January 31, 2008
No Children, No Cry
There are many reasons why I don't have children. The main one has always been: I don't want some parasitic growth hanging off my leg for 18-22 years. Kids are smelly and weird and noisy. They break your stuff. And considering that, often the biggest dicksmacks are born into the nicest families, you're not guaranteed a good return on what is a GARGANTUAN investment.
The existance of Nephew, Girl Child, Boy Child and The Spare has had some effect on my personal anti-reproduction stance. Oh, they're totally noisy and weird and expensive, but they are also adorable and clever and hilarious.
Of course, not having my own children is still a good idea because I would homeschool them and make them do chores and learn table manners and go without the latest gadgets that all their friends have, so they would hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhate me.
Like Jerry does now.
One of the other bad things about being a parent is it makes you say stuff like, "Because I said so!" and, "What did I just say?" and, "If I have to tell you ONE MORE TIME...!" In short, it kind of forces you to be an asshole, and that's one thing that no one needs more of from me.
This weekend, Jerry came to stay because his parents went outta town to celebrate their anniversary. And I don't mind taking care of Jerry because, at 12 years old, he's completely low-maintanence. Just turn on the t.v. and remember to feed him every few hours -- voila! Child-rearing made easy.
The other reason that Jerry is no bother to have around is that, long ago, I seared into his brain two indelible truths: One, Nanny is not to be messed with. And two, Nanny is not to be argued with. Once he learned these -- and got past being three years old -- we got along like peas and carrots. Since going against the grain was only going to earn my wrath, he gave up and became an angel.
But that was then, and he's twelve now. In the seventh grade. So I shouldn't be surprised that he tested me this weekend, but I kind of was because it's been nearly a decade since our relationship has been anything but smooth and uncomplicated. I guess I didn't see the fledging testosterone-monster coming.
Sunday's activities broke down like this: Husband had to attend church and then a post-church meeting. Younger Step Daughter got dragged along to church. Jerry, being in confirmation class, is required to attend both Sunday school and church every week. I had to pick up Joe and attend a doll show.
What.
Barbie is my god. Have we forgotten this?
Since Sunday school starts fifteen minutes before Joe's bus arrives three blocks from church, I had plenty of time to drop Jerry off and get cash before meeting Joe. After Sunday school, the plan was for Jerry to meet Husband and YSD in the church pews by the choir for the second service. Simple, no?
Apparently, I wasn't paying attention all the times Jerry's Mom, K, told me about the trouble she's having getting Jerry to attend church and Sunday school and confirmation classes without a huge fight. I guess I thought that was her problem, not mine.
I am brilliant, yet not infallible.
At 12:30, my cell phone rang. I was deep in vintage Barbie territory at the time, so I hurried into the hallway, so as not to be The Huge Crack Baby Talking Loudly On My Phone In The Middle Of The Show. Doll shows tend to be pretty subdued, and any loud noises or sudden movements are frowned upon.
It was YSD calling me to inform me that she and Husband couldn't find Jerry, and he hadn't showed up for the church service.
PISSED doesn't even begin to cover it. That he would pull that shit when I wasn't around to beat him -- DAMN, that was frustrating!!! I mean, the reason Husband is so cool about watching Jerry while I'm off galavanting with my Gay is because Jerry is normally A Model Child! If he's gonna start being a teenager, that's going to curtail my social life! And people, Wenchie don't play that.
I hung up with YSD and immediately called Jerry's cell phone. No big surprise -- he didn't answer. I then called him home, just in case he'd... caught a ride home... for some reason. I don't know. I was really just putting off having to call his Mom and tell her that I lost her son.
Thank God YSD called right back and let me know that they'd found him, so that my panic could turn to rage because that's an emotion I'm much more familiar with. Oh, AND? He was up in the gym playing basketball when they found him.
So. Dead.
I had YSD hand her phone to Jerry, whom I told, in my scariest voice, "You are so on my poop list. You and I are going to have a serious talk when I get home."
Granted, shit list loses some of its oomph when watered down to poop list, but I'm hoping that having to live In Fear Of The Unknown for four hours had the desired effect and instilled dread and doom in his adolesent heart. Because, aside from my lecture, that's all the punishment I was going to have time to inflict because I was taking him home right after dinner.
When I finally got home -- one vintage barbie and vintage outfit richer -- Jerry got the following scolding (and I'm paraphrasing, of course):
"I am sooooooooo not happy with that little stunt you pulled at church this morning. You were told exactly where to meet Husband and YSD, and you blew them off. They were there and had no idea where you were. And I don't believe for a minute that you were helping out in the nursery. If you were, then they wouldn't have found you playing basketball in the gym. And why were you playing basektball when you should have been actively looking for YSD, since she was your ride home?! I can't believe you were so rude to my husband and YSD. I expect you to treat them with the same respect that you've always treated me. I can't believe I'm even having to say this to you. You've never pulled anything like this before. I am so disappointed. You do anything like that next time you're here, and you're grounded. No t.v., no phone."
I'm exhausted just typing that. It's such a bore having to be the bitch. I hate that crap. But I knew I had to nip it in the bud or I'd be dealing with even more of it in the future. Parenting -- what an annoyance. No wonder my parents are one cherry short of a Manhattan. (Although, I secretly suspect that they're only pretending to be insane, in order to exact a little revenge...)
He wanted to flee with his older brother as soon as the lecture ended, but I wasn't letting him go that easily. I sent him downstairs to watch t.v. and stew for a while, and when he came up for dinner, I acted like nothing had happened.
I'm sure he'll hate me for a while for being so strict, but that doesn't mean I have to hold a grudge on him. Over, done with, gone. I made him a nice dinner and sent him on his way.
Tah-tah, Teen Jerry! See you in April! Please forget to pack the shenanigans when you come!
Comments
Jerry should really get with me so I can teach him how to blow off church, sunday school, and confirmation class without ever getting caught. That way Jerry doesn't have crappy religion shoved down his throat and parents and family think he is a perfect angel. A win-win for everyone!
Posted by: Kelly Garrett at February 3, 2008 12:58 PM