#HighSchoolTaughtMe

This hashtag is trending on Twitter today.  I like to scroll through and read what people write under the trending hashtags, sometimes I like to participate. As I read through #HighSchoolTaughtMe, I grew very sad about our youth's perspective on high school, and their lives in general.

Little do they know that when they respond to these hashtags, they are giving us a  glimpse into their view of the world. And though it's only 140 characters, it says a lot.

This is what some of them said about #HighSchoolTaughtMe:

• that many teachers do more of the parenting than some actual parents do.
• to cheat in exams.
• that even the ones you look out for the most could turn their back on you.
• it's okay if you're unhappy and completely miserable, so long as you have good grades.
• that people will like you only if you're hot & popular.
• some people are only going to be nice when they need you.
• that most teachers don't care, they're just there to get paid.
• that if you dont have stunning looks or you're not good in a sport than you're a nobody.
• that I don't have a right to my opinion.
• that sophomores post nudes.
• how to hate people.

This is sad, yes? It seems to me that as adults we've gone wrong somewhere to make our children feel this way.  Behave this way. Perceive their world in this way.

Don't get me wrong, They weren't all negative, there were a few positives, like these:

• that we should be happy,we need to be happy, we deserve to be happy .
• that no one's opinion but your own is important in the end.
• to be responsible and free at the same time. How to have fun yet how to not fail my parents.

Um, yeah, the positives were hard to find.

I can't say I blame these kids. In many ways, our public education system is struggling.

Teenagers deal with crap at school every day - drama, peer pressure, violence, bullying. Top that off with those that have the added pressures of sports, music or other activities, then homework on top of that. It can be stressful. Think how you felt at that age, how all your problems seemed like the end of the world. I know from personal experience that the school systems don't know how to handle some of today's teen problems.

In some ways, schools feel like prisons, with on sight cops, drug testing, drug sniffing dogs,  students wearing badges or picture IDs, random sweeps for drug paraphernalia, security cams. I'm not saying these are bad ideas. I'm sure in some areas security like this is necessary and I'd much rather have my kids be safe than me be sorry. But I can understand how a child could feel like an inmate in a school that takes those times of security measures.

Then we have the state of the facilities themselves. 44% of public school principals reported that problems with the school buildings themselves interfered with student's education. Heating and air condition, which I can attest to. I remember when I used to volunteer in the elementary school, the rooms were either freezing or like a sauna, no happy medium.  Size and configuration of the rooms also appeared to be a problem. And then there are the portables. These seem to be a major problem, from noise control to air quality to their overall physical condition, these seem to be a major interference in the education process.

I'm not going to blame the teachers here. I believe teaching is one of the most unappreciated professions on the face of the planet. Yes, there are bad ones. Yes, some don't know their subjects. I read that less than 15% of Math, English and Science teachers have neither majored in nor received a certification in those subjects. However, more than half have a master's degree or higher.  Not bad. Pupil teacher ratios are also good. Luckily we have more teachers in the country, so we have about 16 students per teacher. YAY!

Getting back to these unhappy children...especially the one who stated teachers act more like parents than parents...sigh...there are the kids that deal with shit at home. I know kids with parents who are addicts, who live with other family members. Kids from broken homes, which as mainstream as it is these days, still affects them profoundly. You don't know what else goes on behind closed doors, they could be dealing with abuse, whether it be verbal, emotional or worse.

We need to protect all these kids -  these kids who have it bad at home, these kids who have it bad at school, who hate the learning process for one reason or another. We have to let them know that it's not that bad. 


There are over 3 million high school dropouts annually. That number has gone down in the last few years, but still, 3 MILLION!?! 

 These kids won't go to college. Many will be teenage moms. Half the people on Welfare are dropouts. These are also our future criminals! 75% of crimes are committed by high school dropouts.

This is our responsibility as a society isn't it? To make sure these kids graduate? The signs are all there. These are the kids who skip school, who  do poorly in class, who get in trouble, who have obvious trouble at home.

What can we do? According to the Parents Association we can do this:

• Arrange for help making up missed work, tutoring, placement in a special
  
  program or another school.
• Help with personal problems and/or arrange for professional help.
• Help them schedule work and family obligations so there is also time for school.
• Help them understand the choices they make - marriage, parenting, failing, behavior, suspension, expulsion - and how those things can disrupt their ability to finish school.
• If a student becomes pregnant, help them find school and social programs to help meet their needs.
• If all else fails, help them find a GED program and encourage them to stick with it until they finish.

