Would I want to be 17 again, OMG NO!!!!!!!!!

The other day, we watched a movie called, ‘17 again.’  Afterwards, Mountain Man asked me, “Would you want to be a teenager again?”  I think he was surprised by my answer.  I was horrified.  OMG NO!!!!!

Why on earth would I want to do that??? 

When I was seventeen it was just past the ‘70s, into the early ‘80s.  Was the world a different place?  You bet your fanny it was!

Hair was huge; shoulder pads made us all look like football players and for Goddess's sake--Disco was alive and kicking!
(I think I still have my “Disco Sucks!” t-shirt.)

Back then, people really did define the book by the cover.  What you wore was who you were. 
For example; there were the "Preppy Girls" with their cardigans and penny loafers, there were the "Jocks;" there were the "Gino's" with their gold chains and hairy chests; there were the "Rockers" with their Rolling Stone t-shirts. 

What you wore defined who your groups of friends were.  It wasn't stone-clad, you could be a rocker with a preppy friend but it was pretty much a good indication of who you associated with.

 Of course I was a punk rocker because I was a freak!  A Freak was one of the most lonely, soul-destroying ways you could think of yourself.

Worse, I was what they call a "Gingerkid" back then.  I had bright copper hair, freckles, was skinny and a bosom, often described as, "two-fried eggs" or a "board that has never been nailed."

As you can see I had the self-confidence of a tree.

In my case, I was homeless at times, living on the streets or in someone else's house.  This was partially my fault and partly because of my background but that is another story.  It was a stupid choice to make then but all teens make stupid choices.  I just didn't have anyone around to tell me it was stupid. 

Canada was not the States*, in the early 80's we were still a society who's family just didn't talk about sex, abuse, rape, drugs etc....  There just wasn't enough education in the media. 

I know that parents today complain about sex, body image and drugs in media but at least it also includes the strong message to be yourself, has opened the door to conversations in families about these issues and has allowed thousands of men, women and children to speak up. 

I really believe if you monitor your child's access to media, if you educate them and keep a dialogue at all times about what they are seeing or hearing from a young age then the media won't hold the power.

Things our kids take for granted today would have horrified the average teenager.  For example, being gay; one of the bravest people I knew back then was my friend Andy.  He was 17, there was not an effeminate thing about him and he was openly gay.  His family had turned his back on him, society disapproved of him, he was bullied and bashed and yet he still stood up to the world and said, "Whatever buddy, I'm doing your brother behind the football bleachers." 
Now that my friends is a hero!!

Nowadays if I ask Caitlin or Breyan if one of their friends is gay, they answer surprised, "Yeah why?"  (Mostly I just don't want to make the mistake of asking if they have a girlfriend or boyfriend.)  I knew so many people in the closet, not because they were ashamed of being gay, they were afraid they'd lose friends, family and even their life!

You've got to know the world is better place when you’re kids think people who are homophobic are stupid.

Still, even if I'd been normal, I still would never want to be a teen again.  It's a nightmare!

Sure I’d love the better health, the endless energy and the freedom from adult cares.  Yet, why would I want acne, hormonal insanity and decreased ability to make long term decisions?

It's an age where you're body is changing faster than your mind.  Society cannot make up its mind if you are an adult or child.  You are supposed to make the decisions about your career and education that will affect the rest of your life.

As a teenager either then or now, there is just so much fighting for control.  Not just from your parents--even your government can't seem to decide what age is an "adult."  Think about it.  In Ontario, you have to be sixteen to drive a car, move out of home; quit school.  You have to be eighteen to vote and get married and legal drinking age is nineteen.  Which means that you can move out and drive away from high school but you can't vote for the person who made the law that lets you do it?!  You can get married but you can't legally drink your wedding toast?! 

High school is a nightmare.  It doesn't matter how good your school is, how popular you are, there are the times when high school holds downright terror!  Dating, bullies, swarmings it's all just the tip of the iceberg.  There are prisons in third world countries that don't hold half the terrors of the average Canadian high school. 

I once heard the description, "high school is the place where, at the end, they give you a piece of paper that says you made it out alive."

There have been huge strides made to reduce the bullying in schools but they are not enough.  Ask Breyan about getting swarmed by thirty boys and having the cops tell us there was nothing we could do about it...thanks to the Young Offenders Act, they were all too young to charge.  An officer even told my son to get himself a pair of steel toed boots! 

