hair with no mirror - which I am amazed by because I can't even brush my hair good in front of a mirror. She is a little amateur make-up artist. She'll spend 20 minutes doing her eyeliner. We call her our Egyptian princess. Whenever she gets money she begs me to take her to Sephora. I don't know about that life. I wear lip gloss from the grocery store.
When she isn't sitting in front of a mirror, she is playing music. She is always learning some song on the flute. She loves to entertain us. She's been practicing her state solo, which is a beautiful piece. I'll be in the kitchen or doing laundry and she will run in with her flute and make me stop what I'm doing to listen. She plays the keyboard. She taught herself Moonlight Sonata and Swan Lake. We got her a violin for her birthday and by the next day she had learned Twinkle Twinkle little star. That is how she sends MOST of her time - playing music and listening to music.
She has a very eclectic taste in music. She LOVES classical music - Mozart, Beethoven, concert band pieces, soundtracks (The Kiss from the Last of the Mohicans is her favorite). She loves Lana Del Rey and BORNS. Sometimes it's Nirvana and Pink Floyd and sometimes it's shitty pop and hip-hop music. Her taste in music is the reflection of who she is as a person - so many different layers.
She is very outgoing and very confident (sometimes too confident and I'm like, let's take it down a few notches) and other times she is quiet and reserved. She is VERY sensitive and will shut down completely if you hurt her feelings. If you yell at her or when you call her on her shit, she can't even handle it. That worries me a little bit, she is going to need a thicker skin to make it through this life.
She is a little boy crazy, which I think will be our biggest challenge in the coming years. The boys....they started showing up at my house in 6th grade. They stand on my front porch, shifting nervously. "Is your daughter here, Miss B?"
Lord help me. I'm getting it back 3 times, for sure. The boys will be the death of us.
I have a teenage daughter now and while a piece of me mourns (you know that silent mourning, I often refer to), I remind myself that this is what we've prepared for. Older, more seasoned parents often tell young parents, "Oh! Just wait until the teenage years."
But the teenage years seem so abstract and so distant when you are a chasing toddlers and enduring sleepless nights. They might even seem glamorous - surely my life looks easy to a parents of young children. In a lot of ways it is. I don't change diapers, my daughter can do her own laundry and make meals. That part is easier. The part that is hard as your children grow- is that they have their own lives outside of you. They deal with problems that you can't fix. You will watch them struggle and deal with heartbreak and disappointment. It will push you to the brink emotionally, it will keep you up at night, it will make your blood run cold....and I'm just at the beginning of this coming-of-age time.
This time is a rite of passage, for her but also for us as parents. It's as eternal as time itself and at the end of it, if I do my job well, she will be separate from me. She will go forward, into the world, and build her own life. And one day, when she has children of her own, she will understand my love and sacrifice and she will realize that her heart never really stopped beating inside of me.
So, sh*t around my house is falling apart. When we got home from Italy, my dryer wasn't working right. I felt like the heating element was starting to go out a few months ago. It was taking longer to dry than normal. I was hanging clothes all over the house.
It reminded me of when we first got married and we were broke as hell and sometimes I used to do laundry in the bathtub because we had 0 dollars to get quarters to do laundry. I would ring the laundry out and hang them all over our apartment. Isn't that the saddest thing ever?
I pulled out the dryer and unhooked the hose and cleared it out. I recently had cleaned the link trap that left the house so I knew that wasn't it. It helped a little bit. I still had to run 2-3 cycles to get the laundry dry. My husband said he would replace the heating element. Weeks went by. I just dealt with it. It took FOREVER to do the laundry and my electric bill is probably going to be $500. Finally I flipped out, "I can't do this anymore! Help me!"
My husband must have gotten the picture because he ordered the heating element that evening. He was busy replacing it this weekend. Guess what? The laundry was hotter but it still wasn't dry. Damnit! We debated back and forth about it. "We're going to have to get a new dryer."
"No. Everything works fine. It has to be an airflow issue," I replied.
So I decided to get on my roof and check where the air leaves the house and there was a damn panty liner almost completely blocking the opening.
A new one, in the wrapper. It must fallen in the lint trap somehow. My kids are always throwing crap on top of the dryer. I was so annoyed. That one panty liner caused me a lot of pain and heart ache. On the upside, now that I figured that out AND we have a new heating element, my clothes are drying in 20 minutes. I am sooooo happy about it.
The rest of my house has also been kind of shitty. Here are some examples: Living room- it's too dark. We painted it when we moved in over 6 years ago, we had to patch an area and the paint match was not an actual match so it's just been ghetto for 2 years. Baseboards- they are dirty. I clean them monthly but they need to be repainted. Someone took a crap on them. Just kidding-it looks like it though. Hallway- the paint is scuffed and the switch plates are dingy and probably would give you a venereal disease if you touched them. Front storm door- doesn't even close all the way, there is something wrong with the hinge and it's unfixable. The aluminium is scraped and the glass is cloudy no matter what products are used. The weather stripping is missing. It's a piece of sh*t. Down spout - The clips that connect it to the front of the house broke in April. My husband ghetto-rigged it by tying it to the porch with BLACK show laces and said, "I'll fix it this weekend." That was months ago. Porch- the paint is peeling. It looks horrible.
Last weekend, I had a flip out. "I can't live like this anymore." So, I went to Lowe's and got a bunch of sh*t. I painted my living room, got a new rug, curtains, throw pillows, we replaced the storm door, I touched up the paint in the hallway and kitchen and painted my baseboards, I replaced the mirror in the bathroom and replaced all the switch plates, I painted the porch and filled the downspout and got some new hanging baskets. It looks so much better. I am so happy.
There is still so much to do. The rugs upstairs need to be replaced, I would love to redo our bathroom and get new counter tops in the kitchen. It still has the original air unit and roof, so that will be coming. I will forever be battling the pet dander. When these pets die, I am not getting new ones. Maybe just a hairless cat and I can sit with and pet like doctor Evil.
Me, in 10 years
My house is little - only 1,600 square feet and as mentioned before, it's kind of shitty but I do love this house. It has charm. I like the bay windows and the arched doorways. I like that it's cozy. It's cute. I never want to move out of it.
We moved SO much in the early years of our marriage. From New Jersey to Oklahoma, from Oklahoma to New Jersey, from New Jersey to Texas, from Texas to Oklahoma, from Oklahoma to Indiana, from Indiana to South Carolina. That was in 6 years. When we moved into this house, I told my husband the only way I was moving again would be into a nursing home.
Even if we won the lottery and came into millions of dollars, I still wouldn't move. My millionaire ass will be living in my little, shitty house. This is home.
My baby turned 11 yesterday! ELEVEN! How can that even be? We went back and forth about her birthday and she decided she wanted to bring some friends to Velocity Airsports followed by dinner at China Buffet and then cake and a sleepover at our house. I was fine with that.
She had 6 girls over and I let my oldest bring a friend so we had 9 children all together. We went to Velocity and they jumped for an hour and then we headed to the buffet. The people that worked there looked at my husband and I like we were insane. Probably because we are. The 11 year old girls got their own table and my husband and I ate with the two older kids.
It was a little bit of a zoo. When we got home, we had cake and my youngest opened presents. Then we did sparklers and they played games. I went to bed at 11:30. I woke up at 5:11 am the next morning to girls giggling and running up and down the stairs. I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed. "Why are you guys up so early?" I asked.
"We never went to bed!" One of her friends replied. Good Lord.
Except for my daughter, she was asleep. She is always the first one asleep at sleepovers.
They did crash around 6 am and I was kid free by 10:30, which I was grateful for. It was her ACTUAL birthday so she wanted to go shopping for a new outfit. I knew that wasn't going to end well. My rule is that my kids can pick when they want but I have ultimate veto power. I vetoed all of her outfit choices. They were skanky. She was getting so pissed off, "This is my birthday. You never let me wear what I want!"
I shrugged. "Maybe you should want to wear clothes that aren't skanky, then this wouldn't be a problem."