But here's where I started.

‏@MeganBostic 

#HighSchoolTaughtMe Never live in fear of failure, true friends are the ones that are there when things suck, and nothing lasts forever.

I believe...

Eternal Clock by Robbert van der Steeg

• I believe Tweeting isn't easy.
• I believe my kids are allergic to the dishwasher, the garbage and dirty socks.
• I believe I need more hours in my day.
• I believe if we taught our children more things at home we wouldn't have so many people to blame.
• I believe the internet has a great and unfathomable power that somehow makes me forget blocks of time during my day.
• I believe in pleases and thank yous.
• I believe I don't care if I'm called self published, indie published or rogue.
• I believe sometimes the those who are supposed to care about children the most, treat them the worst.
• I believe words can't hurt you if you don't let them.
• I believe if I had a dinner party with 8 people real of fictional, alive or dead, I would choose Jesus Christ, Jennifer Lawrence, Ellen Degeneris, Marilyn Monroe, Sylvia Plath, Stephen King, Atticus Finch, and Eleanor Roosevelt. Or not. That's actually a really hard choice.
• I believe I can't decide what my platform is.
• I believe the flowers on my kitchen table are dead.
• I believe I'm tired of hearing about the lives of celebrities. 
• I believe George Zimmerman thinking he would get any fans at a gun show
  
  are hysterical.
• I believe LOL Cats still crack me up.
• I believe running is the work of the devil.
• I believe my diatribe has ended.

Curve balls, mistakes and soul sucking teens

Today is definitely a Monday. Yes a Monday.

In the last couple weeks I have had very dramatic ups and downs. I'm not talking speed bumps, I'm talking hills and valleys.  Steep climbs of elation and big drops of disappointments, annoyances, worry and facing things that are unknown.

The good: I've written quite a bit the last couple days and it's felt good.

The ugly: I realized I wasn't going to get my books in time for my release party (apparently there was an oversight on my part at Lightning Source, an approval I thought I'd done, which I hadn't) so I had to pay up the yin yang for expedited shipping.

The good: I went to the Seahawks game yesterday and it was a beautiful day and fun and I had a great time with family and friends.

The ugly: I have an issue with my car (totally  my stupid fault that I'm not going into) that's going to cost me money.

The good: My kids and I, aside from cleaning issues, are great.

The ugly: I was tagged by two teens in another state on Twitter, and when I jokingly said something about them making fun of an old lady, I mean, I am a teen writer, I thought I would try to engage. I was told to "fuck off" by one, then asked if I send nudes by the other. Um, dudes, you tagged me. Sooo, instead of dealing with that any more, I just blocked them.

The good: I finally got a decent amount of sleep last night, and I didn't even care
that I slept through the Walking Dead to get it.

The ugly: Relationships in my life, well, let's just say they're not easy.

My life is chaotic, I get that. Some of it I create, I know this. It's like I can't function without some amount of drama in my life, but some of this crap falls in my lap, unexpectedly.

I know I'm not mother of the year. I know I could be a better all around person. I have too many vices, my schedule is too busy, my house is cluttered, but I try the best I can and I volunteer my time and donate to charitable works. I try not to miss a soccer game or a music gig if I can help it and I always try to help my parents, family and friends out when they need me.

I guess I'm not really asking for anything in return, I already have much. I still have my parents. I have two healthy kids. I get along with my ex. People like my writing (I mean, some people hate it too but more people like it, so there's that). I have good friends, great family, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, a car to drive  (once I get my tire fixed).

I guess this is just one of my ranty venting blogs when I'm stressed out and you are my sounding board.

And those parent's of those boys on Twitter...they should have taught them better manners and to respect their elders. I mean, really...nude pictures...

Response to: FYI (if you're a teenage girl)

I know, there have been a million responses already, and I'm about a day behind, but as the mother of two teenage girls, I felt I had to respond.

I understand some of what Mrs. Hall is saying. I do. I just don't agree with it.

I think it's fine that the Hall parents monitor what their children do online. It's very smart. However, where is the trust in the parent/child relationship? At what point do you let your children use their best judgment as to who they can and cannot be Facebook friends with? When do you stop censoring every little thing they do?

