A few days ago, I was going through things that I should have sorted through long ago because, at this point, my son's old closet is piled to the ceiling with boxes, trashbags filled with everything but real trash (although that is debatable), and clothes. Many of these things are filled with stuff that no one has any idea what to do with. For example: I uncovered the following items in the last box I opened: one old sneaker (without laces), an empty matchbook, a lacy red bra (Son, we need to have a talk), a very long leather shoelace, several gum wrappers, a variety of paperback books, plastic bags, an old spiral notebook and, for lack of a better word, the only adjective I can come up with is "interesting" when I mention the photographs (Son? We need to talk).
Of all of the items in the box, the one that interested me the most was the spiral notebook because it was one that I had used over the years to communicate things to my kids (and vice versa) when we were running at the speed of light to soccer games, work, school, etc. Some notes in particular caught my attention.
My note:
Do homework, unload dishwasher, vacuum living room and dining room. Do NOT leave the house before this is done.
The response note:
Mom, I couldn't do my homework because I left my books in my locker by mistake. So I had to go to Nicole's to use her books and do homework there. Also, her mom sprained her ankle and needs help with housework.
Observations: (1) How does one leave their books and homework in their locker BY MISTAKE? I mean, you obviously had them in your possession and had to access the locker and physically put the books in there. (2) Nicole's mom sprained her ankle? I remember one incident when I was in bed with food poisoning and all I got was, "I need a ride to so and so's. Do you have money for a cab if you can't take me? I'm hungry. Are you going to be better by dinner time? I can't ride my bike. It's too far. What's for dinner?"
My note:
Reminder: You are grounded. Do not leave this house. If you are not here when I get home, there will be consequences.
The response note:
Mom, Nicole's boyfriend broke up with her and she is really depressed. I had to go be with her. I love you!
Observations: (1) Child? Nicole's boyfriend was the boyfriend she stole from you and you had wished she'd die. (2) You're going to be even more depressed than Nicole when I catch up with you. Because you are now grounded until your 82nd birthday.
Over the years, there are a few things I have learned as a parent. Like making notes of all calls that come in (thanks to the very useful caller ID). I'm serious - take down every single number that comes to the house. If your child has a cell phone, wait until they are sound asleep at night. Then sneak their phone from them and go through their directory of numbers.
I used to keep a separate address book with all of the kids' cell and home numbers (yes, I even got home numbers on occasion when someone was grounded and the cell phone was taken from them and SHRIEK! they had to call from their home phone).
On rare occasions, when kids are being sneaky, they block their number, so be alert and get those numbers when no one is grounded, no one is trying to sneak out at 3 am, etc. They will come in handy later when you get up at 4 am and glance in your kid's room and see that instead of a human on the bed, there is a football with a pom pom for hair and a bunch of pillows hastily wadded together under the covers. I mean, really, do you think I would believe your hair would go from dark brown to fuschia in a matter of hours? Or that your skin color would tan 15 shades darker? Well, ok, maybe that isn't so far fetched, but again, being aware is half the battle. Having those phone numbers when you're in the car at 4:30, driving around from house to house, helps.
And my favorite note from my son (when he was a young naive 15 year old):
Mom, I went to Matt's house for the night because his parents are out of town and they didn't want him here by himself. I will call you later.
My response:
I waited until 10 pm and called Matt's house. No answer. At 10:30 pm, my son called.
Me: Where are you? (Note: Caller ID was blocked).
Son: I'm at Matt's house.
Me: OK, well let me call you right back.
Son: Why?
Me: I'll call you right back. (Hang up - call Matt's house. His mother answers sounding very sleepy).
Me: Matt's mom? This is Chip's mom. Is he there?
Matt's Mom: No. I thought he was at your house with Matt.
Me: Uh, no. Chip is supposed to be at your house because you are allegedly away for the weekend and he is keeping Matt company tonight.
Mom: Interesting. That's what they told me about your house.
Needless to say, when a nervous Chip called five minutes later from the party he was at, I told him in my fully possessed Linda Blair voice, "I'm coming for you. NOW. And Matt's mom is coming for him. And while you're waiting for us, you can think about how much better it will be for you when you start telling the truth. After you've been grounded and relegated to litter box duty for the next 8 months."
Did it work? Sometimes. But the important thing about being a parent is to remain vigilant. No matter that you occasionally only get 3 hours of sleep on a Friday night (and not because you're the parent of an infant). No matter that you get a police officer knocking on your car window because you're staking out a house, reviewing in your mind when and how you're going to make your approach and drag your kid out of there. By the way, the police officer? He was a good assist that night, the party was broken up and I was only accused of being a narc by 12 angry kids to which I replied, "What 'til next weekend!"
As an aside, what kind of crazy parents leave for the weekend trusting that their teenage kids aren't going to throw a party that usually gets out of control, things get stolen, fights break out, etc. It is a rare teenager who can be trusted in such a way and to those parents I say, how'd you get so lucky?
Thankfully, I haven't had to pull out my Linda Blair voice in quite awhile. But my kids are in their 20s now. Not that that matters. It was not two weeks ago when I left a note to please, if you are here in my house, eating food, dirtying dishes, clean up after yourself and, put your dishes in the dishwasher. The note I got in return said, "Mom, sorry, I was in a hurry. And the dishes in the dishwasher were clean so I couldn't put my dirty dishes in there." I stared out the window for a moment, shook my head and took myself out to dinner.
Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma
