Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Has She Got Control of Me

Since Blogger has been so tempermental at night lately, (emphasis on the mental) I just decided to download a photo after Stinky's basketball game, and come back and write my post after the girls go to bed, as usual. Here is a picture of Stinky at the ice skating rink. As you can see, she wears her sunglasses at night.

On Friday I was crabby. I know, I know, I say that every Friday...Or maybe every day. Last Friday, I was even more crabby than usual, because after I went running, I put a pizza in the oven and thought I'd be able to eat, (and you know how much I love to eat) but Stinky called and said her bus was about five minutes away from school and that I should come and get her right away. I gave Coadster instructions about how and when to remove the pizza from the oven, which made her very nervous because she's afraid of burning herself, and then I took off to get the great, Stinky one.

They were not five minutes away from school. We live at least a fifteen minute drive from the junior high and I sat for another fifteen after I got there. I wasn't feeling very patient anyway, and then there was that pizza to obsess about too.

When the bus finally did pull in, I saw the coach stand-up and lecture the girls for another few little whiles. I had a sudden urge to just lay on the horn and let up for a second and honk again for as long as it took. Then, because I love to imagine completely inappropriate scenarios in my head, I had a wonderful thought. What if I spent one entire day behaving like the most vile thirteen year old in the world? How satisftying would that be?

In my Freaky Friday Fantasy, when my daughters' tried to wake me up in the morning, I could roll over and say, "@!#$%*&^%$!" and try to go back to sleep until they told me that if I didn't get up and go to work, I wouldn't have enough money to go to the movies and ball games and ice skating with my friends every week. So, after I finally dragged myself out of bed, I'd go to the bathroom where I would make a horrible mess with make-up and hair straighteners and curling irons and barretts and headbands, until I was dangerously late for work and then I'd give up and look exactly the same as I did before I started. I'd try to get away with leaving my house with my butt crack and too much cleavage showing and when my daughters caught me and made me go back and change, I'd stamp my foot and say, "God! You think this is bad? You should see the other girls at my job, they all look like total prostitutes." And I would be so envious of all those other girls.

At work, I would sit at my desk and instant message my friends all day and obsessively check my Facebook, calling out, "Wooohooo! I have 297 friends now!" anytime someone accepted my new friend request. And if anyone dared to call and ask for assistance from me, I would sigh heavily before and after I picked-up and make the fingers-closing-on-and-off-my-thumb, talky-talky sign with my hand the whole time they were blabbing.

"Can you tell me who I would need to talk to about changing my major?" They might ask.

"Uh, how am I supposed to know! Who really friggin' cares?"

"I'm sorry. Am I calling the right number?"

"Duh! Does this sound like the right number? Yeah, I didn't think so. Now, go find someone else to bug. I'm busy." I would hang-up and sigh again. Then I would say loudly to no one in particular, "Oh my god! This is so boring! Seriously, I could lay down and die right now, I am that bored."

Luckily, my Fergalicious Def ringtone would go off and I'd have to use up all my minutes texting and talking to my friends on my cell phone until lunch. The afternoon would go pretty much the same, but I would chew gum very loudly while I was being rude to customers on the phone and anytime my boss gave me a project to work on, I'd say, "Whatever," and roll my eyes before I did it.

When I got home from work, I'd go straight to the television or the interenet radio station and instantly change it from whatever the girls were listening to without asking.

"What's for dinner?" I might ask my girls and then I'd say, "Gross. Ew." To whatever they answered me with. Until the girls got dinner on the table, I'd be on the computer to instant message while talking to the same friend on the phone. I'd ask each person I spoke to who they liked and then they'd tell me and ask who I liked and then we'd tell each other how ugly and weird we thought the other's crush was.

By the time I went to bed, I would be so exhausted and full of self-loathing, I'd finally be able to sleep a full eight hours and I'd never complain about my life, ever again and I would understand so much better the hell my daughters are living, that I'd spend all my waking hours cutting them slack.

15 comments:

Bice said...

My God this was hilarious! I was all like no way she did this and you were all like yes way I did.

Churlita said...

Oh my god, Bice! Totally!

michelle said...

Absolutely hilarious and oh so true!

Remiman said...

Churlita,
pheeew! I'm tired out just reading about it. Guess I'll go back to bed for a couple hours nap.
rel

Mr Atrocity said...

If I were to regress to my thirteen year old self, I'd spend my time listening to Metallica, reading "Judge Dredd" comics, wearing mostly black and wondering why girls didn't like me.

The Retropolitan said...

Oh my god. I just realized that I've hit that age where I DONT KNOW WHO TO SYMPATHIZE WITH ANYMORE! Am I... still young enough to 'understand' youth, or am I getting so old that I automatically side with the adults in a story?

I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP

Margaret said...

you'd have like 304 friends, because even not showing enough butt crack; you've got attitude!

side note: my mom dressed up in one of my Madonna-esque outfits when I was 13 and proceeded to imitate me; I never wore the skirt again

booda baby said...

If anyone decides to edit a new book of parables, I'm camping out on their doorstep until they agree to include this. (I don't really know what a parable is. In fact, before I remember that it was called a 'parable,' I was toying with the word 'parallel' which is obviously wrong. But maybe not. It's a lot of work too early.)

Anyway, this is a very nice lesson in empathy. Even the nicest lesson in empathy, however, doesn't help with the shades inside and at night phenomenon. I'm sure it's bad Adult Form When Dealing with teenagers, but I fricking nearly whacked my nephew upside the head.

I don't actually care that he DOES it. I'm only trying to save him from the humiliating memory that will strike him 15 years later.

Churlita said...

Michelle,

Of course, this is just a mix of a whole bunch of traits I see in my daughters and their friends. I can truthfully say, that I haven't witnessed all these traits in just one girl.

Rel,

Me too. Maybe I'll cut out of work early and get me some sleep.

Mr Atrocity,

I would be more comfortable with your scenario - that was more like me at 13 too. Although, it was more fun imagining being the current trendy girl kind of heinous.

Retropolitan,

Don't worry. I don't know any kids that are wholly like that. It was more me fantasizing about how funny it would be to surrender myself to my urges and 13 year olds come closer to doing that than any other age I've seen.

Margaret,

It would almost be worth wearing something that showed the cleave and the crack, just to see the look of sheer horror on my daughter's faces. Man, I love imagining inappropriate scenarios...

Booda Baby,

I wish that the shades indoors at night was the most annoying thing my kids will ever do. Somehow, I'm afraid that act will be overshadowed several time during high school.

fringes said...

Very nice with the empathy, Mom. I don't know how you do it with two teenage girls.

Churlita said...

Fringes,

the trick is not to think about what you're doing while you're doing it. If I wasn't on automatic pilot a lot, I might just explode. Luckily, my girls aren't as bad as I envisioned I would be as a thirteen year old in this post.

Egan said...

So let me get this straight, you have kids? You have two daughters? One insists on wearing sunglasses in her sleep? One smells worse than I do? You run every day? You have naturally curly hair? Okay, noted.

Churlita said...

Egan,

Those are some of my stats. My daughter is more Stinky in the ornery sense, but she can be stinky in the olefactory way too. She likes perfume and I'm not such a big fan of that stuff myself.

Killer said...

Holy cow, you just described my average day to a tee. I act like a 13 year old girl.

Churlita said...

Killer,

That's what I was thinking as I wrote it - shit, I really do some of those things now. Especially, whining about being bored. I think I just did that 5 minutes ago.