If she's taught her boys to respect females, she shouldn't have to worry, right? Okay, no. Why? Because no matter how much they respect them, they will still look at them at a sexual way if they are a red-blooded, heterosexual teenage boy. 

Scantily clothed. Fully clothed. Nude. It doesn't matter. That's how it works.

Even the Biebs does it.

Boys do the same thing BTW. Have you seen all the bathroom, shirtless pics they post? Are you going to write this same letter to those boys when your daughter is a teenager?

Look, my daughter and her friends are barely dressed in this pic below. You could even say that the one on the right is posing suggestively.

Would the Hall boys be able to be friends with these girls? Or would they be blocked by their parents? I mean, the Hall boys may look at them in a sexual way, right?

And then of course we have the double standard of her own boys in bathing suits flexing their muscles on the beach in the pictures she chose to post on that particular blog. 

Pictures she has since changed. 

Does she not think that a teenage girl would look at that and drool a little? After all, her boys are handsome, shirtless, and flexing.

Okay, admittedly, I really don't appreciate boys/men with their shirts off in front of the mirror, and don't think young girls should be seductively half naked in their Facebook pics. I think parents should teach their children what is and what is not acceptable. 

Kim K.

Does Mrs. Hall let her boys watch TV? Movies? Listen to music? Play video games? Read magazines? Media has been teaching children for decades how they should look and behave. This is learned behavior from sources beyond our control. Even if you temper media at home, you'll never be able to keep your children from it completely, especially in these days where Google is a god.


When my girls first got their Facebook pages I told them not to friend anyone they don't know and that I would not censor them unless I felt what they posted was way out of control. I did tell them that they need to think about what they post, who will see it, what it might affect, and then to use their best judgment.

And I would never block someone from their Facebook. I can imply and suggest, but they can decide who needs to be blocked. I trust their judgment because I've taught them well.

And in this day and age of self esteem problems, obesity, self harm and eating disorders, is it so wrong for a teenage girl to be confident in her looks and her body.  To feel pretty. I think it's empowering, as long as she respects herself, and that is something they need to learn from their parents.

 Teenagers have bigger problems these days. Bullying, violence, alcohol, drugs, grades...

...scantily clad co-eds isn't one.

Just my two cents on this Friday.

Reaching goals and moving forward

Me on my 44th birthday

This could encompass many things in my life.

It could encompass reaching my 44th birthday, talking to my counselor, and having her tell me that no, I'm not a complete fuck up and having me leave her office almost believing it. I'm worried and depressed because I'm always tired and I can't get my yard work done or my house cleaned. And I'm lonely.

She reminds me this is because I'm trying to be a good mom. I believe her exact words were Supermom. And I have an awesome job. And I'm publishing my own book. And I'm writing again. And I just got back from an awesome vacation. And I'm going out with my friends and trying to date again but NOT get into a relationship. And I'm going to coach soccer. And I'm kickboxing. And she says, fuck it if you can't clean your house or get your yard work done. Hire someone to do it.

Um, okay. I'll give her that. Whatever.

Reaching goals could also mean I made it to my Indiegogo goal. Yay me!!!! Now I can move forward

Happy Dance

with my Indie publishing process. Where I'm at now: Book is in the hands of editor friend for copy edits and line edits. I will edit when she's done and send to another friend for formatting (god it's good to have friends in this biz). I will start designing and buying swag, bookmarks, buttons, sticks, bracelets. I will buy ISBN numbers. I will research distribution. Those are my next steps for now.

Goal is publication by Junilyish.  I'd say a release party 2nd week July. Book out in time for next school year. I'm excited!!

Chaos

I'm making myself crazy again. I feel like I'm spreading myself too thin, but I'm not sure I have anything to show for it. The last week and a half has seemed really crazy.

I finished my rewrite, which was kind of a first draft since I changed direction in the middle, so mostly was just going back and making things consistent.

Last Monday, doctor appointment for Thing Two. Tuesday, music lessons for Thing two. Wednesday, doctor appointment for Thing Two, plus dinner out for her birthday. Friday night soccer game for Thing Two.

Don't get me wrong, Thing One has stuff too, but mostly on the social end. My house is full of teenagers just about every day eating my food, messing up my kitchen and basement, etc.

Saturday was the last of my three release parties which seems superfluous, I know, but was necessary.

