Surprise

Last night, I tucked Boy 1 into bed, as usual. We talked about his day, I tried to avoid his stall tactics, and then he said this:

"I can't wait for school to start again."

And then I dropped dead. Because Boy 1? While smart, is not the most ...dedicated student. Unless you count his efforts to avoid his work, because then he is extremely dedicated. A lot.

I should have left it at that, but I have yet to learn to leave well enough alone. Turns out, he misses all that time to hang around with his friends. Shoulda known.

If bribery works, I'll stock up on treats

Boy 1 did well all week. I'm not sure how to convey how huge this is. Even on his good days, it's a mix of snotty behavior and good behavior, but on good days the good behavior outweighs the snot.

This week? Almost completely void of snotty behavior. For that to happen for an entire day would be a big thing. For it to happen for five entire days, while watching his brother, on the week after school got out when transition is usually pretty rough for him, is fucking fantastic. Indescribably wonderful.

The deal was that if he does an ok job of watching his brother, he'd get $10. (why yes, I am cheap, it's called P-O-O-R.) If he didn't beat on his brother (seriously, I wasn't kidding), he'd get $20. And as an added incentive, if he did a great job, he might get a tip. He felt this was fair, I felt this was affordable, everyone was happy. I gave him $50 for the week, in part because I felt he earned it, and in part because I really, really wanted to impress upon him how impressed I was with him. And hopefully this behavior will stick around, or at least come back to visit. Often.

Today's a new day

Yesterday, Boy 1 was great. Helped me move the computer from my room to the living room, set up the wireless adapter thingy that didn't want to work (listen, the router is exactly one foot away from you, behind this wall. This thin, 100 year old wall. Work, damn you!), and rearrange some furniture in my fit of Must Clean Out My Room!

Today? He hit his brother with an empty pop tart box and a dish towel because Boy 2 was doing the heinous crime of breathing. The fiend.

Yesterday, Boy 1 played basketball with Boy 2, Boy 2's annoying friend S and our upstairs tenant's son, who's 5. Played nicely, shared, was gentle with the little kids and didn't trash talk their skills too much. Just a little.

Today, Boy 1 has called his brother names and mumbled obscenities at me because I, too, dare to breathe and exist in his space. The nerve.

So, I'd like to go back to yesterday please? Today is not looking so hot.

On vacation

The brain in Boy 1's head? It apparently has gone on vacation. And I wish it well. I hope it comes back nice and relaxed and refreshed, because I'm not certain what shape Boy 1 will be in when it gets here.

Yesterday? Boy 1 went to a local school to skateboard in the parking lot, since it's vacation and the parking lot is empty. He met a friend there, had a great time. He showed me some pictures he took last night.

Me: Um, Boy 1? Where are you in this picture? Is the parking lot elevated or something? Why am I seeing the second stories of the houses behind you?

Boy 1: Oh, we went up on the roof and skateboarded.

Me: *thud*

After asking him WHAT on EARTH he was THINKING you are NOT supposed to SKATEBOARD on a ROOF for the love of PETE, he calmly answered me that "no told him not to".

Huh. Well. I replied that I hadn't specifically told him not to murder anyone today, but assumed it was implied under a general "behave, child".

Older than sin

I'll be brutally honest here. I'm 31. 31 and 3/4. Boy 1 is 13. 13 and 1/2, if you want to be specific. (Go ahead, do the math... 31 - 13 = too young.) However, he usually behaves more like a guy with split personalities, one of which is 2 and one is 21.

He would like to date. Like, this weekend. A double date to the movies, actually. When that was met with laughter (seriously, the boy makes me laugh. date at the movies - the dark movies - at 13. he's a hoot!) he revised his request. How about a double date being dinner at the mall. Again, it made me chuckle.

He talked with his dad about it, who of course responded like a guy. Sure son! I quickly explained his error (don't be stupid, he's 13.) and he revoked his statement.

Boy 1 and I ended up discussing it maturely (with a minimum of snickering on my part and pouting on his) and came to a compromise. He may go to lunch but I go too. I will sit as far away as possible while still in the restaurant, and may not speak to him or acknowledge him unless he is doing something heinously wrong. Hands are allowed to be held. Kissing will result in me flying across the restaurant yelling "MY BABY" and mortifying him for life.

While I discussed the results of our compromise with his father, he (Him, not Boy 1) wanted to know when I became such a prude. I answered, "When I learned teenagers could become pregnant." Duh.