She picked out an outfit that was ALL black, of course. She won't leave the dressing room when she tries on clothes. She takes a picture and texts them to me. Makes me crazy.
That night we had cake- AGAIN and she opened her gifts from us.A framed pic of the US Olympic gymnasts for her room, a manga drawing book, Death Note watch/necklace, and a camera. She was happy, she's wanted a camera for months. It was a good day, another birthday in the books.
She's eleven now, my baby. She is getting so big and beautiful. Sometimes I just look at her and I'm amazed. Wow! I made her. She's so pretty. She hated when I look at her. "Stop staring at me, you perv." Yup, that's my daughter.
As I mentioned, my oldest daughter was at music camp last week. On Thursday, my youngest got invited to go to a friend's lake house for the weekend. Before I continue...let me just say this. My kids are living some kind of dream life that I don't even know about.
My husband and I were like, "Wait! That means no kids for 2 whole days!" That never happens. When you have one kid you can get a few days alone. Two or more kids? Forget it. The stars need to align for them both to be out of the house at the same time. What to do?
The next morning, we got invited to a party. Is was meant to be. We do go out or stay in with friends about once every 2 months but we can never stay out too late because we always have kids the next day or something to do. Not this weekend. We were so excited.
I cleaned my house got my hair cut. My husband came home from work and we had dinner alone together in our own house. It was a little strange. "Is this what it's going to be like when the kids are out of the house?"
We got ready to go. I played inappropriate music. Loudly. In my house. I felt like such a rebel. I put on a dress and heels that I never get to wear.
We had such a good time. We have a really fun group of friends. We had drinks and were dancing all night long. Now, I'm not a big drinker. Never have been. For instance, when we went on vacation I had 1 glass of wine and 1 cocktail on the ship. The ENTIRE time. So, when I do have drinks - it doesn't take a lot to get me feeling happy.
This is a normal person after 3 shots:
This is me after 1 wine cooler:
Even my husband was dancing. We were a little out of control. All of us middle aged parents, cutting the rug to some Chaka Khan. We're old. It was one o'clock in the morning - which is 4 hours past my bedtime and our friends decided to go to breakfast. We went to Denny's and I ordered a pancakes, sausage, eggs, toast, hash browns....a ridiculous amount of food. I made sure to eat exactly half so that I could eat the rest the next day.
They dropped us off after 2 am. I don't know if I've ever been out until 2 am. We went home and I put the leftovers in the fridge, chugged a bottle of water and 2 ibprofen and went to bed.
The next day, I woke up. The room was bright. I looked at the clock - it was 10 am. It took me a minute to remember what happened. Who am I? I can count the number of times I've slept until 10 am in the past 13 YEARS on one hand. Seriously, if I sleep until 8 or 9 I feel like I wasted the day. I was confused, this was not something that I experience in my life.
I feel great, I said surprised. Then, I got out of bed and I thought, Oh man! I'm too old for this. I remembered that I had Denny's in the fridge. I went downstairs and heated up my food and then sat on the couch and watched Netflix. My husband wasn't far behind. He looked gray. We sat on the couch and ate our leftovers. It was quiet. No children came around to ask us to drive them somewhere or to buy them something or sit in between us.
At noon, I decided that I was still pretty tired. So I went upstairs and took a nap. Because f*ck it! I had no responsibilities. I crawled into bed and woke up 2 hours later. That's when I realized- Holy Sh*t! This is what people without kids can do. This is their life.
Now, I'm not saying anything bad about people without kids. I'm not. I'm just fascinated by their lives. Like, they can just decide to go to the store. They don't have to pack up kids- or in my case, inform my children of where I'm going or when I will be back. Even if I run to the corner store, I still get text messages from my kids.
CAN YOU GET RAZORS? OREOS?
WTH? YOU SAID YOU WOULD BE BACK 5 MINS AGO.
CAN YOU TAKE ME ICE SKATING WHEN YOU GET BACK?
They can just go to the store, and take as much time as they want and no one bothers them. Childless people can just go out to dinner on a whim. They can go on regular dates. They can poop without someone standing at the bathroom door and asking you questions.
