Mess with Me and Scrub a Urinal....

When you have a teenager you know that life is a turbulent ride. It's even worse with a teenage girl because you have the whole added bonus of PMS to contend with. Your normally sullen teenage daughter can go from fine to bitch in 2.3 seconds. So it's always a bonus when you have a day where she willingly does a chore, smiles at you or simply doesn't jump down your throat because you made the mistake of existing on the same planet. Then there are those other moments. Those sweet times that are few and far between. Those times when you can look at said teenager and laugh. Hysterically. It is even sweeter when what you are laughing at is their own torment.

Let me give you a back story. Drama Queen has a BFF. This BFF has been around for 9 years now. She's as much my daughter as DQ is. In fact, from time to time she practically lives at our house. Since crazee people tend to associate with crazee people, it makes sense that BFF has learned that humor, sarcasm and humiliation are the main rules in our home. And she is good at it. For the past year or so, BFF has taken to hacking my Facebook page. Even if I log out, she is able to get in because my browser remembers the password. Convenient for me on the days that she is not here. Not so much on the days she is.

My statuses always revolve around my butt, my feet, warts and gas. It's become so common that if she isn't around for a while people on my Facebook start telling me they miss her and the hacking. New people on my Facebook are often shocked and I can't count the number of times I've had church people come to me with amazed faces and ask who in the world hacked my account. And because passing gas and warts on the feet is always a great conversation to have at church, I answer.

So the other day BFF was here and we even went so far as to play board games with the two of them. I took time off from work to do so. And what did I get? A new Facebook status. Of course it was about my butt and my feet. Well we had an obligation to go and help with the spring cleaning at church. At first, the girls didn't want to go. In typical teenage style they waited until we were halfway there to change their minds and have us come back for them. So we did. Little did I know that I had posted another status while I was in the car on my way to church.

We picked them up and we headed to church. When we got there they put me and Grumpy to work right away helping go through, clean and organize toys in the kids rooms. DQ and BFF were left on their own. I knew someone would find something for them to do. Imagine my surprise, and utter joy, when I found out they were sent to clean the bathroom. The mens bathroom.

It was a sweet revenge that I could not have planned better if I had had a hand in it. These girls that had taken to hacking my Facebook status were standing face to face with urinals. They later went to the nursery to help, but the entire ride back home they griped about cleaning the bathroom. And I laughed. And I thought to myself that this was one moment I would not forget.

And when a new friend walked up to me that night in church and looked shocked when she asked about who hacked my Facebook, I answered politely with the truth. Inside, I was laughing and saying "The one that is currently cleaning the urinals. Payback is hell".

That's a Good Question....How Does It Make You Feel?

A couple of weeks ago the school sent home a flyer. They were having a workshop for parents on how to talk to your kids about sex. I looked at it and thought, hm that could be interesting. Then, naturally, I put it aside. After all, when your daughter informs you that people think she's weird because she doesn't know what masturbation is at the dinner table it's a pretty good bet that you have a grasp on having those conversations. So I didn't feel I really needed lessons in how to talk to her. Now don't get me wrong. It's a GREAT program that is much needed in our school system. But we are pretty much an open book around here.

Then they called me. Turns out the first twenty-five that registered got a $25 gift card.

Holy crow sign me up. I may not need lessons, but I always need money. Besides it wasn't a bad program at all. So why not go and see what they have to say and get my $25. Of course I signed Grumpy up too because if I have to get through this so does he. A fact he was less than thrilled by.

So we went. And we laughed. And we actually learned some things. And we role played. We had to be the teen and be the parent. And there was another person to observe. The goal was to see if you did it right. During my time as the parent I had another lady that was so into this. And I learned that I'm stumped with questions. And that "WHAT???" is not a proper answer. But then the fun began. I got to be the teen. And guess who was my dad? Yep. Grumpy.

So I asked the question much like Drama Queen would. I even included the name of The "EX" Boyfriend. And I kept asking. And I kept asking. And he never could get past "Talk to Your Mom". It's the most fun I've had all week.

I learned that I'm okay at it, but really need some practice with that shock thing.

I learned that it's best if Drama Queen NEVER goes to Grumpy with her problems.

And we each got a gift card so we scored $50.

And one poor man learned that even though he has people from church on his daughter's Facebook friends list so that they can watch her....there are ways around that. Which made me learn that I'm actually a pretty smart parent after all because I knew that. He, however, likely left very disheartened with his own parenting.

The Exit is to the Left..

One of three things has just occurred and now you sit staring at the screen.

1. You completely believe that I am awesome at its finest and you are waiting with bated breath on my latest entry so that you can stay up to date on the happenings of my life.

2. You currently parent a teenage daughter (or son) and you can somehow sympathize with the misery and struggles that these alien lifeforms have invoked upon us.

3. You stumbled to this site through another means and you are fearful that you will not make it out without being somehow warped into believing that child-rearing during the adolescent years is scary and frustrating while still being funny as hell.

If it is one of the first two then I would like to take a moment to welcome you to my humble abode. I don't provide milk and cookies, but I'd be glad to offer you a frozen mixed drink from the pouch. You have not entered a typical mommy blog and you are certainly not looking at the average mommy. I parent a teenager and that means I need a thick skin, a good sense of humor and possibly protection from warfare at any time. Hanging around here long enough will ensure you also have the tools you need to raise, and potentially torture, your own teen.

If, however, you fall into example number three then I have to advise you to leave as quickly as possible. I am on a mission to brainwash all parents into my way of thinking and I can't promise that you won't be next on my list. Your accidental landing on this page could result in such dangerous symptoms as fits of laughter, the ability to tease your own child and a sense of calm that comes from knowing you are not alone. You can quickly collect your valuables, place your seat in the upright position and find the nearest exit.