Sunday was all day soccer (three games). Monday pick up Thing One from basketball game. Tuesday, coffee meeting and music lesson for Thing Two. Today shopping for bass guitars, doctor appointment, and choir concert all for Thing Two. Tomorrow Writing Celebration at a middle school. Friday coffee meeting to deliver auction items, then soccer game. Saturday book signing and birthday party. Sunday two soccer games.

That's as far as I can think ahead. I miss my driver. I think I may need to spend the money aned hire another one.

And all of the above in the midst of me working the day job, trying to figure out what to write next, trying to finish up guest blog posts, trying to plan talks at above mentioned middle school, plus school visits later in the month. Designing a poster for a group event next month, and keeping up with social media, which for a writer is very important, grocery shopping, keeping house clean, etc. Trying to plan, family vacation, trip to NY, and budgeting my vacation time for all this plus school visits conferences etc.

I'm exhausted again and I miss the sun. sigh.

This is me, just bitching, venting, using you, my readers as a sounding board. Sorry and thank you.

The riot act

I've been taken advantage of in the worst way. While I've been busy finishing a manuscript, marketing, helping plan a release party, writing guest posts, setting up school visits, creating a poster for upcoming events, setting up other writer events, exercising, editing, and all day soccer (three effin' games) on Sunday, my children have boycotted all housework.

The other day when I woke up, the garbage was overflowing (from a day of a house full of teenagers), and instead of taking it out, they decided it would be a good idea to pile it up on the counter and mixing it in with the recyclables. There is crap all over the house from them and their friends, candy wrappers, socks, shoes, various soccer items, other dirty clothes, empty juice pouches and water bottles, I could go on and on.

I woke up today to a sink full of dirty dishes. I've asked Thing One for a week to fold the laundry for a week. I asked her did she do it when she got home from the basketball game last night and she said no.

So, the riot act was read (maybe yelled a little at various spots). I reminded them of all the things I do for them (driving them everywhere, supplying them with food, a bed, clothing, allowing them to go to friends, allowing friends over all the time). Then I asked them what they've done for me this week. Dead silence. I said, "Exactly." They were pissed, but what else can I do? They tell me not to tell them what to clean, they'll do it on their own, but they don't. I also pointed out that if they were getting good grades, I may not be so hard on them, but they're barely pulling average grades.

I don't like having to be hardcore with them, but at times I get to my wit's end, and they're leaving for their dad's today, and they will clean before they go. And next week when they're back with me, it's going to be like living on a military base.

Mom Fail

So my girls and I laid around all day Sunday doing absolutely nothing because we had Monday to get the Christmas decorations down, clean the house, and finish up homework.

Yesterday rolled around and that's exactly what we did. I took down decorations, Thing One cleaned house (all the messes were from her New Years party, eight teenagers somehow turned into twenty), and Thing Two was finishing up her homework.

Well, sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 pm, Thing Two says, "Mom, did school start today?"
Me: "No, it starts tomorrow. Why?"
Thing Two: "Because I just texted a friend and asked what he was doing and he said he was at school."
Me: "Really? Well maybe he's just hanging out or something."

Thing One walks up the stairs as I hit the computer to check the school calendar.
Me: "Oh my god, you guys were supposed to start today."
Thing One: "I was wondering why everyone was complaining about going back to school today on Facebook."
Me: "You didn't think to mention this to me earlier?"
Thing One: "I thought they were crazy."

Um, so I pondered if my kids were confused or playing me. I'm going with the former, giving them the benefit of the doubt, because how on earth could their mother be wrong.

Er.

Hopefully this will be my only #momfail story of the year, but I highly doubt it.

Monkey Madness Monday: Being Thankful

There is so much to be Thankful for in life.  I mean, even when things seems bad, there is always someone worse of then you.  Be thankful for what you have instead of what you want.

I know, sometimes it's hard, even I am guilty of stressing on the little things (thank you anxiety disorder).  But here are the things I will try and focus on my family.  Are they perfect? God no, but whose is?  I love them with all their quirks and faults and I know they love me despite these things as well.

I'm thankful for my friends.  Even if I don't see them as often as I like, I know their always there for me.

I'm thankful for my health.  Am I a bit out of shape? Sure.  Am I a little crazy? Yes.  But I'm living and breathing and that in itself is a gift.

