Dear Sexy Moms of West Van

Do I have your attention now?!

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

 

This morning I ran into my favourite local coffee shop and grabbed a grande cafe latte, my little reward after a gruelling fitness class.

Yoga

courtesy iclipart.com

A group of you, whom I’ve known for years and years, were sitting and chatting at a table near the counter. One of you glanced up, smiled and said hi. Your friends ignored me, but hey, one out of three is actually pretty good.

You see, yesterday I met two long-time friends, also moms of classmates of my kids, for coffee. Yes, we drink a lot of coffee and lattes in West Van,  at least I certainly do!

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

 You were sitting at small tables on either side of us, and our children – yours and mine –  also went to school together. But this time not one of you looked at me. Not one of you said hello. And I was hard to miss ’cause I was wearing a bright yellow top and even brighter yellow running shoes.

Now we all live in the same small community of West Vancouver, which has a population of roughly 42,000. Yeah, it;s a pretty tiny town. West-VancouverFor ten years our kids went to the same small private school, where there were at most 80 kids per grade. Over the years, you and I sat across from each other during tons of parent/teacher meetings and numerous class mom meetings, attended seasonal school plays and concerts together, and ran into each other at the local shopping mall, grocery store, and 7-eleven.  Our kids played soccer and tennis  and softball together, and learned to swim at the same pool. Our families still frequent the same sports facilities in West Van and ski at the same mountains.

So why can’t you just say hello?

Is something wrong with your eyesight?
Do you lack peripheral vision?
Is there a recent medical abnormality that prevents you from smiling?
Has your long-term memory been dramatically affected lately?

Look, you don’t need to worry about me – I don’t want to be your BFF. I don’t want to be invited to your parties. I don’t want to go on vacation with you to Whistler or Maui. I especially don’t want to steal your husband. Absolutely not! And  I don’t even want my children to date your children.

But I would kinda like to feel like I exist, like I am visible.

So would it kill you to meet my eye occasionally, and smile or say hi, especially when I’ve said hi to you so, so so many times in the past before?

Really?!

It’s Tough Being Beautiful…

especially if you’re my daughter, the Weird One.532988_10151643727150290_918872487_nLet me give you a recent example.

Just before dropping my daughter off at university in the UK, we spent a few nights in a tiny room at a chic boutique hotel, located in the exclusive Mayfair area of London. 554806_241007492704389_352912053_nOn our last morning, she woke up rather early – at 4:30 am –  but was kind enough to wait until 7 am to wake me, although 8 am would have been kinder! She was eager to get under way, but this Terrible Awful Mother was lethargic and exhausted. You see, the night before (and the night before, etc.), I’d had to resort to reading in the bathroom, because the bedside light was too bright for the Weird One. As was the reading light on the side of my bed. As was the penlight I brought with me. So, it was either the bathroom or the hall, and the hall was a rather dark and scary place for this Terrible Awful Mother to be sitting on the floor and reading in the middle of the night. But, as lovely as the bathroom was, it was a wee bit cold and cramped  -  for some reason, the toilet is just not a comfortable perch for late night reading.

Anyway, by 7 am the Weird One was in desperate need of croissant and tea, so she ventured off all by herself, for the very first time. When she returned, roughly thirty minutes later, she marched into the room, slammed the door and announced in an extremely grumpy tone of voice,

“Mom, the worst thing just happened to me and I’m so disgusted!”

“What, darling ???!”

“Mom, some old guy just asked me if I was single? I didn’t think Britain was full of weird old men!”

Senior3

courtesy iclipart.com

 

“Oh, really?” what to say?!

“Yes! First of all, it’s way too early in the morning for a stranger to talk to me on the street.”

“Well dear, he was probably just on his way to work.”

“Then Mom, it was so creepy ’cause he was so old – he must’ve been at least 30!”

At least 30 – trying very hard not to laugh, and to actually take her seriously, I asked the Weird One what he said, exactly.