Still, being a teen is easier nowadays.  First of all there is more communication to cut down on the isolation.  There are more resources for getting help when you need it and best of all you can choose any fashion from any decade to wear as long as it looks good!

I swear I saw a girl the other day and I thought, "Hey, she stole my clothes from 1986!"  She was wearing my Clash T-shirt, my skinny jeans with four belts, cut out finger gloves, and my Peter Pan Getaway boots. 

Of course then I thought, “OMG did I look that stupid?”

The generation gap in music has closed, as I know since half my CD's have disappeared.  On any given day I will hear my kids listening to Queen, The Clash, Supertramp or even new renditions of old songs.  I don't know how many times I've thought, "Hey I know the words to that song, how come it doesn't sound right?" 

I have to admit it shocked me one day to listen to a dance tune and realize the words were Air Supply: a band that never made a song you couldn't fall asleep to.  Now that is just wrong!

So would I want to be seventeen again?  Goddess, No!!  It's just too hard.

However I did go buy myself a pair of the Peter Pan boots because they are really comfy.  Of course, being my age I was back in the store buying three hours later buying insoles for support.

Have a good day all.

Kimberley

*it is my theory that Canada waits ten years to pick up a new fad.  We let the States try it first just to see how stupid we’ll look.

Breyan's 18th Birthday

BREYAN'S 18TH BIRTHDAY

*  originally written in September, 2005

     On Friday, Breyan reached the adult status age of 18.  When he was a little boy, I had imagined the day to be a milestone in his life.  We would have friends and family over for a potluck dinner, wine would flow and Breyan, uncomfortable in his tailored suit would shyly blow out the candles of the huge cake I would make him.

     We would tell stories of how when he was two, he ran outside naked and the little girls of the neighbourhood brought him back and politely asked us to make, "Breyan stop bothering them."  He would blush as the Mountain Man recounted the time when Breyan played busdriver with the neighbours van, hit the emergency brake and landed up backing the van out of the driveway, into the street.

      As he grew, I knew this idea of a family gathering was a dream.  I grew into accepting the idea that if I was lucky, I could grab him for a family dinner with just me, his dad and his sister and have a box-mix cake as he was on his way out the door to meet his friends. 

      Over the last few months, I resigned myself to answering the door at 3 am as his friends poured him through the door explaining that, "they had just one or two but Breyan wasn't used to drinking and felt a little sick."  Ya right!  I would look stern, send all his friends on their way, put Breyan to bed and the next morning at six am I would start vaccuuming right beside his bed.

     Didn't happen.

     What did happen was:  I made the cake for Thursday night, we had a nice lasagna dinner and Breyan went off on Friday night with two friends for a "surprise" birthday party his friend Andrew cobbled up for him.  I expected this because Andrew called me Tuesday to make sure it was okay and to ask me to help him get Breyan to his house.  (Breyan had informed me about the party on Monday.)  I had thought the drinking age was still 18 in Quebec but it turns out it's 19 and they have the same closing as Ontario so there went one of Breyan's goals.

    I had forgotten an important point.  A few years ago at his cousin Sammy's Italian wedding, Breyan got right snockered on Italian wine.  It gave him a three day migraine and cured him of the teenage idea that getting drunk is "fun."  His friends had told me that Breyan rarely drank at parties but I took that with a grain of salt.  Another experience with drinking was a party he went to at the beginning of the summer when someone spiked his drink, (or so he says) and he ended up throwing up for six hours and having to go back to the house where the party was the next day and clean his friends bed.  (Yes, I volunteered him to do it but it was only fair.  We then had the bed professionally cleaned but we didn't tell Breyan.)  The girls parents had wanted her to "live with her mistake," but I just think that's unsanitary.

     I did not expect that Breyan would come home at 1 am on Friday with eleven kids in tow.  I did not expect him to come home with 14 sets of keys in his pocket that we are still finding owners for. When he first came in the door, I thought he had the three kids we had agreed could sleep over with him and was ready to greet them with a smile but kids just kept coming up the stairs like those red soldier ants in the movie, Scorpion King.  The quality of these kids convinced me I might rather face the fire ants.

