I Fell Off My Shoes. Again.

I’m clumsy. Incredibly clumsy. I’ve struggled with it my whole life - not quite sure why. Quit dance class before I got the basics down? Maybe. I’ve tripped over a cinder block while wearing a skirt (first date), I’ve fallen out of my shoes during the high school graduation procession (sorry Todd) and I’ve fallen off my shoes during a dash to the door in a rainstorm (Another first date. Different guy.) It’s not that I walk around running into walls or anything I just, often, find myself losing my footing and taking a tumble. 

There was an incident in the summer of '93. It was summertime and I was out celebrating life with friends (I was drunk) and I decided to leap off the railroad tracks down onto the grassy slope below. What I didn’t know, and wouldn’t realize until I made contact, was that there was a railroad tie hidden in the grass. I nearly made it but, when it came time to stick the landing, all was lost. My foot hit the edge of the railroad tie and my ankle rolled 90 degrees to the side. The pain was instantaneous and the regret immediate. Alcohol, miracle elixer that it is, prevented the real pain from making itself known at that moment but it would come.

The next morning I woke to a throbbing, screaming pain in my ankle that would not be ignored. I looked down at my ankle (left ankle - that might be important later) and saw it had swollen to the size of a small melon. It was pretty gross. Sobbing hysterically I crawled into my Mom’s room for assistance. Went to the ER and numerous visits after that while wearing a walking cast. As a direct result of that fall my ankle has never been the same. Ever. The injury is what brought about my "I will never ice skate again" declaration.

I digress. Back to the fall from yesterday. Zoe is horrified yet laughing hysterically. I’m pretty horrified too, but decidely not laughing. Thank God the alarm wasn’t activated in that Jeep. If it had been turned on the thing would have started screaming in my ears while I tried to get back in my car. Zoe and I had gone out for sushi and as we headed for the car, I made a miscalculation in stepping off the curb. My ankle (right one this time - Yay!) gave way. I felt my other (useless) ankle give as well and I could feel myself going down. But. There was a beautiful, new, champagne colored Jeep parked next to my car. My hand shot out, instinctively, and smacked the hood of the Jeep, scrambling for purchase. I bounced off the Jeep then spun into the side of my car, grabbing the side mirror for balance. While I’m sure it only took 3 seconds, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion and that the entire population of the Busch’s parking lot was witnessing the fall. The minute it happened I knew it would be bad. You know how you can just feel something like that?  I struggled to get into the car as did Zoe, but she struggled more because she couldn’t stop laughing (nice, right?)… I told her we needed to get home before my foot swelled up so much that we couldn’t get the shoe off (not my first rodeo). I will pay for this tomorrow.

I remember a friend once told me that my self-proclaimed clumsiness was not, in fact, actual clumsiness. She said my frequent falls indicated that I was athletic, not clumsy and that I wasn’t afraid to move my body about which is why I fell a lot. I don’t know about that. If the US gymnastics team was as “athletic” as me there would be piles of them laying on the gymnasium floor in bandages. It would look like a MASH unit or that one scene in Gone With the Wind. The point is that my well-intentioned friend (Hi Kate!) loved me enough to tell me lies. The end.

I'm not mad, just disappointed

I was laying in bed at 10:30 am on a Sunday morning when Max (my 19 year old son) walked into my room. I rolled over to look at him through sleepy eyes (I was out late the night before), only to focus in and see he was looking at me with …. Is that disdain? Arms crossed, looking down at me, he said, “Are you going to stay in bed ALL day? You go out galavanting around town every night, you don’t get home until 3:00am and you didn’t even have the decency to call and let me know where you were? The kitchen was a mess so I cleaned it - you’re welcome - and I had to put away all the laundry as well. The dog sure wasn’t going to let herself out so I had to take care of that too. The kittens kept us up all night and I got no sleep at all because I was worrying about you.”

What. Is. Happening.

