Well I've been waiting for these things to happen. Really I have! I don't want to paint a bad picture of my boys, and so I wait. I've been waiting for that super cute thing to happen so that I can blog about it. Still waiting!
It's not that my remaining two are bad kids, but they are teenagers. And although they are boys, we still have a bit of drama that inevitably sneaks in from day to day. Mildly entertaining to me, but it might be considered taunting if I share it with the public.
So here's my conflict. I want to be real in my blogging, but I don't want people to read my blog and then want to smack my boys when they see them on the street! I've had to draw a line as to not incriminate my remaining resident offspring. So consequently, I don't do a lot of blogging anymore! Sorry Mary Ellen!
Other than going private (which I'm not going to do), I guess my only solution is to tread lightly. I don't need to share every ridiculous wrinkle that is created under this roof, and I don't need to share anything that a prosecuting attorney would like to get their hands on. It will be a mild version of what real mothers of teenagers deal with.
For example! Last night, we went to Target ... because I'm a sucker for these things! Every year I devour them until I am finally satisfied with the sweet taste of Easter and ready to move into Summer.
Anyway, while we were there, Jake found a pair of shorts that he needed/liked. I told him that I would buy them, but that I was going to hold onto them until the drawers in his room (which were already imploding with clothes that haven't been worn since the Bush Administration) were cleaned out and organized. He agreed. Our purchases were made and we went home.
This morning, silly Jake asked me for his new pair of shorts. I reminded him of the deal that was made and he did his best to convince me that his drawers were just fine. Oh sweet little Jake ... how did our definitions become so disconnected? He didn't argue for long and before I knew it he was on his way to school ... in an old pair of clothes. Harsh? I say no. So I continued about my day not giving it much more thought.
About 30 minutes after this handsome child had been gone, I noticed this little love note that he left on my office door. I gasped and then giggled.
The energy that was put into these bubble letters alone could have cleaned out two drawers! I love how he avoided more conflict with me by just taping this up and running. The irony is, he has no idea what conflict he just began. Oh Jake. You silly, silly ARTISTIC boy.
Does anybody that reads this have teenagers?
