You Can't Tell Them Anything

Kids.

They don't listen.

I don't know why I even bother.

Tristan, a "starving" college Freshman, living in another state, just informed me that he has bought Christmas presents for every single member of the family. And not just us, his immediate family. He bought for EVERYBODY!

Grandmas and Grandpas. Nieces. Aunts and Uncles. Hell, I don't even buy for most of these people.

I tried to tell him it wasn't necessary. That just having him home was gift enough. "There's no need to spend money you really don't have," I said.

"That's OK, Mom. I really don't have anything else to spend my money on."

Yeah, nothing else to spend his money on.

Then why the hell does he call me every other week asking me to transfer money into his account?

Picture It

Picture it. Yesterday. The girls department at Walmart. A mother and her son are rummaging through the discount racks of summer clothing looking for purple shorty-shorts and a plain, purple stretchy t-shirt. The son is sixteen, and on the dance squad for the Powder Puff football game on Saturday. The purple shorts and t-shirt is the costume they are required to wear.

The boy has been practicing for two weeks, every day after his own football practice to learn the dance moves that the squad will perform during half time of the girls' Powder Puff game. He can be seen at any given time, practicing his booty shaking and split jumps at home.

The mother, proud and somewhat embarrassed at the same time, watches as he practices his moves. She laughs and shakes her head.

While the son runs from rack to rack searching for the right outfit, people in Walmart watch and wonder what the two are up to. Who are they shopping for? Why is the son so excited by what he finds? Why is he holding the girls' clothing up to himself, as if checking for size? It's a comical scene, and the two are having a blast.

In the dressing room, the boy tries on his choices, looking for the shortest shorts and the tightest shirt. The mother sits outside the dressing room waiting to see each outfit so she can laugh at the absurdity of it all. The fitting room attendant watches, not sure whether she should laugh at this muscular sixteen year old boy in small girls clothing. She looks a bit concerned, and tries to mind her own business. It's hard for her to concentrate on her work.

The son makes his choice of outfit, and leaves the rest for the fitting room attendant to put away. The mother wonders if her son had actually stretched out the clothing he tried on and rejected. The two leave the fitting room and the attendant. The attendant goes to work, folding and hanging the purple rejections as the mother and son leave, laughing. She's never seen a boy try on girls clothing, and wonders.

The mother and boy in this story is me and Tristan.

The high school is putting on a Powder Puff game this coming Saturday. The Juniors against the Seniors. The girls will play flag football, and the guys will perform the half time show. It's something the school does every year, and it's a great time!

The Juniors have named themselves the Junior Jokers. The guys are dressing up in purple outfits with green ties and painting their faces to look like the Joker from Batman. I'll be sure to take pictures and video this Saturday and post it!

Day Twenty-One of Summer Vacation

Much less stressful. Much, much quieter.

It's just me and Timothy today. Rebecca is at Grandma's. Tristan and Mike are at work, and all is right in the world. Well, my world anyway.

Tim is playing video games on the other computer and watching TV. I'm on my computer. The dogs are being good (for a change. No one is eating the cats at the moment.)

I can actually hear myself think today (not always a good thing, but today it's a welcome change), and I haven't said, "Knock it off!" once yet today.

I had forgotten how nice quiet is. I haven't heard it since school let out for the summer twenty-one days ago. Seems like so long ago.

Day Twenty of Summer Vacation

I don't know that I'm going to make it through the entire summer. Seriously, I just don't think I can do it.

Rebecca and Timothy are at each other constantly. Arguing, picking, and just generally irritating the hell out of each other. "Stop!" "Don't touch me!" "Quit it!" It's starting to wear on the one nerve I have left.

If I've said, "Knock it off!" once, I've said it a thousand and one times. I think I'm invisible. At least to the children, anyway. Nothing I say registers. Hell, I don't think they even know I'm in the room, yelling at them. They just continue with their meanness toward one another.

Tristan and Mike are the lucky ones. They get to leave every day. They get to go to work and have adult conversations, do work that counts for something, and have a life. I want to go to work. I want to have funny stories to tell my husband at the end of the day.

On the brighter side, tomorrow should be better.....I think. Rebecca left this afternoon for a few days at grandma's house. Tim couldn't go because of baseball practice, but at least there will be no one here for him to fight with. I suppose tomorrow he will be pestering me because he's bored.

