Tag Archives: Adolescence

If I’d Drowned The Crumbsnatchers at Birth, I’d Be Out of Prison By Now!

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The teen years are traumatic.  There’s the crying, the mood swings, the feelings of insecurity, the desire to permanently check out of Lifebook.

And that’s when I’m having a good day.

The stress is enough to make even Freud go mad.  Take this  for example:  Sweet Pea’s a teenaged girl.

And by that I mean she’s crazy.

She asked me last week to bring Boyfriend2.0 to her softball game.  Then she sent a text ten minutes after I should have left telling me what time I should leave.  Then she sent another text telling me to come early.  Half-way en route to Boyfriend2.0’s house, she sent another text.

“Don’t come.” 

I called Boyfriend2.0, gave him the scoop, did a U-turn and headed to the house.  Once home, I poured a glass of wine, left it on the counter for Chief Money Maker, grabbed the rest of the bottle and settled down in the recliner just as my phone went off again.

“NVM.  Come.”

I resisted the urge to reply, “Can you chill Sybil?” only because I knew she’d respond with a confused Emoji.

Dazed and Confused

Not an Emoji but sill Dazed and Confused (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Instead I retreated to my favorite hiding spot.  The washing machine.  Trust me, they never look there.

Split Sweet Pea personality aside, we’ve also got another newly-licensed teenaged driver in the house.  And by that I mean our insurance rates have just surpassed the national deficit.

It’s a good thing we live on a corner lot because the streets around our abode look like Harry’s Honda Hacienda, only with less reliable vehicles.

1951 Buick

1951 Buick (Photo credit: Hugo90)

The upside is that with two teen crumbsnatchers out and about on weekend nights, I don’t have to fabricate ways to push Sweet Pea’s curfew up so I can go to bed at 8:30 pm.  Now I feign a headache—instead of admitting my right knee feels like a grenade sporadically exploding because I know CMM will make me go back to Dr. Frankenstein—and leave the watch to him.

Don’t mistake my words for complaining—despite the truth that I am complaining.  Having teenaged crumbsnatchers isn’t all that bad.  As parents of these communication-challenged Cretans, we get fun experiences like debating their anemic critical thinking processes.

“Wolfy, can you run to the grocery store and pick up some milk?”

“Sure, if you give me gas money.”

“You want ME to give YOU gas money to compensate YOU for driving to the store to get milk, which I don’t even drink, in MY VEHICLE?”

“Uhhhhhh, yeah.”

Thank goodness The Eldest has matured to the point that we can hold productive intelligent conversations.  Just the other night he offered great feedback on the cover for my short story, “The Butterfly Wish.”  I felt proud, optimistic, and hopeful.

Right up until he said, “Oh, and you should consider a pen name.  Who names an adult Cheri?”

“Well, I wasn’t an adult when my mother named me!”

“Think about it, Mom.  Would you want to read a book written by Strawberry Johnson?”

“That’s not my name!”

“Ok, so would you want to read a book written by Fruity Thacker?”

“That’s still not my name…but I get it!”

The Crumbsnatchers might not be the brightest baubles on Pinterest, but sometimes…they do make good points.

© 2013 CThacker

Foreign Exchange Program or Foreign Insane Program?

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 See, what had happened was Earl and ‘Dem—‘Dem being Earl’s wife—went insane and got themselves a teenaged crumb snatcher on purpose.    Earl and ‘Dem already have Princess—a 9 year old crumb snatcher.  I figured Earl and ‘Dem would naturally learn about teenagers when Princess reaches 13, at which time she will be dubbed Queen of Hormonal Turmoil for the span of about five years. 

Hormones that control puberty table 08

Hormones that control puberty table 08 (Photo credit: Wikipedia) No wonder we can’t understand teenagers!

‘Dem is my little sister from my college social club and I used to think she was sane.  She reads my column, so I know she’s been adequately warned of the dangers of teenage inhabitation.   Yet,  Earl and ‘Dem still decided to get a teenage even without a 13 year 9 month gestational period that stemmed from a passionate make-out session in the backseat of a 1998 Honda Accord while listening to Bone Thugs N-Harmony’s love song, “Look Into My Eyes.”

Bone Thugs n' Harmony

Rappin’ “Look into my eyes baby or I’m gonna @$&^% slap ya!”
These guys are so romantic! Bone Thugs n’ Harmony (Photo credit: Dj Linda Lovely)

The teenager they took on was a Swedish foreign exchange student. I asked ‘Dem how they reached that decision and she told me how her brother was getting one, how she thought it would be cool, how Earl and ‘Dem researched the workings of the transaction, how they browsed the internet and selected a candidate, and mutually decided it would be beneficial for the family, i.e. free babysitting for Princess.