“Well, he told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and then he asked me if I was single.”  And yes folks, she was mad. Livid, in fact! “But Mom, it was early in the morning, and I had no make-up on and he was really, really old!!!”

“I see. You know, most girls (like me) would take that as a complement.”

“Oh, gross, Mom!  It was way too early in the morning and 30 is just way too old for me!”

On the bright side, I guess I don’t have to worry about her having daddy issues or bringing home older men. For now, anyway.

Really!

A Tale of Two Sisters

Once upon a time there were two sisters who were nine years apart in age.  Even though they loved each other very much, they couldn’t be more different from one another.

Top-7.bmp

One had fine blond hair, while the other had curly dark brown hair.

One was average height, while the other was statuesque.

One excelled at school, particularly in English and Mathematics, while the other excelled at sports, especially in swimming and volleyball.

One was cautious and introverted and found solace in reading fiction, while the other was effervescent and gregarious and loved to hang out with friends.

One maintained virtually the same hair colour and style for over twenty years, while the other changed the colour and style of her hair on a monthly basis.

One pierced her ears as a teenager (just one hole in each lobe), while the other pierced each ear numerous times, and got a small tattoo or her ankle, followed fifteen years later by a larger one on her lower back.

One was determined to pursue a highly successful financial career, and the other set her sights on marrying the love of her life and being a stay-at-home mom.

One embraced a conservative outlook on life, while the other thrived on a seat-of the-pants approach.

One moved across the country to live on the wet West Coast, while the other moved to a subdivision within an hours drive of where they grew up.

Eventually each sister did get married and each sister did pursue a career, one in accounting and one in recreation therapy. Each sister had two children, a girl and a boy. As time went by, however, they traded aspirations, so that the conservative accountant became the stay-at-home mother and the outgoing athlete became the manager of many.

When the older sister’s daughter turned eighteen, and that daughter went to university far, far away, the older sister wondered: had the universe played a joke on the two sisters? After all, her crazy, charismatic, bohemian daughter had long brown hair (before she dyed it pink – yep, the latest!), numerous piercings (including a recent nose stud), a tattoo (still just one – fingers crossed), and desperately wanted to save the world from itself.1097285_10153091960670290_1898675884_o

The younger sister, meanwhile, had a daughter with blond hair, who was cautious and careful, who enjoyed the orderly nature of mathematics, the quiet pleasure of reading, and who lived for dance – jazz, ballet and hip-hop.527614_10151435117720084_1288564314_n

I think someone somewhere is laughing at us, big time. The good thing is …IMG_0933-001

we’re laughing right back. Really!

I’m a survivor but… I’ve had a couple close calls lately

You may have noticed that I’ve been absent the past few weeks, but I really am still in one piece. Yes, I did take my daughter, the Weird One/Demon Child to the UK for some last minute mother/daughter bonding before delivering her to this university.IMG_2196In a timezone eight hours ahead of my own. And yes, it actually was rather traumatic for me.

Beforehand we did have a few grand adventures – walking and hiking and 1272404_10153182640500290_1963781292_oshopping and hanging out.1268644_10153182634665290_1346345177_oAnd glaring and fighting and huffing and puffing.IMG_2148

Yep, we had them all. After a wonderfully busy, entirely rewarding and absolutely infuriating week with her, I headed home to do laundry, clean the house, put it back up forsale once again and then…pack up. Again. For another trip to Europe.

Okay, confession time – this is where I almost, well kind of, feel like one of those decadent and spoiled housewives of Vancouver.  But here’s the thing – 10 months ago my husband, the adorable Captain Dumb Dumb, and I decided that after all the excitement and drama of the past year, we needed a real vacation together, desperately. And I didn’t want to be home alone with Franklinstein,crying my eyes out 1186787_10151796775032492_987179013_nafter turning into an empty nester overnight.