I’ve recently re-entered the dating game. Sort of. Really just kind of dipping a toe in if I’m being totally honest. But yes, I was out late and no, I didn’t call. To be fair, both kids are able to track me by my cell phone location and they knew who I was with but I agree I should have called.

Still. It’s pretty funny. Seeing him standing there looking all exasperated and mad. Just like I’ve done with him a millions times before....

Chip Clips

It's summertiiime and the chip clips are miiissing...

It's summertime. The kids are home all day. The dishes are piling up. The rest of the house is trashed. The cats are looking skittish and I can't find the dog food (40 lb bag I bought yesterday). I shop for groceries every day to feed the hordes of teenagers that roam through each night. The kids come and go all. day. long. Wet bathing suits are strewn about the house and there isn't a dry beach towel to be found. The front door never really closes and someone set up a tent in the yard - 3 weeks ago. I have no idea how many kids are actually living here but, if the rapid rate of toilet paper usage is any indication, there's a lot.

And then there's the issue of the chip clips.

I spend a lot of time, each day looking for chip clips. My search is always more frantic in the summer because the humidity makes chips go stale within like 30 seconds of opening the bag. Yet the kids leave the bags, unopened, all over the house. On my daily travels throughout the house I'm destined to find at least one open bag laying around somewhere. So I dutifully pick up said bag and walk to the kitchen for a chip clip. I begin the search. It does not go well. I cannot find a single chip clip anywhere in the kitchen or pantry. How is that possible? I buy them at yard sales, the dollar store and sometimes even the office supply store. I stash them everywhere preparing for some sort of chip clip apocalypse but, when the time comes, they're gone. Just GONE. So then I begin to scavenge for a pony tail holder or even a super sturdy paperclip. Nothing. I go to my office where I keep all the office supplies but all I can find are the tiniest clips that can only hold one piece of paper. (Why do they even make those?) Screw it. They’re all gone and I’m tired. I head back to the kitchen and do the "roll and tuck" method on each bag. Roll ‘em up, tuck ‘em close together and hope it holds. Fall cannot come soon enough.

When these kids head off to start their lives (or at least back to school) I will have an entire drawer dedicated only to chip clips. I swear, I will never go chip clip (less) again!

Family Vacation

We just got back from a week at the beach. I went on this vacation with the following crew: My mom, my sister, her husband and their three boys, my other sister (her beau stayed a few days) and her two kids (one with boyfriend who came along as well) and my kids. Sounds insane, right? Yeah, it kinda was. But in a good way.

We rented three cabins on the beach in South Haven and the location could not have been better. Cute cabins, giant deck, right on the beach. It was the best kind of vacation - the kind where there is no schedule, no agenda, no plan. Each day started with coffee on the deck which eventually led to breakfast, then groups would begin to migrate to the beach. Kids would wander back up, famished, around lunchtime and sandwiches were thrown together. Dinner would usually be discussed late in the day and a volunteer would head to Meijer for supplies.

We sat on the beach, listening to the water, talking, laughing, watching the kids play, with our toes in the sand. The kids were exhausted each night. The true, complete exhaustion you feel only after a full day of water, sand and sunshine. When night came we played euchre on the deck then transitioned to a bonfire on the beach. Complete with singing.

Euchre crew killin' it. 

Before you choke on the sweetness of it all (I'm sure the singing put you near, if not over the edge) let me explain. My Dad came from a very musical family and shared that history and love of music with us girls while we were growing up. He would sing and play the guitar and we would all sing along. Around campfires, at church and at home. When we were very little he would sit in the hall outside our bedrooms and sing us to sleep. It's very special to us and it's a tradition we work hard to continue. Truth be told, I don't actually work that hard. Kelly taught herself to play the ukelele and practices all the time - I just hold the songbook for her and turn the pages. Anyway, the kids love it. You might think they wouldn't but they do. Each day they asked if we would sing and have a bonfire that night.

