She’s not Psychotic, She’s 16–Part 2…

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And in other news, a continuation of yesterday’s post:

Later that day I get this picture from her phone–with the this text:

T Rex: told ya

Me: Holy crap can I have your job?

T Rex: HE IS MINE.

Me: No bitch, you were going to quit, remember??

T Rex: Not if I get to stare at those beautiful abs every day….

Me: LOL

Just another day in her paradise.  She does not know how lucky she is….maybe someday…

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She’s not Psychotic, She’s 16

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It’s a daily thing now. Not knowing what I am going to get when the T-Rex in the thong and Grateful Dead t-shirt wakes up in the morning. Or should I say afternoon.

No one prepares you for teenagers. Or, shall I say FEMALE teenagers.

When I was pregnant 16 years ago, the only parenting book that was worth anything was “What to Expect when you are Expecting”. Which is a tortuous hell trip laying out every bad thing that can happen to you while you are in bump mode. So begins the psychosis-it’s just yours.

Then comes a time, when they are toddlers, and babysaurus has just had a meltdown in the cookie aisle of Publix that most of your girlfriends with teens say-Just you wait until they are teenagers. I was under the impression that by 16, with a drivers license in hand, busy high school schedule, and preparation for college I would have a ton of freedom. Less worry. Yeah, right. What was I smoking?

I was totally unprepared for the hysterical mood swings that start at 12-13 and apparently do not cease until they are 20 plus. Maybe not even then either.

Especially if they are ADD, or are a lot like their mom-ME.

One minute, I HATE SCHOOL. The next, I LOVE my friends, I can’t leave school. Then, I am SOOO FAT! Then 5 minutes later-Can you go to McDonald’s and get me a double cheeseburger? Mom, what are you so pissed about-all you care about are grades! I don’t feel good, I am going to run away, my life sucks, I wish I were dead, I hate my hair, I hate my clothes, I am an atheist now,  I want to dye my hair black….Lock her up, please.

And the universal rant we all hear : Mom, you have NO CLUE what’s like to be a teenager these days!

So, in the midst of these swings and my total gullibility, I am talked into taking her to a therapist. And dosing out anti-depressants, and lying awake at night wondering what I have done to create this psychotic human being.

Then I research Bi Polar Disorder on the internet. That was not a good idea. Because if you do, you will convince yourself that you have a BPD teenager right there in the upstairs lair just waiting to kill you in your sleep.

BPD is a real disease. It affects many people old and young. A good doctor will be able to diagnose and treat this disorder. But YOU are not a professional. Do not self-diagnose your teen. Get off Google now dammit!

The first thing I did was break my own rule: Do Not Be Afraid of your Children!  Uh, self, this includes teens, by the way.

If she had a bad morning-I was worried all day long.  I would return panicked texts.  I would believe just about all the stupid crap that was going on–mean girls, mean boys, crazy teachers, counselors giving her the side-eye, crowded hallways, etc., etc.  I bought most of that with a gold American Express card–hence my gullibility.  Suddenly it dawns on me-am I the one who is bat shit crazy or is she?

In most cases–it’s ME.  I wasn’t afraid of her, I was afraid of her moods.  An insecure parent will create an insecure child.  Guess what? I am insecure. Always have been, am working on becoming not so.  Her happiness was becoming the focus of the household. Not MINE.  We let it revolve around the moods.  Then, the teenager figures out that they are running the household and that is not good.  Unless they can pay the mortgage….

I would not want to be a teen these days for all the shoes in Nordstrom.  Yes, it is different.  In my high school days, if you wanted to bully someone you wrote it on the stall in the girls room. Today, with social media, it’s commonplace for girls to bully on Facebook and Twitter.  Recently, on Instagram, the flood of pics of teens in bathing suits, on beach vacations you were not invited to, parties you didn’t know about, showing off new cars, acrylic nails, and new clothing are just another way to brag, but in a way, they are cramming it down their throat with public pictures with hidden meanings.

So I get it.  But that doesn’t mean your daughter is crazy.  She is dealing with all that crap in a much more public way than we did.  And that is hard, really hard. And it’s hard for moms too.

Today, T Rex wakes up unhappy, in a sour mood, and sunburned from working yesterday:

T Rex:  I hate life guarding.  I’m going to get cancer from all this sun.  I want to quit.

Me:  Just tough it out a couple of more weeks until school starts.  Besides, you like the money.

T Rex:  I guess, it’s just so boring. And I’m tired, and I’m hungry.  I might give my notice.