So five days after seeing my daughter off to university, my husband and I headed to Italy for almost three weeks. There, I’ve said it. So that’s why I’ve been rather remiss of late.

But I will tell you this. I did find myself in dire straits several times with the Demon Child and I did fear for my life. And for hers. The worst episode occurred on our very first morning together. After travelling for roughly twenty-four hours, through more time zones than either one of us could count, we finally dragged ourselves into a lovely hotel in Cornwall overlooking the ocean. IMG-20130830-00155Although we were both exhausted, sleep took awhile to claim me, whereas the Demon Child started snoring the moment her head hit the pillow (just like her dad – I really HATE people like that!). So the next morning, when I could have and should have slept until noon, or later, there was one minor glitch: the Demon Child woke me up at 6 am, after a measly 5 hour snooze,  screaming in my ear:

“MOM, you drank my contact lenses! How could you? You PROMISED me last night that you wouldn’t! I HATE you!!!”

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

Somewhere in the dim dark recesses of my foggy brain I recalled the fact that the Demon Child had forgotten to pack her contact lens case. She packed everything else - including the kitchen sink – but no contact lense case. SO she carefully placed each of her contacts in a glass of water, in the bathroom, on the sink. I must have gotten up at some point to use the toilet and drink some water.

Should I be blamed for her stupidity? 

But it was the very first morning of our trip together, and she was ultra-nervous about the whole univerity thing – the people, the profs, the school, her classes. So after some swearing and screeching, we made up; I apologized and she accepted  And our trip resumed. Oh,we had quite a few more tense moments – like when she accused me of expecting too much of hotels or of complaining too much or of snoring too much or of being too conservative or too lazy – but at the end of the day we had a great time together.

Sometimes keeping the peace is more important than being right – at least that’s what I tell myself! Really?! What do you think?

You can’t handle the truth!!!

You may remember that we entered a brand new era in my household. A hint that the universe was unfolding as it should. An indication that perhaps, just maybe,this Terrible Awful Mother had done an okay job raising her children. Yes, this summer both of my children friended me on Facebook. This took some trial and error on my part: learning that I should observe but not “like”, that I could read but not “comment”, that I could post photos but not tag. But just when I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it, disaster struck . In a most unlikely and unforeseen manner.

As my daughter , the WeirdOne, (recently the Demon Child) is spending her first year of university in the UK, various hoops needed to be jumped through, numerous forms needed to be filled out and several interviews needed to occur. However, paperwork and busy work and organization are not the Weird Ones forte; as a typical kid with ADHD, she thrives on creative and stimulating circumstances, bizarre friends from every walk of life, music, dancing and of course, chocolate and Nutella.

But give me a situation to analyze, criteria to review, paperwork to plough through….well those are things that this accountant can cope with. I may not thrive on them, but I can certainly handle them.
So it turns out that because the Weird One is spending more than six months in the UK, she needed a special visa. To obtain that, she had to fill out a number of forms and schedule a compulsory interview with the representative of the British consulate. I sent her a text confirming when this was happening.But a better time became available and I may have neglected forgotten to tell text inform her of the change. Maybe that’s one reason they call me the Terrible Awful Mother . The night before, I reminded my daughter and guess what happened: the Demon Child appeared in all her glory. And then some.

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

Apparently a very good friend of hers planned to get a tattoo at that particular time on that particular day and it was of the utmost importance that my daughter accompany her. The Weird One gave her word after all. My husband and I tried talking to her. We tried rationalizing the situation. We tried bribing her. And yes we yelled at her. Finally I threatened to contact her friend on Facebook and explain the situation. Turns out that was the last straw for the Demon Child.

“You are a Terrible Awful Mother! You can’t handle Facebook! You can’t handle the truth and you certainly can’t handle being my friend!”

And with a quick click that was it. Not only was I defriended but I was also blocked. Banned. Back to square one. Rats!

Half an hour later she informed me that she had spoken with her friend and that the timing of said tattoo had changed and that my daughter could now attend her interview. But I was still defriended and still blocked.