And also, we rented a jet ski. Everyone was SO excited! We rented it for two hours and had the time all mapped out with who would ride it when. Really not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to give my daughter and neice a ride. I've ridden jet skis before, though, in hindsight I may not have actually driven one. You see, I'm not what you'd call a water person. At all. Not sure why this didn't occur to me when it came my turn to ride.  My sister, her husband and my son had already taken their turns on it when they handed it over to me - racing, jumping waves, having a ball! They brought it in to about 3 ft of water so I could climb on from the back. No problem. Life vest in place, kill switch tether attached. My neice on board.

I barely touched the throttle and found it to be very responsive. A little too responsive, if you want to know the truth. And here's the problem with jet skis. They're completely counterintuitive. When you feel like it's getting out of control or a wave is coming at you the wrong way your instinct is to let go of the throttle but you're SUPPOSED to slam it down and maneuver away. The other problem is that when you let go of the throttle the whole thing gets incredibly tippy and sinks. I mean, not completely, but enough to make a non-water person like myself panic. When you try to take off again it's like you're on a submarine with all the stupid water coming at you. Let's also add to the equation that the water was spraying in my face like a damn firehose so I had to take off my prescription sunglasses and I really couldn't see much. At one point I remember yelling, "Can you see any boats or swimmers around here? I can't see anything. Tell me if I'm going to hit something." Seriously should NOT have been driving it.

But then. Then. It got worse. I fell off. Not just fell off, was thrown from the crazy thing! Took my niece with me too. Came up sputtering, choking and panicked. Looked around and saw the jet ski. Check. Saw my niece. Check. Then I thought about how deep the water was and what was beneath me and I lost it. I wildly, frantically clawed my way back to the machine where my niece was patiently waiting. I was practically hysterical in my attempt to get back up. If I could have stood on her head for quicker boarding, I'd have done it. I'm not proud but it's true. I needed to get out of that water. Quickly.

So you'd think, that when it came time to give my daughter her ride I would've turned over the reins to my sister or her husband but I didn't. Took my daughter and got thrown from the stupid thing AGAIN. But this time I was far more tired. Pulling myself onto the machine felt like pulling myself out of a deep vat of mud. It suddenly occurred to me that I may not be able to get back up. That I may require some sort of Coast Guard rescue (Do they do that for terrible jet skis drivers? What a waste of taxpayer money) and that this could take awhile. My lovely daughter would have none of my defeatist attitude and cheered me on (and pushed my butt a little too) until I was back up on the machine. We immediately returned it to the rental guy. Machine must've been defective or something.....

The second "incident" involved Mom. She and I were sitting in the sun and decided to go in the lake for a quick swim to cool off.  I should note there was a yellow flag flying on the beach but, here's the thing, we didn't pay much attention to the flags. When the red flag was flying you weren't supposed to swim due to the undertow and high waves but those were the days the kids liked best! So red days - don't swim. Yellow days - swim carefully. Green days - all good. Back to the story, it was a yellow day. I headed into the water first and found it to be cold but refreshing. I was a few feet from the shore, maybe about up to my mid-thigh. Mom was just entering the water. Then everything went into slow motion. You know how that is?

Mom started to lean to the left a bit, then a bit more, then she was down. I started to move towards her and glanced up to see my sister on the beach - laughing, reaching for her phone - and then a wave CRASHED right on top of Mom. I mean BOOM. No escape. She came up sputtering and looking like a drowned puppy. I reached for her - still laughing - then a man from the shore came in to help too. I was laughing, Mom was laughing and this poor guy was struggling to save her. We were laughing so damn hard we could barely stand. Sister, on shore,  still snapping photos. Mom had a death grip on this guy - would NOT let go of him until she was safely on shore. The photos are hillarious. I look like hell but I'm not even mad. Totally worth it.

So, in conclusion, the vacation was hillarious, emotional, messy, loud, frustrating, happy, enlightening and real. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

Teenage Angst Gone Too Far

Something is very, very wrong. My 14 year old daughter is crying hysterically. I don't know what's happening. She's glued to her phone. I can't tell what's happening. She's not telling me. I need to know what's going on. And then she tells me.  

