Wednesday, 29 September 2010
To be fair, the Queenager never argued about clothes, and will still wear whatever she puts her hand on first thing in the morning. (Rather funny - placing certain shirts at the very front to see if she'll come downstairs wearing them. She does.) The Man-Child wouldn't argue; he'd just put back whatever I'd put out and come down wearing a completely different outfit. Fortunately, because he didn't like wearing "smart clothes" (that is, spiffy clothes, to any US readers) most of his stuff could stand up to a school day. The Little Guy (a very verbal 7 year old) will argue the pros and cons of whatever I suggest but since it all looks the same anyway, I let him get on with it.
We've been pretty adamant about not allowing the teens to get strange piercings I'll admit. So would you if you could guarantee your kids would be the ones to get horribly infected AND you had to pay the health bills that we face over here. Our mantra for those situations is "When you're off the payroll". It also comes in handy for motor bike arguments, threats to go hang-gliding and other death-defying pursuits.
And up until now, we haven't had too many hair arguments. Not if you discard the faux-hawk that we had going a few years ago. Oh yes. Man-child, in a desperate bid to rebel against something, anything, got himself a faux-hawk. That's the one with the spike but the sides aren't all completely shaved off. It made him look very aggressive in my opinion, and it seemed that one female agreed as it was abruptly removed a few months later.
Two weeks ago he started banging on about wanting either a proper mohawk or blue hair. Blue Hair? Interestingly, I had more of a problem with the mohawk and the Ball & Chain vetoed the blue hair. Man-child dictated that it was one or the other, but I persuaded him to go and see the trendy Eurpean hair stylist round the corner who could give him something really rockin' with perhaps a touch of blue in it. (He eventually conceded that if his entire head was dyed blue he'd look like a Lego character.)
This past weekend he duly took himself off to the trendy hair stylist - who wasn't in. So he then took himself up to the punky barber shop. And got a mohawk.
It's not as bad as I thought it would look as you can see his huge eyes and he still has hair on the sides. A bit. And it'll grow.
What really upsets me however, is that for our 20th wedding anniversary, we decided to get a proper family photo portrait done. And it's booked for next week!
The photographer tells me she's a whizz with Photoshop! Sigh!
Monday, 20 September 2010
One of the (slight) concerns I have for my man-child moving away from home for the first time today, as he is, is that he will not eat well enough.
Monday, 13 September 2010
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
My second teen has left the house. (Oldest is in the army, second is now in a pre-army school.)
I now have a problem. I need to relearn how to cook.
My second son has consistently been my biggest eater. I always cook a lot for the Sabbath and then end up having leftovers for the next few days. (I figure if I work so hard cooking, I should get the benefit of leftovers and a few days off.) For the most part, the leftovers usually got eaten. More often then not by my ravenous second son.
Now that he is not home during the week, I am suddenly finding myself with way too many uneaten leftovers. Leftovers that sadly go to waste.
The problem is that I stink at portions. For any given Sabbath meal, a whole family can usually drop by unannounced and I will have enough to feed them. This was never a problem because I always had my eating machine son home.
At least over the holidays now he is home. I get two weeks reprieve before I try to relearn cooking amounts.
Who said having kids leave was easy??
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Now I have my own teenager who finds me annoying, especially when I sing, hum or move to music in a certain way - in the car or in the kitchen, even though there is no-one else around to see me. He rolls his eyes, whines 'M-u-u-u-m-m, p-l-e-a-s-e' and I have to stop. I mustn't act silly in front of his mates, ask them too many questions or in any way entertain them although this summer they have all been very grateful that I have been around to feed them bacon butties on a regular basis.
However my mum's Jimmy Krankie impersonation pales into insignificance compared to the damage I may have caused my son by subjecting him to my performance in 'The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas' earlier this year. I feel he may need therapy.
Yet today I saw a chink of acceptance, a little sliver of hope that he may be growing up a little and is realising that I'm not so bad after all. Getting out of the car he walked beside me as we made our way into town and said,
"Actually it's okay if I walk alongside you now. Just don't sing, ok?"
Trish from Mum's Gone to...