Tag Archives: change

Armegeddon: The Tween Years

Lately, I feel as though there should be an announcer in our home, yelling over a microphone,”Let’s get ready to RUMBLE!”

I say something, I get a snarky comment.  I make an observation, I get a rude look.  I ask for something to get done, I get an argument.  I demand for something to get done, well, let the battle begin.

Nothing is easy lately- not that it ever really WAS, but it certainly isn’t getting any easier.  People told me it would get easier once kids get older, but now I have to ask- how old?  13?  16?  18?  21?  The day they have their own kid hit their tween years and they get it?  HOW OLD???

I can’t even ask for a simple request of,”Can you please put your dishes into the sink?” without it turning into a throwdown worthy of Pay Per View.  Suddenly, I’m the witch from a thousand Disney movies, all rolled into one horrifying mother figure, all because I’m trying to teach my son skills that will keep his future wife from maiming and/or killing him.

Its a scary thing, puberty.  If the changes could JUST be confined to his voice, we could all just have a laugh and call it a day, but no.  Suddenly, along with the hair, height and hilarity, there are evil things called “Hormones” lurking about.  Testosterone runs wild, waiting for the chance to take a joke too seriously, overreact to an everyday situation, or duel to the death over an imagined injustice.

Its enough to make a mom want to throw up her hands and ask,”Brangelina have adopted so many kids- maybe they’d be interested in 1 more…?”

And, I know, “This too shall pass”, but- really?  You’re going to put your brother in a head lock because he messed with your deck of Pokemon cards?  Come on.

Soooo… yeah.  Now that puberty has hit, its apparent that everyday will be a battle; sometimes us parents will win; sometimes heads will roll; but in the end, I’m almost certain the hubby and I will win the war and our obnoxious tween will come out a mature young man.

I think.  I hope.

How long does puberty last again?

I’ve got my kid on a string…

In 2 days, my oldest will no longer be in elementary school.


For some reason, some twit thought it would be funny to have Jr. High start (in our district) in 6th grade.

As if kids don’t grow up fast enough, let’s throw an 11 year old into Jr. High.  I know its just a label, but I look at it this way: in elementary school, they’re learning the basics to proceed.  In Jr. High, they’re getting them ready for high school and higher education.

My son thinks its hilarious to listen to someone spell ‘icup’- you’re telling me HE is ready to be prepped for higher learning??

I’m already having a hard time explaining to him that he’s too young for girlfriends- whats going to happen when he’s trying to fit in with older kids at this new school?  Everyone worries about their daughters and them growing up too fast; no one stops to think about how fast boys grow up. A girl can only carry so many babies at once- boys can impregnate multiple girls.

I try to remind myself that all we’ve taught them will stick and they’ll emerge unscathed, but I’ve tried repeatedly to teach them that poop jokes aren’t to be told at the dinner table, and all I ever hear is “I forgot.”  How much of what we teach will stick in the times we need it to?  How much of what we teach will be “forgotten” when faced with the opportunity to be “cool”?

As a parent, we want our kids to grow wings- to grow up, experience new things, and -God willing- move out before our sanity completely dissolves.  Its just kind of scary to watch it happen.

I’m not suggesting lead shoes to keep him grounded… maybe just a kite string for if he flies to far out of reach, ya know?

Take 3

When I was in high school, I had a specific view of what my life would look like:  somehow I would be both a stay at home mom and yet have a very successful career in some chosen profession (it all depended on how I felt that particular day); I’d be married to the man of my dreams; we’d have a little white house with a little white picket fence; there would be a big oak tree in the yard and on it would be a tire swing; sitting on the front porch would be our lazy family dog; and playing out in the back yard were our 2 kids- a boy (oldest) and girl.  Sometimes there would be a third child in this dream, but its gender never really mattered.

I’ve now been out of high school for 12 years, and my reality is just a tad different from my dream.

I went to college to get my “very successful career”, but after graduating, I realized it wasn’t quite the field for me.  I also realized that I was pregnant and my boyfriend and I weren’t married.  After running up some credit card bills, our credit took a nosedive, so the possibility of getting the “little white house with the little white picket fence” wasn’t in the cards, and there aren’t many apartment complexes with big oak trees right out your front door, so there went that picture, along with the tire swing; and since most apartment complexes either don’t allow pets or else they’re too small for them, we ended up with a lazy cat instead.  And the kids?  I now have 3 boys- all male.

In fact, the only part of my dream that came true was marrying the man of my dreams.  I know- its a mushy statement.  Well, I’m a girl- I’m allowed to be mushy.  Heck, in a household full of males (our cat is a boy- even our fishes have boy names!), its my God given right- no RESPONSIBILITY- to be as girly as possible.

You’d think that I’d be disappointed that not all of my dreams came true, but God never promised me that life would be like Disneyland- where all your dreams come true.  And, honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well- right now.  Ask me if I would toward the end of the day when I’m watching the clock, waiting for the boys’ bedtime,  and wishing I could have a glass of wine.

So, why ‘Take 3’?  Well, for an obvious reason- my youngest was born on Dec. 30th.  3rd child.  3rd. boy.  3rd chance to get the ‘Mommy of the Year’ award…  You’d think that wouldn’t be so hard, but apparently they have really high standards for the definition of ‘Mommy of the Year’.  I’ve heard they frown on some of the things I do as a mom, but I’m still crossing my fingers.

This is also my 3rd chance to get back the body I had in high school.  Of course, there’s the very real possibility that the only way that’ll happen is through extensive plastic surgery, but I always was a sucker for lost causes.  I think, though, that if I put it out there into the ether that I’m on a mission to shed the “baby weight”, that maybe I’ll become a MILTSDAHCW (‘Mom I’d Like To Sit Down And Have Coffee With’- what?  You’ve never heard of that one?) by Christmas.  We’ll see.