Lately I’ve been sitting on my couch (bed, chair, toilet, whatever…) contemplating my life. Between of course, the kids fighting or whining at me or the dogs wanting to go out or come in. No, I’ve not given the whole “What should I do with my life?” thing a lot of continuous thought because I’m just plain busy. I’m a forty-something year old wife and mother but I like to call myself an Executive Charwoman, which is real life English is a professional servant. Some people would say I don’t need to contemplate my life. I have a life that’s just fine. I have a bang-up great guy for a husband and three kids who, when they aren’t driving me crazy are equally ‘da bomb’. I live in American suburbia; drive my Volvo and lunch with my friends on a regular basis…after I’ve finished my daily workout at the health club, that is. Yes, I have the life. What’s there to contemplate? Ha! I bet all of you Executive Chairwomen reading this are nodding your head, thinking the same thing that I’m thinking. There’s got to be more to life than this.
It’s not that I’m unhappy. Well, maybe for a few days out of the month (the same days I often tell my husband I want a divorce). But the fact of the matter is, I’m happy. Happiness isn’t my issue. Content on the other hand…content poses a bit of a problem. The angel of contentment has been floating around my life like a lightening bug. I try and try to catch her and when I think I’ve got her trapped in my hands, I open them up and she’s not there. She’s simply out of reach. Personally, I think she’s mocking me. Flying around in clear view sticking her tongue out and laughing. “You can’t have me! You can’t have me!” I mean, come on! How rude is that?
So today I’m sitting at Starbucks (something else most Executive Charwomen do) listening to a very attractive woman give me her network marketing spiel, telling me how much she loves her company, how all of her team members are just tres fabulous and that if I’d just give the company a chance I’d find my passion and be rich at the same time! Sign me up! I want to have passion (outside of the bedroom or the bathroom that is)! I want to be rich! Show me the passion and the money and I’ll show you one content Executive Charwoman! But am I really going to find my passion in a nice shiny but light bronzer? I’m thinking no. Needless to say, I didn’t sign up. That’s another $29 I’ve saved my husband today, thank you very much. Never say I can’t save money when I want to.
I’ve been so desperate to figure out my life I even bought a self-help book to help. The Success Principles: How to Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be. In the first chapter it tells you to define your life’s purpose. Once you’ve done that you can move on to chapters two, three and finally to the end of the book where you’ve done each and every thing the book’s detailed and in only 64 chapters you’ve reached all of your goals and are living the life you’ve always dreamed! I’ve had the book for over a year now and I still haven’t made it past chapter one. Everyone’s gotta have a life’s purpose. The problem is figuring out what the hell mine is.
I’m still on the path to discovering myself. I thought I’d done that when I had a great career, traveled often, worked out daily and weighed a whopping 107 lbs soaking wet. Life was good. I was past the bar stage, wasn’t really interested in dating and honestly felt I would never get married. With that thought in mind I decided it was time to stop paying someone else for my housing and start paying a larger establishment; Chase Bank. With the purchase of my quaint little townhouse in a small community full of old people (I hate hearing the loud banging of my neighbors stereo so old people worked well…I just had to listen to endless repeats of Matlock if I stayed home during the day), I felt it was time to trade in the old pink, mauve and gray floral furniture so popular in the early 80’s for something more ‘single woman pretending she’s not a spinster’-like. And this is where my life began its warp speed change.
Wouldn’t it be my luck…while walking into the furniture store an incredibly attractive man with the tightest little buns I’ve ever seen walked by me. (Really now, how many good looking men with nice butts are there in the world? Was it fate one just happened to walk right by me at that exact moment? I think so.) We both just about broke our necks looking at each other. The next thing I knew it was four months later, we were engaged and I was living with him and his two very young daughters. Oh, and I was pregnant. We still have that damn townhouse and I still feel sad when I think that I only lived in it for four months!
Fast forward eight years later and fifteen pounds heavier and now I’m out of the professional world and rarely travel to anything but cheerleading competitions in places like Chattanooga, TN and Macon, GA. I still workout every day but the life I have now and the life I had then are vastly different. Things happen on a daily basis that make me look up to the sky and scream, “Are you kidding me? I did not sign up for this!”