I'm thankful for my girls.  Do they drive me nuts? Yes.  They're teenagers after all, but I would rather deal with the eye rolls, and the attitude, and the messiness than not having them around.  They are my sun, my light.

Think about the things you're thankful for this week, not just the big things, but the little ones too.   I'm thankful for fresh flowers, and the scent of basil, and Oil of Olay, and coffee.

We have it good.  We really do.  Even when it's bad, it's still good in some ways.

What are you thankful for?

Thursday

I've got no pithy title for Thursdays anymore.  My brain is scattered with everything going on right now.  This time of year always makes me a little crazy, and with the release of Never Eighteen in a few months, um, crazy has turned into hysterical.  School, soccer, drivers ed, book everything, revising Sad, planning a release, marketing.  Too much at once.

I took three naps last week.

I don't nap.

No, seriously, anyone who knows me can tell you I'm not a napper. I hate napping because there are other things I could be doing.  But I think my body was rebelling against the perpetual motion.  It screamed, "Slow the f#@% down!!!!" 

So I hired a Girl Friday.  Yep. I did.  Can I afford it?  Probably not, but I need to keep my sanity.  And I need to get things done.  But when you have a day job, then have to drive your kids various places until 7 pm with soccer games on the weekend, time is fleeting, and I'm too tired to work on book stuff.

She starts Monday.  I've hired her mostly to drive my children around, but she'll also do light cleaning, yard work, errands etc, etc.  I'm pretty stoked about this.  It almost makes me feel important.  Almost, but not quite.

We'll see how things go.

Monkey Madness Monday

So, it's Monday again.  It's been raining here for four days straight.  In the middle of July.  I mean, I know I live in Washington, but we usually get July and August sun.  This is ridiculous.  I bought a pool we've only been able to use twice, I left a bunch of crap outside on the last sunny day, not even able to fathom that rain was coming.  And I'm tired.  And cranky.  And frustrated. sigh.

I need to get rich so I can buy a place in AZ and hop a plane whenever the weather is like this.  I'm accepting donations (kidding).

On top of the rain, I just had a busy and frustrating weekend.  Teenage overload, one of which broke my elliptical.  I'm fatter than ever, I've GOT to get my ass working out and stop eating as if the world is ending tomorrow.  There were so many events I was supposed to attend it made my head spin out of control.  Did I mention the rain?  I had to drive about 30 miles to a soccer game on Friday, traffic was horrible, it poured down rain during the drive there, the entire game, and the drive home.

Even a Monday can't be as bad as all that.

At least I have cute monkeys to make me smile.

Monday Morning Blahg

If cleanliness is next to godliness, I should at least be in line for a canonization.  I spent yesterday picking up a place that looked like it had been ransacked by burglars.  AND put my kids to work as well.  I'm not sure how I did that.  I just said really excited, "SUNDAY IS MAJOR CLEANING DAY!!"
and they were all over it.

 Thing One folded a pile of laundry about the size of Mt. Fuji.  And she cleaned the downstairs.  I'm not sure what Thing two did, really, but she was downstairs and didn't resurface, whether she was cleaning or hiding I'm not sure.  I do know that they both cleaned their rooms and we all washed our sheets (which we probably don't do often enough)

I cleaned my own room, which was nothing but a pile of clothes covering every inch.  Cleaned the kitchen which had been pillaged and plundered by a five teenager sleepover.  I vacuumed the living room/kitchen (it's more like a great room without the great).  Most importantly, I cleaned my office.  I had months worth of filing to do, Christmas crap piled in there, my desk was cluttered with dvds and books and sticky notes.  I wanted to get back to writing in there and free up my kitchen table for stuff like, well, eating.  I used to pride myself as the Ultimate JFC (see picture above to figure out what it means), I think I need to channel her again.


Having the house uncluttered also makes me realize the important things that need to be done (ahem, like the bills paid that have been piled up in that stack of paperwork you've been meaning to go through), but it is also good for my mental health.  When my house is a cluttered mess, I get cranky.  I'm more Zen-like now, I've found an inner peace that can only come from having a tidy and sparkling sanctuary.


Now about that canonization . . . how about if I'm the patron saint of Scribing Servants.  I like it.