About a week later my status was reinstated and all was well once again.

So here’s the thing. Summer is now over and I am on route to the UK with the Weird One. Just the two of us. No husband, no son, no Franklinstein. We are spending 7 nights and 7 days together before I deliver her to the University. Will there be blood? Will there be casualties?
Only time will tell.

Stay tuned and wish me luck. Lots and lots and lots of luck.

Really!

P.S. I am posting on my iPad rather than my desktop computer, so feel like a total blogging newbie. Please bear with me. :)

How to influence people and land the job of your dreams

Wandering the streets San Francisco the past few days while my husband, the Original Obnoxious One, attends a work conference,

courtesy  Paul.h at wikipedia

courtesy Paul.h at wikipedia

I’ve had time to ponder how to influence people and land the job of your dreams.   I thought I knew a thing or ten about this, but I will grudgingly freely admit that the Original Obnoxious One is a master at it – hands are shaken, witty jokes are made and business cards exchanged. Apparently some of this personality and piazzas has rubbed off on our son, the Obnoxious One as he clearly has the gift of the gab and the charm of the Irish. (just not the luck – yet!)

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

The Obnoxious One landed a plum position interning at a very successful property management company for a month and then somehow talked his way into interning for a small law practice. I know, just what the world needs these days is another lawyer, but hey, a guy’s got to pursue his dreams.  And it could’ve been worse – he could have decided to become an accountant like his dear old mom. Really!

As for my daughter, the Weird One, what we did expect? Well, to be honest, I never know what to expect, but don’t you worry – the Demon Child  is never totally out of sight. Back in June, a week before school ended, the Weird One decided she should look for a job. The past several summers she’s worked at a YMCA residential camp,

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

but was determined to do something different this summer. Since she didn’t get her act together until late, I wasn’t very hopeful, but  I thought maybe she could get a job as a barista. After all, in Vancouver we take our coffee very, very seriously, so there are  tons and tons and tons of coffee shops.  While she did apply to a few, she thought she’d have a better chance of getting something at the new local food market as a number of her friends work there.  So she filled out the paper work and lo and behold they set up an interview with her. There was only one problem – the interview was the day after school ended. Not to worry though, as her appointment was set for 2 pm.

So the day of the interview, she set her alarm for 1 pm…and then slept in until 2:00! I ‘d been up and out of the house for hours, not thinking about my darling daughter. Until I heard her scream screech, “MOM!!!”

I advised her to phone and apologize profusely, and then ask politely if they could reschedule her interview.  Somehow my advice went in one ear and out the other, for this is the conversation I heard:

“Hi there, my name is xxx and I have an interview today at 2:30 but unfortunately I slept in because I’m so jet lagged and I’m really sorry but I’m so jet lagged ’cause I just got back from Europe, and yeah, I’m so jet lagged ’cause I was in Paris for a few days…

The Weird One's last visit to Paris in 2008

The Weird One’s most recent visit to Paris was in 2008

 but I’m really interested in your company, but I was just in Paris and still really jet lagged, but now I really want to work as a cashier or shelf – stocker or anything, so do you think I could come see you later today for my interview?”

While the poor person on the other end of the conversation responded to the preposterous story spun but the Weird One, I gaped at my darling daughter in amazement.

“Oh, I see, so today won’t work and you can only see me a week today? Okay, well, I’m really really sorry and I promise I’ll be on time next week and I promise I won’t be jet lagged! And yes, Paris was nice. Thank you very much.”

Darling, it’s one thing to tell a tiny little white lie, but a whopper?! We are not the kind of folks who fly off Paris every other weekend for a couple of days. You do  realize a direct flight from Vancouver, which is tough to get, is at least 10 hours ?!

“Mom, I know…I was just so tired I didn’t know what I was saying.”

Surprisingly enough she did not land the job, so in the end she had to decided to take the summer off. 1040242_10152991537715290_34277843_oReally!