And still, I contemplate my life, searching for its purpose. While doing ten loads of laundry and giving the dogs their allergy pills in pieces of cheese.
Showing posts with label raising kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label raising kids. Show all posts
Monday, November 9, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Letting the Chips Fall Where They May for My Teenage Daughter...
I have found that as I grow older, I become wiser. Most people do. Yes, it's a strange statement to make but I'm not sure I mean it in the way you're probably thinking. For me, it means a lot has left the wishy-washy arena and entered into the reality of black and white. Or, it either is or it isn't. And even, it is what it is. For me, there's very little sitting on the fence anymore.
Part of this is because I'm smarter with age and the other part is because I lack patience but in a good way. Okay, truth be told, I lack patience in the not so good way too but for this conversation, I mean it in a good way.
Sitting on the fence and seeing things outside of the arena of black and white means there are too many feelings involved in whatever it is I'm dealing with. Frankly, unless the feelings are mine, I don't particularly always want to deal with them nor do I always give a crap about them either. Hey, I never said I was sensitive! Seriously though, think of it this way...you're either pro-choice or pro-life. You can't be one until your teenage daughter gets pregnant and then change sides. If you do, you've fooled yourself for all those years thinking you were the other when actually, you really weren't. If you choose neither side it's because you're either waiting for that possibility and 'just in case' something happens, you don't want to be called a hypocrite or stand up for something...emotions, if you ask me.
Lately we've been struggling with one of our daughters. She's a wonderful child and has a heart made of gold. She, however, makes a conscious decision to take the easiest road in every aspect of her life and sadly, most of the time it gets her nowhere except maybe two steps back. She's currently doing poorly in school and instead of owning up to the facts, she finds excuses and reasons and blame and flat out lies. She's lied so much over the past few months I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know she's lying. About everything and anything. She is the queen of telling you what she thinks you want to hear and dealing with the consequences later.
For years we've dealt with issues with this child and this year the light bulb went off over my head. I realized there's nothing wrong with her (yes, she's been to doctors, therapists, on meds, diet controlled, etc.). She simply is that kid that doesn't give a crap. About much of anything. I realized that all of the consequences in the world I can give her will do nothing...have done nothing. Except of course, make the rest of us miserable.
We've spent night after night in emotional meltdown hell for hours on end to no avail. Nothing works. We've taken away privileges and rewarded for good behavior and done everything every book out there says. One Two Three Magic is a farce, by the way but don't get me started on that book. Nothing has worked and it doesn't matter how much we try, she continues to lie to our faces, even when the proof is right there in front of her. She continues to not do what she's supposed to do and finds ways, when caught, to make it someone Else's fault.
I'm tired of dealing with the emotions and the lies and the stress. I'm tired of my family having to accommodate her emotional sensitivities and I'm tired of our lives being disrupted daily because she chooses to do what she does. If you don't do homework, you won't pass a class. If you don't pay your cell phone bill, you don't get your cell phone, etc.
I finally realized that nothing we do makes any difference so everything we do just makes the situation worse. With that light bulb, I've decided to do nothing. I'm not arguing. I'm not encouraging. I'm not babysitting. I'm not suggesting, reminding, supporting, defining, catching, watching, asking, proving. I'm simply letting her make her own decisions and letting the chips fall as they may.
After all, it is what it is. (See how I finally tied that first paragraph or two into this blog?)
I can continue to be frustrated and do all that I've done or I can let natural consequences take their course. It seems to me if anything is going to work, it's not going to with the veil of protection a parent provides when trying to stop their child from failing. Instead, I'm going to let her fail. She has to learn that the world doesn't bend for us, we have to bend for it and the only way she's going to learn that is if we step back and let the world works its magic.
I would much rather my daughter learn this now then when she's 22 and trying our the world on her own for the first time.
Will this work? I don't know. It may not. Odds are it probably won't. It could be very likely that this child is the one who we define success by when she gets a full time job at the grocery store and can afford a small studio apartment. Can she do better? Certainly. She's smart. She's just lazy. Does she want better? Absolutely. She just wants everyone else to do the work for her.