Earl says it occurred like this.

                ‘Dem said, “My brother’s getting a foreign exchange student!”

                Earl said, “That’s nice.”

Three weeks later JJ was in their home making Swedish Kringles and asking, “Kanske jag lånar bilnycklarna?”  Which means, “May I borrow the car keys?” 

Earl warmed up to the idea of having JJ in their home once she learned to sing the Alabama Crimson Tide fight song which they convinced her was our national anthem.  They also taught her that Memphis BBQ was the national dish, Elvis Presley was the most revered deceased president in our nation’s history, and that 98% humidity is the norm for American weather.  Even though I questioned their decision, I’m really proud that they sacrificed this last year to educate someone about our wonderful American history.

JJ flew back to Sweden a couple of weeks ago and as ‘Dem and I lounged in her pool and discussed their experience with the foreign exchange program, I mentioned how glad I was her stint of temporary insanity worked out as well as it did.  She looked at me and said, “Well, we’ve decided to get another one.”  Right then and there, I called Chief Money Maker and told him to switch our pool to chlorine because there was clearly something in the saltwater that affects the brain.

At least this time Earl will have more involvement in the decision making process.  He gets to choose whether they will drive his truck or ‘Dem’s vehicle to the airport to pick up their new male foreign exchange student from Germany.  I pried into their personal finances a bit and asked if they had already secured their financing for pantry stocking.  They had no clue what I meant, so I went home and told Chief Money Maker to take all our savings and invest in the stock market.  Doritos and Pizza Roll stocks are about to rise!

Totino's - Pizza Rolls Pepperoni

Better get ‘em while they’re still in stock!

 

© 2012 CThacker

We Must Stop “The Curse”

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There’s a tragic cycle of parenting that carries from generation to generation that must be broken.  It must stop with ours.  It must stop now.  I’m not talking about spanking, or free-will parenting, or planting your child in front of the tube to watch Sponge Bob while you sneak to the patio to down a glass of wine.  I’m talking about the “One Day I Hope You Have a Child Just Like You” curse.

Rolan's Curse II

I have no idea who Rolan is, but he obviously has two teen crumb snatchers since this is his 2nd curse.

You know your parents said it to you, and if you’ve been blessed with a child that has reached their adolescent phase, you know you’ve at least wanted to cast it upon them.  Yes, “The Curse” works but I believe the electric chair is a more humane punishment.

In the last week, I have seen “The Curse” manifest in the crumb snatchers and it isn’t a pretty sight.  I know I wasn’t a piece of cake as a teenager, and I doubt Chief Money Maker was either, but did we really deserve “The Curse?”  I think not!

Last night, Sweet Pea asked for my help getting her cartilage earring back in.  Since I’m not a spring chicken anymore my eyesight is a little off.  Like, “Mama that’s drainage ditch, not a highway exit” off.  I couldn’t see the hole in her ear.  So in her eyes, I suddenly became a horrible mother. 

The next thing I know, Sweet Pea is in tears and throwing a tantrum.  I yelled, “I hate you,” because we never fight and I forgot that the rules of Teenagedom state that she is supposed to yell that phrase at me.  Later, we talked about it and she said, “I’m sorry Mama.  Sometimes I just get so frustrated that I take it out on those around me.  I’m just like you.”  Before I could open my mouth to protest, she cut me a look and said, “You know it’s true.”  Yeah, it is.

Mamá

Sweet Pea has more hair than this drawing…and she’s a girl.

I also witnessed “The Curse” with G-Bear and Chief Money Maker as they father-son bonded over a woodworking project I requested for flower boxes.  In between patient instructions and hammered-thumb expletives, I watched Chief Money Maker’s frustration grow.  When G-Bear insisted on “doing it his way” Chief Money Maker sat back and allowed G-Bear to split the wood on the project. 

Chief yelled, “Oooh, Mama Bread Baker is gonna be maaaad.”  But I digress.  Then he said, “I told you.  But you’re so stubborn and hard-headed you had to do it your way.”  G-Bear said—wait for it—“Dad, I’m just like you.”  Before Chief could open his mouth to protest, I cut him a look and said, “You know it’s true.” 

As you can see, “The Curse” works, although the damage doesn’t manifest until years later.  I can envision our parents sitting around in their clean living rooms with their stocked pantries without the sounds of door-slamming or exclamations of “You just don’t understand!”  They’re looking at their watches and smiling at one another.  “Honey, it’s 2012.  The Curse should have kicked in by now.”

I might be over forty, but I still say this is child abuse!

© 2012 CThacker