Our favorite game

Boy 1 likes to play a game. It's called something along the lines of "Let's Give Mom A Heart Attack!" complete with sound effects and everything. These pictures? Taken courtesy of my dad. Dad had Boy 1 help him get the snow off the porch roof and then Boy 1 thought Hey! Wouldn't it be fun to jump off the one story roof onto several feet of half frozen snow. That thudding sound? Is me dropping dead on the floor.

Love makes you feel good

The other morning I was dressed in my typical MILF attire. Raggedy old flannel bathrobe, bed head and a zit. Hot, right?

Dad remarked on how big Boy 1 has gotten lately, and I told him Boy 1 only had 11 pounds to go until he weighs as much as I do. Since Boy 1 is still pretty much thin as a stick, I was feeling kinda of proud of myself.

"Really? He looks so much skinnier than you."



With love like that, how can I go wrong?

Welcome to my house, don't mind the two year olds

To set the stage, Boy 1 is cooking pizza tonight. My dad is cooking a piece of chicken in a frying pan.

Dad wonders over to the oven, peeks in and announces that Boy 1 is burning the pizza. Boy 1 and I check it. It's not burned. Boy 1 likes it a little brown anyways, as Dad knows, so it's nowhere near done. Boy 1 is instantly offended. Dad walks into his room.

A few minutes later, Boy 1 checks on his pizza (still not properly brown) and announces that Grandpa burned the chicken. Dad checks, it's not burned, not yet even cooked through. He makes sure to announce to the room in general that it's not burned. But! The pizza is. He told Boy 1 he should keep an eye on it.

Boy 1 and I check the pizza. It's not burned, it is ready. Boy 1 struggles not to choke his grandfather. His grandfather struggles not to choke Boy 1. I go into my room and bang my head against the wall for a bit.

*No offense to two year olds

A legend in his own mind

When I am 182, I shall look back on Boy 1's childhood and laugh. I mean, he's funny. From a distance. Of approximately 151 years.

I received a call from the vice principal yesterday. Boy 1's behavior, disruptive, mouthing off, etc.

Boy 1 gave me his side of the story last night when I got home from work.

It seems the entire class was talking, as the darling angels had already finished all of their work and were now discussing what good works they could do for widows and orphans later. Or something like that.

The evil teacher, for no reason other than to be mean to Boy 1, swoops down and yells at him, "I see you over here talking, do you think I'm stupid?"

To which Boy 1 replies, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

...

...

The teacher stared at him for a few minutes and then left the room, presumably so she didn't kill him.

While discussing this with him, and trying to stay calm, I said that I'm sure it was funny, but it was incredibly disrespectful.

To which Boy 1 replies, "But Mom, I am a legend."

So, only 150 years, 11 months and 29 days until it's funny.

Harshness

Boy 1 was having a bad day. He was struggling to keep himself in check, and I was trying to help by gently reminding him (Language, honey. Deep breaths.) I knew he was trying, but had no idea how hard he was trying until I heard this exchange between Boy 1 and 2:

Boy 1: I. Am. Going. To. Speak. Harshly. To. You.

I don't think it helped that Boy 2 and I laughed. He looked at us very sternly.

The Teenager of Years to Come

It's really too bad that Boy 1 doesn't believe in Santa anymore, both for him and me. Boy 1 has been filled with the spirit, if you get my drift. The spirit of The Teenager of Years To Come.

You see, behaving, because Santa keeps a list of good little boys and girls and of rotten attitude-filled teenagers, doesn't really have much weight these days.

And Boy 1 seems to really, really want to get coal for christmas. Which is a shame, as we have oil heat. So perhaps he'll get a gallon or two of oil. Because he is fast on his way to not actually getting presents for christmas. A lecture, maybe. If he's lucky, maybe a rock. Or a gallon of oil. Perhaps I'll wrap his clean laundry and tell him he's lucky it's clean and not the dirty laundry. Dirty laundry of socks and gym clothing that I let ripen in a plastic bag for a month.

Just think of all the time and money I'm going to save on his things!

Hush little baby

My son is impossible at bedtime. He wants a drink of water - with ice. He remembers something he has to tell me. He talks to himself. He sings. He wanders into the bathroom (I have to pee) and then stay in there admiring his face and searching for zits. He calls the cat. Then the dog. Then me, to get the cat out because he wants to cuddle with the dog and the cat won't let the dog on the bed. He drives me insane.

I'm ready to stick him in a crib and let him cry it out. Except he'd be able to climb out of the crib and dismantle it, being 13 and all.

