Author: Liz@ThisFullHouse

[Part I…Part II…the story continues]

One of the reasons my husband says he married me – besides the fact that my father probably begged him to, no doubt – is that I make him laugh, no…matter…what…and – after 18 years and raising four kids, together – there HAVE been plenty of whats between us.

"WHAT – the hell do you mean, you’re pregnant – AGAIN!?!?"

Trust me!

"Well, at least we’re happy and our kids won’t be fighting over our money!"

Of course, I’m kidding – sort of.

"Oh…my…doG…you’re WHAT!?!?"

When I told Garth (not his real name) that we were pregnant with Thing One, he actually threw his hands up, placed them on his head head, started pulling at his hair (when he had some to, you know, grab) threw himself down on the bed and just lied there, for a few minutes, petrified beyond words.

"Um…did I mention that I am actually going to be the one, you know, giving birth?"

See, one of reasons I married my husband – besides the fact that my father would probably pay him too, anyway – is that he is the ying to my yang.
[snicker]
All joking aside, Garth (not his real name) makes me stop…and think…even…when…I…don’t…want…to.

"Are we really ready, for THIS!"

Oh, stop it.

"We’ll have to start thinking about buying a house, saving for college and…oh, my doG…what if we decide to have more kids!?!?"

No, really…STOP!

"Let’s just have this one, first, before we start wigging-out…m’kay!"

We did, times 4, and then, before I knew it, the time had come.

"Aaaaand…what time does the middle school get out?"

When it comes to someone – especially, a boy in high school – showing that much attention, in my 13-year-old daughter, I am scared stupid!

"Well, just in time for ME to pick her up and I am her mother, by the way."

Something in my head was like…oh, SNAP…and I wanted to yank the living hell out of his ying-yang!
[nods head and swipes debit card]

"Well, then do you believe in Freshman Fridays?"

[nods head and enters pin]

"Oh, absolutely NOT and anyone who does…well, they should be tarred and feathered…that’s WHAT!"

[eyes go wide]

"Um…thank you."

I turned toward my 13-year-old daughter – who was still in shock, and deeply engrossed in a one-sided conversation, if I hadn’t intervened – grabbed her hand and smiled triumphantly.

"Have a nice day!"

Later.

"What was all THAT about?"

Ah, she speaks!

"What?"

Okay…I knew, what…it’s just that, after all these years of pretending like I did NOT care…I got nothing…and was merely trying to buy myself some more time…and think of…you know…something.

"WOW…I never had a guy, you know, give me that kind of attention."

Yes, I know…damnit.

"Thank goodness you were there, Mom!"

Okay…um…WHAT?

"I’m so used to people thinking of me as, you know, the quiet one, who sits in the back…and you don’t know how it feels to finally have someone notice me."

Actually, I do and it SUCKS!
What I did tell her is that no amount of makeup – no matter how heavy an eyeliner, or dark the lipstick – would ever disguise the fact that she was still too young to deal with that kind of attention.  And her father and I will probably continue to make decisions – not to mention, more than a few mistakes – that will probably piss her off, no doubt.  But, we would love her, anyway.  Just as anyone, should. With, or without the use of cosmetics.

"What’s Freshman Fridays?"

Wait, I wasn’t finished…because, I still want to tell her about the fishnet stockings and mesh fingerless gloves…that her best friend was wearing the other day…that I was really worried about…ah, but never mind…I think…I will think on it, some more.

"Um…I have NO idea."

Thing One just shook her head and smiled.

"I’m just used to being, you know, your mother and we can always google it later."

It’s okay, she knows.

"Don’t worry – I get it, Mom – it’s just that I’m not used to the attention and I guess maybe I’m not so ready to date guys, either."

Neither am I, kid – especially, that you ran straight for the phone to tell your bff.

"Guess what just happened…TO ME?!?"

And your father’s not too happy, either!

"That’s it, no dating for you until you’re 21!"

Nope…and it is NOT going to get any easier, either…just go with it, dear.
But, at least we’re talking – my sincerest thanks to the teenage delinquent, behind the counter – forgive me, but I still wonder if there will be a time when we WILL be ready…ever.
Just so you know:

Freshman Friday – In many high schools, Fridays are celebrated by putting freshman in garbage cans, or stuffing them into lockers.  It’s amazing how creative the upperclassman can get, really.
via:  Urban Dictionary

Then….I still stand by what I said, you bunch of delinquents!

