The Day: 3/25/14

The day has been set: 3/25/14. The Man-Child takes his road test…he very well may be a licensed driver on this date.

Damn.

I’m not ready, I’m really, really not.

 

He asks me sometimes what he was like as a small child, and I am more than happy to oblige him my memories, for they are phenomenal; he was amazing. I know what you’re thinking: He’s your kid! Of course you think that! And you’d be right, to a certain extent. He was, and remains amazing in so many ways.

Out of all three of my children, he is what I think of as most-mine. Strange, I know, but let me explain. This child looks exactly like me (apparently I would have made a better looking man than a woman), he thinks like I do, he responds the way I do, he hates people, change, and assholes. He understands a joke, and more importantly when not to make one, when to laugh, and when to be silent and reflective. He is empathetic, humorous, and a gigantic pessimist by his God-given nature.

But.

He speaks his mind, come hell or flooding high waters, where I remain silent. He accepts others’ faults readily, where I tend to discount others, judging far too swiftly. He loves without reservation, unguarded, where I have taken up the post using more weapons than an Army Ranger possesses to protect my overly-fragile heart.

He is what I wish I could go back and be. He’s a lot of me, just…more fully.

I Believe…

~ Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth

 

Erma Bombeck

 

**The Man Child completed his final drive with the instructor today. He is ready to road test and get his license.

Holy.

Shit.

If you happen to be in So Cal, and see an ancient Acura barreling toward  you, run.

 

 

We are apt to forget that children watch examples better than they listen to preaching.

Roy L. Smith

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_parenting.html#BZjP0VUoYatWX0hW.99

Not quite yet

Over six months later and 13 days until the Man Child turns 17, and still there is no driver’s license. I freely admit that this is in part my fault; I loathe taking him driving. His car is a hunk of crap, which unfortunately, he loves. It makes noises like it will drop the transmission and/or all four tires at any given moment, and it has a very weird smell from all of its previous owners, like stale cigarettes, cheap cologne, and Fritos, all mixed together. Quite nasty. However, the insurance on his car is super inexpensive. To add him to my policy I would have to sell a kidney, or something else kinda vital, on the black market. Besides, I don’t want him driving my car anyway.

The worst part though, is that he DOES. NOT. LISTEN. To anyone. He does okay behind the wheel, with one exception: gassing through turns. He comes almost to a stop, and we have almost been rear-ended more times than my heart can handle. When I tell him what to do, instruct him if you will, he tells me that it is fine and that he was doing everything correctly. Ugh. I seriously hate this. He has no confidence behind the wheel (I have no confidence in him behind the wheel???), and frankly, I don’t know what to do to correct that. The whole thing makes me feel like a horrible parent, like I have failed him somewhere along the line, that I have been lacking in some fundamental way where his upbringing is concerned.

The fact that he is so very much like me doesn’t help the situation. He is shy, reclusive, lacks confidence, hates math to the point that it makes him believe he is stupid in all areas because he doesn’t understand it and struggles to pass simple algebra (I didn’t get over that particular hurdle until college). He is a lover, not a fighter, hating confrontation of any kind. He is content to sit at home and do what makes him comfortable, happy and warm inside and out. And as I see all of these things in him, I realize that they are a reflection of me.

I’m not entirely happy about that. Should I be?

It Drives!!!!

The Boy, who I probably should start calling the Man-Child, has taken~ AND PASSED ~ his driving permit test! I am by turns ecstatic and horrified.

Holy shit! He’ll be on the road soon…with all the people I drive around calling idiots. This has the potential to be very bad.

When I came home from work, he told me all about his testing experience. How he made an appointment so he didn’t have to wait in that huge line, how he only missed 4 out of 46, how he closed his eyes in the first picture and rectified that for the second picture…

Ohmydearlord! He looks like that kid who has spent too much time at grandma’s house, eating whatever he wants and not sleeping, only to come home and have to eat spinach: completely strung out. Eyes too-wide, lips pursed, like he’s trying not to…I don’t know…crap himself? It was very hard not to laugh hysterically when shown that mugshot.

Up next: Actually taking the Man-Child driving. In an actual car. On an actual street.

Our Father, who art in Heaven…

Driving Mr. I Don’t Wanna

The Boy has completed his 3 days of in class driving school, and goes to take his permit test on Monday. This is a monumental achievement given that he is almost 17 and has ZERO desire to drive. Okay, that’s not entirely true. He doesn’t want to drive because once he does, he has to actually leave his room, step away from the Xbox, and get a J-O-B. Such a filthy word.

He is fighting it every step of the way, and that’s fine. He has a rude awakening coming rather soon. He will get the same ultimatum my mother gave me. When you graduate, you will work, and enter college or a trade school of some kind, or you will have 2 weeks to find new arrangements. To some, that may seem harsh. To me, it is a life lesson that he MUST learn if he is to be successful. In my world, there are no handouts; if you want it, WORK for it. As a parent, it has been very hard trying to keep my children from falling into the entitlement mentality of the current government-created society. Argue it all you want, that’s what it is, and as a high school teacher, I see it countless times per day.