It's worse now that the boys are sharing a room again (because my father moved back in), because not only does he drive me nuts, but he picks on/bothers/harasses his brother too. Part of it could be a side effect of his medicine. And having to share a room. And the million things I'm sure are constantly running through a 13 year old boy's head. But seriously? How do I help him get to sleep? He already has a half hour of reading time before bed. We're going to try turning the TV off (GASP! SHOCK! AGONY!) a half hour before that, and see if that helps. But I'm not sure what else to do.

Any ideas? How do you get your little one, er, teenage one to sleep?

I blew it.

I have to apologize to any teachers out there. I totally, completely blew it tonight. I have no excuse. Well, I have lots of excuses. None of which are good enough.


Boy 1 had his parent-teacher conference tonight at 5:45. I remembered it at 6:30. The only good thing is that I wasn't the last one scheduled, so at least they weren't sitting there when they could be on their way home. I feel like an ass. I've never missed a conference or open house or school event before.


My only excuse is that its been a really, really long week.

My dad works odd hours, and his shifts change each week. On Monday night, he was driving home from work around 9 and called. He asked me to bring his medical records and meet him at the hospital. He thought he was having another heart attack. (and drove himself the 45 minutes to the hospital. brilliant.)

He wasn't having another heart attack, luckily, but they admitted him and tried doing a procedure the next day but it wasn't successful. They couldn't reach the blockage. A new blockage, in addition to the other blockages we already knew about. Dad came home yesterday, and is doing well, but it's scary. Also? When he was giving his history to the nurse in the ER, he mentioned that his doctor put him on a new medicine for the chronic bronchitis he has each winter, all winter long. And that the doctor said if this medicine doesn't help, as several medicines before haven't helped, he wants to test him for emphysema. Dad stopped smoking 8 years ago, but smoked for about 35 years. Very scary.

So, that's my excuse. It's been a long, draining week. As I'm sure it's been for Boy 1's teachers. And I stink.

Pure evil genus

Boy 1 leaves for the bus at 7:05. The bus stop is one block away.

Boy 2 meets the bus right in front of the house at 7:30. I sit in my car, in the driveway, until the bus comes, and then we both leave.

And all is good, right?

Ha!

My dad called me at work this morning at 8:30. He works nights, and had been in bed but heard a noise. So he got up. And guess what he found?

Not a mouse.

Not a burgler.

A boy. Boy 1, to be exact.

According to Boy 1, he missed his bus. Ok, fine, no big deal. Did he walk to school, as he walks home? Nope. Did he come home, wake up grandpa and ask for a ride to school? Nope! Did he call me at work and beg forgiveness for making me leave work and haul his behind in to school? NOPE!

He figured he had already missed the bus, so that means it's a free day I guess.

I asked him, when I got home tonight, what he had been planning. Like when the school called me at work, what did he think would happen?

I dunno.

But it's almost ok. Wanna know why? Because I came up with the perfect consequences. As in, evil, borderline cruel, horrible. I think it will drive my point home nicely.

I'm going to wait with him for the bus for the rest of the week. Since he's the last one picked up, all his friends will already be on the bus.

Evil genus, right?

Wheeeeeeee! And then you throw up.

Life with Boy 1 is like a roller coaster. Or drugs. Or having manic depression. There are amazing highs. There are the scariest moments of your life. And there are lows.

Sunday night, the boys and I sat around and had a great night. We played Life. We talked. I asked questions like "Tell me two things about you I don't know" and "So, what do your friends think about smoking" and they were answered, I think pretty honestly. And when I ran out of questions, I was prompted, "Why don'tyou ask me about my favorite movie?" etc. It was a warm, fuzzy After-School-Special moment.

Which made Monday night all the more ...bad. Boy 1 lost his mind, but it went to a new degree of lostness. It ended when I called Him and Her, their dad and stepmom, in tears, because Boy 1 had tried to put me in a headlock. Of course, I had been trying to wash his mouth out with soap because he's already lost his cell phone, his skateboard, TV privileges, xbox privileges, had his bed time raised in 15 minute increments up to an hour and I had run out of consequences for mouthing off. It was a bad evening.

He reminded pissy pouty while on the phone with both Him and Her, but by the time we got off the phone (and Him explained that this weekend? When Boy 1 comes down? They are going to go through this. Boy 1 is not looking forward to that. Which I think is good). Anyway, he calmed down finally and we talked a little. No idea why he blew up like that, but at least the insane child was gone and the grumpy normal child was back.

Then last night? He was fine. I think feeling a bit guilty for his behavior, but that could be my wishful thinking, but behaving well. This roller coaster is not the most fun ever, but the highs are great.

