Fantasies of a Stressed out Mom

TEENAGER (by definition)

{WEBSTER’S DICTIONARY} – Any person between the ages of 13 and 19.

{URBAN DICTIONARY} – God’s punishment for enjoying sex.

The reality of it all is that teenagers suck (usually from a couple of years before until a couple of years after the actual teens). And while I’m pretty sure this has been one of those undisputed-since-the-beginning-of-time facts that most red blooded Americans should already know, we just don’t seem to think about it until it’s right there in our faces..

WTH?

Where’s the survival instinct? The authority? The RESPECT?

It’s gone, that’s where.

Kids these days are born into what I like to call the Age of Entitlement. Everybody owes them something just for being alive.. it’s kinda suck-ish, really, and an absolute shame.

But what do we do? Hell, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do at this point.

Suddenly the adults are all acting just as badly as their kids. We have riots and school shootings and movie theater massacres like once a month… And the suicide rate. Don’t get me started on that shit… Yet it’s all for what? Because someone’s momma wasn’t pay enough attention? Or someone’s girlfriend didn’t want to go to the prom? There are umpteenth new and extraordinarily profound reasons for it all nowadays, and I can’t find the validity in any of them. They’re just kids. Spoiled little hormonal buttheads that think they rule the world because we don’t tell them any different. It’s funny, but looking back I can’t remember anyone ever having to tell me such things….

Still, at the risk of running slightly long winded today I’ve got to take a few minutes (or years) to touch on the subject of my own teenagers. I have been absolutely blessed to have raised, or had a hand in raising, an amazing group of not-so-tiny humans.

Between us, my husband and I have six kids.. and with the exception of one, they have all managed to grow and mature into smart, beautiful, contributing members of society. Don’t get me wrong, that one just so happens to be beautiful and smart (and way too much like her mother) but she also has an attitude thats so incredibly large it casts a literal shadow over everything it touches.

It’s distracting, and so ugly it actually takes something from her… I can’t quite describe it, but if you have teenagers of your own you probably know what I mean..

Teenagers are scary. Like Mr. Gump’s widely known Box of Chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.. I’ve tried my best to curb the enthusiasm she seems to have for feeding the beast inside of her but nothing helps. I can ground her, take her phone, strip her bedroom, blah blah blah.. I get nothing. No reaction. No tears. No improvement. Just a blank face and a monotone voice that breaks my heart in a thousand new ways every time it comes around.

I guess I’m bitching. It’s been a bad week.

Any advice?

Advertisements

Story of My Life..

Tomorrow is Monday. Usually my favorite day of the week, this one happens to be slated for a full day of chores. (WTF Monday? You coulda warned me.. 😒)

It has come to my attention that we’ve less than a full pack of pull-ups left here in the house, and I don’t have a clue where to buy them.. They were being delivered once a month by some place out in Pearl but they stopped for no reason sometime earlier last year. When I called (and I’ve called like six times – seriously) I’m told we need an updated prescription and that they’ll fax a request over to her doctor. Well after waiting a few months and getting nothing i went to the pediatrician and asked her what to do. So she finds the website and prints out the forms and then sits down with me and fills them out. I can only assume she faxed them in as I have yet to hear back about anything.

Its SO frustrating. If I were a toddler I might throw a tantrum. Hell, I might throw onevanyway..

What is..

….

Being a mother has been the most thankless, heartbreaking, under appreciated job I’ve ever had. They don’t tell you that part in those  books for new parents, but it would be nice if they did. You know, maybe some kind of a “Two Sides To Every Story” themed book. Or maybe “What To Expect From Your Teenager”.. That would’ve been great right about now. 

But no, here I am, nursing my feelings yet again.. I mean really. What the hell? It’s like kids these days sit down and practice this stuff like it’s a sport. I don’t know..

Things were different when my girls were still little. I made a lot of mistakes but they loved me anyway and it showed. They were so full of life, I thought I’d never need anyone but then. 

These days it’s anyone’s guess what they’ll do from one minute to the next. It’s mind boggling sometimes.. I get a headache just thinking about it. Maybe I did something wrong? 

Is This Really It??

I’m having something of a day today. Not that it was really very different from most other days.. You’d think that by now I’d be used to my life, and I guess for the most part I am. But sometimes it gets me, and I feel alone and it sucks. 

Being a mom is just about the only thing I’ve ever done right, and I’m proud of the job that I’ve done. I’ve made a LOT of mistakes and I’ve fallen more times than I thought I’d come back from, but I never gave up on myself or my kids and I’d do it again if I could. 

Then there are days like today, when nothing feels right, and I wish I could go back to bed.. But I can’t, of course, not when there’s still so much stuff left to do and without me it wouldn’t get done. 

And I’m tired. 

Randomness 😒

​Gracie. She has good days and bad. The older she gets, the more defined they become. There is no longer a grey area where she sits back and chills. Nowadays I look back on things I used to complain about and just laugh. I thought I had it so rough..

I had no idea how life would turn out and I still don’t, not really. She’s changing all the time. Something good for today might be a train wreck tomorrow and there’s no way to tell which way she’ll go. It’s exhausting. 

We live on the outskirts of a small town in Mississippi. At roughly 2,000 people and no stop light, we’re hardly a blip on the map in my book. Surrounded mainly by timber and fields, it’s a fifteen minute drive in various directions just to get to, say, a Walmart.. Or a movie theater.. Or a restaurant that doesn’t have a drive through window. 

Our town is old and beautiful and quiet but there’s not a whole lot here. I have to drive at least 20 miles to another town to find a Walmart or a restaurant without a drive through window, the nearest being Philadelphia. This is where I shop and do my banking and get my gas. It’s where we go to the doctor and to the dentist and to get our vehicle tags and pay our utility bills and where Dratton has worked for more than sixteen years. 

Gracie doesn’t go to Philadelphia. Not willingly anyway. She starts crying as soon as she realizes the rest of us are putting our shoes on and doesn’t stop until we get there. Sometimes she cries until we get all the way back home again.. 

Those are her bad days. On a good day she’ll still poke her lip out and whine but it isn’t so bad if I stay clear of the railroad tracks that run through the middle of everything. (We got stuck waiting for a train to pass by once and she’s terrified to near hysterics now) To cross them on certain roads or to be away from the house after dark (no matter where we are) is to invite the most ear-piercing screams of sheer terror imaginable. Within minutes she can be red with fever, shaking and crying inconsolably while her lower lip literally trembles. It’s awful and again, there’s not a thing any of us can do for her. 

We’ve tried anxiety meds and backseat DVD players and darkly tinted windows, nothing helps for very long. 

I’m at my wits end. I mean, all of this is just fine and dandy during the school year. I simply do what needs to be done before two o’clock. But right now it’s summer and she goes with me every where. It’s not like I can snap my fingers and conjure up a reliable sitter for a seven year old with a feeding tube and in diapers. That’s not happening. 

So I deal with it. Every day. My “fountain of patience”, as my mom used to call it, is fast drying up as this summer crawls by at a snail’s pace. 

I never thought I’d say it, but Lord, how I miss getting up at 5:30 every morning and dropping the girls off at school! I miss teacher meetings and homework and afternoon complaints about the bus driver and what they served for lunch. 

I. Miss. School. 

Is summer over yet?