My friend Jenn - whom I love dearly and needs coffee, like most mommies I know - has another thought provoking post (dammit!) about teens and the parents who blog about them. Namely, me. Because, you know, I am a mom, with teens, tweens, a precocious seven-year-old and I happen to keep a blog. Or, two.
Well, it's like told Jenn:
"I've been blogging for 5 years now (4 kids all under the age of 10, 'nuf said) and, yes...the stories have changed...a little...but, it's still OUR story and I don't write about anything that I (or, my kids) would be uncomfortable sharing, in real life.
Although, my kids are in school full-time, my job is far from being done. I will have TWO teenagers, in a couple of months (ACK!) and personally, I feel that being their mom has become even harder.
However, my reasons for keeping This Full House remain the same - blogging is cheaper than therapy!"
Then, one of my kids goes and bleeds all over herself and what if I told you that the first thing I did was Twitter it?
I know, as if I couldn't find anything more constructive to do and how DO I find the time, right?
[bites lower lip]
You see, they already know - besides, the fact that I am a major dork - it ain't easy, being me. Or, them. Anyone, with kids would probably understand. The helplessness (not to mention, absolute terror) of watching your child crumple to the ground in pain.
Of course, I panicked.
Did I mention, I'm not very good with blood?
"What is WRONG with me?"
The child was bleeding from a place that a 12-year-old, you know, ought not and...oh, Holy Hannah Montana... there was a lot of blood!
[eyes go wide]
Did I mention, I'm not very good at Texas Poker, either?
Good idea, right after I sign out of Twitter.
"OMG!"...emergency...need to take kid to doctor - good thoughts, please!"
I use Twhirl, because writing (or, at least pretending to be a writer) is a solitary profession. Keeping my Twitter options open is a nice way to feel like I'm not so, you know, alone. Considering, I currently have over 300 co-workers following every dork-like move I make.
"Do you need me to come home?"
My husband, Garth (not his real name) works for...well...we're STILL not quite sure, at the moment, but he's already walking on shaky banking ground and can't afford the time off.
"No, but thanks for calming her down."
The bleeding slowed (you're welcome) and then finally stopped on its own (thank you, Jesus) and, after a quick shower, I took Thing Two to the pediatrician.
"Well, it's actually not coming from there...see?"
Trust me, you don't wanna know.
Long story, short (you're welcome) Thing Two has a pilonidal cyst - the same thing her baby brother had removed when he was 18 months old - and, though it's a painful condition that typically runs in males and her grandfather has it, it IS totally treatable.
"Holy Hannah Montana, how did we miss this?"
Okay, you could have knocked me over with a pustule.
"No problem, Mrs. Thompson, you just need to schedule her with the pediatric surgeon, right away!"
"Hi, my name is Dr. Hasnotchangedinalltheseyears."
Aaaand, he had a male assistant.
"How old are you?"
I thought Thing Two was going to faint.
With that, she dropped her drawers and climbed up onto the examining table in a...LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH...M'KAY...sort of way.
"You fixed my brother."
"Yeah, I thought I recognized the butt."
Did I mention, the man is a genius and he (not to mention, his wonderful wit) hasn't changed a bit?
Wow, what a difference a day can make, dammit.
"We'll make an incision to relieve the pressure and Mommy's going to help."
[eyes go wide]
And me, without my Twitter buds.
"I'm right here, baby."
So, while Dr. Hasnotchangedabit did the cutting, I put my face into hers and promised Thing Two the moon, a side trip to the mall, and back.
"We can pretend to shop in Hollister!"
Whose story is it?
"Or, scare the neighbors and buy something at Hot Topic?"
It's mine AND theirs, but mostly mine.
"Your mom is funny."
Maybe even you can relate, a little.
I, on the other hand, know my limits, and so do my kids.
"Yeah, but this kid happens to be WAY braver than me!"
She's recovering, nicely - though, it may take me a little longer - but, Thing Two is going to need surgery and it's not over yet.
"You CAN go ahead and blog that, Momma!"
Then, you really should be blogging, or (at the very least) be reading mine.
Because, it's cheaper than therapy and I make YOU look good...dammit!
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