Sometimes vandalism is funny. Proof here.
My pre-teen & teen girls are in the minority in that they’ve never really asked for a cell phone. But when Dan & I upgraded this year, we got an extra line & a simple phone (texting & calls) for them to share. Most of the time Kelly has it because she’s the one who goes to volleyball practice, etc. and needs to communicate with us about picking her up and such.
But Lauren recently commandeered it and was, apparently, bored on the bus ride home, so she started texting me. That’s when this exchange (below) happened…and made me think…I should get this girl her own phone, just for my own amusement.
Also…I admire her faith in the power of positive thought.
“Visualize your funeral and consider what you would want friends to describe as your legacy is an excellent way to clarify what is really important to you and what you want to achieve.”
Mental Floss: 11 Things You May Not Have Known About The Outsiders (loved, love, loved this book and also Hinton’s That Was Then, This is Now, and Rumblefish)
Erie Times-News: Princess Ball Proves Popular Venue for Make Believe in Modern Age (I wrote this…so it’s awesome. ;) ).
Slate.com: How Do Some People Always Stay Upbeat (I like to think I’m a perpetually happy person — annoyingly so to some people, even — but I’ve not been lately as I’ve been letting the stress of life get to me…or other peoples’ expectations, I guess).
And…in that vein….
Huffington post: 7 Things Good Mothers Do That I’m Not Going to Do Anymore (I could’ve written this because I, too, have given up all this stuff. I could probably even add double the list with the crap I’ve given up doing.)
There are two kinds of girls in middle school — the boy-crazy kind and the boys-are-gross kind.
Lauren is straddling the line right now. She’s visibly disgusted (or at least uncomfortable) by any display of affection, love talk, or kissing. Envision the face a vampire makes when he sees the sunrise — that’s what Lauren looks like when someone kisses on a TV show.
And, yet, there’s a boy she likes…a few, I think. She chooses her crushes based on common interests — minecraft, frogs, gymnastics — which, let’s be honest, is better criteria than some grown women use when looking for a partner, right?
She recently observed that every song on the radio is about love in one way or another (lost love, first love, unrequited love, etc.). This annoys her, of course.
“Why can’t they ever sing about anything else?” she asks. “I mean, why don’t they sing about trees or summer or fish?”
“Well, you know, some say there are really only two emotions in this world — love and hate — and all other emotions boil down to one of those.”
“That’s stupid,” she says, clearly not buying into my philosophical rhetoric just yet.
Recently, we were in the car when Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” came on. I turned it up and said:
“Ooooh…this is a great song, girls. It’s from one of my favorite movies!”
“What movie?” Lauren asks
“‘Say Anything'” with John Cusack. It’s awesome. We should watch it.”
“What’s it about?”
“The song?” I say.
“No, the movie.”
“Oh, well, it’s about…um…love.”
“I hate it already,” she says without missing a beat.
I’ll bet she’s singing a different tune in a couple years.
About Just Write “What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”
This gallery contains 19 photos.
Wednesday morning I wake up twenty minutes late. It’s 20 after and the bus comes at 42 after.
I jump out of bed, scaring the daylights out of the dog on the floor next to me and the three cats in various stages of slumber around me.
I rush out to the living room, flipping on the hallway lights and yell upstairs: “Girls, we’re late. Get up! Get up! None of our alarms went off. Get dressed now. I’ll make breakfast & get your stuff ready.”
Nobody’s responding and there’s no time to waste, so I charge up the stairs, recalling my earlier promise that I’d never be that mom shouting to the kids to “get up!” from downstairs (one in a long list of parenting “promises” that I broke — like that one about my kids always having their hair combed, etc.).
I roust them. They doth protest, of course. I shush them.
“There’s no time. Hurry up. Get dressed. I’ll make you a bagel you can take with you. Move!”
I feed all the animals — the fish, the cats, the dog — while I heat a cup of coffee. I throw on some clothes, makeup, and twist my hair up into a clip.
When I walk back into the kitchen, it’s 40 after and I’m feeling accomplished as I’ve gotten the entire household up and ready in less than 20 minutes. Go me!
Lauren is still grumbling about it being too early and being tired. I cut her off as I finish cooking my breakfast eggs in the microwave.
“Well, what were you doing sleeping in Kelly’s room last night? You guys need your sleep that’s why I tell you to go to bed on time! Listen…you guys should go outside and wait for the bus. I hope you didn’t miss it! Were you watching out the window?!”
They reluctantly drag themselves outside, while I finish gathering up stuff for work and putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
At 10 till, they come back in.
“What? Did you guys miss the bus? I have an 8 a.m. meeting, you guys. I can’t be late…crap!”
“Mom, it’s dark out there,” Kelly says. “Nobody is up.”
“Yeah, it’s 5:50, not 6:50,” she says.
Then it dawns on me. We’re an hour early. I rushed upstairs at 5:20…thinking it was 6:20 a.m.
“Oh….well, um….April Fool’s…a week late! Who wants breakfast?! Pancakes anyone? We’ve got plenty of time now!”