Things are much more pleasant around our house right now. I'm not pushing. She's not pushing back. She's still lying about the few things I do call her out on (because some of them are necessary) but she knows it's all up to her now. She's out of district at her high school and the principal has told her that if she doesn't improve her grades, she's going back to the other school where she knows no one. I've also told her that she has to bring her grades up. I've explained that if she chooses not to, then she will definitely go to the other school (in case the principal caves) because I will not drive and pick her up every day if she is not going to live up to her end of the bargain.
Relationships are a give and take and it's time she starts doing some of the giving and does the right thing.
It's black and white to me. She is either going to do it or she's not. She doesn't have a learning disability. She's got all of the tools she needs to succeed but she chooses not to use them. Had she turned in her homework, she would not be failing one of her classes but she didn't do any of the assignments. She is capable and has to make the decision on her own. If this means she spends an extra year in HS then she'll have to do that but she will also be paying us rent. She gets four years in HS like the other two in our house. If she can't finish in that time frame then she's responsible for supporting herself and contributing to this home.
Life is hard. She'll figure that out eventually. But I can't be wishy-washy about it and continue to be emotional. Instead, I'm on my side of the fence...the side that practices tough love and lets her learn from her mistakes, even those that are going to impact her future long term is she makes them. Nothing else has worked and it now simply is what it is.
Part of this is because I'm smarter with age and the other part is because I lack patience but in a good way. Okay, truth be told, I lack patience in the not so good way too but for this conversation, I mean it in a good way.
Sitting on the fence and seeing things outside of the arena of black and white means there are too many feelings involved in whatever it is I'm dealing with. Frankly, unless the feelings are mine, I don't particularly always want to deal with them nor do I always give a crap about them either. Hey, I never said I was sensitive! Seriously though, think of it this way...you're either pro-choice or pro-life. You can't be one until your teenage daughter gets pregnant and then change sides. If you do, you've fooled yourself for all those years thinking you were the other when actually, you really weren't. If you choose neither side it's because you're either waiting for that possibility and 'just in case' something happens, you don't want to be called a hypocrite or stand up for something...emotions, if you ask me.
Lately we've been struggling with one of our daughters. She's a wonderful child and has a heart made of gold. She, however, makes a conscious decision to take the easiest road in every aspect of her life and sadly, most of the time it gets her nowhere except maybe two steps back. She's currently doing poorly in school and instead of owning up to the facts, she finds excuses and reasons and blame and flat out lies. She's lied so much over the past few months I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know she's lying. About everything and anything. She is the queen of telling you what she thinks you want to hear and dealing with the consequences later.
For years we've dealt with issues with this child and this year the light bulb went off over my head. I realized there's nothing wrong with her (yes, she's been to doctors, therapists, on meds, diet controlled, etc.). She simply is that kid that doesn't give a crap. About much of anything. I realized that all of the consequences in the world I can give her will do nothing...have done nothing. Except of course, make the rest of us miserable.
We've spent night after night in emotional meltdown hell for hours on end to no avail. Nothing works. We've taken away privileges and rewarded for good behavior and done everything every book out there says. One Two Three Magic is a farce, by the way but don't get me started on that book. Nothing has worked and it doesn't matter how much we try, she continues to lie to our faces, even when the proof is right there in front of her. She continues to not do what she's supposed to do and finds ways, when caught, to make it someone Else's fault.
I'm tired of dealing with the emotions and the lies and the stress. I'm tired of my family having to accommodate her emotional sensitivities and I'm tired of our lives being disrupted daily because she chooses to do what she does. If you don't do homework, you won't pass a class. If you don't pay your cell phone bill, you don't get your cell phone, etc.
I finally realized that nothing we do makes any difference so everything we do just makes the situation worse. With that light bulb, I've decided to do nothing. I'm not arguing. I'm not encouraging. I'm not babysitting. I'm not suggesting, reminding, supporting, defining, catching, watching, asking, proving. I'm simply letting her make her own decisions and letting the chips fall as they may.
After all, it is what it is. (See how I finally tied that first paragraph or two into this blog?)
