Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Don't Choke Your Brother, Your Hands Are Too Small

Last night, after taking Hubby out for Birthday Dinner, The Boy lectured Hubby and me on our complete cluelessness, as parents, because we had had the nerve to tell his brother "Don't feel bad. If you didn't promise that girl anything, she's not going to be mad at you for saying you're not sure you want to be more than friends yet."

After explaining that everything we know about relationships between the sexes has been wrong for the past 30 years (yes, apparently I was already working on outdated dating info when I was ten years old and had not yet discovered boys) he moved on to Human Nature. Apparently, we don't know anything about that, either.

Religion: we are clueless and naive.

Parenting: we are coddling the brothers so they will never be able to make it in the chalkdust jungle that is high school.

Drug use and law enforcement: Ha! It's amazing we are allowed to walk the streets, we are so pitiably misinformed.

In the spirit of The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves, The Boy talked and talked until Hubby and I were ready to send him to reform school on Mars, two of his brothers had exiled themselves to distant rooms in a failed search for peace and quiet, and one of his brothers was driven to tears.

"He's complaining about the exact stuff HE does to US, all day long!"

Longtime readers will remember that he did the same thing on MY birthday.

Around 6 this morning, while we were still asleep, he let himself into our bedroom, turned on the light, and did something in the master bathroom, and then let himself out. Did I mention we were both naked? Because, you know, we were in our own bedroom with the door locked, and asleep? Thank God I was under the blankets.

This morning, while I was battling nausea/soreness/chills/exhaustion/general wishes that death would come swiftly, The Boy insisted that I help him straighten his hair.

"Look. I did it for you yesterday. It isn't hard. You can do this. I'll talk you through it," I said. "I guarantee, every girl at school with straightened hair does it HERSELF. None of THEM has their mom do it. And I am DOING STUFF, OK? It's YOUR hair. I'm not even going to straighten my OWN hair, today."

Much whining ensued, but he did manage, with only fleeting assistance from me.

He had a dentist's appointment this afternoon, and spent so much time dicking around while I stood in the doorway, yelling, "WE NEED TO GET IN THE CAR, NOW," that we had to reschedule.

He then spent a good hour on the phone--the landline, even though we bought him a cell phone for Christmas. He worked in a dig at his brother, and told his friend that his entire family is crazy, while I stood inches away.

And he asked me to find him a photo, because he didn't want to bother taking a new one, even though, again, we bought him a digital camera for Christmas.

He then took the last bottle of my special, fantabulous soda which I can only get once a year on a trip down to Florida, drank a few sips and complained about the unpleasant "aftertaste".

His room is a mess, his possessions are strewn throughout the house, he's alienating his brothers and seems hellbent on driving me to find that dusty pack of cigarettes I have stashed around here, somewhere.

See that? That's my last nerve, right there.

6 comments:

Sue said...

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't have much in the way of wisdom because my oldest is still a prima donna tween princess, but I can tell you that I DO know what it feels like to have that last nerve jiggled and rubbed raw. Arghus.

You said fantabulous! That's awesome! I've used that word before.

Andrea said...

*Shudder*...That's me in 6 years.

Thanks for being the trailblazer.

ALF said...

I love the use of the phrase "dicking around". Love it. You're an awesome mom.

Ms. Q said...

Better to write something funny in your blog than to uh, throw stuff or scream!

I don't know all the history on The Boy but he sounds like the eldest and he sounds like oh, he's about 17 what with the know-it-all attitude.

I'm just imagining what he'll feel like when he's 40 and reading whatever form of archives blogs will have then and reading up on his youthful self-centeredness.

Boys straighten their hair? Huh. Then again, I'm 42. What do I know.

Then again, I'm 42. I don't care what a teenage boy does with his hair.

Christine said...

Alf & Sue-
Thanks for accepting "dicking around" and "fantabulous". I figure, it's MY blog, I can say whatever I like :)

And Ms Q, you are right. Oldest. 16. And I write so I won't scream, sometimes.

And boys absolutely do straighten their hair, if it will get them female attention. Which it most certainly does, around here. Good grief. The girls go completely insane. Several have also encouraged him to wear eyeliner, but that is where the Son draws the line. Which is a good thing, because I think Hubby would have a coronary.

Ms. Q said...

The Boy as rockstar or Goth what with the eyeliner? It makes me think of what kind of parent I'd be. I would hope I'd let them have enough self-expression to dress the way they want (I do believe in personal hygiene no "real" grunge!) but the thought of having a son wear makeup???

Uh. However, these days men moisturize and wax (!!) and shave where the didn't shave in the past (manscaping you called it - hehehe) so I'm probably too old school here.

I do know a few woman who have liked the long-hair and "just a little bit" of eyeliner on a man.

PHew! On The Boy not being into makeup!