     He explained to me that some were homeless, some had missed rides to Gatineau or Bells Corners, some could be sent home right away and all of them had been prepared to sleep in park if they couldn't come here.  Obviously we couldn't send them back out into the night but I was not pleased and Mountain Man, well it was just bad.  I was not prepared for this and I was not prepared for the STINK!!!!!!

    To be honest, only one seemed to have been drinking and since I'm a reformed teen partyer I can usually tell signs of stoners or drunks in a shot.  There was a little punk girl that I would have bet money was on E or some other drug but she was one of the parent pick-ups so I will let them deal with it.  Breyan had not been drinking.  In fact, Breyan had collected keys from drunks by asking for them as a gift for his birthday.  He also turned to me at one point, hung his head and said, "I'm too sober for this.  Do we have Tylenol?  They are giving me a wicked headache."  

     Four of the kids were homeless.  I had gotten my hands on Sheldon, 16, a homeless native boy last week so his stink was only a weeks worth.  He still left a ton of dirt on the shower floor but it wasn't overwhelming.  Mohawk boy, however had not had a proper bath in forever and He left the tub black!!!  He stank so much I was stomping down my tummy with both feet so the first order I gave was to get him in the shower.  The other two weren't too bad but I lined them up outside the bathroom door with towels, soap and toothbrushes and told them to keep the soap and toothbrush.  (and in the case of the Spanish girl, feminine products.)

We desperately need another bathroom.

 Last week I had depleted my supply of hotel soaps and sample packets with Sheldon but luckily Hubby's parents are world travellers and constantly resupply me.  I made sure every kid had at least a bar of soap and some deodorant while Breyan did a cold wash with pretty well everything these kids owned in one load.

     While I was doing this, I ordered Breyan to get the kids to call parents for rides or just to let them know their kids were safe and where they were.  It's what I would want another parent to do if it was my kids.  Two parents volunteered to pick up their kids immediately, most weren't home and some didn't have parents.  We scraped together enough money for a cab for two of them since their parents did not own a car.  This left us with eleven kids. 

  

     The Mountain Man, while trying to be calm, couldn't take the smell dived into our bedroom and refused to come out.  I left him madly Febreeze'ing the bed and mumbling about doom and gloom, groundings till his kids were 35, house insurance and plans to introduce his son to Inquisition style torture the next day.      

     Now, I must note here that I am not in the best of health right now.  I've been suffering some pretty bad side effects of a medication that leaves me chewing Immodium and running to the bathroom every two minutes, physically very weak but on the bright side, has let me lose over 40 pounds in two months which in my book wasn't a bad thing.  A stinky thing yes, but not bad.  I'm going through the medical gauntlet right now but there are no answers as of yet so I muddle through as much as I can and considering that I'm the most spoiled wife on the planet, it's not as devastating as everyone assumes.  I've been through worse.

    I also tore a shoulder muscle a few years ago and am in constant pain with some really bad days.  Friday was one of them.  Caitlin had been sleeping over at a friends that night, (they have cable).  Before Breyan had boiled through the door, I was enjoying a quiet night with the Mountain Man, watching Russell Crowe in Gladiator and had managed to relax to the point that I wouldn't jump when the phone rang.

    I had hubby gather up all the sleeping bags, blankets and sheets we keep in the bedroom closet, he hopped out, threw them into Breyans hands and told him to start making beds in the living room.  Of course that wasn't enough space so we branched out to the sewing room and Caitlin's bedroom.  Breyan had two sleeping in his room, four on the living room floor, one on the couch, two in Caitlin's room and I'm not quite sure where the rest ended up but some didn't go to bed.

    Then they hit the kitchen.  Locusts have nothing on regular teenagers, homeless teenagers are even worse, they make locusts seem positively anorexic.  Before I could properly get out water, juice, snacks and so on, they had cleaned us out of bread, chips, pretzels, lunch snacks, a cold chicken, peanut butter and jam and I even caught one girl prepared to make a cake!!!!!!

     Now we are not so poor that we can't afford some tea and coffee and snacks for visitors but this was ridiculous and I hadn't done the groceries yet so we were low on food to start.  I herded them out of the kitchen, put on coffee and tea and set out the snacks.  Every time I turned my back there was another kid in the kitchen going through the kitchen cupboards.  I will never complain about earwigs again.  I've finally met their match.  At one point I considered telling them to just go ahead and have an earwig fry up, "They are a great source of protein, like the grasshoppers in Africa."  

