Tag Archives: teenager

Of Carpets and The Teenager


By sendmeonmyway101

(I apologize for the lack of posts this week. The past few days have been busy-bee days around the house, and I haven’t had time to sit down).

The carpets that originally came with our house were unpleasant, flat, and grimy. Over the past few years most of the carpets have become stained with paint, soda, cat and dog pee, and other questionable liquids.

Kyle and I pulled out the carpets in our rooms years ago. We both found that the carpet glue riddled linoleum put down by the original owners back in the fifties was easier to clean than the rugs had ever been. Similarly, the rug in our living room was pulled up a year ago, and replaced with a gleaming hardwood floor.

We have two other rooms in our house – Michael’s, and our parents. On Saturday it was time to replace the rug in our parent’s room.

I had been excited to work on the project ever since my dad and I remodeled the closet in their bedroom. My dad, apparently, had different ideas. He had imagined finishing off remodeling their room with Kyle. Some father-son bonding thing that I can’t exactly say I understand.

But I ended up getting what I wanted.

My dad and I, as always, were the first two awake. We finished moving the furniture out of the rents’ room and into Michael’s, and then we pulled up the old rug and threw it out back.

Kyle, in his infinite wisdom, had pulled an all-nighter (playing games or watching TV shows, or something like that) Friday night, and thus was incapable of coherent thought when my dad and I crept in there Saturday morning. Since our sun porch is full of wasp nests, and I’m terrified of things that fly (and the night before our dad had mowed the lawn and pissed off a couple of yellow jackets nearby), we decided that it would be Kyle’s job to put the rug into the sun porch. (If I were still in college, it is likely that the smelly old rug would have been crowded into my room).

Kyle’s two syllable response to our 9am wake-up call was a sleepy, “Goodnight.”

My dad and I were on our own.

But the long day wasn’t too bad, and even Michael pulled himself from his sheet-cocoon (surprisingly not at 7pm) to help us first place the padding over the cement floor, and then to lay down and even out the new rug.

Once the rug was finished, we went to work on nailing down the new baseboard and paneling around the closet. All the work was finally completed around 7pm. Just in time for me to drive Michael to his friend’s house for a cookout. (Mind you, we had pizza and hot wings sitting on the table since 5:30 waiting for us to finish up and eat it).

That was when The Teenager struck again.

Michael wanted me to drive him to his friend’s house, and pick him up with enough time for him to get home by 8. I tried to explain to the boy that by the time I dropped him off, and got back home, I would have to turn around again and pick him up. I tried to tell him he was unreasonable, and at least make him agree to staying two hours. He refused.

Exhausted and starving, I finally caved, dropping him off and heading back home. I had hoped to steal a piece of pizza before leaving the house again, but instead I helped my dad move a few things around. Then –back to the road.

Except when I tried to pick Michael up, he informed me that he was staying an extra hour.

I think the fact that I did not strangle the boy says something about my character.

(CHECK OUT SOME OF THE PHOTOS!)

If I Have Teenagers, They’re Being Shipped to Boarding School


By sendmeonmyway101

OK, OK, I know that one does not have “a teenager” without first having a child. And before that you have the baby – I know how this thing works. But for some reason I never understood how a cute child could deform so horribly into the vacuous stomached, mood swingin’, attitude flinging, sex-craved, shoe throwing, demon-out-of-hell teenager.

That is, until I had to live with one.

My youngest brother, Michael, is sixteen. He’s a redhead (and the whole redhead = scary temper thing? It’s absolutely true). He’s also a lazy night owl with no sense of responsibility. He won’t do dishes because he’s terrified of touching any left-over food. He gets huffy if anything you ask him to do outside takes longer than fifteen minutes – it’s like he’s afraid of the outdoors. And he fights me on everything.

Back in June, I argued with him for an hour about getting out of the house and going to the beach. What follows is the brunt of our conversation, repeated and rephrased at least thirty times.

“I don’t like the beach.”

“You loved it when you were three.”

“Yea … because I was three.”

“Get changed, you’re going.”

“You never listen to what I want.”

“You’re not staying here. I’m asking you to do one thing this summer – one thing. Go to the beach with us.”

“Yea, well if we have a car accident on the way there, and I’m the only one that dies, you’re going to regret making me go.”

“If I leave you here and a psycho murderer breaks into the house and kills you while I’m gone, then I’m going to regret leaving you here. Get ready.”

“I’ll kill him before he kills me.”

Never mind the flaws in his logic (what’s he going to do, throw his DS at a potential psycho?), arguing with Michael is like arguing with Swiss cheese – it goes through the holes, bounces around, comes out the other end and remains completely unmoved.

I have to be on his case about putting his clothes away, keeping his room neat, taking showers (the boy went two weeks following the fourth of July without bathing), and going to bed at a reasonable time so that when his friends call at two in the afternoon, he’s actually awake to hang out.

When did I become his mother? And, more importantly, when will he stop smacking me with his slippers when he doesn’t like what I say?

Teenagers. My Mom thinks she’s sneaky, but I figured it out. That’s why learning experience #4 as an SHD: Someone else can raise them.

Am I overreacting? It’s very likely. Michael has his good days, and his days when he makes me laugh – like going on about what voice actor did what character – I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I love that he’s so passionate about voice acting. And OK, so maybe the teeanger isn’t as frightening as I first made it sound. Besides, he’s almost seventeen, and he’s already mellowed out so much since this teenager business first started. It can’t last much longer, right?

Still, if both my parents made it through all of our teenager years, they may have more balls than I give them credit for. Or than I do, for that matter (but, you know, I’m a girl).

He didn't last long outside

%d bloggers like this: