My daughter is dating...and my house has never been cleaner!

Good evening!

So Peaches has her first boyfriend.  He's a very, very nice young man and we will call him Topeka because he's named after a city, but I am not going to tell you which one for real.

When Skippy started dating and hanging out with his girlfriend May, I wasn't all that worried about a lot of things.  I had no issues strolling into his room when they were watching a movie or something and announcing that there would be NONE OF THAT! I get along with May very well and have no issue saying and being exactly what I mean to say and be.

They are really this sort of couple...

But Topeka is a different person.  First off, he's a boy.  And Peaches has, in her teen years, become that mysterious thing all teen girls become when they stop talking to their parents and when everything is "FINE!"  (Throw in an eye roll and you can see her expression.  Throw in Barry Manilow music turned up WAY SUPER LOUD and you have me at fifteen.)  I mean, there are times she says she's staying at her friend's house and I ask her if she's actually going to her friend's house because her wishes her life, she has told us many times, was a John Hughes movie. 

But since I'm a mom, I'm convinced this is
what I'm coming home to...

So while Topeka is very polite and very nice, it is a struggle for me to not run into Peaches' room and yell, "HAND CHECK!"

Other than introducing Peaches to the wide world of Quentin Tarrantino movies  (something I wasn't quite ready for but something that was going to happen sooner rather than later anyway)  Topeka has been quite the nice boyfriend.  He's a little older, but he's very thoughtful, and he even sat through one of Peaches' really awful horror movies  (She is a delicate flower who enjoys films where monsters attack people at random.)  Still, I worry when they are standing in front of the house, or sitting in his car in front of the house, or whatever, because I know, I just know they are going to do something that is going to just be uncomfortable for me to know about.

So, to put my mind at ease and to combat what I know is teen hormones run amok in my own home...I make very sure I'm home when they are in the house and I'm doing something that is either noisy or embarrassing or both.  No way is there going to be any nookie in this building!

It started easily enough.  They were home, listening to some music.  Her door was open.  And I had, had, had to do the dishes.  WE don't have a dishwasher, so doing the dishes is a long, drawn out process that involves a lot of banging around, a lot of talking to the cats loudly, and a lot of singing because who doesn't sing when they're doing the dishes?

Vacuuming came next.  We have four cats.  We have to vacuum a lot.  Not my fault her bedroom is the only one with carpet and therefore gets done when we vacuum the rest of the house.

I find changing out the candles in all the candle holders to be an excellent thing to do.  It involves me walking past her door about a dozen times to get to my office where I keep all my Partylite candles and gifts. (Click here to shop on my site!)

Then I dusted.  I dusted the crap out of my house.  And what goes better with dusting than singing?  Oh, NOTHING!

But once the house is clean and the candles are changed out...NOW WHAT?

And that's when it hit me:  What's the worst, most libido crushing image anyone can have?

Fat woman sweating!

And so my friends, I now hit the Wii Fit every time Topeka is over.  See, our Wii shares a wall with Peaches' room.  Which means, while they are sitting there watching a movie, I'm adding to ten with my hips or hitting the ski jump and I'm doing it...you guessed it...noisily!

I find yoga to be the best hormone inhibitor...what's more disturbing than thinking about a large woman doing yoga poses?  While groaning.....and laughing?  And cheering herself on?  NOTHING!

So it's a win/win.  Peaches and Topeka are behaving themselves, and I'm getting my house cleaned and my fat jiggled.

Wonder what I'll do when the weather warms up and they can be outside for more than ten minutes without freezing to death?

Like Scarlett O'Hara, I will worry about THAT another day!  who knows...maybe winter will last forever this time!

When did I become the parent in a John Hughes film?

Good morning!

So this weekend Hubby and I will be trekking across the state to attend his 25th high school class reunion.  (And in answer to your question, no I'm not going to mine. If you read this blog long enough you'll know why, but for now let's just say it's not going to happen.)

At any rate, we're leaving Skippy and Peaches home alone.  Well, Skippy will be at Summerfest or working most of the weekend and Peaches is actually staying with a friend, but stopping in to check on Kit-Ten.  Still, they will have no direct parental supervision for two solid days.

This is the first time we've left the area code for more than twenty hours.  Oddly enough I wasn't nervous about it...until I recalled all the John Hughes movies I watched in my teens.

For those of you who don't know or don't remember, the recently passed Mr. Hughes wrote and directed some of the cornerstone teen films of a generation.  "Pretty in Pink"  "Breakfast Club"  "Sixteen Candles"  "Ferris Buehler's Day off."  All his.  All genius.  All a perfect slice of teen life pie...

I've memorized those films and in all of them I'm Molly Ringwald.  (Well, except for Ferris Buehler...she's not in that.)  I'm the quirky, pretty, misunderstood teen who has to make her way through life...in spite of her really pretty terrible parents. 

John Hughes, when he did address parents in his films, was not kind.  He wrote parents from a teen's point of view:  Stupid, uncool, controlling, absent, bumbling, well meaning, forgetful, and out of touch with what's vital.

Pretty much how my kids view me.

Wait...what?

When did I become the parent in a John Hughes film?  I'm not the parent!  I'm Molly stinkin' Ringwald!  I'm pretty in pink...I sew my own clothes.  I eat birthday cake while sitting on top of a dining room table.  I am the misunderstood popular girl who can apply lipstick with my cleavage!

(Okay, that last thing...I can't even apply lipstick with my hands, and I was NEVER the popular girl...if you're watching "Breakfast Club" and you wonder who I was...two words...Brian Johnson.  Yep, the nerd.  The grade obsessed geek.  Minus the interest in math.  But I did own a terrible green sweatshirt.)

Still, when did this happen?

Oh yeah...right about the time I decided to have kids.

The minute you become a parent, your "Cool, with it" meter starts dropping.  Oh sure, until the kid is seven, you rule.  You can drive, you know how to order stuff at the drive up window, you know what the phone number for the pizza place is.  You can make a clock work by putting in a fresh battery!  YOU ARE AWESOME!

But someplace between 7 and 11, that awesomeness dies a little bit each day.  By the time a child is twelve, the only reason he/she will be seen with you is because you can drive.  By the time they're 13, they'd rather ride their bike or walk, thank you.  By the time they're driving, they'd like to pretend they don't have parents.

And so, with one driver and one bike rider in the house, I'm the absent, uncool, out of touch parent.  In spite of my best efforts, I've become that mom.  All the trips to the pool, the ice cream I've bought, the sleepovers I've hosted, the trips to Great America...all for naught.  They are teens, and that makes me the parent of teens.

So I'm going to my husband's class reunion.  I'm leaving the kids alone for the weekend.  In my head there will be a party ala "Sixteen Candles" and when I return I'll find a geeky freshman trapped in my coffee table.  My wine cellar will be destroyed, and there will be traces of birthday cake on my dining room table.

Oh wait...I don't have a wine cellar.  I don't even have a dining room table!

Okay then...I've got that going for me, I guess!