[…Part I, and the story continues]
Seriously, I thought I was going to puke – and my husband looked much worse, by the way – but, I continued to tell Garth (not his real name) about the teenage delinquent (because you’re right, no one is good enough) and how he had the nerve to hit on my 13-year-old daughter, our baby girl, right in front of me, her mother…HELLO…I’m standing right next to her…you stupid teenage boy…and with a hicky on his neck THIS BIG!

"Hiya doin’?"

Poor Thing One, she jumped and nearly spit her gum out onto the counter.

"Haven’t I seen you someplace?"

Oh my heavenly, doG, he has GOT to be kidding me!
[shrugs shoulders]
That’s right, baby – pretend like you don’t care – it should never be that easy, EVUH!
.
[rings up notebooks]

"So, gettin’ ready for school?"

No, DUH – I’m sorry, but can I just tell you?  You don’t know how difficult it was for me NOT to say that out loud!  My face, on the other hand.
[rolls eyes]
I was like, oh how cute (this was before I noticed the hicky, of course) but, you’re going to have to do a LOT better than that, if you want to be impressing my baby girl.  I taught her better than that, boy-oh!

"Well…um…[gag]…yah!"

See?
[nods head]

"Freshman?"

Okay, now hold on.
[cracks knuckles and strikes defensive pose]
You’re right – she’s still too young to be having this type of conversation – but,not five minutes ago, we had a very heated discussion about why I thought the eyeliner and dark lipstick she was wearing was fine for dress ups.
[the sound of crickets chirping]
.
Yes, Thing One and Thing Two (she’s 11) still like to pretend – only now it’s with mommy’s make up, skirts, high heels and, you know, stuff I just don’t seem to get to wear much, anymore – and it was all I could do, to keep from pulling over to the side of the road, tear into the box of tissues and wipe about 3 years off her face!

"I don’t get it…Moooooom…why does it matter what I wear and what do ya’ mean in school, it’s different…I thought you liked us to be, you know, NOT like everyone else!?!"

OUCH!…did you see that?…I think some sort of rabid parenting advice just bit me in the butt!!

"Yes, but…I mean…NO…uh…here’s the thing…I just want you to be aware, that…you know…people are going to notice you."

I mean, Thing One has always been my quiet little thinker – you know, content with staying home and writing poems, or poking her nose in a book and discussing world peace with her mother – and never would have I considered her attracting anyone’s attention…especially, in school…to be so important, all of a sudden, I don’t know.
I guess, I just wasn’t ready.

"Uh, no…8th GRADE!"

Later, I was annoyed that the boy didn’t seem bothered, or even cared to acknowledge the fact that I just may be the chicks MUH-THUH, and looked right passed me, but thought that the teenage delinquent DID look a little scared and it may have been my answering his question, through tightly clenched teeth.
[rings up mousse]
And I was having a really bad hair day, too!
[looks over cash register and smiles brightly]

"Aaaaand…what time does the middle school get out?"

…to be continued

When our oldest daughter was born, my husband and I thought we were ready for anything, and everything, there was to know about raising girls and – though, I still don’t understand how it can be almost 14 years, already – today, I can say that I am truly certain of only one thing.

[cracks knuckles and striking a defensive pose]

That if her father ever does decide to allow her to date, before her 21st birthday, Thing One is lucky!

"Please, please, please…Momma…you can NOT tell Daddy!"

Here’s the thing – being raised in a very strict household and by European parents, who were accustomed to their children’s unquestioning faith in their decisions, no matter how medieval – I swore, that my kids would NEVER be afraid to talk to their mother, or father, about anything.
I was wrong.

"OKAY…relax, already…I won’t tell him!"

[slams front door and runs straight for the phone]

"What happened?"

I doubt that her sister – she’s nearly 12 – will be getting much dating advice, either.

"Oh, let’s just say that she never realized shopping for school supplies could be sooooo exciting."

Honestly, could her 8th grade teachers have handed out their supply lists…in a more timely fashion…or, at the very least…at the same time? There’s another list coming home, tomorrow and perhaps one more, by Monday.  I hope.
But, that’s me and NOT what my daughter’s excited about.

"What do you mean?"

It was obvious, judging by my off-beat smile – you know, the one that screams LET’S NOT GO THERE – I was NOT in the mood to be any less cryptic, okay.

"Never mind, you don’t have to tell me."

She ran after her sister, instead.

"Do I even want to know?"

My poor husband – he sees, as well as I do, how quickly they’re growing and already knows how we’ve become an embarrassment to our children – he should be scared.

"Our baby just got hit on at the drug store!"

[eyes go wide]

"By who?"

And I bit my lower lip to keep from screaming.

"By the kid behind the counter with the GIANT hicky on his neck!"

…to be continued