They have disposable income. They can just buy things for themselves. What even is that? Between vacation, flute camp, music camp, gymnastics camp, both my girls birthdays, marching band fees, monthly braces payments, gymnastic fees, AND the two chromebooks I had to buy them for school next year I am like
Like, I could seriously be driving a Benz but I drive a Kia. I hope they aren't expecting a lot for Christmas this year. They are getting a book and underwear.
What are the childless people doing with all this spare time and energy? Do they appreciate this life of luxury? Do they even realize?
While it was nice to get a responsibility-free 2 days, I wouldn't trade my life. I am tired as crap. I'm out of money. I generally am consumed with driving them around, cooking them meals, cleaning their clothes....BUT I LOVE these kids. They are so freaking cool. They are smart, amazing and fun to be around. They've brought an endless amount of joy to me. I always tell people that I'm glad I had kids young because I get to know them pretty much my WHOLE life.
I didn't get to party in my youth but I don't think I missed out AT ALL. We are STILL young. I will be 40 when my youngest goes to college. THEN, we will get to have our childless time. Except it will be better because we will have more money and life experience than we did in our 20s. But we will still have our sh*tty 40-something bodies, so I guess that is the trade off. Oh well, you can't have it all.
The kids are back now and we are back to real life. We're taking an impromptu day trip to the Biltmore, the kids have their regular scheduled activities, my husband will be out of town next week, there are birthday parties to prep for, maybe a beach day?
My oldest daughter came to me in May with a brochure for music camp at one of the local universities. I looked it over. It seemed legit, there was an option to stay overnight at the dorms and it was reasonable for overnight camp but not cheap. "Okay. You can go BUT that is going to be one of your only birthday presents. We are taking a big vacation AND we are throwing you a birthday party and you want a violin. We are not made of money."
She agreed. I submitted everything and got a confirmation that they were out of dorm spaces and she was wait listed. She was a little bummed but she could still participate in the day camp. A few days before we left for Italy, I got an email that a dorm space had opened up for her. She was ecstatic.
It has been ALL band all the time since she got back from vacation. The week before last she had flute camp all week (yes, that is an actual thing) and the following Monday I took her to music camp at the University. I gave her the list of what she needed to pack and we loaded her blanket, pillow and suitcases into the car.
When we first checked in, they made her audition to see which band she would be in. I waited in line with her and held her case. When she went into the audition room, I stood next to the door where she couldn't see me, my ear close to the crack and listened to her play through her scales and the sight reading.
Yes, I am a psycho band mom...and gymnastics mom, and dance mom. I've invested a lot of time and money into my kids activities so I'm all in. I thought she sounded fab. I breathed a sigh of relief.
After the audition, I checked her in and we got her key to her dorm and her lanyard for meals. They were explaining how everything worked. She would be responsible for getting up and making it to all the rehearsals on time, the meals would be in the college cafeteria. Whoa! This was real life.
They assigned her dorm number. There were two other 8th grade girls already checked in who were going to be rooming with her. As we walked to the car to collect her things, I talked to her about expectations. "Please don't corrupt your roommates." Yeah, I said it. My child is a good girl. About 90% of the time, I have no problems from her at all. However, some kids going into 8th grade are still very innocent and some kids going into the 8th grade know all the things and are free spirits and pierce their own ears. I am under no illusions about my child. I am not in denial. My eyes are always wide open.
She grinned, "Okay, mom." We got her stuff and walked up to the dorm room. She slid her key into the lock and opened the door. There was a tiny, skinny girl with glasses and ripped jeans. The other girl was sitting cross legged on the bed. She was wearing a tie dyed tee-shirt, had purple streaks in her hair and a septum piercing. They were listening to some pop music and talking to some boy on speaker phone.
Well, this is going to work out. These are my daughter's kind of people. My daughter is not shy at all. She threw her stuff on the empty bed and then turned to me and said, "Bye mom." Then she gave me some half ass hug and a look like, You can go now.
