My ass is sore, part deux

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. And for those of you showoffs for whom "gentle reminders" work? I think I'd have to be holding a bat in one hand while I did the "reminding" for that to be effective. ;)

I have in recent years tried the "shut the door" approach. Hell, they live on another FLOOR. The entire upstairs is theirs, and I don't go up there very often any more. But here's the thing, every once in awhile I DO go up. To check in. To bring fresh rolls of toilet paper and boxes of Kleenex. Or after a Target run with shampoo, deodorant and sundry erm... female...erm...products. And what I see makes me nuts.

I don't get a lot of back up on this issue. The Saint grew up with a brother who, now in his late forties, still moves every four or five years when his place gets so deplorable even HE can't stand it. So the Saint's idea of squalor is a tad different than mine. I think this is where the ambivalence comes in. I am always the "nag". Raining on the collective parade with my "expectations". So I back off and try to ignore things. But the reality is I swallow the disappointment (turned irritation, turned anger) until so much pressure has built up that I explode.

So I think I'll accept the recommendations of Suburban Correspondent and Mary Alice; a "specific list" of must do's and "ride their ass like a monkey until new organized energetic clean synapses form in their brains". I feel better already!

Meanest Mother Award # 289

I have felt uninspired to write of late. What with raging-female-teenage hormones and raging-40ish-perimenopausal hormones, life in Whoville has been less than magnificent. But today I was lurking on a few other blogs and I came across two different posts with reference to kids having cell phones. And so feel inspired to write about Meanest Mother Award # 289.

Precious Youngest turned sixteen this past July. And do you know what she got for her birthday? If you guessed a new car, you would be WRONG. She got a cell phone. Just as Precious Oldest did when SHE turned sixteen. And no, not a new and upgraded phone, but her first.cell phone.ever! I know, the horror! Call child protective services! For Pete’s sake fourth graders have cell phones! Don’t I know ANYTHING!?!?

Slap a tag on us that says “Preposterous”; there are things that the Saint and I can afford to give our children, but choose not to. It will shock and maybe appall you to learn that we believe coping with delayed gratification? Is a life skill. (Repeat after me: just because I can give my children something doesn’t mean I should.) I’ve heard all the arguments for giving cell phones to wee tots, but our parental decision was to wait until they turned sixteen. When they started driving, they would be going further a field and with less supervision. A cell phone would come in handy in case of emergency, car trouble, need of directions, etc.

We set in place a few rules too: “No use of cell phone while you’re driving” (I will admit to following them on occasion to make sure they were complying) and “Call as soon as you get there” (Not terribly successful as “I forgot” is one of the most used sentences in our house).

(And a word to the wise on that second rule. If you live with a wily teen? Make them call from a land line so that Caller ID verifies that they ended up where they said they were going. I'm just sayin'.)

Hmmm. I feel a bit better. If you're still reading because I haven’t bored you to tears with my little tirade I hope you take comfort in the fact that no matter what your son/daughter says? You are NOT the meanest mother in the world. She lives in Whoville and her name is Fannie Mae.