I would like to dedicate this post to the Saturday I was supposed to have had. How I mourn you.
That one - the Saturday I was supposed to have had - involved sleeping through the night, waking up peacefully, eating a healthy breakfast, conversing with my husband, playing with my children and doing some light yard work.
Instead - on the Saturday I actually had - I woke up at least every half hour as of 5AM with a teething Spawnling, was jarred awake for the last time at 8:30 by my neighbour across the street who called to let me know the rear window of Geekster's car had been smashed out, filled out a police report, listened to my husband swear a lot, enlisted child labour to haul things out of the garage so we could make room for the shattered Geekmobile to be parked until Monday, and then headed to the hardware store to buy a motion sensor light (as of yet uninstalled).
Definitely not what I had planned, and dare I say I'm feeling a tad resentful about it, too. See, last Saturday involved a fair bit of Feaster travel and next Saturday will involve the removal of three of Spawnling's teeth as he undergoes dental surgery. This was the Saturday where I was going to unwind and do some things to bring down the stress level. Maybe even go crazy and drink a latte and watch a chick flick or something.
We are not amused.
The Good Maven - the one who understands how resentments can lead her recovering alcoholic self right back into the bottom of a bottle - wants to do something healthy like pray for the poor, neglected souls who were obviously at the back of the line when The Powers That Be handed out happy families, and thus had to act out by smashing out the back windows of three cars on my street. The part of me with a halo of blinding brilliance would like to tell those teens that she wasn't a very sensible young woman herself a few years back and did a lot of stupid things, too. That they can change their lives around if they want to make that choice.
That's the good part of The Maven. We like her. She gets Christmas cards and has many people on her Facebook page.
But then there's the other side. The Dark Side. The side that wants to let that resentment fester because not only did they do senseless damage to her property and cost her family a fair bit of money, but they also put Geekster in a very foul mood and didn't stick around to deal with it. Instead, she had to hear about how this neighbourhood is going downhill and what do we pay taxes for anyway and how are we supposed to feel safe and he should just wait outside with a bat and maybe we should just move out to the middle of nowhere and that if we don't do that we should put up a six foot iron fence around the entire half acre of property and do you know how much debt we're already in and those little shits are going to make sure we never get out of it, and...
... Suffice to say it was not a good day. I never did get a latte, either, and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants stayed in its case. As a result, there have been minutes today where I've felt a little... murderous.
Note to self: I must not murder hooligans. Perhaps I should make this my current mantra.
The biggestbeef block of tofu I have about what happened is this: All signs indicate this was the work of bored/drunk/stupid teenagers. Three weeks ago there was also a rash of car theft in our neighbourhood that pointed toward amateurs.
And, if all these assumptions are true, where on earth are the parents?
My generation is pretty much the most selfish one I've ever seen. To be honest I'm almost embarrassed to be in my 30's. We're obsessed with instant gratification and the accumulation of things: big houses, big cars, big vacations, the nicest bodies, designer clothes, the newest electronics, 40 different t.v. shows we have to watch every week, so could you please not disturb us right now, son? We're trying to catch up on Grey's and CSI. Why don't you go do something somewhere else, ok? That's a good boy. Come back whenever.
If teenagers are taking a crowbar to the back of a vehicle in the middle of the night, I'm going to point a finger right into their livingrooms and ask what the hell is going on. And before anyone feeds me the 'maybe they have single parents who work shifts' line, can I just say that, being as insanely popular as I am, I know many single parents - some of them who do shift work and are not always home - and they do a fantastic job at spending quality time with their children and making sure they feel loved.
There are very few good excuses in my book. And my book is the only book worth checking out. Unless you're religious that is, and then maybe it's one of two only books. (I say this so as not to get lightninged by an angry diety)
Back to you neglectful parents: Something's going on and it can probably be fixed, so fix it. It's often as simple as getting to know your child. Mother of the year I am definitely not and mistakes will be made around here, but rest assured I will know where they are at 3AM. And God help them if I find out they were supposed to be sleeping at Timmy's house and they're out in a pre-penitentiary posse.
Alright, I admit it. I'm feeling a bit ranty. But we're going to be out $350+ by the time this is said and done. We don't exactly have that money lying around and I've already put the idea of prostitution out of my mind as a quick cash grab. I even returned the micro mini skirt and leopard print shawl. I told Vicious D. Loco to take his Cadillac to another corner. Sometimes I regret the decision, but I think I might need to find another way to pay for all these little "surprises" that keep coming up.
I suppose I could write the next bestseller, but that's so overdone.
In the meantime I'm going to go out in Vanzilla and scope out the 'hood. All the delinquents can cower as I pull up blasting Katy Perry and asking them where their parents are. Domination and intimidation is the name of the game; it's quite a bit like dog training or bad parenting.