Lovely.....

How's This For Proud?

Tristan's report card for the entire last year.

Riddle Me This

In the car today:

Timothy: Tristan, what do you call a cat that crosses the road to eat a dinosaur?

Tristan: I don't know. What?

Timothy: You tell me.

Tristan: Tell you what? I don't know.

Timothy: You're supposed to tell me. What do you call a cat.....

Tristan: How am I supposed to know what you call a cat that crosses the road to eat a dinosaur? You asked me.

Timothy: Oh forget it. (crossing his arms and scowling) You don't get it.

Tristan: (Laughing) I don't get what?

Me: Tristan, just drop it. He's mad enough.

Later on.

Tristan: Mom, what do you call a big cat that doesn't cost anything?

Me: I don't know. What?

Tristan: A free-lion.

Me: A what?

Tristan: Get it? A feline?

Me: Did you just make that up?

Tristan: Yep (smiling)

Pretty clever, huh?

The Telephone

I've come to the conclusion that I pay the phone bill strictly for Tristan to use the phone. Every night, like clockwork, his girlfriend calls. They then proceed to talk on the phone for at least an hour if not two about nothing. They see each other all day at school. What could they possibly have to talk about for that long every night?

Oh sure, I get the occasional call from my mother-in-law, asking me how to do something on her computer, or a call from Tristan himself letting me know where he's at or what he's doing. But for the most part, the only calls I receive are from bill collectors or someone trying to sell me something.

Sometimes, if it isn't the normal time for the girlfriend to be calling and the phone rings, I just look at it like I don't understand what it means. Surely, it's not going to be anyone I really want to talk to.

Sometimes, the girlfriend will throw me for a loop and call at a different time. I almost won't answer it. Why should I? It's not for me, and besides, she's not staying with the schedule.

I wonder what would happen if I didn't pay the bill and they shut the phone off? Has there been any cases on record of a teenager dying from lack of a phone? I don't think so, but Tristan would beg to differ.

Someday, a long time from now, I will regain control of my phone. I will know that when it rings it will be for me, and I'll be comfortable with that. Until then, I'll be a built-in answering machine for my teenage son, and probably continue in that role through the next two children.

He's Learning

Tristan's finally learning that money doesn't grow on trees. It's only taken sixteen years, but I think he's finally realizing that his dad and I spend a lot of money just to make sure he's able to do whatever he wants and has the things he and his brother and sister need.

Since he got his driver's license, he's been driving to school every day. He always has something going on after school, whether it's practice for this sport or that sport, or just weight lifting in the school's new weight room, he's always at school. Now that he has his driver's license, Mike doesn't have to go pick him up every evening. He drives himself. Mike's happy.

Tristan's birthday was May 1st. He asked for money in lieu of gifts from everyone so he'd have gas money to drive with. Well, we're at the end of May, and he's gone through all of his birthday money, and his summer job doesn't start for two more weeks. He came to me this morning asking for money to put gas in the car. I told him to ride the bus since he's done with practice now. "Ride the bus", I say. You know, why spend the money if you don't have to, right?

I get a look. A look from the boy that says I must be crazy to even think he should ride the bus anymore. "But Moooooommmm," he whines.

But nothing. I'm not the one driving the car all over God's green earth. He knows as well as me how much gas is. Ride the bus.

And so, his girlfriend, who also just got her license a couple of months ago picks him up for school.

Glasses For Tristan

Took Tristan to have his eyes checked yesterday after school. Turns out his eyes aren't that bad, but he will benefit from a mild prescription for reading and driving.

Would you believe it took that kid an hour to choose a pair of frames that he liked? I swear he tried on every single pair of men's frames in the store and even some women's! When he finally settled on a pair, he had to stand in front of the mirror for what seemed like forever making sure it was the best choice.

I should've known. This is the kid that takes multiple showers a day, and has a facial routine that he follows religiously. In his world, he must look perfect at all times, no matter what he is doing. He's the best looking, sweetest smelling mechanic in the garage when he's helping work on the vehicles. No kidding!

I guess I should be thankful. Getting the other two to even take a shower is like pulling teeth.