"Okay. I love you. Have fun and be good." Then, I left. I left my daughter at the college dorm, walked out and drove home alone. I cried a little. Not because I'm leaving her at camp but because I know that it will happen one day and it will be for good. The years are passing much too quickly.
She wants to go to the Governor's School of the Arts. She has been talking about it for 6 months now. She can apply for the summer program in January. She WANTS to go for flute but will audition for flute, dance and chorus to increase her chances. She can go in the summer between 9th and 10th grades and if you are accepted you live there for 11th and 12th grade. Kind of like boarding school. It's 4 hours away.
When she first told me about wanting to try for Governor's School, I felt my knees buckle. Our time together already seems so short. But, if she has a dream to go and puts the work in and actually is accepted (it's competitive and there is no guarantee she'd get in) then I will let her go.
It would be an amazing experience for her and would open a lot of doors. She would be around people with the same goals and interests. It would be so hard for me but I will never hold her back because I need her here with me. If she is presented with opportunities and experiences that will help her grow and work towards her dreams, I will say yes EVERY TIME. My job as a parent is to make sure that the children are capable enough to support and make a life for themselves one day. I remind myself of that often, especially now as she quickly approaches high school.
I heard from here and there throughout the week. She touched base a few times. A healthy amount. She called to ask me to bring her a razor that she forgot to pack. She called me to tell me about her new friends and to tell me she got a solo. It seemed like she was having fun.
On Saturday, we met her to unload her dorm and have dinner in the cafeteria with her. We ate with her friends and their parents. They all live 2-3 hours away. They talked about marching band and other nerdy band-kid stuff. My daughter sat next to this boy who looked like a Abercrombie model.
I'm going to go off on a tangent right now - they DO NOT make kids like they used to. Middle school kids are supposed to be awkward. Not now a days. This is what a 13-14 year olds looked like in my day:
This is 13-14 year olds look like today:
What the hell are we feeding these kids? Jesus. When we were in Italy someone was talking about how I have beautiful teenage daughters. I was like, You mean my 10 and 12 year olds? What the hell. All these kids are infants but they look so much older than they are. It's the WORST.
Anyway, Abercrombie boy looked at us nervously. I could tell something was up. Something was.
After dinner, she went to get ready for her concert and we sat and waited. Before long, she took the stage. She looked so beautiful. We make pretty people, I bragged to my husband.
She played her solo beautifully. I was so proud of her. The rest of their pieces were fantastic. They sounded like professionals. I could not believe we were listening to a middle school band. After the concert we hugged and congratulated her. She was really happy.
She hugged her friends goodbye including Abercrombie boy who made it a point to shake our hands and tell us how nice it was to meet us. What is up with this kid?
We walked to the car and she chatted excitedly about her new friends and the band directors. Then, here comes Abercrombie boy running after us. Do you know what he said to us? "Excuse me. Can I talk to your daughter alone for a minute?"
What the hell? That's pretty bold. He was really putting himself out there. "Sure." My husband and I walked to the car. "You are going to let her talk to this kid?" my husband said.
I sighed, "They obviously hung out together all week. How many shenanigans can they get into in the parking lot with us 6 feet away? Besides, he lives over 2 hours away and is a teenage Abercrombie model. He probably has 8 girlfriends at home. He's not a threat. We have bigger fish to fry. Like the boys that show up to our house." That does happen. We are triggered.
You have to know when to pick your battles. She caught up with us after a minute. "What was that about?" I asked. She shrugged, "Nothing really. He just wanted to say goodbye."
I'm sure he did. We got ice cream on the way home and I was so happy to finally have her back.
We rolled out of bed on Wednesday morning, ready to start the journey home. I was glad about it. "I bet we'll get home and walk into the house and be like, This place is a piece of sh*t." After living the life of luxury for almost 2 weeks, it seemed like a thing.
We had breakfast and then walked off the ship. The driver met us right away and we loaded our luggage into the van and made our journey to the airport. I looked out the window and said my good-byes to Italy.