She was "going out" with this boy for about three weeks. If you're not well versed in teenage vernacular, "going out" means snap chatting, texting and maybe seeing each other downtown, after school, at the Dairy Queen. Three weeks. I really need to emphasize the length of the relationship because it's important. 

She then decided she didn't want to "go out" with him anymore and told him that. To his face. Kindly. Like a good human being. And here's what he did in return.

He threatened to kill himself. You think I'm kidding? You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. He, straight up, said he would kill himself if she left him. He said he would jump off the bridge to end his life. My mind is reeling. Who does that? Can you even do that? What is happening here?  

He was relentlessly "snap chatting" her about how sad he was and how he wanted to end his life. He sent her photos of himself on a very high bridge. He kept begging her to change her mind because he couldn't live without her. 

Then, to make matters FAR worse, he (four hours later) made out with one of her "friends" in a basement somewhere. Emotional whiplash anyone? Yeah, me too. 

Can we talk about this? Can we break this down? I'm extremely concerned, more so because this isn't the first time this has happened. Other break ups have left us with boys claiming they will harm themselves too.

What's going on here? Why are these boys doing this? Are there situations where such emotional terrorism/blackmail achieves the goal of getting the girl to stay? I can barely form words. These kids are 14 years old.  Where did they learn that this was a healthy way to deal with things?  Why can't my daughter see the wrongness of this? Why can't she see that this boy is somehow emotionally impaired or unstable and that it's not about her?

She is worried he will harm himself and everyone will blame her. I've told her that her only duty is to be kind to him and to be honest. I told her she should tell me if she believes his threat is real and I will notify his parents and/or the authorities. What do I tell her beyond that? What do I tell her in this day and age when young people (children) are dying of suicide at an alarming rate? How do I help her navigate this nightmare?  

But wait. It gets worse. Her friend group then turned on her. The boy she broke up with is relatively new to the school system and the area. Her friends didn't really know him that well. But. When he was upset, crying and threatening suicide, they took his side. They were angry that my daughter would make him so sad. Did you hear that? That she would make him sad. NONE OF US HAS POWER LIKE THAT, LEAST OF ALL A 14 YEAR OLD GIRL. But her friends felt bad for him. So bad, in fact, that they chose to cast her out of the group because she made a conscious choice to end a relationship that wasn't working for her. She didn't text him to end it. She wasn't rude to him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore and was honest about that. 

She was also deeply hurt that this "friend" of hers would kiss this boy just a few hours later. That makes sense to me. Am I crazy? I would be VERY upset if a boy, claiming to love me more than life itself, turned his attention to a willing participant who used to be a friend of mine, only hours later in a dark basement. What message does this send? First, the boy is lying. He doesn't like my daughter all that much or he wouldn't have done that. So she can just go ahead and start to doubt herself and her decision to trust him. Second, why would her friend willingly (and so quickly) jump into that abyss? Does she have no self respect at all? He's crying over another girl and you rush in to kiss him hoping to start a relationship with him? Really? REALLY?? That's the kind of dude you want? And that's the kind of story you want? Ew. 

This terrifies me for the future. Why would they do that? Why would they blame her for making a healthy choice? Why wouldn't they support the decision of their friend? Where are we headed and how do we get off this ride?

You Can't Push Someone Up a Ladder

I'm tired. All the time. And no, it's not an autoimmune disorder or bad sleep hygiene. It's that I never actually rest my eyes and my body, both at the same time, for a full night. And do you want to know why? Teenagers. More specifically, my teenager.

I'm like a firefighter, or what I think a firefighter is like, at night. My clothes and shoes are always nearby. I've got my phone on the bedside stand - fully charged and ready with the ringer on. I am able to leap from bed at a moment's notice and handle whatever situation comes my way. Well, most of the time.