I can continue to be frustrated and do all that I've done or I can let natural consequences take their course. It seems to me if anything is going to work, it's not going to with the veil of protection a parent provides when trying to stop their child from failing. Instead, I'm going to let her fail. She has to learn that the world doesn't bend for us, we have to bend for it and the only way she's going to learn that is if we step back and let the world works its magic.
I would much rather my daughter learn this now then when she's 22 and trying our the world on her own for the first time.
Will this work? I don't know. It may not. Odds are it probably won't. It could be very likely that this child is the one who we define success by when she gets a full time job at the grocery store and can afford a small studio apartment. Can she do better? Certainly. She's smart. She's just lazy. Does she want better? Absolutely. She just wants everyone else to do the work for her.
Things are much more pleasant around our house right now. I'm not pushing. She's not pushing back. She's still lying about the few things I do call her out on (because some of them are necessary) but she knows it's all up to her now. She's out of district at her high school and the principal has told her that if she doesn't improve her grades, she's going back to the other school where she knows no one. I've also told her that she has to bring her grades up. I've explained that if she chooses not to, then she will definitely go to the other school (in case the principal caves) because I will not drive and pick her up every day if she is not going to live up to her end of the bargain.
Relationships are a give and take and it's time she starts doing some of the giving and does the right thing.
It's black and white to me. She is either going to do it or she's not. She doesn't have a learning disability. She's got all of the tools she needs to succeed but she chooses not to use them. Had she turned in her homework, she would not be failing one of her classes but she didn't do any of the assignments. She is capable and has to make the decision on her own. If this means she spends an extra year in HS then she'll have to do that but she will also be paying us rent. She gets four years in HS like the other two in our house. If she can't finish in that time frame then she's responsible for supporting herself and contributing to this home.
Life is hard. She'll figure that out eventually. But I can't be wishy-washy about it and continue to be emotional. Instead, I'm on my side of the fence...the side that practices tough love and lets her learn from her mistakes, even those that are going to impact her future long term is she makes them. Nothing else has worked and it now simply is what it is.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Children are Like Chickens...
I have this magnet on my refrigerator. I bought it as a joke right before moving in with my fiancée and two young daughters. Eleven years and a son later, I curse myself for not taking the magnet seriously and running no, bolting in the other direction. The magnet says, “Raising children is like being pecked to death by a chicken”. Clearly that magnet was created by a mother. Probably one who got out before it was too late.
Throughout the years of my marriage, I’ve awaken the same way. In bed or on the couch (or the backseat of my SUV, depending on how loud my husband snored that night). I slowly open one eye. If I’m lucky, it’s not glued shut from the allergy jam that settled in it that night because if I have to move anything other than that one eyelid, all hell breaks loose. My two dogs are then notified to my awakeness and jump to attention, expecting to be pet or fed or walked or told for the billionth time how cute they are. If luck persists, I can lie still for a few minutes and allow my body and brain to physically wake up. Sometimes I’m even able to move, pet the dogs quickly and get them out the door without much sound. Of course at that point the fifteen pound cat who thinks she’s a dog throws herself on the floor in front of me and does her daily ritual of roll-overs to impress me into petting her fluffy fat body. Which of course I do because she’s cute and if I don’t, she’ll howl loud enough to destroy my plan of getting five minutes of quiet time before everyone else wakes up.
I then get to tip toe through the house to the coffee pot so I can quietly make a pot of decaf coffee. Personally I think the decaf is pointless but the damage my already hyper husband would do to the walls while pinging off of them all day from caffeinated would stress me out so I sacrifice.
Once the coffee is made I tip toe with it to the couch (a skill I’ve mastered and should have amazing calves for but don’t because God is clearly a man) and I sit in sheer, orgasmic silence, sipping my sacrificial unleaded coffee until I hear the pitter patter of my sons feet down the stairs. This is usually about 20 seconds after I sit. His timing is impeccable. Goodbye alone time.
Honestly I don’t mind that he gets up when he does. He’s sleepy and mushy and always wants to snuggle; something I enjoy and try not to take for granted. The snuggling is quick, just as long as I can hold my breath because once I breathe I am engulfed in the stench of whatever it is that crawled into his mouth while he was sleeping, took a dump and then died . Really, I have my limits.