We checked in and boarded our plane. We had a layover in Morocco again. The kids didn't care, they had internet. After a lot of waiting, we got ready to board the plane to NYC. We wound up standing next to this Bohemian guy. He had linen pants, a patchwork shirt, gages in his ears and dirty blonde hair that was pulled into a man bun. We struck up a conversation with him.
"Where are you from?"
"Italy, Turin," he told us, in broken English.
"That's where we just came from. It was absolutely beautiful."
He shrugged, "It's okay."
Then he told us about how he was coming to the US to work at a camp in Pennsylvania. He was really excited about. I was amused that he was unimpressed with Italy but was pumped to go to Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is okay, it's pretty but it's still Pennsylvania.
He was telling us that he planned to visit NYC and Philly before going to camp and that he would like to visit a friend in San Francisco. I thought that would be good, he looked like he would fit in San Francisco.
"It's very far from Pennsylvania to San Francisco?"
"Yes. Very far. It will take you like 3 days."
"You think I could hitchhike? What is the hitchhike culture like?"
"Well, it's not a really mainstream way to travel in the US now-a-days."
He told us about his parents who are hippies and his brother and how he just a year in Iceland and how his long term girlfriend broke up with him. He was a sweet kid. He was so cute, 23 years old and he had a kind soul. I prayed that NYC and Philadelphia were kind to him.
We had a LONG flight to NYC and we went backwards in time so when we got to JFK it was almost 2 am. I was tired and grumpy. But we were glad to land in the US. Until we got to the terminal. The people working were just rude and being straight a**holes. But we were in New York, so I expected that. We scanned our passports and my husband was selected to be randomly screened. Probably because of the beard.
Me and the kids were not selected so we went through a different line and my husband had to wait in the long ass line with all the foreigners. When I went through passport control, I realized that my husband and I had swapped passports. The officer told me that I could swap back with my husband in the other line and then just come back through.
That's what I did but when I went to get back in line one of the security ladies was like, "You got out of this line so now you have to wait in the other line with your husband."
I was confused. That's not what we were told. It was 2 AM, I was with my minor children, we are citizens and we were selected for extra security.
"The officer said we could get back through," I replied. I wasn't rude about it. I was just stating a fact.
She smirked, pointed to the line and you know what that b*tch said to me, "Nope. Enjoy waiting in your line."
That was the last straw. I lost my sh*t just enough to not get banned from the airport. "I want to see a supervisor!" I demanded. They are government workers, they don't care. I ranted so loud and so hard, "I cannot believe the way your staff talks to people. Some of the people getting of this airplane have never been to the US before and this is the welcome that they get? This is the first impression? Rude, nasty people on some kind of power trip? This is just shameful. I am so embarrassed and disgusted right now. Your people need to get their act together!" The dude just looked at me like I was insane. I AM insane. I needed to get that out.
My kids were mortified and my husband was annoyed but I didn't care. Who tells someone, "Enjoy your line?" I wished I had a tennis racket to smack that b*tch with. I was heated. We waited in line over an hour and they gave my husband the umpteenth degree. I was super annoyed.
By this time it' like, 3:30 am and our flight didn't leave until 8. We slept in the JFK lobby and then got up at 5 to check our luggage. We had breakfast in the terminal. It was $50 and disgusting. Breakfast burritos wrapped in tinfoil that were $9 each. I unwrapped the toil and looked at it. It was grey and disgusting. "I've taken dumps that look more appetizing than this. This belongs in the toilet." My husband was hating me. "Dude! Just shut up and eat it." How far we had fallen in just 24 hours.
Soon it was time to head back to Charleston, we boarded our last plane and just 2 hours later we landed. It felt so good to be home. My dad picked us up and we grabbed lunch before heading home. The house seemed different. It seemed bigger than I remember it being. After 2 weeks in hotel rooms and cruise cabins my house seemed like a palace.
We've been home 2 weeks now and life has returned to it's normal chaos. It seems like was some kind of dream. Now, we have the bug. We are going to Puerto Rico next June but thinking about a British Isles cruise the year after that? I want to see the world and I want to do it while I'm young and still have good knees. We'll see. Regardless, we'll always have Italy!