So, in a week when his new glasses come in, I wonder how much time he'll spend in front of the mirror, trying different hairstyles to flatter his new glasses?

Hard To Believe

Today, my oldest Tristan, turns sixteen. It's so hard for me to believe that this is true. It seems like just yesterday when he would put a finger puppet on his little index finger and say, "Ladies and Jelloman!"

When he was born, he weighed a whole eight pounds, and was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen! I wasn't married to his father, so it was just me and him, against the world. We lived in a tiny apartment, on the third floor. I remember having to carry him in his car seat, the diaper bag, and anything else I had up those steps and wishing I lived on the first floor. It was a tough time with no help from anyone else, but I wouldn't change it for anything.

I think that time we had to ourselves helped to form the close relationship we have today. We talk about everything, and he never ceases to make me laugh. He is respectful of me, and the respect is mutual.

I'm very proud of the young man he is becoming-hardworking, polite, respectful, caring, and strong. The only downfall to his turning sixteen is the realization that time is going by so fast. He's growing up, and I find myself yearning for the days when he'd snuggle up in my lap and say, "I love you, Mommy."

Happy birthday, my dear son. I love you, and am prouder than any mother has ever been.

My Children

I just realized that I haven't talked about my kids as much as I had wanted to. After all, I am a mother of three wonderful children. Getting to know them a little bit, gives some insight as to who I am.

First of all there's Tristan, your somewhat typical teenager. He's 15 and a Sophomore in high school. He wrestles and plays football for the high school, and carries a 3.99 GPA. Other than being obsessed with his girlfriend, he's a great kid. He makes me laugh.....a lot!

Next is Rebecca. She's my informer. If I want to know anything about either of the other two children (and even if I don't), she will tell me. For this reason, the two boys are less than thrilled that she's their sister. She's 10 and in fourth grade. She aspires to be a teacher someday, and with her grades and likability, I have no doubt that she'll make a wonderful teacher!

Then there's Timothy. He's my youngest at age 8. He has a mind of his own, and a stubborn streak a mile long! He has been the most trying of my three children right from the beginning. Tim is in second grade and already knows that school is not one of his favorite things. He's all boy and would rather spend his time outside hunting for bugs and playing baseball. His sense of humor is so different than Tristan's but he never ceases to make me laugh with his silly antics and innocence.

I'm really proud of all my children. Each brings to my life something different, something that I could never imagine being without.

High School Wrestling 8-0!

Got another duel meet to go to tonight. My oldest, Tristan, is a Sophomore this year, wrestling Varsity. He's got an undefeated record so far this season: 8-0! He's got a tough one tonight, though. He's going up against a boy he wrestled last year and got a back injury from. The kid is good, but Tristan has improved greatly since last year, and I think he can take him. He's really pumped about tonight's match, too. Says he's looking forward to "taking this guy down", as he puts it.

Wrestling for me is a love/hate sort of thing. I do so love the sport. I can hardly contain myself in the stands when Tristan is wrestling. The problem I have is they move so fast, I can't keep up! My eyesight is so poor, that I miss a lot of it. Something happens, the crowd cheers, I smack my husband and ask what happened, and it's all over before I have a chance to cheer too! Thank goodness they record the matches so I can come home and watch them over on TV. They do that so the boys can learn from their mistakes, but it benefits me too!

Oh, and those fluorescent lights! They are murder on my eyes! By the time the match is over, I've got such a headache!

It's all worth it, though. At least I'm there, being the supportive mother I should be. Sometimes, I think he's embarrassed by me, actually. He says he's not, but how could he not be? When I do happen to catch something he's done well with, I'm standing on my feet, cheering at the top of my lungs! During the match, I'm yelling as loud as the coaches, telling him what moves he needs to do. He says he can't hear me when he's in the midst of pinning someone, but everyone else can! I don't care. I'm just so damned proud of him!

My youngest, Timothy, has decided to give wrestling a try this year, too! So far he's only had practices, but after the holidays he'll start having matches too. What fun that's going to be! Those little kids out there on the mats wrestling around are so cute! It breaks my heart, though because it never fails. When one loses there's always tears! You can't help but feel sorry for them. They all want to win so badly!

So, we'll see if Tristan's undefeated streak ends tonight. I hope not. I have to ride home in the same car with him, and he's not a very good loser!