Me:  (No comment because finally I have learned that if I get into this with her, it’s a lose-lose conversation so I keep my trap shut )

Ride in silence until I drop her off.

(1 hour later after  a small amount of worrying from me that she has given her notice I receive a text–Oh shit, she’s quit and wants me to pick her up)

T Rex:  I’m having a better day because the other lifeguard is HOT

Me:  Well thank God for that (smiley face)

T Rex:  Too bad he’s going to be a sophomore in college (crying smiley)

Me:  Older men are great! LOL

T Rex:  He’s blonde (winkey smiley)

All is right in her world, for now, in The Land of the Lost.  Nothing like a hot male blonde college sophomore to turn your day around.  Cost me a hundred bucks but it was worth it!

Presentation is Everything

ImageI love it when someone invites you to a party then within the invite, they also add: Bring a side dish or an appetizer and something to drink!

REALLY??????????? How about bring the whole fucking refrigerator?

I mean, if you are having a party for someone, or something, how about charging everyone $25 a head and hire a damn caterer and bartender.  I get so tired of schlepping my stuff to a party only to leave it, be embarrassed if no one eats it, or my Cabernet is gone in seconds because it was a good one.

Lot of times folks show up with nothing, or some re-gifted bottle of pomegranate wine they got from someone at a Christmas party that didn’t like them.  I got one of those once.  And I discovered that I was truly not an alcoholic because it was the shittiest wine I have ever tasted.  I’d rather have a bottle of Boone’s Farm.

And once, when we participated in one of those (impress your neighbor) dinner group thingies, I had prepared a tenderloin and others were supposed to bring a side dish.  So this tenderloin was like $50 at the meat market (12 years ago..)and everyone brought awesome sides.  Except one.

This couple (who I had never met-this was in the early days of our ‘hood when you were trying to meet people) walks in with a plastic grocery store bag.  She pulls out a bag salad, a bottle of cheap Italian vinaigrette and proceeds to ask be for a bowl to make it in.  Don’t kill yourself sister. 

I have a girlfriend who does the most awesome dinner parties and she said one thing once to me that has been my mantra.  Presentation is everything.  If you put Cheeze Whiz in a sterling dish no one will ever know it’s cheese from a can -it’s in sterling!

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I have my own friends now.  And I can prepare my own bag salad.

So off I  go with a bottle of Sutter Home and chips and salsa.  Because you KNOW no one else will bring chips and salsa…..

I do not Sweat–I GLISTEN!!!

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I don’t flash. I sweat. Large amounts of sweat. So much so, that by 10am all of my makeup has melted off of my face and the raccoon eyes of mascara have begun. I feel like every time I arrive at the office I look like I have been sobbing in the car to some stupid song by Hall and Oates.

Last night I was showing some houses to a family at 8pm in 90 plus degree heat. This is my other form of employment that I have been doing for 20 years. And the AC was cranked in every home we went in. But instead of turning red and feeling the oncoming heat wave, I tend to just sweat profusely.

When I go to play tennis, my girlfriends are all cute and all in their matching tennie clothes and visors-with earrings and makeup on.  ME?? XL T shirt and fat shorts. Because there are no Spanx in Nike dri fit and my ass looks like two cats fighting in a pillowcase in those skirts.  And I can just wipe the sweat off on my shoulder on cotton shirt. No makeup either-hard to hit an overhead when Maybelline is running into your eyes…..

This also happens in winter. It takes no prisoners. So, I am sweating now in every possible place on my body and places that I didn’t even know HAD sweat glands. We are outside looking around the back yard and I start feeling tiny raindrops–YAY- we are getting rain…uh, noooo, those were coming from my hair. Sweat had managed to run down the short hair strands that I have and land on my arm. ARE YOU KIDDING  ME???????????

The raccoon showed up.  I am sure my lovely clients thought something was really really wrong with me. Maybe it was because this was the fourth house we were going to put an offer on, maybe because their teenagers were fighting over which bedroom to have, maybe because the master suite was too small, maybe, maybe…..It was really embarrassing.

No worries, I apologized for my sweaty smelly self and the wife said not to worry, she was hot too and sweating. But she was NOT glistening like me. Bitch.

So now, when I am out and about, showing property, shopping for shoes or stalking my teenager, I have prepared a Flash/Sweat kit that I keep in my car:

  • Case of water
  • Roll of toilet paper
  • Deodorant
  • Hand towel
  • Emergency chocolate
  • Real Coke for the sugar and caffeine
  • Extra pair of undies — I know TMI but YOU be 50…….