As always,

~Megan

F³A: Life of a Soccer Mom

Okay, I'm not only a soccer mom, I'm a soccer team assistant coach and manager.  When we practice, we play hard.  Right now we're playing indoor so we go to the middle school and practice in the basketball court.  We call it, cage soccer.

The older and better these girls get, the harder it is to keep up.  When we started this team, they were fourth graders, well, now at 13, many of them are taller than me, and they're all definitely tougher than me.

Last night I got kicked in the foot, pummeled in the thigh and gut, and had two near misses to my face (I've been hit square in the face, believe me, it hurts like hell)  Oh, and I got knocked down right on my back on the concrete.  Good times.

This morning my arm is sore, my back aches, and I pretty much hurt all over.  So, why do I do it?  Because I love it.  We've been together so long I love these girls as if they were my own.  Every time I get injured, I play it up and make them laugh.  Of course, if I continue, I could be dead soon.  I can see the obit now.  Megan Bostic passed away suddenly when she was pummeled with a soccer ball one to many times.

On a side note, I'm coming along on my pass pages, my ARC's will be out soon, and my novel is on Netgalley for all you review bloggers.

Random iPod shuffle song: For the First Time by The Script, one of my favorite new bands.


DVD of the Week: Weird Science, going to watch it this weekend with my girls.

Book of the Week:  Deadline by Chris Crutcher, still reading, still liking.

Quote of the Week: "Live under the sun, love under the moon."  I have no idea where this quote comes from.  I saw it on a sign.

Writing Wednesday: Taking Zoey

     This is a bit from my new edgy YA novel, Taking Zoey.  I was inspired to write it after reading an article in the paper of an Australian girl's bones being found on a river bank.  Her name was Zahara.  How terrifying would it be to be taken like that, and if you were held for any amount of time before death, how desolate and hopeless you would feel.

Warning, this section would be rated PG-13 or R by the motion pictures association.  Consider yourself warned.

He practically threw me back in the closet.  He grabbed the lamp, my plate from the night before, and he took my clothes and left leaving me wet, cold, and in darkness.  I crawled to the little door at the end of my closet, opened it up and went through.  I continued toward the vent around the corner.  Though I was freezing, I unwrapped myself from my towel, and dropped it to the floor, then I slithered my way up into the vent.  Without clothes on, I had more room to wriggle around, but still got caught up at the hips.  Another few days of not eating would probably do it though.

     I squirmed my way back out, and was about to grab my towel when I heard my abductor coming down the stairs.  I quickly grabbed my towel and crawled as quickly as I could back to the door, went through it, and had just sat down on my mattress when my door opened. 

     “Why are you panting?” he asked.

     I had to come up with something fast, but what?  “I was just crying.”

     “Oh.”  He looked uncomfortable, which struck me as odd.  Maybe in his warped way he was actually starting to like me?  To feel for me?  To think of me as a human being instead of an object?  As a daughter figure even?  I mean, though he was a sick fuck and damaged his kid for life he must have loved her in his way?  Shown her some kind of normal affection at times.  He handed me a pair of sweats, boxer shorts and socks.

     “Thank you,” I said taking them from him.  I slid everything on immediately having been naked and freezing.   He turned to go and I said, “Are you ever going to let me go?”

     He never turned back to me and all he said was, “I’ve asked Georgia to marry me.  She’ll be moving in soon.  She doesn’t know I have a child.”  Then he left, locking me in behind him.

     So that was it.  He was going to kill me.

High School? Already?

So, Thing One left for halls of high school this morning with her cousin and friend by her side.  And while I didn't cry, I did feel like I needed to take a few Xanax, knowing how difficult the high school years can be, and how many things I forgot to tell her before she started.

We've already had the drugs/alcohol/sex talk.  But her father and I both failed to have the older-boy-with-a-car talk.  Meaning, we forgot to tell her they were off limits.  And she's a very VERY cute girl, so it's only a matter of time before some suave upperclassman sees the cutie soccer player and wants a date.  Not going to happen.

High school also makes me face my mortality a little more, well, mostly my age.  I'm getting older, no matter how hard I try to fight it.  How much longer can I get away with mini skirts and high tops before I stop looking like "Cool Mom" and start looking like someone desperately trying to cling to their youth?

And then I have to face the fact that I won't be seeing her much anymore.  With sports and social activities, high school is the time where the kids become more independent and hate being home. sigh.

