Friday, Apr. 15, 2005 - 5:23 P.M.

There are many things I am thankful for in my life. I’m thankful that I have a home and a car. I’m thankful for my job because it allows me to buy things like, my king size bed and massive 51” hi-def television, which I’m extra thankful for. I’m thankful for Cheetos. I’m thankful for peanut butter. I’m thankful for Diet Cherry Coke.

One of the things I’m most thankful for is the fact that my soon-to-be 16 year old son is a really, really good kid. He’s a child of a broken home, you know. So according to all the talking heads who examine heads, he could’ve gone either way. Blah.

He doesn’t do drugs or drink, even though I’m sure both are readily available to him. He hasn’t had sex…yet and I know that’s readily available because, (a) he’s super cute; (b) the girls these days practically carry a neon sign advertising free rental space in their woo-woos; and (c) he is not blind to said signs.

When I was 15 there were a myriad of things to get into. Pot and drugs were around, of course. (However, the drugs were of the “speed” variety, which, stupid as it sounds, we considered not very dangerous. Same with pot.) There was booze (been there) and sex (did it). Now, as hazardous as all that sounds? It wasn’t really that bad at all. For instance, when I was 15 and someone was pissed off at you they might lie in wait at your bus stop and pick a fight. Maybe. It really sort of depended on which Gilligan’s Island rerun was showing that day. Or, if it was raining. Or, if their bike had a flat. These days the pissed off kid will just shoot you.

Right now you’re asking yourself “Self, how does Purplecigar know her son is not doing these things?” I’ll tell you. First, my son and I have a great relationship. Second, I’m not one of these parents who tries to be supercool and a “friend” to their kid; one who tries to fit in with their kid’s friends. Third, I do not turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to goings-on in my house, even though at times, let’s face it, that’s the easier route. Fourth, believe me when I tell you I did some seriously crazy, screwed-up things as a teenager. Pulled all the stuff, told all the lies. Trust me, I know the behavior, the signs to look for. From the time he was born, I’ve been all up in his business and will continue to be until he moves out. At which point, I’ll just have to work a little harder. Pity his wife, people. I sure do.

Things happen with kids and there’s always that one parent who says, “Gee, I had no idea sweet little Bobby was making pipe bombs in his room, smoking crack out the bathroom window and plotting a coup of the school administration.” I, my friends, will never be this parent. And my son knows it. That’s why I can say with certainty he’s never done those things. Also? My GOD he is a horrible liar. I’d never tell him this but…he does this thing with his eyes? And, right then, I KNOW.

The bottom line is, if my son wanted to snort cocaine, shoot heroin, take ecstasy (sp? Is that how the drug is spelled?), have sex with a sweet honey and drive drunk all at the same time, he could (with considerable talent, of course). I am powerless to stop him from getting drugs or alcohol. I am powerless to stop him from having sex. What I’m not powerless at is parenting. I ROCK as a parent.

I really have no idea why I wrote this, much less posted it. I know there are some of you who don’t have and don’t ever want kids (which, by the way, I completely respect), so it’s probably pretty boring reading about my kids.

Today, I just started writing what was going to be (hopefully) a funny entry, and this is what came out.

There’s probably a reason for that.

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

© Purplecigar

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