Posted by: mindyourknitting | February 26, 2010

I’m HOW old?

The last few mornings in a row, while I’ve been cleaning snow off the car so I could leave for work, my next-door neighbour has also been out in the driveway hollering at his kids to get in the car because they were going to be late.  And then, after screeching out of the driveway and barreling down the street (um, hello suburban speed limit, ever heard of it?), they’ve been back minutes later at a more subdued speed because they had missed the school bus.  And boy was my neighbour pissed.  And I was all “psshhh, at least I don’t have teenagers, I don’t have that problem because my kid is perfect and also not even two and also Erik takes care of her in the mornings so I didn’t even see her this morning so she couldn’t give me a hard time about leaving because she’s all “MamamamaMAAAAAMAAAA” all the time although I did hear her perfect baby giggles when Erik was getting her ready  and gawd she’s so cute my ovaries are tingling but even though I miss her during the day I get to get ready for work and get myself to work without any kid-related hassle and I can go have a coffee and go pee when I want to when I’m at work so I win.  And my Wizard of Oz emerald green watch is so awesome.”  Yes, that’s what my brain sounds like at 7:00am.  And then, on my smug-filled drive to work I realized that, one day, soon-ish, I will have a teenager.  NOOOOOOOO!!  *Cue the horror-moving shrieking*  And since I remember being a teenage girl, I’m a little bit terrified. 

            I wasn’t a bad kid, overall (SHUT UP, those of you who knew me back in the day), but I did dumbass things like dye my hair stupid colours, go to punk gigs, get drunk, dance on the outskirts of mosh pits to avoid being crushed by flying doc martens of death, and used fake ID to get into Zaphod’s, and then when I was 17 I started dating a jock and I sort of moved along the “alternative to preppy” continuum a bit and snuck into dance bars with fake ID and tried not to get groped by skeevy old men, and by old I meant twenty, and we won’t even talk about what I did in my twenties (tried to grope younger guys, of course – it’s the circle of life).  The point being that I would hang out with the wrong boys at an age I now think would be entirely inappropriate for my kid.  Interesting how that works, eh?  But I also got good grades, held a job, tried to be a decent human being (as much as that’s possible for a teenagerus girlus, that is), and got out relatively unscathed.  I didn’t fight overly much with my parents – I did say overly much – and never did anything super stupid like run away or become a useless pothead.  I’m saving that for my midlife crisis.  But that’s not to say I was all sunshine and roses, like I am now (seriously, shut it).  One day not so long from now she’ll call me boring and uncool and you don’t understand me and I’ll say things like hurry up for the love of god, and why did you get that face tattoo?, so maybe I should be a little less judgy and smug about it now, because I can see the jaws of fate opening wide to bite me in the ass, in the not too distant future. 

But for now, I have this...

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