Once I’m ready to breathe again, I get up and my son turns on the TV. Usually it’s Nickelodeon. The worst network. Ever. I’ve considered sending death threats to its management but I’m pretty sure millions of other mothers have already and they probably wouldn’t take me seriously. And if they did, I don’t want to spend my life with my finger in the pocket of Big Sally, my new girlfriend, if you get my drift.
Before I know it, everyone is up and the whole, “Mom can I...”, “Mom, did you...”, “Mom,” “Mom,”, “Mom,” thing starts and the next thing I know it’s eleven years later, I’m forty-two, my thighs are expanding, my hair is graying and I think being institutionalized doesn’t sound all that bad. If only I’d realized the truth behind that magnet.
Throughout the years of my marriage, I’ve awaken the same way. In bed or on the couch (or the backseat of my SUV, depending on how loud my husband snored that night). I slowly open one eye. If I’m lucky, it’s not glued shut from the allergy jam that settled in it that night because if I have to move anything other than that one eyelid, all hell breaks loose. My two dogs are then notified to my awakeness and jump to attention, expecting to be pet or fed or walked or told for the billionth time how cute they are. If luck persists, I can lie still for a few minutes and allow my body and brain to physically wake up. Sometimes I’m even able to move, pet the dogs quickly and get them out the door without much sound. Of course at that point the fifteen pound cat who thinks she’s a dog throws herself on the floor in front of me and does her daily ritual of roll-overs to impress me into petting her fluffy fat body. Which of course I do because she’s cute and if I don’t, she’ll howl loud enough to destroy my plan of getting five minutes of quiet time before everyone else wakes up.
I then get to tip toe through the house to the coffee pot so I can quietly make a pot of decaf coffee. Personally I think the decaf is pointless but the damage my already hyper husband would do to the walls while pinging off of them all day from caffeinated would stress me out so I sacrifice.
Once the coffee is made I tip toe with it to the couch (a skill I’ve mastered and should have amazing calves for but don’t because God is clearly a man) and I sit in sheer, orgasmic silence, sipping my sacrificial unleaded coffee until I hear the pitter patter of my sons feet down the stairs. This is usually about 20 seconds after I sit. His timing is impeccable. Goodbye alone time.
Honestly I don’t mind that he gets up when he does. He’s sleepy and mushy and always wants to snuggle; something I enjoy and try not to take for granted. The snuggling is quick, just as long as I can hold my breath because once I breathe I am engulfed in the stench of whatever it is that crawled into his mouth while he was sleeping, took a dump and then died . Really, I have my limits.
Once I’m ready to breathe again, I get up and my son turns on the TV. Usually it’s Nickelodeon. The worst network. Ever. I’ve considered sending death threats to its management but I’m pretty sure millions of other mothers have already and they probably wouldn’t take me seriously. And if they did, I don’t want to spend my life with my finger in the pocket of Big Sally, my new girlfriend, if you get my drift.
Before I know it, everyone is up and the whole, “Mom can I...”, “Mom, did you...”, “Mom,” “Mom,”, “Mom,” thing starts and the next thing I know it’s eleven years later, I’m forty-two, my thighs are expanding, my hair is graying and I think being institutionalized doesn’t sound all that bad. If only I’d realized the truth behind that magnet.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
About Being Uninspired...
I feel uninspired. Yes, my mother just passed and probably my uninspiredness has something to do with that but mostly its about me. I've felt uninspired for months now...maybe even years. I've felt a lack of creativity and desire. I feel like I've been waiting. For what? Beats the heck out of me. I've been waiting for the kids to be old enough to take care of themselves enough so I can 'do for me'...they're old enough now but now I'm even less willing to 'do for me' because I'm afraid to leave them alone since they're able to make decisions for themselves. That's they're fault though since their decisions are usually stupid. Then I was waiting for my mom to die. Now I'm waiting for my husbands business to get moving.
Pretty soon it'll be me that's dead and then then it will be too late to do anything.
What exactly am I REALLY waiting for?
My very wonderful friend Genevieve (AKA, WT but that's another post)suggested I read "Julie & Julia." I had planned to prior to seeing the movie and just picked up the book today. I haven't even started it but it got me thinking that whole "If she can, I can" thing. If she can cook a recipe a day, then why can't I? Well, probably because I have no desire to cook for starters. Secondly, I suck at cooking. but maybe, just maybe there's something else I can do. Something that will force me to get out of whatever slump I feel trapped in and allow me to gain some inspiration. I think the book/movie is based on a year and while I can respect her motivation and drive, a year in the life of Carolyn is a LONG FREAKING TIME and I'm not sure I can commit to that type of inspiration just yet. It's baby steps people, baby steps.
So here's my deal. I've decided that I'm going to try that whole, 100 things in 100 days. Of course it will probably take me a year to think of 100 things to do but it's a start, right? :)
Seriously, my thought is that I'll document 100 things, create a start and end date and just do them. Each time I do one, I'll post my thoughts, comments, frustrations, etc. on my blog and then some famous book publisher will read them, contract me to write a bestseller and then sell the movie rights and I'll be rich. Okay, maybe that last part is just a pipe dream but at least I'm working towards a goal, right?
Tonight I'm going to think up my 100 things. Some will be easy. Some will be challenging. Some will be nostalgic. Some new, some silly, some stupid. Some scary, some a royal pain in the ass. But I will do them and I'm hopeful there will be something I can find from them that will inspire, motivate and help make me feel like me again.
If you have any thoughts, comments or suggestions as to WHAT I can put on the list, please let me know. For now I must search the Internet and find things to do.
Take care of you and as my friend Katrina says, be particular.
Pretty soon it'll be me that's dead and then then it will be too late to do anything.
What exactly am I REALLY waiting for?
My very wonderful friend Genevieve (AKA, WT but that's another post)suggested I read "Julie & Julia." I had planned to prior to seeing the movie and just picked up the book today. I haven't even started it but it got me thinking that whole "If she can, I can" thing. If she can cook a recipe a day, then why can't I? Well, probably because I have no desire to cook for starters. Secondly, I suck at cooking. but maybe, just maybe there's something else I can do. Something that will force me to get out of whatever slump I feel trapped in and allow me to gain some inspiration. I think the book/movie is based on a year and while I can respect her motivation and drive, a year in the life of Carolyn is a LONG FREAKING TIME and I'm not sure I can commit to that type of inspiration just yet. It's baby steps people, baby steps.
So here's my deal. I've decided that I'm going to try that whole, 100 things in 100 days. Of course it will probably take me a year to think of 100 things to do but it's a start, right? :)
Seriously, my thought is that I'll document 100 things, create a start and end date and just do them. Each time I do one, I'll post my thoughts, comments, frustrations, etc. on my blog and then some famous book publisher will read them, contract me to write a bestseller and then sell the movie rights and I'll be rich. Okay, maybe that last part is just a pipe dream but at least I'm working towards a goal, right?
Tonight I'm going to think up my 100 things. Some will be easy. Some will be challenging. Some will be nostalgic. Some new, some silly, some stupid. Some scary, some a royal pain in the ass. But I will do them and I'm hopeful there will be something I can find from them that will inspire, motivate and help make me feel like me again.
If you have any thoughts, comments or suggestions as to WHAT I can put on the list, please let me know. For now I must search the Internet and find things to do.
Take care of you and as my friend Katrina says, be particular.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Summer Uses for Duct Tape When You Have Annoying Teens
I love duct tape. I saw a commercial recently where a man tries to duct tape his abs. My thought? Not a bad idea actually. It's less expensive than Spanx though probably harder to remove. My rolls of duct tape stored in their secret hiding place need not worry, I have big plans for them. Big plans.
School's been out for three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks. Three long weeks of "I want", "You have to", "Why can't I", "That's not fair", "But everyone else gets to" and the infamous, "I promise I'll do my chores when I get back." Toss in a few thousand whines, demands, additional complaints of unfairness, several million eye rolls and twice as many tears and you've stepped into the Aspenson family home.
Shoot me now. Please. I will love you for it.