The usual situation is talking to police officers at my door at all hours.  They come to my house so frequently now that we're on a first name basis. I'm even getting to know the State Troopers so I guess that's a bonus? Two visits ago the police officer said he really felt bad for me asked if he could give me a hug. Of course I agreed because a) he's very nice, b) he's cute and c) I was happy to know someone was on my side. Bullet proof vests aren't very snuggly though so it wasn't as comforting as I hoped it would be.

The last visit was on a Sunday morning at 4:00am. My son crept into my room and whispered "The police are at the door. Here's your robe. I didn't do anything bad, he just had to bring me home." Because this is my life now. I stumbled out of bed, clutching my robe, rubbing my eyes and sat down at the table to see what was going on. Let's see, this time, my son had been picked up at a local park with two (older) girls who were drinking. He had not been drinking. (No, I'm not your typical idiot parent that trusts her kid. They did a breathalizer on him, that's how I know)  Anyway, the officer had to drive him home because my son was not supposed to be driving after 10:00 pm. The only up side was that the officer confiscated the hard lemonade from the girls and brought it to my house. I enjoy hard lemonade. So...silver lining?

I've had the police at my house when my son and his buddies destroyed a mailbox (my aunt and uncle's), when my son ran away, when my son's friend was in trouble, etc. I really could go on and on but I'm just too tired. Suffice it to say that they don't have to ask for my name or birthdate anymore. Timesaver!!!

There are days when I just don't know what else to do with this kid. Many, many days. On those days I usually throw in the towel, give up and beg a family member to keep him for "just one night" so I can get some rest. I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if he'll be ok or if he'll continue to spiral out of control. I hope that, one day, he'll figure it all out and get on the right path. But on days like today, I have to remember that I'm only human, that I'm doing this alone, that I have another kid to worry about and that I have to put my own oxygen mask on before I can save anyone else. 

I Want To Be Sedated

I don't want to be sedated forever, just until my kids aren't teenagers anymore. You hear the stories, see the movies and read the books about teenagers and the difficulties involved in raising them. But I'm not sure you can ever be fully prepared for it. Especially if you end up with a challenging teenager. Which I have. #luckyme

The problem with teenagers is that they're actually insane. Quite literally. Their brains don't function in normal, predictable patterns that make sense to anyone but themselves. And sometimes I don't think they make sense even to THEM.  Which of course makes it difficult for those of us operating outside their minds to understand what the F is going on.

The trouble is that they walk among us and, therefore, we are foreced to deal with them. Some of us must actually live with them, day in and day out, and that is no small thing. It's like living with a toddler again - temper tantrums over the silliest little things. 

Arguments I've actually had in the last few weeks are as follows: 

• "No. You cannot go out with your friends in my brand new car that I just picked up TODAY." (He seriously asked if he could. This after he totalled his own car - that he hasn't even paid off yet - the weekend before). 

•  "Leaving the house at 3:00 am to play Pokemon Go is unacceptable. Any normal human being you might poll will agree with this. It does not make me a horrible person for demanding that you be in the house, in bed, at 3:00 am. Really."

• "No. You may not walk to town (2 miles away) at 11:00 pm. There are no sidewalks and it is DARK outside. A car will hit you. No, it doesn't change my answer if you offer to ride your bike to town instead."

•  "Please stop "play" fighting with the dog. It makes her bitey and it makes me mad. I have asked you a million times not to do it and yet you continue. When you're done playing with her, I go to pet her and she bites me. When the dog hides from you it's her telling you she doesn't want to play anymore. Stop it."

• "If you are supposed to be at work at 7:00 am you should be there at 7:00 am. Calling in at 9:00 am to tell them you're too tired to work is unacceptable. You will get fired. When you say you're going to be there you have to be there. That's how life works. That's how you keep a job."

Raising a teenager is exhausting - physically, emotionally, spiritually and in all other ways. Plus, I never feel like I'm doing it right and I won't have any true feedback for about 10 years. I need a pay increase....