I will say that she's a good responsible girl who I completely trust. She knows the order of priorities, school, soccer, social life.  She's never been in trouble and she talks to me about pretty much everything, so I think if issues arise, we'll be facing them together.

Ciao,

Megan

Middle Schoolers: Attitude

From waking to sleep, a middle schoolers attitude is never in check. Emotions constantly raging with puberty, you need to always be prepared for the outlash.

Time to wake up...
"Five more minutes." I allow this. After fifteen I force them to wake. Attitude commences. They don't have to say anything, their body language speaks volumes. The slow rise, the shoulder slump, the grimace. I know better not to say or do anything yet. Just let them get acclimated to morning.

If they move to slowly, I prod, "You better start getting ready."
"I know! I'm tired!" I back off for awhile.

When there's about 20 minutes to go, they've done the stuff they like to do, eat breakfast, drink cocoa, but still not dresses, backpacks not packed, hair not done. I've gone back to packing their lunches because I realized they were too lazy to make a sandwich or open the fruit drawer, and juice and doritos does not a healthy lunch make. I suggest they do the important things. Commence with the eye rolls and heavy sighs.

If it's raining and I refuse to drive them to school, which is all of three blocks away, I get the "Uh" sound accompanied by the eye roll.

And then there's after school...
I will usually let them hang out after school. If they call and ask to go to a friends or have a friend come over and I say no, I get, "Why?" to which I give my reason, whatever it may be, busy, headache, hate their friend, on deathbed. Then I get, "But," which is always interrupted by "I said no." Then it's "Fine!" hang up the phone.

They show up and it's time for homework. If it's difficult there is head laying on the table, grunts, sighs, pounding, and frustrated growls. I try to help, but some of it is even over my head.

Then snacks. I like them to eat a somewhat healthy snack after school because dinner comes shortly after. But if I suggest fruit or vegetable I once again get the eye roll and "fine."

Chores?
They barely exist here anymore. Mostly, I cook, clean, do dishes, laundry, take out the garbage, everything. I've tried to get them on a chore schedule, but between soccer, basketball, homework, and their social life, chores are pretty much non existent to them. Basically, they're not asked to do much. I'd rather have them get good grades and excel in their sports of choice. However, on the weekend, I will usually ask them to pick up their stuff, clean the bathroom and vacuum. Three very easy things to do that will take approximately ten minutes out of their day. I am met with glares, stares, glowers, grimaces, hip out, arms crossed attitude.

I have to remind them that if I stopped doing all the chores I'm expected to do, we would all starve, live in filth, and be wearing the same underwear for weeks on end. I should be the one giving the attitude.

And forget talking about grades, boys, school drama, and the like. A mom can only take so many eye rolls before she's in desperate need of a straight jacket and padded room.

Tomorrow, Friday Free For All.

Kisses

:*

Megan

Middle Schoolers: Boys

Middle school boys and the girls that love them.

Ugh. Thing One who is now in 8th grade, has not had a boyfriend up until now. She was never interested. She was into soccer and her grades. Yeah, um, not so much any more. Well, let me clarify, she still loves soccer, and is very good at it, the grades, we're going to have to work on that. While she excels in class and with her homework, she has not tested well, which brings her grade point average down. I believe this is due to her more active social life.

The cool thing now is to go to Wheels, the local skating rink. Is there any actual skating done? I know Thing Two skates, Thing One, no. She hangs out, and giggles, and gossips, and I've come to find out, her boyfriend can be found there on any given Friday night. A boyfriend I've never met. A boyfriend my husband has already dug a hole for in the garden. He's a 6th grader, but according to Thing Two, he's hot.

Thing Two is a different story all together. She's obsessed with the idea of having a boyfriend. She's desperate for one. She's even asked boys out, which in 6th grade I have no idea what this means. Mom how do I look? Mom am I pretty? Mom why don't I have a boyfriend? I say all the things a mom should say (and it's not a lie, she's adorable, but men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses). I try to tell her to focus on soccer, and basketball, and school (and she should because getting good grades does not come easy for her). But all her friends have boyfriends. sigh.

It is so hard to teach a girl that having a boyfriend doesn't define who they are. But, I was there once. I was boy crazy, but these days, it scares me. The kids these days are way more advanced then I was when I was their age. And the technology age doesn't help matters with sexting and the like. ugh.

