Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Terrible Twos? Puh.

Our house is kind of the neighborhood hang out house. Why, I have no idea.

Our house isn't the biggest or nicest. We don't have the coolest stuff or the biggest tv. Our cupboards are not stocked with lots of yummy junk food, and if they were, they would be locked up tight because I can't afford to feed my own teenaged son, much the less everyone else's.

I am so notoriously stingy that the kids who hang out here bring their own drinks and snacks. The empty ziploc bags, cheez-it cartons and Gatorade bottles perpetually litter my front lawn.

Perhaps it's as simple as the fact that we tolerate them.

The point is, at any given time, there are likely to be at least one or two extra warm bodies roaming around our house.

I try to be mindful of this. I don't wander around in my underwear. I always wear a bra. I make an effort to comb my hair, wash my face, and brush my teeth. Most days. And probably 5 days out of 7, I even have make-up on.

But Saturday was a rare exception. We found ourselves ensconced in the living room, ready to watch our weekly family movie, with only our own offspring in attendance.

WHAT? No impossibly long and knobby limbs scattered upon my living room floor? No testosterone fueled arm wrestling? No dueling farts? No teenaged boy funk permeating the air?

Ah. Bliss.

So we watched the movie, some silly Jackie Chan thing in which I really had no interest, but which the boys (including the 42 year old boy) found wholly engaging, and after which, the boys disappeared upstairs to fritter away their weekend video game allotment(s).

Husband and I went upstair to...ummm...bed. Yeah.

Now listen, when you have teenaged kids, you really have to just get over any heebie jeebies you have about having sex when they're around. At least, you do if you actually care about having sex while you're still young enough to enjoy it.

I'll admit, it used to skeeve me out to have sex knowing they were conscious. It just seemed so wrong. And then came the awareness that I so dreaded, which made it even worse.

One Saturday evening, as we were all preparing for bed, Pubescent One asked if he could snuggle with me. Even though Pubescent One is too cool to acknowledge my existence in public, and Diminutive One doesn't want me to touch him if anyone is looking, they still enjoy curling up in bed with their Mommy.

Husband and I had plans, however, and I had to decline.

"Whhhyyyyyyyy?" he whined.

"Because I'm snuggling with Dad tonight." I said, naievely thinking that this explanation would be taken at face value.

"Well can I after?" he asked hopefully.

"After WHAT?" I demanded.

"After you know...snuggle."

We did not have sex that night. I just couldn't. My children knew we were having sex and that sucked the libidinous wind right out of my sails.

But I got over it. Self enforced deprivation will do that to you.

They know what we're doing when the door is closed. I'm not sure if this is scarring them for life, or creating a healthy attitude about sex as a normal and non-shameful part of a happy marriage.

Whichever the case, the jig is up and we all just have to make the best of it.

Usually, they respect the closed door. Sometimes they do not.

And sometimes, they use the closed door as carte blanche to do stuff they would otherwise not be permitted to do, knowing full well we will be engaged within for an indeterminate period of time, but one sufficiently lengthy enough for them to perpetrate any number of misdeeds.

So anyway.

Saturday night we took advantage of the quiet to close the door.

We emerged an hour later, more or less, to find that Pubescent One's room, mere feet from our own, was once again host to more than just our own children.

It had been after ten o'clock when we went up. This would normally be too late for people to be invited in. And, though kids constantly come and go from our house, after a certain hour, permission is needed.

Not to mention the fact, that Pubescent One knew what we were doing. And still he invited people in.

So let me just go over that for you one more time....My thirteen year old son invited people up into his bedroom knowing full well his parents were having sex in the room next to his.

Misdeed, indeed.

When confronted about what he had done, he was completely ignorant as to why this was inappropriate, inconsiderate, and just plain rude. He honestly had no idea why we were so upset.

He never once thought about the fact that we might like and deserve some privacy in our own home. Or, that while we are open and frank with them, we don't need everyone else to know the intimate details of our sex life. Or that his friend's parents might not appreciate us bumping uglies while their children are right down the hall.

He was...get this, annoyed that we sent his friends home, and annoyed that we embarassed him.

You know...realistically, I understand that when they're gone and the house is empty...I'll miss them. I know empty nest syndrome will likely hit me very hard.

But right now, it's hard to conceive of doing anything other than a dance of jubilation.


In the kitchen.


  • At 9:56 PM, Blogger Middle Girl said…


    Bookmark this little episode & others like it when the nest is indeed empty. It will lighten that particular load, for sure.

  • At 10:28 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    My latest mission in life, OTHER than finding the perfect tights?

    Embarrassing the pee out of my teenaged sons. And it's so easy.

    Keep it up, girl. Close the door. Make loud farting noises. Bray like a donkey. Then open the door again. Quickly. They'll scatter like roaches, and this will never happen again.

  • At 6:50 AM, Blogger Fairly Odd Mother said…

    I'll have to remember this entire episode in a few years.

    And, yeah, the dancing naked in the kitchen will be fun someday, even if, by then, no one will be happy to catch a glimpse of my time-ravaged body.

  • At 7:27 AM, Blogger Avalon said…

    Just about the time you feel safe to dance in the kitchen, one of them will show up with a bag of laundry-----and their latest love interest to meet you for the first time!

  • At 9:14 AM, Blogger Amy Y said…

    Oh my ~ this is something I hadn't even begun to ponder. Right now we can just wait until after 8pm to do the nasty... but it never occurred to me that eventually 8pm will be too early for bedtime.

    And thanks for the visual ~ my day is now off to a very pleasant start, thinking about you dancing nekkid in the kitchen. ;) hee hee

  • At 3:02 PM, Blogger Green-Eyed Momster said…

    Wow!! I just hope you're not a screamer and that your headboard doesn't bang on the wall..... ;)

    OMG, woman, I hear you about the kids knowing WHAT you're doing. Our house is way too small for secrets. Only the older ones know for sure what we're up to. The other two are still too young.

    Our oldest could be out of the house in two years. I might turn his room into a craft room because our headboard, is on the other side of his wall.....Need I say more?


  • At 10:39 AM, Blogger Shelley said…

    Every time I embarrass my 13 year-old daughter (which is on a daily basis), I just consider it payback for all the times that she's embarrassed me. Of course, I don't ever do it on purpose. Hardly ever. Definitely not always on purpose.

  • At 3:26 PM, Blogger Crazed Nitwit said…

    Hehe. Been here, done that. They even get more self centered as they age into tennagerism. One must laugh or one would cry and stomp their feet and that is pointless.

    You have my complete and total empathy.


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