Summer’s here and the time is right…

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

  • for dancing in the street on the deckIMG_2109
  • for hanging out with my sisterIMG_0937
  • for leaping in the oceanScan
  • for drinking rose wineIMG_0733
  • for hiking in the mountainsIMG_1900
  • for watching The Breakfast Club in Stanley Park1002324_10153047321135290_1162443128_n
  • for mini-vacations to Whistler,
    Whistler on Canada Day

    Whistler on Canada Day

    as well as Seattle, Toronto and Kingston

  • and for just about anything other than cleaning, laundry, editing/rewriting and yes, sad to say, but even blogging.

Summer has arrived in the Pacific Northwest and I am lovin’ it, especially after the quick trip to Ontario last week with my daughter where I felt – and probably looked – like the Wicked Witch of the West in full meltdown mode. After all, it was only 45 degrees celsius, or 113 degrees fahrenheit. meltingwww

But don’t worry, things have been anything but boring in my neck of the woods. Here are a couple of tidbits to give you some idea of what’s been going on.

Words of wisdom a couple of weeks ago from my husband, the Original Obnoxious One:

Don’t worry about anything. My people will sort out everything for the firm BBQ we’re hosting at our house tomorrow night.

But what about timing and numbers and set-up and…?

My people are on-top of it all. Someone is bringing food, someone is bringing drinks, someone is bring plates and glasses and someone is serving. My people will talk to your people.

What people?! There’s just me – and Franklinstein! Your daughter’s camping on the top of Garibaldi Mountain and lord knows where your son is.

Fine then, I’ll tell my people to talk to you, because all we know Franklinstein is scared of strangers.

And strangers are scared of him...or at least scared he'll get them dirty.

And strangers are scared of him…or at least scared he’ll get them dirty.

And just last week at eleven o’clock the night before university orientation for the Weird One, my daughter, while sharing a King Size bed at the Delta Hotel in Kingston Ontario:

 Mom, turn off the reading light, it’s too bright!

Fine darling, I’ll just watch Damages on my iPad, with my earbuds in.

 Mom, turn down the volume on your iPad – I can still hear it!

Yes dear.

Mom, turn down the brightness on your iPad – I can still see it!

Of course dear.

Mom, stop wiggling around, you’re keeping me awake! Just go to sleep!

Really, dear?

courtesy Amazon.com

courtesy Amazon.com

And then, 20 minutes later  - so it seemed

Mom, it’s 6:30am and I’m really hungry. I’m ordering room service NOW! 

But we don’t have to leave the hotel until 8:45am. Why are you waking me up? 

Mom, I’ve been awake for 2 whole hours and I can’t stand it anymore – I need French Toast NOW!

Okay, okay so order me the healthy breakfast. 

 

And of course I can’t forget about the Obnoxious One:

Mom, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want in a girlfriend next year, and I’ve decided that I need someone who’s NOT too nice. But I really need someone who’s temperamental…kinda like you.

Like me? Aren’t I nice?

Yeah, but you have an edge. I just take advantage of girls who are too nice, so I need somebody who’s mean to me, who keeps me in line, kinda like you!

cartoon courtesy iclipart.com

cartoon courtesy iclipart.com

Really!

I Can Ruin Your Life Too…

After all, as the Terrible Awful Mother that’s what I like to do. in fact, I thrive on ruining other people’s lives, especially the lives of my family members.

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

Take my husband, the Original Obnoxious One. His life was almost too easy to ruin – it simply requires leaving my car parked in the driveway so that when he comes home from work he can’t park his Precious in the garage, or neglecting to put my cell phone on silent at bedtime so it chimes away all night long. As I said, too easy.

