In anticipation of my teen's graduation from middle school this evening, I, the mom, woke up at the crack of dawn.
After all, there was much work to be done before we delivered our teen at 5:30 p.m. sharp to the auditorium of the local high school, which she will be attending in the fall. Manicure, pedicure, hair and make-up, all of which take just about the whole day for a teen. And it falls on the mom, not the dad (who being the dad had to put in a full day at the office although his first-born was reaching a crucial milestone) to schlep the teen around to get all these done in an orderly and timely fashion.
So to avoid any unexpected dramas from marring an otherwise beautiful moment in our lives, teen and I agreed (or rather, I agreed for the both of us) that we'd need to leave home at an appointed time in the a.m.
Of course, teen being a teen missed my deadline and overslept. In retrospect, she did need to catch up on the 200 hours or so of sleep she missed during the past school year.
Meanwhile, I got the ball rolling in the kitchen about 7 a.m. with a quick breakfast. I glanced at the clock. Got the younger two kids on the bus. Peeked at the clock again. Got things rolling for dinner since time would be tight later, but teen was intent on getting her beauty sleep. (Now, in my days, my very strict dad would have dumped a cold bucket of H2O on my face...and God forbid I should have even fancied any beauty treatments.) But this being America, and my teen being a second-generation Indian-American, corporal punishment can be more injurious to a parent. Moreover, it is every parent’s moral obligation to ensure her child receives the appropriate beauty treatments lest she appear any less groomed than her peers and be shunned from beauty school.
Morning totally wasted for the teen (but quite busy for the mom), and after a quick lunch, teen, younger sister, brother and I set out for our first stop: the nail salon for a manicure/pedicure for the teen and sister, and just a pedicure for me, thank you, since I still had much work to do before the graduation and needed the full function of my hands.
Second stop: CVS. To pick up a hair straightener gadget that also has the capacity to curl the straightened hair. (Now, in my days. the only hair treatment I benefited from were soap and a generous application of coconut oil (done dutifully by my mom, much to my chagrin) to keep it silky and shiny. Kids’ demands these days, as I said, are hair-raising.
Third stop: Grocery store to pick up some ice cream and miscellaneous stuff. Since dad had to put in a full day at the office (did I say that?) and couldn’t be home in time for dinner, and since the graduation ceremony started just as families in America would sit down to eat dinner, we scrapped the plan for dining out. No dining out after the ceremony either since dinner after 8 p.m. for the younger kids is not a palatable idea. So the plan was to dine early at home and to have brownies topped with a healthy dose of cookies and chocolate ice cream for dessert after the ceremony. Of course, since time was of the essence here, I had to resort to making brownies out of a box. But, it was still work.
Home, at last, teen had to get her normally wavy hair combed, straightened and then curled. (Thankfully, we took care of the haircut a few days earlier.)
Brownies in the oven, I had to rush upstairs as teen needed help with her dress. (Note: It took two trips to various stores for teen to settle on a couple of dresses, neither of which appealed much to her now). The yellow-brown floral summer dress, which she finally decided upon, looked perfect in my eyes, but looked just not right to the teen, which necessitated the use of safety pins and other tricks by mom to make it look just right. Then, just a touch of lip gloss (thankfully, she is not much into artistry yet).
Now my teen was ready for prime time but there was no time for dinner. We rushed to have a quick snack to tide us over till late dinner, and dad, I’m sure, broke a few traffic rules to deliver teen at school just in the nick of time.
As the graduate walked toward the stage up with her head held high to receive the official document that certified her competence in all subjects, I couldn't help but wonder when I would get my certificate. After all, didn’t this mom (and dad) do all the hard work to get teen to this memorable point?
P.S. As I saw my teen march toward the stage with 350 or so of her peers, I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes watered. It was literally a back-breaking, grueling three years in middle school for her and for us, but teen survived and did great. She graduated and received the honor of President’s Academic Achievement Award. Teen, we’re proud of you babe. Now, graduation dinner is on you!!!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Mother-tested, kid-approved
After my teen’s Regents exams and finals were a thing of the past, I asked her to check out my blog.
She thundered, “You didn’t write about me, did you.”
“Of course not,” I thundered back, “it’s about ME!”
She ran upstairs to her bedroom to check it out on the Mac while I stayed a safe distance away on my first-floor kitchen. Fourteen years of parenting has taught me this: I can deal just fine with a volley of bullets, guns and other explosive devices, but I prefer to be out of range and wear my bullet-proof vests when my teen starts shooting her arrows of criticism at me.
At first, I heard a loud shriek (translation: “You lied, you did write about me.”). I was fully prepared for this blow. Every muscle in my body tightened and I held my breath waiting for the next barrage of missiles. But then I heard her crack a chuckle. And then some more. I began to exhale, slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was off the hook completely. Finally, she exclaimed, “it is funny.” “Really,” I said, “then can you ask your cousins to read it and post a comment.” (Of course, I warned her that I had to approve the comments. It’s still MY blog.)
