Observations of a Teenager

Last weekend I travelled south to the La Jolla Festival of the Arts with some family I had in town. I love art festivals, but somehow the love of creative overkill, lesbians in Crocs, and very expensive outdoor food vendors did not get genetically passed on to Cody and Colton. Because of this, Cody decided to stay back home, passing his time playing video games with the occasional interlude of "Carter torture". Colton on the other hand, out of sheer love and guilt (mostly guilt), decided to come along for the festivities. Obviously, this was a poor choice on his part. Not even half-way in to our drive, Colton was already wilting from regret in the back seat. But it was too late for him to change his mind--we were well on our way.

Upon arrival to the festival, Colton quickly observed that he was the only kid his age wandering amongst a maze of various mediums. It was true, the place was packed with middle-aged men and women ready to get their wine buzz on, and make some art purchase they would most likely regret later. Although I could tell Colton was experiencing his own personal hell, he was doing his best to soldier through. To help ease his suffering, I purchased a four-dollar lemonade, and a five-dollar Hebrew National dog from one of the festival's food scalpers.

With his food in hand, Colton took a seat at a table near the outdoor stage. While he noshed, a band of Hair-Club-for-Men-forty-somethings played covers songs from the 70's and 80's. A lone couple danced at the foot of the stage, obviously a little tipsy from their Magners Irish Cider. It was at this point Colton made a very pointed, very accurate observation:

"Mom," he said, "this whole festival looks like one big Cialis commerical."

I looked around for a moment, and realized he was absolutely correct. Liver spots, silvery hair, and dentured smiles canvassed the scene. The smell of Avon Skin So Soft mingled in the air with the smoke of barbecued pulled pork. And something that happened earlier; something I tried to forget, quickly surfaced to my conscious again--when I used the bathroom...there was a puddle of liquid on the floor at the base of the toilet. I told myself at the time it was a spilt cup of Zinfandel, but more than likely it was a living testament of some poor woman's need for VESIcare.

I wondered for a moment, how did my attendance to this event reflect on me? Were my artistic wanderings putting me on the fast track to Depends? The possibility of this frightened me. It was at that very moment I decided, next year, I'll skip the arts festival and do something more youthful. It was at that moment I decided, next year, I will spend my summer's sitting at home, playing video games, drinking Red Bull, moisturizing my elbows, and exfoliating my skin. That should keep me out of the living Cialis commericals--at least for another decade or so.

Right? Right?

Efficiency

I take three pills every morning: birth control (to keep me from getting pregnant), Wellbutrin (to keep me from going crazy), and Hydroxycut (to keep me from getting fat). One would think the first one would handle all three problems.

The End.

Jazz and Middle School Finality

This morning I dropped the boys off at school for their last day of the 8th grade. Their last and final day of middle school. Before we got to school, at their request I took them through the McDonald's drive through to get a pre-last-day-of-school bite to eat. A "last breakfast" if you will. They munched contentedly while we drove our way to school, KJazz soundtracking the morning on the radio.

It's cloudy out right now, like it was this morning, but the rain has stopped. Sometimes the rain here isn't what you expect when you think of "rain". This morning the Pacific rain was just a mist; a mere suggestion of weather from an indifferent storm system. It made the sidewalks and air smell lovely, and the moisture provided a balmy cover up for my bare arms.

As I got closer to the school, I thought about how far I have come with my boys. From a bumbling, foolish teenage mother of tiny preemies to the matured mother of two tall, confident young men. I am amazed by them each day--the strong personalities they have developed, the inquisitive minds they have grown. I want to take credit for who they are right now, but I would feel like a thief. As their mother, the most credit I can take is one of stewardship. I've shown them the ropes of this wacky thing called life, they're the ones who have each taken the world into their hands and will make it into what they want it to be. My reward is watching them journey down their own individual roads. I get to be a spectator of their passions, dreams, and development. I get to cheer them on as they reach various destinations.

We pulled up to their middle school, McDonald's fully consumed, and my boys ready to finish off what they started three years ago. The rain was still drizzling on the windshield as I watched them walk in to school together. Endings, beginnings, sons, brothers. I took the long way home, past the beach. I cried while Bill Evans played on the radio. Words will never describe how amazing it is to be a mother, but sometimes jazz comes close.

An Afternoon Dialogue

[Upon giving Carter a root beer float]

Carter, you have to sit at the table with your root beer float.

Why come I have to sit at the table?

Because the computer is on the counter, and if you sit on the bar stools you could spill your root beer float on the computer.

What happens if I spill on the computer?

Well, it would break the computer.

And it would get electrocuted?

Yes, you could get electrocuted.

What happens if I get electrocuted?

Well, you could get burned really bad.

How come electrocuted burns you?

Because it's dangerous.

Does electrocuted make you die?

Yes, if it's bad it could make you die.

Why come electrocuted makes you die?

Because when you're electrocuted your heart stops.

Oh. When somebody electrocute you do you have to go in somebody else's room?

Ummm, I guess it would be safer if you went in somebody else's room.

But, Mom, electrocuted would happen too fast.

[slurps root beer]

Mom, I don't like this show. (Fairly Odd Parents)

Okay, I'll change it.

Mom, what's the name of Scooby Doo?

Scooby Doo.

Mom, do you like the straw show?

Straw show? I don't even know what that is?

You know what it is. It called the Straw Show. Like when all the straws walk.

[My brain spills out my ears]

TECH SUPPORT! TECH SUPPORT!



FIN

Things I Thought About Googling Today...But Didn't.

• If I ate a bunch of sand, what would it do to my digestive track?
• What percentage of the national budget goes to farm subsidies?
• Sen. Weiner's chat transcripts
• How to make funeral casserole
• City of Torrance Public Works office
• What plants go with sea grasses?

Oh, the things I could have learned today...but didn't.

I Want a Raze

Am I the only woman out there that, upon purchasing a new razor, feels like shaving off ALL my body hair (with the exception of eyebrows, eyelashes, and head hair)?

There's just something about a sharp razor, and a smooth shave. Can I get an amen? Okay then, can I get a high-five at least for not having razor burn?

It's the little things in life...