My son, the Obnoxious One required a slightly more advanced approach: I had to poison him. DSC02374We haven’t been able to sort out his recent medical disasters, but we are working on it. After several doctor visits, numerous tests, and various medications, we still don’t know what’s wrong with him, but we do know that gluten is a trigger. After consuming gluten he immediately develops flu-like symptoms, severe stomach cramps, and passes blood in his stool. So we’ve spent absolute fortune on gluten-free products at Whole Foods – not just bread and cereal, but soy sauce and salad dressing and granola bars and crackers/crisps and humus and more…much more. Imagine my shock the other evening after preparing what I thought was a gluten-free meal, of chicken breasts  poached in broth and wine with roasted rosemary potatoes and salad. Well, turns out that I used dijon mustard to marinate the chicken and the mustard contained vinegar. I also used a seasoning salt on the chicken, which after reading the teeny tiny print, we discovered contained gluten. The Obnoxious One felt sick an hour after dinner, went to work the next morning but had to come home at lunch since he felt so so so badly.

I didn’t want to ruin my baby,Franklinstein’s life, but he’s such a good sensitive boy that a stern look will make him quiver, and a harsh word will cause him to cower. West Vancouver-20120615-00375Despite frequent hosings, the weeks of splashing through mud puddles,and swimming in the ocean took their toll; he reaked! Yesterday I made Obnoxious One bathe him, a cruel and mean procedure for labs, but totally necessary from time to time. I think Franklinstein has forgiven me by now, but he stills throws baleful glance at me every now and then when he thinks I’m not looking at him.

Now I really wouldn’t want to leave out my daughter, the Weird One – no need for her to feel unloved. IMG_1956She recently informed me that I had ruined her life by purchasing Netflix. In fact, I purchased Netflix so I could watch the amazing Kevin Spacey in House of Cards. The Weird One, though, is hooked on the recent 90210, Summer Heights High and rather concerned that she hasn’t even gotten to the new Arrested Development! She was most upset that she missed a couple of parties because she was too enthralled with the machinations of Naomi and Liam and Adrianna and Annie.Oh, the drama. With an almost straight face, she told me:

Mom, it’s all your fault! You’ve ruined my life! If you hadn’t purchased Netflix I would be going to my friend’s party right now, but I can’t cuz I have to watch my show.

When I rolled my eyes and stared at her, her mouth twitched and her eyes twinkled. Nevertheless the Weird One tried ever so hard to look seriously angry.

So there you go…I’ve succeeding in ruining the lives of each and every member of my immediate family. Who’s next? Really?!

Help – I’ve Fallen Way, Way Down the Rabbit Hole

courtesy Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

courtesy Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland

The world as I know it has changed…forever. I knew this was coming, but I really didn’t think the transformation would be quite so dramatic. After all the exams and essays and applications, my baby girl has officially graduated from high school. My shock, however,  comes from the 180 degree shift in her attitude.

Lately my daughter has been nice to me… and nice even to the rest of the family.

The Demon Child seems to have taken flight and moved on. So I’ve seen the shadow of the Demon Child on a couple of occasions when my daughter has been exhausted after a late night out with friends, but for the most part she’s been pretty easy-going and even happy. For example, during the past 2 weeks:

  • she hasn’t yelled at me (much)
  • she hasn’t called me horrible names (not at all)
  • she’s listened to me and kicked her friends out at midnight when I asked her to
  • she’s accepted the loss of her allowance after getting that tattoo (okay the allowance has since been restored)
  • she let her tongue piercing grow in, as she claimed she missed chewing gum – whatever her reason, I’m ecstatic!
  • she’s gone on a couple of hikes with Franklinstein and me and enjoyed them
  • and the piece de resistance – she went from blocking me on Facebook to friending me!!!

So whether it’s a sign of maturity, a consequence of school ending or the aftermath of dumping her boyfriend, I couldn’t be more thrilled. Hey, my daughter will never be the perfect Barbie doll that so many girls in Vancouver aspire to these days – you know the ones with the perfect pouts, the perfect designer wardrobes, and the perfect long blond hair.

more housewives

courtesy – Real Housewives of Vancouver Facebook

She will never be like everybody else and that’s okay. Heck, that’s more than okay, that’s amazing! After all, this is the girl who:

But she is hoping to take much of the summer off before she ventures forth to university in the Fall, so she wants to learn how to drive – finally – and do lots and lots of hiking. In fact, yesterday she climbed The Chief with a friend,1048195_10152958698655290_974192805_oand wants to do it again...with me!

After the drama of the past several months, I must admit that I am currently exhausted, but nevertheless I am loving this new phase. I’m also realistic enough to know that the Demon Child may rear her terrible head once again from time to time, but we’ll deal with that when and if the time comes.

In the meantime, I am officially looking  forward to summer, if it ever arrives to stay on the wet West coast.

Really!

So how was your weekend?

Just super…as in super awful.

How often do you an answer the truth when someone asks that question? I mean, who  wants to admit that they had a lousy weekend? But yeah, I did and I’ve had a few actually. But this past one was over the top. Why? Well first of all, it was my daughter’s grad weekend, as in commencement. So that should be blissfully wonderful and charmingly emotional, right?

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

Well that would be totally wrong.

First of all my daughter, the Demon Child, didn’t want to go, because she is one of almost 400 kids in her grade, of which she knows maybe a dozen; afterall, she’s only attended this particular high school for 2 years. But her friends guilted her into going, which of course meant my husband, the Original Obnoxious One, my son the Obnoxious One, and myself all had to go. At 10am on a Sunday morning across the Lions Gate Bridge through downtown to the Orpheum Theatre. Oh joy.

So of course I expected both of my children to be home reasonably early Saturday night so that they would not be over-tired Sunday morning. How silly of me – I really should know better by now. I stayed up until both of my little darlings were home safe and sound, which  meant that the three of us were very tired and very grumpy on Sunday.

In fact, the Demon Child was so tired Sunday morning that she slept in and missed her ride. Of course she had to come and wake me up and yell at me for ten minutes demanding I drive her there right away. While trying to decide how I could get her downtown and then back home to change and then head back over the bridge with the rest of my family. I went into her bedroom to discuss logistics, when low and behold, I spotted the horrendous, absolutely awful….TATTOO! She got a flippin’ tattoo on her left shoulder, and not a tiny itty bitty one,  but a big huge honkin’ one! One with a bunch of words – I was so so so angry that I couldn’t even read it! Yeah, I’m not a fan of tattoos, especially for teenagers who have plenty of time to change their mind in years to come.(My son succumbed to one a couple years ago. See Tattoo Schmatto)

Her explanation : Oh Mom, I got that ages ago…which simply wasn’t true because she didn’t have it at her grad banquet 2 weeks before.

Guess what my very calm and understated reaction was:

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

And I refused to drive her downtown and suggested she take a taxi, then made my way to the guest bedroom in the basement where I could rant and rave in peace.

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

As expected the ceremony was excruciatingly long and rather boring, but nevertheless well organized. After almost four hours, the four of us were desperate to get out of there, as well as desperately hungry and desperately tired. Which meant that we argued non-stop and almost didn’t make it to lunch. But we did and we did survive, until we got home when the situation deteriorated even more.

Because I became the most terrible parent in the world.

After all, I didn’t buy the Demon Child a grad present, even though the Demon Child agreed to forfeit one when she refused to complete Global Ed. (One of the threats/bribes offered – see What do you do when your kid is the most stubborn person.) And after all those flippin’ piercings (numerous ones in her ears, as well as belly button and tongue) and that friggin’ tattoo, I’m not feeling very generous. Besides, she’s taking the summer off to “unwind and destress” before she ventures to university in the UK in September. She’s quite hard done by as you can see.

We didn’t talk for a day or so, and are now on civil speaking terms…barely.

So what can I say except that it was a super awful weekend and I am now officially the Terrible Awful Mother.

courtesy iclipart.com

courtesy iclipart.com

Really!