The Juvenile Delinquent Whisperer. Maybe I could just get a show on TLC. That would pay for a lot of glass.
That one - the Saturday I was supposed to have had - involved sleeping through the night, waking up peacefully, eating a healthy breakfast, conversing with my husband, playing with my children and doing some light yard work.
Instead - on the Saturday I actually had - I woke up at least every half hour as of 5AM with a teething Spawnling, was jarred awake for the last time at 8:30 by my neighbour across the street who called to let me know the rear window of Geekster's car had been smashed out, filled out a police report, listened to my husband swear a lot, enlisted child labour to haul things out of the garage so we could make room for the shattered Geekmobile to be parked until Monday, and then headed to the hardware store to buy a motion sensor light (as of yet uninstalled).
Definitely not what I had planned, and dare I say I'm feeling a tad resentful about it, too. See, last Saturday involved a fair bit of Feaster travel and next Saturday will involve the removal of three of Spawnling's teeth as he undergoes dental surgery. This was the Saturday where I was going to unwind and do some things to bring down the stress level. Maybe even go crazy and drink a latte and watch a chick flick or something.
We are not amused.
The Good Maven - the one who understands how resentments can lead her recovering alcoholic self right back into the bottom of a bottle - wants to do something healthy like pray for the poor, neglected souls who were obviously at the back of the line when The Powers That Be handed out happy families, and thus had to act out by smashing out the back windows of three cars on my street. The part of me with a halo of blinding brilliance would like to tell those teens that she wasn't a very sensible young woman herself a few years back and did a lot of stupid things, too. That they can change their lives around if they want to make that choice.
That's the good part of The Maven. We like her. She gets Christmas cards and has many people on her Facebook page.
But then there's the other side. The Dark Side. The side that wants to let that resentment fester because not only did they do senseless damage to her property and cost her family a fair bit of money, but they also put Geekster in a very foul mood and didn't stick around to deal with it. Instead, she had to hear about how this neighbourhood is going downhill and what do we pay taxes for anyway and how are we supposed to feel safe and he should just wait outside with a bat and maybe we should just move out to the middle of nowhere and that if we don't do that we should put up a six foot iron fence around the entire half acre of property and do you know how much debt we're already in and those little shits are going to make sure we never get out of it, and...
... Suffice to say it was not a good day. I never did get a latte, either, and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants stayed in its case. As a result, there have been minutes today where I've felt a little... murderous.
Note to self: I must not murder hooligans. Perhaps I should make this my current mantra.
The biggest
And, if all these assumptions are true, where on earth are the parents?
My generation is pretty much the most selfish one I've ever seen. To be honest I'm almost embarrassed to be in my 30's. We're obsessed with instant gratification and the accumulation of things: big houses, big cars, big vacations, the nicest bodies, designer clothes, the newest electronics, 40 different t.v. shows we have to watch every week, so could you please not disturb us right now, son? We're trying to catch up on Grey's and CSI. Why don't you go do something somewhere else, ok? That's a good boy. Come back whenever.
If teenagers are taking a crowbar to the back of a vehicle in the middle of the night, I'm going to point a finger right into their livingrooms and ask what the hell is going on. And before anyone feeds me the 'maybe they have single parents who work shifts' line, can I just say that, being as insanely popular as I am, I know many single parents - some of them who do shift work and are not always home - and they do a fantastic job at spending quality time with their children and making sure they feel loved.
There are very few good excuses in my book. And my book is the only book worth checking out. Unless you're religious that is, and then maybe it's one of two only books. (I say this so as not to get lightninged by an angry diety)
Back to you neglectful parents: Something's going on and it can probably be fixed, so fix it. It's often as simple as getting to know your child. Mother of the year I am definitely not and mistakes will be made around here, but rest assured I will know where they are at 3AM. And God help them if I find out they were supposed to be sleeping at Timmy's house and they're out in a pre-penitentiary posse.
Alright, I admit it. I'm feeling a bit ranty. But we're going to be out $350+ by the time this is said and done. We don't exactly have that money lying around and I've already put the idea of prostitution out of my mind as a quick cash grab. I even returned the micro mini skirt and leopard print shawl. I told Vicious D. Loco to take his Cadillac to another corner. Sometimes I regret the decision, but I think I might need to find another way to pay for all these little "surprises" that keep coming up.
I suppose I could write the next bestseller, but that's so overdone.
In the meantime I'm going to go out in Vanzilla and scope out the 'hood. All the delinquents can cower as I pull up blasting Katy Perry and asking them where their parents are. Domination and intimidation is the name of the game; it's quite a bit like dog training or bad parenting.
The Juvenile Delinquent Whisperer. Maybe I could just get a show on TLC. That would pay for a lot of glass.