It’s great to know my first post meets her approval. I am not sure if subsequent posts will garner her blessings. I may lack the liberty to write away on matters concerning my teen (the younger two have yet to find time in their busy schedules to read my 250 words or so) but I know this: unlike the famous Kix cereal slogan (Kid tested, mother approved) my posts have to be mother-tested and teen-approved. If not, I’ll never hear the end of it.
(P.S.: Teen hasn’t seen this yet. She’s still sleeping though it’s well past the break of dawn.)
She thundered, “You didn’t write about me, did you.”
“Of course not,” I thundered back, “it’s about ME!”
She ran upstairs to her bedroom to check it out on the Mac while I stayed a safe distance away on my first-floor kitchen. Fourteen years of parenting has taught me this: I can deal just fine with a volley of bullets, guns and other explosive devices, but I prefer to be out of range and wear my bullet-proof vests when my teen starts shooting her arrows of criticism at me.
At first, I heard a loud shriek (translation: “You lied, you did write about me.”). I was fully prepared for this blow. Every muscle in my body tightened and I held my breath waiting for the next barrage of missiles. But then I heard her crack a chuckle. And then some more. I began to exhale, slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was off the hook completely. Finally, she exclaimed, “it is funny.” “Really,” I said, “then can you ask your cousins to read it and post a comment.” (Of course, I warned her that I had to approve the comments. It’s still MY blog.)
It’s great to know my first post meets her approval. I am not sure if subsequent posts will garner her blessings. I may lack the liberty to write away on matters concerning my teen (the younger two have yet to find time in their busy schedules to read my 250 words or so) but I know this: unlike the famous Kix cereal slogan (Kid tested, mother approved) my posts have to be mother-tested and teen-approved. If not, I’ll never hear the end of it.
(P.S.: Teen hasn’t seen this yet. She’s still sleeping though it’s well past the break of dawn.)
Monday, June 21, 2010
Hey, you stole my title......
You can say I arrived late on the scene.
Just when I finally had this great idea for a title of my blog-to-be, I find out the title's been taken, by another mom of three and a copy editor. Now, that's tough competition. (Other mom's title: "Diary of a Wimpy Mom") But I'm such a wimpy mom that rather than fight this other mom on the rights to the title I thought of years ago, I challenge her to my new status as "the wimpiest mom."
You'd think that birthing three kids (two girls and a boy), one of whom is squarely a teen now, and the others trailing the oldest by a few years, would elevate me to the status of being "the bravest mom." But in my house where five is enough, sometimes I am truly a wimp, and sometimes I pretend to be a wimp. It's up to my kids and long-suffering hubby to figure out when I am a genuine wimp and when I am not.
"Diary of a Wimpy Kid" is my son's favorite book series. He and the rest of the family had gone to see the movie when it came out, and I embarrassed my kids totally by LMAO...My teen daughter, who had the foresight to sit two seats to my left, kept sending messages via her brother, seated to my immediate left, to keep it down. But I paid for the tickets and it was my night out, and I felt I had every right under the mostly dimmed theater lights to laugh loudly to my heart's desire. My kids still want me to take them to the movies but I think my teen will sit at a far distance. God forbid anyone should think I am her mother. My younger two still think the world of me, for now.
Meanwhile, this is the first of my many postings, God willing, and I hope you'll join me for the ride as I raise three wonderful kids and the big baby (my hubby), work full-time, engage in many many hobbies (cooking, reading, bicycling among others), live life and figure out when to be a real wimp...
~LT
Just when I finally had this great idea for a title of my blog-to-be, I find out the title's been taken, by another mom of three and a copy editor. Now, that's tough competition. (Other mom's title: "Diary of a Wimpy Mom") But I'm such a wimpy mom that rather than fight this other mom on the rights to the title I thought of years ago, I challenge her to my new status as "the wimpiest mom."
You'd think that birthing three kids (two girls and a boy), one of whom is squarely a teen now, and the others trailing the oldest by a few years, would elevate me to the status of being "the bravest mom." But in my house where five is enough, sometimes I am truly a wimp, and sometimes I pretend to be a wimp. It's up to my kids and long-suffering hubby to figure out when I am a genuine wimp and when I am not.
"Diary of a Wimpy Kid" is my son's favorite book series. He and the rest of the family had gone to see the movie when it came out, and I embarrassed my kids totally by LMAO...My teen daughter, who had the foresight to sit two seats to my left, kept sending messages via her brother, seated to my immediate left, to keep it down. But I paid for the tickets and it was my night out, and I felt I had every right under the mostly dimmed theater lights to laugh loudly to my heart's desire. My kids still want me to take them to the movies but I think my teen will sit at a far distance. God forbid anyone should think I am her mother. My younger two still think the world of me, for now.
Meanwhile, this is the first of my many postings, God willing, and I hope you'll join me for the ride as I raise three wonderful kids and the big baby (my hubby), work full-time, engage in many many hobbies (cooking, reading, bicycling among others), live life and figure out when to be a real wimp...
~LT
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