What do you do? You support them, talk to them honestly, which usually scares the hell out of them, you own all their passwords to all their accounts, email, facebook, hi5, etc, and you do random checks on their text messages. It's all we can do aside from lock them in a tower until their 30 (which my husband would do in a heartbeat).

That's all until tomorrow, when I talk about ATTITUDE.

Kisses

:*

Megan

Middle Schoolers: Sleepovers

Sleepovers, the tortuous ritual we somehow get coaxed into about every other weekend. Why? I still cannot answer this question. Momentary lapse of reason, temporary insanity maybe.

We, as parents, get totally taken advantage of when it comes to sleepovers. The children, they empty the dishwasher fold the laundry without asking, and when we gloss over with that mushy look that's something between pride and insanity, they know they have taken control of our tiny parental minds.

"Could I have a couple friends sleep over?"

"Sure dear." No questions asked.

First fatal flaw.

A couple friends...
usually means I have six girls total between the ages of 11 and 14. They hole up in their room. It begins with quiet. This is just a ruse to make us think nothing bad is going to happen. Soon enough it sounds as if a herd of elephants is stampeding upstairs and you're pretty sure at least one of the girls will meet an untimely death.

You venture up to check on them. You enter the room and they're all sitting quietly on the floor talking. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"What was all that noise?"

"We were just bouncing the soccer ball around."

You leave them in their said circle, close the door, and wonder if the World Cup finals had just been played in your daughter's bedroom.

So, you go back to your movie, or whatever it is you're doing, crocheting, facebooking, drinking yourself into oblivion, and revel in the momentary quiet.

It starts again...
You fear the ceiling will cave in atop your head. You brave the stairs for a second time. By the time you reach the room, again the girls are sitting in a circle on the floor wearing smiles like something from the Village of the Damned. You're suprised there's not a pentagram surrounding them.

"What have you guys been doing?"

"Just talking."

"What was all that noise?"

"What noise?"

You back out of the room quietly, close the door, and wonder, only for a second, if their will be a human sacrifice made that evening.

But that's just the beginning. Earlier that day your wonderful, dutiful children have asked if you will buy stuff for rootbeer floats. You agree as they've earned it by doing their chores and both scoring goals in their soccer game the week before.

Second fatal flaw.

The sugar high begins...
At least now you know you're not crazy, because the noise races down the upstairs hall like a poltergeist, thunders down the stairs like rhino, and runs in circles through your living room, kitchen, hallway, back to the living room, again, and again, and again, all the while giggling and screeching. You begin to get dizzy, your head starts to pound. You feel like you will faint or vomit or both.

"Hey, why don't you guys watch a movie." Good idea Mom.

So they finally sit, with popcorn, and pop, and doritos, and anything and everything edible in your house that they can get their hands on, while they watch Mean Girls, or Ten Things I Hate About You, Juno, or Whip It, whatever angsty teen movie they're in the mood for.

They sit on the couch and chairs with their iPods and cell phones, texting, facebooking, etc during the beginning of the movie. Peace. This brand of quiet lasts about ten minutes. Then it's group trips to the bathroom, commence with the giggling. Up for water, more popcorn, juice, pop. You put up with it, you have to, you don't have a choice. The only way to stop it is to send them home, yet you don't want to be THAT mom. You go in your bedroom, lock the door, and hide until the movie ends.

Bed time...right.
You send them up to the bedroom, have them lay out their sleeping bags, crawl in them again with their iPods and their cell phones. This quiet lasts a little longer because they want you to think they're going to sleep. It could last thirty minutes, and hour, usually it lasts until you fall asleep.

Then you hear a scream...
Then giggling, then loud talking, then yelling, then stomping, pounding, thundering. You send in the big guns, Dad. He tells the girls to keep quiet. Lather, rinse, repeat. and again. and again. Repeat until you're so deliriously tired that even their voices that carry all the way to China and the stampeding can't keep you awake.

Then what do you do? You clean up after and reward the little dears, you who've found have stayed up until 5:00 am with a breakfast fit for queen, french toast, bacon, sliced strawberries, juice.

The parents can not come soon enough.

You vow never again. Of course, never again becomes, until-I-forget-how-horrible-it-is. And in two weeks you're doing it all over again.

Yeah, we're the ones in charge.

That's all for today.

Kisses

:*

Megan