      It took until five am to get all the kids sorted enough to leave them and I still had misgivings but I told Breyan, he was not only in charge, he was accountable for each and everyone of them and he would be cleaning up after them.  Then I went to bed.

     The next morning I woke to the Mountain Man slamming dresser drawers, still mumbling and bringing me coffee.  (You have to love a man who brings you coffee or tea every morning in bed no matter what else he has planned.  I'd remarry him all over again just for that.)  He was very upset and I don't blame him. 

     There were no eggs, no bread, no cereal, no milk, juice or water in the cooler.  There were bodies all over the house, stinky bodies and "OH MY GOSH!"  HE HAD MISSED HIS FISHING SHOW!!!!!  He hadn't wanted to wake up the kids until I was up so he missed his Saturday morning fishing show.  To my mountain man, this was like missing church!  He was very unhappy.  

     You have to understand.  My guy is a clean cut, all Canadian, security type.  Faced with girls with Mohawks, boys with so many body peircings that you have to wonder how boring their life really is and one girl that I very politely made put on a sweater so she wouldn't catch cold in her teeny-tiny little top, he just couldn't cope.  This is a man who thinks Hippie is someone who grows their hair long!  Fifty years ago he would have a crew cut, horn-rimmed glasses and a cardigan.  He still likes to wear his hair in a flat-top!.  Faced with todays version of hippies, he was at a loss. I let him go play at working on the car to get him out of the house.  My car is now totally spotless.  He cleaned inside and out and even my trunk is organized and vaccuumed.  Greg, our car friend would be very impressed.  

      I, on the other hand, had no compunction about waking them up.  Or Breyan for that matter.  I put on the coffee and tea, got the Mountain Man to put a new bottle of water out, sent him to the corner for milk and started making Cream of Wheat for breakfast.  I put a brush and comb on the table, grabbed the mint plant from the balcony while instructing them that "chewing mint leaves will settle your stomach," pointed the kids to the soap and towels, ordered the little one, Dave to the toast and told Breyan to get the phone book.

     I gave him the list for shelters, bus schedules, Operation Go Home, (Sheldon had specific orders to call them.)  Do you know OGH is a nine-to-five, Monday to Friday operation?  Somebody needs to give them enough money to start a 24 hr hotline!

      Breakfast, well to the Mountain Man's eternal horror, I make Cream of Wheat with milk.  I always have and I love it that way.  It adds calcium and Vitamin D for kids that don't drink milk and Cream of wheat is a great source of iron.  (Sounds like a commercial I know but I really love the stuff for kids.)   For special days, I put vanilla in it.  Topped with brown sugar I figured this would be a treat for the homeless kids and make sure the rest had something solid in their tummies for the day.  (That comes from my Grandpa Smith who was a firm believer in a good breakfast.)  

     So I made a huge potfull and what happens?  Two of the homeless kids are lactose intolerant.  When Mohawk boy snottily informed me of this condition, I almost kicked him.  I'm sorry but if you are homeless and starving and a guest in my house, you do not dictate the menu.  I don't mind arranging other food for allergies and conditions but you do not act like I was trying to poison you.  So I told him that.

     Then I made rice.  Rice is good.  Nobody is allergic to rice.  Personally I'm not a fan of it, always looks like bugs to me but hey, whole nations have been built on a rice diet-----Live with it.

  

     During all this, I listened to the kids stories.  There is something about me that makes people want to tell me their life stories and I always have time to listen to teens.  I was pretty impressed with a few of the kids.  One of them was 17, had been living on his own since 15, went to school and worked full-time.  His mom is a recovering alcoholic, dry for two years but he couldn't live with her and didn't know who his dad was.  I call him the tall-boy because he looked like a beer can, one of the quart ones, not a pint.

     Earring through the nose boy, had lived on the streets since he was twelve but had got it together when he turned 18 and now lived with his buddies and was returning to school.  I sent him to Jane at the Adult High School and hopefully he will make it.

     Spanish girl, I'm not sure if I liked but something Bad has happened to that girl.  She has this incredible pain in her voice and manner that I didn't have the time or energy to get into but I pray she makes it because she has an innocence about her that moves you.