I think I may market this soon-Your Car Flash Survival Kit–and if you order one now, you get the Teenage Tolerance Kit (bottle of Stoli and a pack of Marlboro Lights) ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!!!!!!!

Marry Me, Fly For Free

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BC-El Capitano

24 years ago I was set up on a blind date.  With an airline pilot-former Air Force captain.  In my single days, I had a cousin who was a Navy fighter pilot and had come to visit me on leave and practically got us all arrested, drank every bit of my meager supply of booze, and scared off my girlfriends.  I was NOT looking forward to this.  But I was bored and didn’t have much else to do that Friday nite so I decided to meet whomever this was.

A year later we were married and living in suburban Atlanta.  What was I thinking?

FLIGHT BENEFITS!!!!!!!!!!!   Yippeeeee!!!!

Even if the uniform is all polyester and he wears a clip-on tie.  Wow, soooo hot….

So, over the course of our married life, we have been able to travel to some pretty great places around the world.  Even if we do stay in the airline discount places and not the Ritz.  Besides-I consider a hotel with a door to the outside camping and I certainly won’t do that.

And the great part of this benefit is you usually get in the first class cabin space available.  That is, until fares dropped, 9/11 tanked the airline industry, and it was cheaper to fly than take Greyhound.

The other benefit-or it could be a detriment, is that your child gets to fly anywhere too, and is eligible for first (space available) after the age of 8.  So every time we have flown to Europe, 16 has flown in business class. Good or bad, it is a great perk.

But the funny thing is that our kids are so well-traveled  these days, they have no idea what it is like to ride in a yellow 1976 Pontiac station wagon for 17 hours from New Jersey to Florida with two sisters whom you detest and a father who tells his “What, NO Green Beans?” story 10 times on the way.

How Fun are these!!!

I remember the times I begged my dad to stop over nite at South of the Border in South Carolina.  For those of you who have traveled I-95 from Florida to the northeast, this is the mecca of tacky hotel.  They have billboards for hundred of miles that say “Pedro Sez..Chili Today, Hot Tamale!!..Stay at South of the Border!”  My family would tease me so much about this. So one time, we finally stayed there.  It was a defining moment for me.

First of all, I won an argument.  Second of all, the memories of walking through the giant painted sombrero that was the check in lobby was like walking into the Vatican.  The amount of cheesy gift shops was astounding.  The rooms had those striped Mexican blankets in them.  Shag carpet.  And my family could not stop laughing at me.  I  still get grief about it to this day. And I still like kitchy hotels–like the Excalibur in Vegas, but you won’t catch me dead in one.  Unless I am the owner…….. And Holy Crap! Now SOTB has a new  attraction, a reptile lagoon!

So snagging an airline pilot was a good move on my part.  Except for the time I flew with him to San Francisco, and knowing I ‘d had copious amounts of coffee that morning, and knowing what that does to my system, he decided it would be funny to leave on the seat belt light for over 30 minutes climbing out of SFO on a clear morning.  I will never forgive him for that.

Or the time 16 was 16 months old and coming home from Florida she was screaming on descent so I gave her a bottle, which prompted her large intestines to dump her innerds out on me through her pretty white stockings she had on.  And the businessmen around me were looking at me with that “WTF is that smell?” look. And that was the first time I ever had the inkling to run up, open the plane door, and jump, or throw her out. Whatever…..

We take our kids on all of these glorious vacations.  Disney, Europe, Carnival Cruises, NYC, even many sleepover camps have air conditioning in the cabins.  I kid you not.  Airline kids have it even better.  16 has been to Paris, Brussels, Germany (many times, I have a sister there), Dallas, Caymans, Jamaica, LA to see ‘The Ellen Show’, the Marriott 42nd St in Manhattan, and more.

I need to start a travel company that is called, “The Torture Travel Company For Kids”.  All trips are car based, no fast food stops unless it is a Stuckey’s-type place.  Other than that it is homemade turkey sandwiches in a cooler, they have to bring a book and one game-no electronics, no phones, no TV, or movies in the car, have to stay at a creepy hotel with a crappy pool for at least one night,  and then stay at their grandparents place for a minimum of 3 nights with no eating out.  That oughta fix ’em.

And mom and dad get a free weekend vacation at a Ritz if they survive it and don’t involve the police at anytime during the trip.  That’s incentive!

It’s hard to justify a car trip when it’s easier and sometimes cheaper to fly.  The only thing BC forgot to tell me was that it is standby.  But, now with 25 years of service (and a plastic set of gold wings to prove it), we do get on more often than not.  With the great unwashed.  In coach.