Adventures In Motherhood

I've seen a lot of s*&% as a parent, but this summer my eyes, virgin to teenage boyhood, have been forced wide open, nearly blinding me by my own home's National Lampoon's 'Animal House' potential. My basement is not your frat house. With possibilities of destruction seemingly endless, my cool mom attitude butts up against the tough mother raising responsible adults. Sweet gooey hugs and the illusion of parental control seeming to vanish overnight like the soft moustache hair you shaved with your brand new razor last night. Help yourselves to pizza and microwave anything; popcorn, burritos and free-range chicken nuggets are lunchtime staples in my home, along with snacks of Goldfish, chips, pretzels, apples, oranges, grapes, (a bonanza of bananas for your buddy with the midnight potassium cravings), and instant lemonade. I will sauté, grill, and bake my Betty Crocker butt off to satiate the hungriest army of growing children at our family dinner table! Your...

Parenthood is a Mensa mental challenge these days of major league proportions. Uncomfortable silence be damned! You are my son and I will keep rattling off topics requiring more than a yes/no answer until the cows come home, as we pass the pastures and rolling hills of Oregon en route to our latest baseball tournament. The hour and location unimportant, I have a GPS and my only goal is time alone with you. With four children, a car ride alone with you is a passable date as I step up to the plate. Deep voice and prickly moustache amidst your fourteen-year-old complexion, I can still see the almost 8lb 12.5oz little slugger with handsome sideburns gazing in my eyes with wonder. I know you still need your mom even though your replies sound more like grunts. Why is the answer to what you and your buddies ate for dinner while skateboarding last night 'stuff'? I'm mom and you're safe! This is my first time parenting a teen boy. Grunts and stuff may be the norm though ...