On Teen-Sitting

For those of you who know me best: you didn't think it was possible, but for the past six days I've been watching someone else's kids. And not just any kids, but teenagers.

So I'm living out in Reston, VA, and doing my best not to beat my coworker's kids for not waking up on time for school or walking the dog before she pees all over the carpet. It's been a truly illuminating experience, filled with thoughts like, "If I had a fourteen-year-old kid, SHE wouldn't act like this." (Followed quickly by, "Because I'd beat her.")

I feel compelled to say that the girls aren't really bad kids. Just overindulged. Spoiled. Undisciplined. And full of the I-know-everything attitude that seems to describe every last teenager on earth.

I've come to understand that being a teenager is one of the few times in your life when you are fully convinced that everything IS ALL ABOUT ME. I mean, the sun actually rises just to please me. Isn't that a wonderful feeling?

Martha and I were talking about this on Sunday. She is the expert here, having taught high school Spanish for the past million years. And she and I both agree: we just don't get it. Like in those movies where the hormonal teenager starts screaming, "You just don't understand!" at her parents... Yeah, that's me. I don't.

And honestly, I don't want to. What an insufferable line of thinking teenagers have. The world is out to get them. Nobody cares what they think. No one understands what they're going through. Know what? They're right. Been there, done that, like to pretend it didn't happen. We all grow out of that stage and at some point realize: a) how selfish we were; b) that life isn't all that bad (it's worse); and c) your parents and teachers worked hard to take care of you and help you live to some ripe old bill-paying age.

So here's a story: the youngest girl is responsible for taking care of the dog - giving her medicine, walking her 4 times a day, feeding her... However, she refuses to go to bed at a decent time (sleeps around 1-2AM) and is an absolute monster to wake up at 6AM. So Tuesday she was really late. I had half driven them to school when she tells me that she didn't give the dog her seizure medicine that morning. And then she has the gaul to say, "I didn't have time. You didn't set up the crate for Miso (the dog)."

My god. I didn't take care of the responsibility for her. Whatever was I thinking???

(Breaking into old fart talk for a moment here) In my day, my mom would have slapped me silly. First, for failing to take care of the dog. And then again for trying to blame someone else for my failure. I think something about sarcasm might have been screamed at me while I was being slapped.

And while this sounds extreme, I appreciate the way my mom brought me up. We didn't get hit often, but when we did we definitely deserved it (and probably deserved it more often than we received it). And she made damn sure that I could take care of myself. I'm not afraid to get dirty, pitch in, and get the job done. Better yet, I don't blame other people for my shortcomings. It's called being an ADULT.

So yeah, I'm an adult now. It feels all kinds of warm and squishy on the inside when I say that. Adult. Adult. ADULT.