But I digress…Where did the time go?! Seriously. Where? I want that bright-eyed little turkey back. That booger that would run away from me simply so I would chase him, and laugh contagiously when I caught him. The smiley child who would climb on my lap with the Pooh blankie and a book, and demand I rock and read.  The boy who couldn’t say Piglet, but could scream “PIGGET!!!” at the top of his lungs at bedtime if we couldn’t find the small pink friend of Pooh Bear. The boy who went through a month-long phase of having to eat ALL meals in the bathtub. I miss that kid. That angel.

But ya know what? Sometimes when he sleeps, and the light from the hallway caresses his face just so, he’s there, my blue-eyed angel.

 

The Boy’s New World

My precious angel, my first born, my son, has made some great strides…no, strike that. He WILL BE making some great strides very soon, or he will be striding everywhere with my foot up his behind.

Last weekend, the man-child was given a car. It is not a new car. It is an old car. A VERY old car. But it has a new engine in it, it runs decent, and it looks decent, too (I never thought I’d call an Acura integra old, but its 22 years old!). He will be 17 this December, and yet, here we are, no license, no real desire to drive.

I just don’t get it. When I was 14 I was clipping pictures out of Auto Trader magazine and shoving car information down the throats of my mother and my grandpa (the potential car buyers), in the hopes that I would magically be allowed to drive if I just had a car in the driveway. 2 years be damned. When I turned 15 and 1/2, I signed up for driving school; just days after I turned 16, I was legally able to drive.

Him? Not so much. Not even with a car in the driveway. My first born is an idiot, apparently.

He’s got a car. He got his braces off today. He has parents who WANT him to drive (he can taxi the twins part time!!! YAY!!). And still…nada.

Maybe his desire to drive lives in the magical closet where the unicorns are.

 

Baby Turns 16

The Boy has turned 16. I have turned to dust. How did this happen?! I am awash with the knowledge that I am old, and it sucks. I am not aging gracefully, at all. And do you know why? Because I swear that I was 16 myself only yesterday.

Boy Wonder Moves Forward

Holy crap! He made it.

Boy Wonder has managed to pass his classes, and do so without needing a bat upside the head. Huh, perhaps he finally heard the words coming from my mouth about school and grades and homework! Who knew?!?

Friends whose children are younger than mine, often ask me if it gets easier, this parenting thing. The honest answer is no. Sure some difficulties pass with the age of the child, but others swiftly swoop in to take their place. Diapers and formula get traded for learning the word “NO” and how to use it at the most inopportune moments, for example. Carseats, cribs, legos on the floor, nap time, and the no-eating phase, have turned into monitoring homework, Facebook, and cell phone usage, checking out friends, talking about drugs and sex, learning to drive, and the ever-present teen angst and drama, generally intertwined with the snottiest attitudes and comments known to man. So, does it get easier? I say, pick your poison.

He will be 15 soon. Too soon. And next year, he will embark on that high school journey, and I will begin my journey toward letting my baby go.

Mr. Sarcasm Turns 14

Last week, my baby turned 14. He kept it low profile though, only inviting 4 friends over for pizza, video games, and snoring (though they didn’t get to that part until 4 a.m.). 14 year old boys smell. I know I have commented on this before, but damn, it’s just so true! I had to air out the house in the cold and rain just to get some semblance of a normal smell back in the place.

I asked him if he felt any older, and his response was that, yes, he in fact did feel older. When I asked him why he thought that was, he said that it was probably because of all the crap he has been though lately. Hmmm….wise beyond his years.

The Non-Student

I am always annoyed at the prospect of having to get the mail. In my world, nothing pleasant comes from getting the mail. Therefore, I avoid the task for as long as possible, which is usually when the mail carrier leaves a note in the box that kindly tells me that my box is full. Like I couldn’t see that for myself.

Yesterday, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and made the trek to the mailbox 3 houses down. It was predictably full and contained a progress report from my son’s school. Since I am a teacher, and I send these out myself, I knew what it was before I opened it; my son was not doing well in school. What was inside was just how poorly he is doing. Three Fs; science, English, and history. My only consolation was that math wasn’t on that list, for the first time ever.

I called him downstairs so I could have “the talk” about his grades. His response? Well, at least I’m passing math for once. Gotta love 8th grade logic. I asked what the problem was for each class individually. He said that the history teacher is mean and spends most of her class time handing out detentions and the science teacher doesn’t teach, she yells. The next one was the real clincher for me though. I asked about English and he said that there were some things he just didn’t get. Umm……HELLO?!? Your mother is an English teacher! Do you think he acknowledged that fact? Negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full. It was definitely one of those moments when I wished that it was legal to sell your children on eBay.

The biggest kick in the teeth was when he came home today, settled in to complete a pro/con essay on a topic of his choosing for a make up assignment. I left him alone to work on it, and about five minutes later he asked me to read his opening paragraph. I thought, yeah, right. It’s been 5 minutes; this is going to be awful. Shame on me for not believing that my kid received some of my DNA. It was brilliantly done. It was better than most of my 10th grade students’ paper attempts. WTH? He didn’t get English?!? Ay yi yi!!