Teenagers

The teenager and I are at each other's throats again. One day, we're good, the next, we're ready to choke each other.

He's actually been pretty good since he bought his car. Been pretty responsible. You know, the usual learning curves that I've told you about; but overall, pretty good.

Until this week. The kids have Fall Break coming up. I haven't said anything, but the hub, kid and I are heading back to Europe. I'll tell you more later on that little tidbit. The teenager is staying here with my mom. We've been having the discussion on the rules while we are gone.

Tonight he comes home and says that he has told his work that he can't work the entire break. Excuse me? Where did this come from? (I actually said that to him.) At which time he proceeds to tell me that I told him to take off. Excuse me? I would never have told him that or even imply that he take off. I would much rather him be working than running around. He starts yelling at me. He keeps yelling at me after I tell him to march his butt right back in and get some hours in while we're gone. Of course, as he continues yelling at me, I proceed to ground him on weekend evenings. He's not to go out at night on the weekends. Done. Guess that was coming. Probably a good thing he was yelling at me because I needed an excuse to keep him in anyway. (He's so easy.) The rate we've been battling over the last few days, he'll be lucky if he sees anyone while we're gone. Little brat.

We had a really good fight Saturday night. Remember, it was raining here and storming; and we have some pretty remote roads out where we live. The teenager calls after he leaves work (about 9:30 p.m.) and says he's going to a friend's house "for a minute." Well, No. 1, if you go to a friend's house for a minute, it's a minute of no good. (Hey, I was young, once.) No. 2, the roads were bad and he's still new to driving in the rain, so I told him to come home. Boy, was he P.O'd. He did though. He was home within five minutes--stereo cranked up so it would get me mad, slamming his door so it would get me mad. Then, you wanna know how he "tries" to get back at me? He comes in and starts cooking pasta--red sauce and pasta--at 10:00 at night. He knows I hate the smell of it cooking that late, but I just ignored him. I was up anyway--no worries. Not a prob. I was doing some artwork and I just hummed along like there wasn't a care in the world. I know it just burned him up. I could tell, he was just trying to think of something to get at me. He goes over and turns on some "gang" TV show to try and urk me. To no avail. I just keep on humming along my merry little way. Brat.

He had to work on Sunday. Still mad. Around 2 p.m. I get a phone call. It's the father of the kid who was having a party last night. The PARTY that the teenager was on his way to. The father proceeds to tell me that I had made the right decision by not allowing him to go. For once, I made the right decision. Do you know how good that feels as a parent? We don't' always make the right decision; so when we do, it's sweet! OH yea. The father tells me there was drinking and other stuff going on and that it was unsupervised. Of course it was. Now get this. Not ten minutes later, the teenager comes in for his lunch break. Big grin. "Did anyone call you?" hehe. He proceeds to tell me that the father called every parent of kids that had attended the "party." The teenager had apparently called the kid who had the party (to see how it went, I'm sure) and the father, on the sly, answered his son's cell phone! Too funny! The teenager hung up. But the father called him back. He then asked for our phone number probably not believing that the teenager wasn't there. This is what the teenager is telling me. Then he reaches over and kisses me on the cheek. "Thanks mom." You could have scraped me up off the floor. It's not very often you get a thank you from him. Brat.

But, now we're back at duking it out. Tomorrow is another day, right? Let's see who wins the next round. Ding ding ding!