There isn’t a day that passes where I feel like I should call my parents and apologize for being an asshole when I was younger.
Because I now know (and am reminded daily) what I was like way back in 1985. I know this because not only do I have one version of my old 15 year old self, but two.
It’s a good thing teenagers start out as babies or surely you’d eat them–or feed them to those less fortunate than you. They are soft and cuddly and have that new baby smell. They coo and laugh and smile at you with an infectious toothless grin that absolutely melts your heart. Their toes are sweet; their baby bellies are fat and smoochable; their love for you beams through the expression in their eyes. They captivate you from day one, you fall in love, and you wonder how you were ever happy before this precious little bundle came along. You feel like the happiest person on the planet.
Fast forward 12 years.
Let the suckage begin.
Something happens.
It’s subtle at first.
A glare.
An eye roll.
A smart mouth comment.
A refusal to keep the room clean.
A gasp when asked to take out the garbage.
A declaration about how uncool you are. (which is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard)
You think, huh, what’s happening to the little person, who if I remember correctly, came sideways out my vagina, but whom I vowed to love anyway? Oh well, I’ll let this slide today. Must be having a rough week at school.
But then “Princess” starts acting out even more. There are arguments about what clothes are and aren’t acceptable to wear to the mall. FYI: Personally, I feel it’s not OK to have my teenage daughters’ asses hanging out of their shorts–or their nipples showing. But that’s just me. I don’t even want to *believe* that my daughters have nipples.
The mouthiness gets worse and it’s doubled–because there are TWO of them and they gang up on you–when they’re not fighting between themselves and stealing each other’s hair straighteners and deodorant. Side note: deodorant is a must for teenagers. That baby smell? It wears off. And trust me, there’s nothing sweet smelling about teenager stank.
The eye rolls become a competition of wills. And you find yourself regressing back to 1985 and engaging in a bitch fest. And you’re pissed because you pride yourself on being the best bitch on the block and now you’ve got major competition. And they’re gaining ground on you. And you tell yourself, “I *must* win.” (Which, by the way, isn’t immature at all. These twerps don’t know who they’re dealing with but oh, they will find out)
Every day becomes a battle and you beg God and Oprah and Tom Cruise, “Just PLEASE let me get through this day without snapping teenagers in two with my bare hands.” And every day (so far) the prayer has been answered. You don’t know how you got through the day without a body count, but you did, and for that, you are grateful.
Fuckin’ A. It’s hard work being enlightened.
PS. Completely unrelated to this story. I dreamed last night that I was in a boob bouncing competition. It went something like this. I was in a room with a ton of other people (men and women) and entered a contest to see whose boobs were the bounciest when they jumped up and down. So the music started and I jumped up and down, up and down, and a crowd gathered around me (mostly men) and watched MY BOOBS and judged the bounciness. It was like the most awesome competition EVER. I don’t know if I won or not. Tommy’s alarm went off right as it was getting good. Stupid Tommy’s alarm.
PPS. Come back at 5pm Central to see if you won the Basket Full of Goodies Giveaway! Also, one of you lucky people will win a “hand mixer” and 3 of you will win signed copies of my book and another 3 will win a hand painted wine glass that I painted with my very own hands.
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
I was going to respond to the eye-rolling theme, but then boob-bouncing unglued my ability to compose a retort.
i will be back here later, because i *know* Avitable is going to have something clever/dirty to say about boob bounce-age. You’re lucky you have four kids and they still bounce. Well done.
don’t threaten ME with a good time!!! (5pm central) I’ll be glued to the computer! That is unless the fed ex guy drops off the crap I ordered for christmas….then I’ll be blued to my cell phone….
blued….glued shlameel shlamazzle.
I haven’t had my coffee yet. And i brought my own mug in honor of your mug story!
and it’s not nearly as neat as yours nor is it hand crafted….FML. LOL
Shauna, we’ve got to chat some more about teenagers. I lived through two girls going through *the change*. One of them had a protracted emo phase – thank your lucky stars if you escape without that one. They have come out on the other side as two amazing and lovely adults who apologize now for how they acted. Just stay the course and don’t run out of wine.
ROFL! Why is it that when you’re just getting to the good parts, the men always fuck it up? LOL
Boob bouncage (bounce-age?) bouncing would be a great contest. LOL Though, I think mine would be more like putting a tennis ball inside a nylon and smashing it off a brick wall. What was the name of that game again?
Ok stop. You’re seriously scaring the crap out of me.
You should be afraid. My “good” daughter is putting me through this and there is not enough wine in the world to make it go away.
just goes to show you that when your parents yelled at you “just wait until you have kids!” …..that they actually knew what they were talking about. Curses to them!
And I thought the terrible twos were bad….
It’s 5:19PM Central and my name hasn’t been posted yet as a winner. What gives?
Its almost 7pm.. where’s my hand mixer?
Three daughters…15 years and older. I sympathize. One may not survive the winter break.
Speaking of weird dreams…I don’t usually have sexy ones, but the other night I had a dream about an old friend from high school (that was 25 years ago). She, yes, she was flirting with me and as the dream progressed, I find she has a penis! A HUGE penis! I can’t go into any more detail as it still freaks me out!
[WORDPRESS HASHCASH] The poster sent us ’0 which is not a hashcash value.
I have three daughters, the youngest is 15. I sympathize.
Interesting dream. Don’t ya wonder where they come from? I don’t usually have sexy dreams, but a couple of nights ago I dreamed about an old high school friend (that was 25 years ago). In the dream she was flirting with me and I eventually come to notice she has a penis. A HUGE penis! I can’t go into any more detail as it still freaks me out a little! My husb’s alarm did NOT go off in time!
I have three teens and everyday is a battle of some sort. I am so with you.
You’re onto to something with the Boob Bouncing competition. Income potential, anyone?
I was 10 in 1985. Just saying.
I host boob bouncing competitions in my guest room every other Thursday. We rate them based on uniformity, globular consistency, and rhythm. Drinks are free. Will I see you there this week?
Mine are 5 and 8, but I am dreading how fast the terrible teens are going to approach! In fact, my 8 year old is starting to give me attitude. But luckily she’s still scared of my wrath.
(The boob bouncing caveat WAS the icing on this cake!)
I know for a fact I was nothing like my teenagers! I was always afraid of getting in trouble. ha. My teen son is putting me through hell right now. Looks like 15 is the age of that from all your other replies. Great!!!!!
I started at the bottom of this blog…..thankfully…I got all the way to PS…read the whole thing backwards.
I think it should be an Olympic Sport….not sure whether is should be a “summer” or a “winter” event though…vexed.
see, “girl crushes cans with boobs” video; you will piss yourself