Stage 2

We're in the 'actively trying to impress mom' stage of Boy 1's guide to misbehaving. This stage follows 'actively being angry at everyone else because he got into trouble' and preceeds 'I'm sick of this, mom makes too big of a deal out of things.'

He's been in a fairly good mood today, not going around making snarky little comments. Instead his comments have been more along the lines of "do you see the good works I am doing?!?" Every little thing (See! I didn't punch my brother right then! I'm awesome!) is pointed out. Every request is considered (If I do this, will it earn me trust?) but not in his head, out loud. And he's serious. He'd like a graphic or chart to show that this action will earn this many trust points and he needs to earn this many to get mom to stop calling him slave boy and selling him out to the neighbors to pay off his phone bill.

There, unfortunately, is no chart. I'm not sure that behaving like a normal human and not punching your brother really counts anyway, just as a side note. He didn't like that and I swear I could see the thought running through his head (Aha! That means I can punch him!). On the good side, he has been a bit helpful. I volunteered him to help grandpa move some of his things downstairs, which Boy 1 helped with until grandpa handed him the dresser drawer with his underwear in it. That sent Boy 1 right off the deep end. (Grandpa! Wears underwear! Ew!) and I'm afraid my reply didn't help.

(What, you want him to go commando?

...

AAAAHHHHH! Mom, that's disgusting!)

All the difference

Tonight is not going Boy 1's way. He wanted pizza for dinner, but can't find the pizza tray on which to cook the pizza. Fine. He decides to have mac n' cheese. Gets the big pot out because between him and his brother, they finish off two boxes. Gets the water boiling. Opens the cupboard to get out the boxes. Only to find we're actually out of mac n'cheese.

While he's staring into the cupboard, hoping his sad face will make me get up, go to the store and save him from starving, his phone rings. It's his girlfriend. He takes the call into his room, because one must have privacy when flirting with your girlfriend.

And stomps out a few minutes later. It seems she's broken up with him.

He flops down at the table and says, "Being twelve sucks. Thank god it'll all be different tomorrow."

My baby's a teenager in twelve hours and 25 minutes.

Progress

Boy 1 received his first progress report this Friday. School has always been challenging for him. His behavior, the school work, every day was a major challenge.

On his progress report? Get this:

A+ for both gym and science. An A for math, a B for music, and a C- for reading. So, obviously, the reading needs improvement. But almost all A's and B's? That's incredible. He's proud of himself, I'm proud of him, and best of all is that his goal? Is to hit honor roll for his report card.

The next stage is here

Things are better. I haven't threatened to sell him to the gypsies once today, and I've only imagined hanging him from the ceiling by his ears a couple of times. Ok, several times, but I haven't acted on it, and that's what counts.

We're now in the always entertaining 'amnesia' stage. Now that he's over the bad mood, he can't understand some things. Like why I won't let him have a friend spend the night. Obviously it's because I'm unreasonable. Or why he can't have his cell phone back now, just because I told him if he didn't stop he'd loose it for a week, and it's been two whole days, why on earth should he not actually get it back now? Pshaw, you are so foolish woman.

It's entertaining only because I spend half the day staring at him in disbelief, either because he's asked for something ridiculous given his recent behavior, or because when I explain to him why he can't have something (because your soul was taken over by demons and they got you into a heap of trouble buddy boy), he says with a straight face, "But that was two days ago!" Because there is a time limit woman, and it's 30 seconds.

Luckily, it's mostly passed. Still not perfect, but I mean, he's breathing and a teenage boy. It's not ever going to be perfect is it? We went apple/strawberry/raspberry picking with friends today, and he didn't even spend the entire time bitching that he was bored. The pumpkin whoopie pies and two brownies he ate may have something to do with that, but whatever. I will take what I can get and be darned happy about it.

I'd like a redo

Last night, Boy 1 lost his mind. It hasn't happened in quite a while; the medicine has really helped his behavior and attitude. The worst part? That I behaved just as badly.

Maturity? Never heard of it.

On the bright side, the episode still wasn't as bad as it used to be; he only lost it for about an hour total, instead of hours and continuing into the next day. On the much darker side, I'm sure my behavior did absolutely nothing to help, and made it worse. As I was behaving like a two year old on a sugar melt down, I knew I was handling it the absolutely worst way. But I couldn't seem to get myself to stop. Everything I know about staying calm, not letting him push my buttons and acting my age instead of my freaking shoe size? Out the window.

So, this morning, I apologized again to Boy 1 for my behavior. And I vowed next time to handle it better. But it seems like too little after throwing my own temper tantrum last night. Perhaps an early bed time all week would really teach me?