Teenage Boys: Can't Live With Them and There's Nowhere to Hide the Bodies

I'm an easygoing parent. So is Grumpy. We like to consider ourselves friendly, fun and relaxed. Others think we might need a few more medications to be compatible with society. Either way, there is one topic that we simply do not enjoy. It doesn't matter how common it is becoming or how normal it's supposed to be. When it's brought up, we get horrific chills and begin to gasp for air. Grumpy, in all his liberal glory, begins to look like he might consider owning a gun. We start going over in our heads all of the rules that we will have to implement over the next 5 years. The subject is a sore one and it is becoming far too common around this house.

Teenage boys.

Now don't get me wrong. We want her to eventually go off and get married and spend forty-three hours a day in her own bathroom. Trust me. This is on our must-happen list for our lives. We just want those important other things to happen first. College. A job. Security and stability of her own. Her 35th birthday.

When we put her back in public school this year we did so with the hope that she would succeed. We sent her off on that first day telling her to go out there and make some friends. Three days later she came home and announced her boyfriend and that they were going to the dance together. Excuse me, what? You have a huh? I think I had something in my ears. Can you repeat that please?

Yes she had a boyfriend in three days. Complete with the whole do you want to go out, mark yes or no. As of now (about a month or so into it) they spend much of their school day together trying to find ways to embarrass each other. Just Friday he finally added her on Facebook. That worries me because they are now going to communicate outside the confines of middle school. It does however give us ample opportunity to keep up with said boyfriend and see that he's a decent and upstanding citizen. I will admit that I was kind of won over by the whole humiliating each other at school thing. It sounds so much like something I would do.

That being said, she has also been asked out by other boys. That same Friday that brought her Facebook Friend also brought her newest request. A boy that had her phone number, which I had no clue about, sent her a text and asked her out. Again complete with the whole yes or no thing. She came to me for advice on how to turn him down without being mean.

So there I sat, no liquor in the house, trying to decide exactly how my child took my words of go make friends to mean this. I said friends. As in giggly girls. As in sleepovers and talks on the phone. Not friends as in will you date me.

After much thought I have decided to make room in the back yard. There are a lot of bodies I'm going to have to do away with. She will make it to thirty-five. Now where is my duct tape........

Dear Rodent....

Dear Rodent,

I am superwoman. I can take down men three times my size thanks to my willingness to hit below the belt. I parent a teenage girl and deal with the drama, talking and crazy questions that come with it. There is little in my life that scares me.

This may not have been evident when you creeped out from behind my trash can last week. When I jumped about 4 feet off the chair and held my feet up in the air. As I gasped for the breath it would take to call Grumpy to come downstairs. During that four seconds that you looked at me and the room moved in slow motion, it may have seemed that I had left my cape in another room. In fact, I was contemplating whether the danger of standing in a chair on wheels on the hardwood floor was worse than the danger that would come if you scurried across my feet.

You even looked at the cat. My protector. The one barrier I have against rodents such as yourself. Because I know that even if you appeared smaller than the size of my fist, you hold the power to take me down through cardiac arrest. I know that you spend your days and nights crawling across my cabinets. Potentially touching my silverware or my food. I know that you reproduce faster than a Duggar. The cat simply stared at you and licked himself. So you turned and went back into your hole. But, my friend, you underestimated me.

Of course it may not have seemed that I was superior to you three days later when you walked out of that same hole, around the trap that was set, and stared me down. This time you came closer to me. This time you came by my desk. You came out long before the late night rendezvous I expected you to have. You were showing me who was boss in this house. I probably didn't look like the king of the home as I sat with my short legs lifted in the air and screamed. You probably went back to your dwelling with a chuckle as no one in this house (and trust me there are too many people in this house) came to my rescue. I'd bet you sat at that hole and watched me run across the floor to get out of the room. I'm sure you told all of your buddies about how I made Grumpy watch for you while I took a shower. Maybe that is why you headed in the direction of the shower to begin with. It was a form of mental torture. Yet, you underestimated me again.

That night it became my mission to catch and/or destroy you. Those traps were filled with other things. Apparently you were lactose intolerant. How about a bite of meatloaf? My friend Google said peanut butter would work. And today I went out and bought poison. We had tried the humane way. Now it was time to end this battle.

Murphy's Law number 5,678,456,400 says that if I go and buy more stuff to remove the rodents from my home, it will go into the trap I've already paid for while I'm gone. And you did. Apparently meatloaf is your 'thang', So you left my home today. My feet are again on the floor. And I'm hoping you didn't produce 16 children that will torture me for taking away their daddy.

How do you like me now?

Sincerely,
Crazee Lady