Rebecca M Avery Books

So the boy is in the kitchen fixing himself second supper consisting of a box of macaroni and cheese (the family size) because at 16 years old, 5 million calories a day is apparently STILL not enough.

After cooking the noodles he proceeds to try and open the fake cheese packet which essentially explodes, dusting the kitchen counter, the floor and his arms in orange powder.

Not one to be discouraged he sarcastically mutters "genius packaging there numb nuts" and begins dusting his arms off into the macaroni noodles, scooping powder off the counter and dumping it in as well.

In my effort to help, I hand him the broom and say, "Make sure to get it out of the grout so it doesn't turn to cheese juice when we mop. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend adding that to your noodles."

That earned me 'the look' which means that yes, I successfully annoyed him today (Woot - Go me!).  Besides, being a parent is all about being helpful!

Wake your teenager up on a Saturday morning... early.  Like maybe around 7AM or so.  Tell them that if they want to get their driving in for the day it will have to happen now or not at all.  After they get up, shower, dress and eat and finally make it to the car, wait until you're out of the drive way and headed away from your house.  Then announce, "We might as well hit up Walmart while we're out."

This is kind of a silent way of getting paid for the bad driving you must endure because now you have someone to lift the heavy items from shelves that are too high for you to reach, someone to stay with the cart while you dive down an aisle for one or two things and someone to load all the groceries in the trunk!  It's like hitting two birds with one stone!  Actually three... the driving, the errand and the annoying your teenager.

Result = "Seriously?  Gawd Mom!  Why didn't you tell me that when you woke me up?  I would have opted out of driving today!"

So the boy got his temporary driver's permit.  May this post serve as your official warning.  I do not have big enough cahones' to ride in the front seat while he learns the fine skill of driving.  That being said, I sit in the back seat and try to meditate in an effort not to panic.  However, there are moments when a quick intake of breath happens no matter how much I try not to let it escape.  I've also become a Bill Cosby protege' by repeating the things I say in quick succession... such as

stop... Stop... STOP!

Result = "I heard you the first ten times mom... we're stopped!  See... car's not moving anymore!  However, at some point it's going to move again so you can't start saying stop again the second the car moves forward.  We'll just go slow... okay?"

I win!

Listen to ridiculous stuff during the 6:30AM car ride to school (or whereever).  This morning's selection was an old Lionel Ritchie CD I found.  Even in his nearly catatonic state he managed to look over at me in complete disbelief.

Result = "This should be illegal this early in the morning.  Seriously, Mom... anything else and I won't complain.  Swear it on my life."

I simply smiled, turned it up and sang along.  It brought back memories of rollar skating to Endless Love and irritated the pajeemies out of him in the process.  Payback Baby!  Mom = 10/Boy = -10

I am just as bad for leaving my shoes laying around as my kids.  However, as the adult this is allowed... right? Do as I say, not as I do, etc.

Now that my teenage son is considerably bigger than me with MUCH larger feet, rather than searching for my own shoes, I just borrow his.  I can put my feet in them and not have to lace them up or anything.  I just stomp around attempting to keep my feet from falling out of them.  I go where I need to go and then take them back off... often leaving them in a different place than where he took them off.

Result = "Mom!  Where are my shoes? Seriously..."

Response = "I'm not sure...Wherever I took them off last I guess... I can't remember but if you find yours, can you look for mine too?"

Tehe!  That's much better than what I've always said in the past which was "I don't know!  I don't wear them!" 

When your teenage son goes wandering off with his friends (say at a sports event) and within 5 minutes you hear police sirens... call his cellphone and ask him what he is doing.  If after hanging up a little while later you happen to hear more sirens and he doesn't call you... call him again. 

RESULT= By nights end any siren he hears he will immediately call you (great checking in ploy btw) and assure you that the police are not coming for him or any of the friends he is with!  This saves you the trouble of having to remember to track his behind down periodically and ask where he is, what he is doing, if he's with the same group of friends, if they are being good and what time he'll be home... because... wait for it... he called YOU.  That entitles you to ask as many questions as necessary to achieve personal anxiety relief.

Asking repeatedly what they are eating now or if they've brushed their teeth. A minimum of five times a day is required.

Result = "YES MOM! I've brushed my teeth today!  And just because I'm passing through the kitchen doesn't mean that I'm eating something!"

Whenever your teenager is on the phone with a member of the opposite sex, ask them things like "Is that the girl you're so in love with?"  Result = A look that has the potential to turn the skies dark and create a storm of epic proportions followed by, "Please... just go away..."

Hardcore sexy flirting with the hubby within the boy's earshot... Result = the boy making guttural gagging noises for several seconds and following that up with, "I already avoid the kitchen after the groping incident. Can you guys please keep that stuff to yourselves? Please?"

BTW... for those curious... the boy walked in on me groping the hubby's behind while he was making dinner one night. He claims that, though we were fully clothed, it has scarred him for life and he will never recover from it. BAHAHA!

After making several reasonable attempts to get him/her out of bed and failing...  go into his/her room and start singing Patsy Cline songs as loudly as you can. Result = "For the love of all, Mom. Please stop. I'm up okay?"