this week, another photo dump

When you have literally so much, perhaps too much, to say, it’s probably best to just dump photos and maybe some words too…but not too many.

You are working the night of that first Presidential Debate you literally find yourself praying that it won’t be on the TV in the break room because you literally can not drink when you are at work and honest to goodness it just might be the only way one can get through this scary clusterfuck you imagine. But just in case, you bring an appropriate substitute because Skittles are indeed a delicious candy. Every one else thought so too as we discovered that they do pair well with the Food Network.

Better to watch it the next day with your son; who you discover has very strong, thoughtful opinions on this election and who he would vote for. That would be the moment when you suddenly realize that he will be voting IN FOUR YEARS!!!! So I will throw it out there and ask everyone to vote, vote carefully. Don’t fuck this up so that in four years there won’t be an America for him to live in and vote.

Until then…

He is typically your typical teenager.

Did you really just take my picture, Mom?

Yes.

:::eye roll:::

Typical.

A good visit with his endocrinologist. Definitely time to take a selfie.

Also typical.

He’s growing y’all! Growing in a bigly way.

:::eye roll:::

and just when we imagine we know everything

As my darling 4th daughter, Jodie, turned 20 this year, I was fairly confident that we have this parenting teenagers down. After all, ask any of our family, friends, acquaintances, people we pass shopping at Target and they will GO OUT OF THERE WAY TO TELL YOU HOW PAINFULLY DIFFICULT IT IS TO RAISE TEENAGE GIRLS!

No, really.

‘They have. Literally any and every chance that came along.

And they have been right…well, sometimes.

My darling husband and I have four amazing daughters, who as teenagers challenged us in ways that made us certain that our mothers’ curses upon us were very real…and in ways that we could have never, ever imagined. Raising teenagers in the brave new world of social media? Did we really see that coming?

But we survived.

We did not die.

None of us.

And now, with four young adult women making their way in this world in their own way, we have imagined that we might actually know what we are doing raising teenagers because pseudo-experts told us girls are hard and boys are easy.

Heh!

All y’all know nothing!

Nothing!

Believe me.

But one thing, as parents of teenagers, remains true still. We are really, really good at embarrassing our adolescent children.

 

Taking your teenaged son to a Styx Tribute Band concert might seem to be a perfect way to provoke the best of eye rolls and more and because of all the eye rolls, heavy sighs and never mind, Mom. 

This should be easy. One would think so, but no. Although joking about wearing an old Styx concert tee might be too meta did result in a half eye roll coupled with a really, Mom.

You’re going to write about this, aren’t you, Mom?

Well, maybe.

Fine. Make sure they know I had fun, because I did.

Of course.

:::he rolls his eyes:::

He did have fun hanging out with Mom, Dad and all those old people.

Yeah, he is also suddenly so much taller!!!

He’s rolling his eyes again right now.

it’s in his dna

With adolescence comes the need to figure out yourself…who you are…do you fit in. Normal. Completely normal. Yes, even for the most well adjusted child raised with all the love. Perfectly normal.

And so we enter this phase of this favorite son’s life which leads to some very interesting conversations lately. Some answers are easy thanks to his own NICU records mom was privy to. Some, but not all. Why is his brown hair so fine and curly and so damn unruly? Will he go bald like Dad? His biological mother was Russian but what about his biological father? He looks in the mirror and although he knows he is our son and his sisters’ brother, he is not certain where the face that looks back at him comes from. He wants answers and he is not willing to wait four more years to see if he can get those answers; because odds are high he likely won’t get those questions answered by the ones who made him.

Answers to some questions are here, in his DNA. Answers he will likely discover in a couple of months. Answers that with his mom and his dad, he looks forward to discovering.

And you thought the sex talk with kids was hard.

When he looks in the mirror, we want our son to know himself. It’s hard to face the world when you don’t know where your face came from.—Adoptive Parent

mortifying since 1999

There are some things a fifty-something mom should never, ever do…according to her fourteen year old son.

:::spoken with literally no rhythm just like a middle aged mom:::

How does a bastard orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished, in squalor grow up to be a hero and a scholar?

Really Mom?

The ten-dollar founding father without a father got a lot smarter  by being a self=starter…

Mom! Oh gawd, Mom! No! Stop!

What, son? Hamilton’s my jam.

:::eyeroll…heavy sigh:::

No?

No, Mom. No.

Perhaps he’s right. Still, it’s nice to know that I can still mortify my teenaged child just by being me…as any good parent of a teen does.

While we can not agree if his 54 year old mom is able to spin a verse or two from Hamilton, we both can agree that rap is the language of the Revolution  and the debates that helped to shape our nation…and yes, makes The Federalist Papers something cool that a teenaged student would want to study.

It’s even better on stage at the Richard Rogers Theater. Perhaps I will let Leslie Odom Jr. and the cast of Hamilton tell the story. But right now it is still my jam.

Yes, Daniel rolled his eyes as I said that.

and then there was one

Literally, for the first time since February 2005, we have only ONE teenager living here under The Big Top.

One.

Just one.

Of course that means that this one is now TWENTY years old.

Twenty.

This child of mine.

Happy birthday our darling Jodie Grace Wynonna.