One of those posts about parenting.

I thought I had a good grasp on this teenage parenting gig. I know I haven’t officially been a teen parent all that long; I know there is a long way to go, but I still felt like I knew what was what.

Then the past few days came by. Two parts great, one part WHAT THE?

When I asked The Blue Eyed Boy to walk the dog with his sister he flat out refused. Not in a yeah, in a minute Mum, way. More a look at my face there is no way in hell I am walking the d0g today, way. A way that made me realise we have stepped up a notch in the you can’t make me game. I told him if he did not go I’d remove his iPad and iPhone for the day. He did not budge.

I had a choice, go up against him, yell,  fight, say things I would later regret, and still not win or walk away. Walk away it was.

The dog got a walk, with the Green Eyed Girl and myself. He lost the use of his precious iDevices for the day and the night.

When we returned home and walked up to the back door it was locked. We checked the sunroom doors. Locked. I didn’t know whether I should be pissed off, or out and out proud of him for having the guts to lock us out.

He let us in quickly enough. He looked embarrassed. I told him I was two parts pissed off and one part proud. In truth it was the other way round.

Yesterday was his first day of school holidays. The Green Eyed Girl and I still have this and next week. (While Hubby is at home, he has work to do, and is for the most part, down in this office). So, for the first time I left  him a note with a household task to do. It was day one of his break after a long, hard year at school, so I went easy on him with just one task.

When we returned home the dish washer was on and he had just showered. Winning. Some housework got done and he spent most of the day online gaming. I’ll ease him into longer lists.

Then, just as I was beginning to unwind on the back veranda, I received a text. From my son. While he was in his bedroom.

Ah, it really has begun. This teenage thing.

I know there will be days when I am three part pissed off. Others when I’ll be three parts proud, and some when it’s a 1.5 split each way.

But at least, at the end of the day, if it all goes wrong, I know he’ll text me from the bedroom and ask what’s for tea.

 

Tags: parenting 101

The dog ate my homework.True stories of motherhood.

Offending dog, belly full of homework, sleeping it off.

When you have children you know there are going to be some things that you’d rather not do. Like the time your daughter power spews in the supermarket when you just dash in for nappies. Naturally at the time you’re wearing one of Hubby’s T-shirts that comes almost to your knees and the worlds oldest trackies. You are now also sporting a lovely splash of vomit. This kind of thing comes within the normal bounds of parenting. Nasty as it is.

What you don’t expect to do is write a note to your son’s high school teacher about the dog eating his homework. It’s a joke excuse. As old as homework itself. There is even a poster in my son’s homeroom alluding to the fact dogs do not eat homework, so just do it and hand it in.

Problem with this, the teacher (and the designer of the poster) have not met our dog.

You see Rusty, the world’s most annoying yet loveable dog, has a thing for apples. Being a smart hound, he knows there is a pretty good chance a discarded apple will be floating around the bottom of a dumped school bag. We know he has eaten one when we find a neatly discarded stalk on the floor. Apple stalks apparently being unpalatable to this pooch, unlike cat poo, which is like crack.

So it was that Rusty was found nose deep in The Blue Eyed Boy’s school bag, hot on the trail of a school lunch apple. He’s a dog, he cares about apples, not homework. The badass honey badger of the dog world that he is.

This is why at breakfast today I was penning a note to a high school teacher about a dog eating homework. Naturally I had to tweet about it. Someone requested an instagram photo of the letter. It was bad enough writing it. It is bad enough that I know it will do the rounds of the staffroom like some lunch time laughable letter of the week. But, as I don’t have the actual letter anymore (though perhaps if you google best/worse homework excuse ever, you may be in luck) I have recreated it for you below.*

Who says I don’t go above and beyond for the readers.

Dear Sir**

The Blue Eyed Boy has completed his comic strip assignment for the book Holes. However, our dog Rusty loves apples and was rifling through The Blue Eyed Boy’s bag for one. In the process the dog damaged the assignment. We have attempted to smooth the paper out, but some holes and small tears are still visible.

Please let me know via email if you would like The Blue Eyed Boy to re-do this assignment.

Regards,

Naomi

For serious, the assignment was about a book called holes.

HOLES.

YOU CAN NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP PEOPLE.

I am mortified. The dog is happy and none the wiser. The Blue Eyed Boy did not have to re-do his holey holes assignment and the teacher got to have a joke at my expense. So, not a total loss.

Now, pass me a gin.

*This is a reenactment letter, it is not word for word.

**Clearly Sir is not his real name. I need to protect him, once he stops laughing that is.

Tags: just keep swimming, parenting 101, The dog ate my homework