I gave birth to four children, two at a time once. And one time without drugs. I learned how to change diapers and wipe poopy butts without vomiting on my child. I survived the terrible twos [and threes...and fours] five times.

But this whole teenager thing leaves me speechless. *shaking head*

Justis is on a date tonight. Ok, so he says it’s not a date. He says she’s just a friend. But according to the note I read earlier today, she thinks they are more than friends. [Don't look at me like that. Justis left the note on top of the fridge. And I was cleaning the kitchen. If he didn't want me to read it he should have left it in his room. I don't snoop through his room. Notes left in a community area are fair game. Right?]

This morning when Justis asked me if he could go ice skating tonight with a friend, I didn’t realize the friend was a girl. I assumed friend meant a boy. I assumed wrong.

As soon as I found out it was a girl he was going skating with I got a little weepy. I made a mad dash for the bathroom. Not to throw up, but to check my face for wrinkles and my hair for gray. Phew! There were none.

I’m not old enough to have a kid going on dates. I’m still young. I don’t wear grandma pants. [You know those polyester things.] I wear stylish jeans. [But I probably should note that my grandma wears jeans all the time.]

Sigh.

Keaton and Justis have been hanging out at the mall recently. The same mall I used to hang out at when I was their age. Almost twenty years ago. Can you believe that was almost twenty years ago? I can’t. It seems like yesterday.

And now Justis is on a date. A date. I still remember when our biggest problem was trying to get Justis to drink from his sippy cup instead of his bottle. And now he’s on a date.

Excuse while I go crawl in to the fetal position and beg time to slow down.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 29th, 2006 at 8:27 pm and is filed under Help Me! I have a teenager. Comments are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.