Skip to main content

Pros and Cons

Ever since we moved here nearly two years ago, my son has stated that he hates it here. Hates, hates, hates it. It's not where he wants to be, it's 'gay' ( a term that teenagers use to describe something they don't like.)

The other evening we were driving back from a birthday party at Chuckee Cheese, where, by the way, I saw more Mullets than I've seen in years, I asked my son if he wanted to move back to Seattle.

He hesitated. My mom radar went off big time. Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

Me: "Who is she?"
Chris: "Who is who?"
Me: "Your girlfriend"

He did a double take at me.

I knew the second he hesitated that there had to be a girl involved because any other time I've asked him that question I get an immediate 'I hate this place' response.

Me: "What's her name"
Chris: "Who?"
Me: "Your girlfriend"
Chris: "How do you know I have a girlfiend?"
Me: "I'm your mom, I know everything. If you won't tell me I'll just have to go into stalker mode"
Chris: "See, this is why I don't tell you anything"
Me: (looking hurt and innocent) "Whaddya mean?"
Chris: "You always do this."
Me: "I do?"
Chris: "Her name is Sarah, ok?"
Me: "What does she look like?"
Chris: "Why do you need to know?"
Me: "I want to know what girl has taken my baby boy's heart"

He then told me that Sarah's hair is the color of caramel and I knew all was lost. Fifteen and in love with a girl with caramel colored hair.

We're moving now for sure.

Comments

  1. Anonymous10:15 AM

    That story is "gay".

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brian, don't make me out you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ok, call me foolish and sentimental. Pam, I read your piece with a grin, but when I got to the part... you know the part... the caramel part... I was blindsided by two big ploppy mama-tears that welled up, then spilled down my cheeks. I like when that happens. {{{mama-hugs}}}

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ryn, you are sweet. {{Ryn}}

    ReplyDelete
  5. Oh Pam, that's priceless!! I never realized boys Chris's age could be so poetic...and about hair to boot!!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Dem hormones thingy are pretty strong and numerous at his age. Take my word for it. You may be in for Battle Royale

    ReplyDelete
  7. That was too cute! Your son is now in the grasp of some cute little thing with "caramel colored hair"...oh boy

    ReplyDelete
  8. Bartman12:13 PM

    """"I want to know what girl has taken my baby boy's heart""""

    I'm sure when you said that, he rolled his eyes right out of his head. (I know I would.)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Oh, he rolled his eyes all right. And added a very lengthy 'Mooooooooooom" to the eyeroll thing. That's ok, I'm used to it. But he'll always be my baby boy. It doesn't matter how old he is or where he goes. That's just how it works.

    ReplyDelete
  10. whenever men compare any aspect of a woman to food, luuuuuuuuuuve is on the horizon.

    ReplyDelete
  11. okay so he's not a man,...yet.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.


The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

Back

BACK

Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)