   The rest were a mix of bland, everday or users.  Mohawk Boy downright scared me.  Now don't get me wrong, having a Mohawk doesn't make me afraid.  His eyes did.  I don't know what it is but it had a reptilian quality that put up my guard and made me hide the valuables. 

    Mohawks on white boys are not something I understand.  With one exception from my teen years, they look stupid.  I think they look marvelous on native boys.  The actor from "Indian in the Cupboard," was much sexier with his than with a full head of hair.  I have only met one white boy who looked good in a Mohawk but considering that I was a head-over-heels teen, I probably would have thought he'd look good in a clown suit.  Yet, I look back at school photos and still agree it suited him. 

    

     As soon as they were finished eating, I ordered them out the door.  Breyan, I told to stay as he was going to be doing dishes, deodorizing the couch, doing laundry and such for the rest of the day.  We don't have a dishwasher and don't have room for one so I have teens.  Breyan managed to get most out of the door and finally we were left with two kids.  Sheldon and Dave. 

     I like Dave.  Dave has parents.  Dave is a little computer geek, 5' 4" who used to be a wrestler till he slipped a disc.  He reminds me of my friend Jim S.  He's solid, polite, helpful and just all around a good kid with a cynical yet healthy outlook.  Dave fixed my computer.  Dave taught me to blog. 

     Dave did dishes.  Dave made toast.  Dave helped me to get cake girl out of the kitchen the night before and sat on her all night so she wouldn't raid the kitchen again.

     He helped Breyan get Sheldon to call OPG and then in a blink of an eye Breyan, Sheldon and him were out the door.  I could have screamed.

    Breyan had left all the cleanup behind.  Hubby and I had to scrub the bathroom, disinfect the couch and do the laundry.  We thought about leaving it for Breyan when he got home but I couldn't do it and neither could MM.  The smell was just overwhelming.  

    As we were cleaning, we discovered Breyan's birthday present from his friends that he had tried to show me the night before.  An electric guitar and amplifier!!!!!!!  Lord have mercy.  I was having enough problems with a teen daugher who sang and had her very own karaoke machine, the idea of a son with an electric guitar sent waves of forboding and pure panic right through me.

 I thought about disconnecting a few wires or accidently losing the cords for the amp but I couldn't do it.  Mountain Man could have!  Yet, as an urban mom, I understand that every teen boy needs his guitar phase. You can join me in my frantic prayers that he learns something other than "Stairway to Heaven."   

    The little chicken called on Saturday to leave a message that he was at Dave's for the night.  Instead of ordering him home then and there, I decided to give my temper a chance to cool down and told him I wanted him home the next day and we were going to have a "talk."  (Caitlin once begged a teacher at school not to tell on her that she wasn't doing her homework because, "My parents will talk at me!)

     When he got home yesterday, I presented him with a list of chores he would be doing, including scrubbing stains out of carpet, made it clear that he would be doing the dishes for the entire week, he was no longer allowed to have friends over without full clearance and he would be making up for this for quite a while.  I made him sit down and read a letter from his Granpa L. about responsibility and adulthood and quizzed him to make sure he didn't blow it off.  He was repentant and sorry for his actions but that didn't fool me for a minute.  It's so frustrating.

   Then his long distance girlfriend, Jessica got ahold of him.  Today, Breyan came home from school with a full course load, he had switched to university level sciences and maths, which he should have been in all along and informed me that Jessica had told him that "Unless [he] proved to her that he was willing toward working to a good future for them both, she was getting out of the relationship."  Man!  I just love that girl!!!!!!!!

   So it is now Monday, I have to make dinner and I have spent the day doing this while you have spent your afternoon reading it.  For an 18th birthday I guess from the horror stories I've heard and the recollections of my own and my friends party days we got off light but I still need recovery time. 

   We are letting Caitlin have free rein to give him a piece of her mind about the pretzels she found in her bed Saturday.  So I expect some hollering later and I'm not refereeing.  

Talk to you all soon,

Kimberley

PS:  Being my kid, Breyan's first song to learn is not the dreaded, "Stairway to Heaven."  It's the "Pink Panther" theme.  Industrial earplugs people------a necessary part of every teen parent's survival kit.