I've suggested to our county the concept of the 12 month school year but for now, it's a no go. Instead, I've had to think of creative ways to make it through this long, hot summer. This is where the duct tape comes in.
Now maybe you think I'm cruel. If you do, you probably have young kids who are still cute and fun to be around or you're a grandparent who has somehow forgotten that raising teenagers is like being pecked to death by a hen or maybe you just don't have any kids. If your the last, don't worry, your time will come. Hopefully.
Here's what I've come up with so far to make my life easier and fullfill the dream of my duct tape having an exciting life rather than spend eternity stuffed in a secret hiding place.
1. Duct tape them to the couch, keep the TV on Public Television or a religious station and put the remotes on the other side of the room.
2. Duct tape their eyes open and promise that if they try to remove it, their lids will come off (they're still naive enough to think it might actually happen).
3. Wake them up at 3 AM, duct tape them to the wall and sing Christmas carols to them all day long.
4. Duct tape their game controllers with rolls and rolls of tape and watch them cry because it's taking so long to remove and they want to play video games NOW!
5. Duct tape their nose to their sweaty socks they continually leave all over my family room. Then tape their hands so they can't remove it.
6. Remove all noise creators from their room and duct tape a continual recording of their whining to the outside of their bedroom door, change the handle to lock on the outside and keep it locked for the afternoon.
7. Duct tape them to something, anything, at their grandparents house and force them to listen to stories about "When I was your age" from their grandparents.
8. If you have a boy teenager, duct tape their pants at their waist, where they belong.
9. If you have a girl, duct tape the visible parts of her butt cheeks and upper thighs so the rest of the world can live in peace.
10. Duct tape a backpack full of 100 pounds of rocks onto their back and force them to walk around with it all day while you explain that this is what it feels like to care for a teenager.
11. Duct tape them to the wall next to the cat liter box just because you can.
I'm sure I've got more ideas but for now, I think these are winners! If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
School's been out for three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks. Three long weeks of "I want", "You have to", "Why can't I", "That's not fair", "But everyone else gets to" and the infamous, "I promise I'll do my chores when I get back." Toss in a few thousand whines, demands, additional complaints of unfairness, several million eye rolls and twice as many tears and you've stepped into the Aspenson family home.
Shoot me now. Please. I will love you for it.
I've suggested to our county the concept of the 12 month school year but for now, it's a no go. Instead, I've had to think of creative ways to make it through this long, hot summer. This is where the duct tape comes in.
Now maybe you think I'm cruel. If you do, you probably have young kids who are still cute and fun to be around or you're a grandparent who has somehow forgotten that raising teenagers is like being pecked to death by a hen or maybe you just don't have any kids. If your the last, don't worry, your time will come. Hopefully.
Here's what I've come up with so far to make my life easier and fullfill the dream of my duct tape having an exciting life rather than spend eternity stuffed in a secret hiding place.
1. Duct tape them to the couch, keep the TV on Public Television or a religious station and put the remotes on the other side of the room.
2. Duct tape their eyes open and promise that if they try to remove it, their lids will come off (they're still naive enough to think it might actually happen).
3. Wake them up at 3 AM, duct tape them to the wall and sing Christmas carols to them all day long.
4. Duct tape their game controllers with rolls and rolls of tape and watch them cry because it's taking so long to remove and they want to play video games NOW!
5. Duct tape their nose to their sweaty socks they continually leave all over my family room. Then tape their hands so they can't remove it.
6. Remove all noise creators from their room and duct tape a continual recording of their whining to the outside of their bedroom door, change the handle to lock on the outside and keep it locked for the afternoon.
7. Duct tape them to something, anything, at their grandparents house and force them to listen to stories about "When I was your age" from their grandparents.
8. If you have a boy teenager, duct tape their pants at their waist, where they belong.
9. If you have a girl, duct tape the visible parts of her butt cheeks and upper thighs so the rest of the world can live in peace.
10. Duct tape a backpack full of 100 pounds of rocks onto their back and force them to walk around with it all day while you explain that this is what it feels like to care for a teenager.
11. Duct tape them to the wall next to the cat liter box just because you can.
I'm sure I've got more ideas but for now, I think these are winners! If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
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