Monthly Archive: April 2019

There I said it. It hurts to admit it, but who am I fooling. It’s been a long year. A long time since I’ve written a blog post (over a year!!!! ) because truthfully middle school the second time around is kicking my ass. My son is in six grade, my daughter is in eighth grade so both kids are at the same school for this year and it’s pretty much been a constant war zone. It might be hard to determine from my Facebook/Instagram posts with constant concerts and girls trip posts that I’ve been in a funk but if you look closely, you’ll notice all of the pictures I post of my children are five years or older because I’m only posting pictures of when I still liked them. Ha ha.

Me and my brothers, we have tongues, sharp as knives-

The River-Manchester Orchestra

Jameson Gray A.K.A. Rainbow Dash

My son entered middle school after years of multiple hair color choices with a nice array of pink, purple, and blue hair. My snarky devious daughter nicknamed him Rainbow Dash after the My Little Pony and decided to share her special pet name for her brother with the entire middle school. He spent the first few months being called faggot, gay, and wondering why his sister was so cruel. Bella, my daughter, has actually come into her own this year, making a large group of friends-questionable or not. I promised myself I wouldn’t be the mom who picks friends for my children. I was always the friend other parents blamed, the white trash black sheep. I was honestly more scared of middle school for her because I know how awful teen girls can be. I’m proud of her for making her way. Unfortunately, it seems she can only find success with her foot pressed firmly on her little brother‘s throat.

Cornholios-Before the War

Always Under Her Thumb

We are family, I got all my sisters with me

We Are Family-Sister Sledge

We received phone calls from the school counselor earlier in the school year that Jameson had mentioned suicidal thoughts to a friend. He’s eleven. We spoke with the counselor and Jameson about this and he blew it off as normal attention seeking comments but clearly the bullying had gotten to him. You always worry about the bullies at school but Jameson‘s bully was living in the room next-door. We got him into counseling immediately and having someone else to talk to definitely helps. He shaved his head during Christmas break so nobody could call him Rainbow Dash anymore. Once the new semester started, somehow, mysteriously his sister’s new hateful nickname “skinhead” spread around the school once again.

Mother do you think she’s good enough, for me?
Mother do you think she’s dangerous, to me?
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooh ah,
Mother will she break my heart?

Mother – Pink Floyd

Don’t get me wrong. Jameson is no angel. I know this, we all know this. Don’t even get me started on his rotting relationship with my MIL who’s version of Grandma is like a Tale from the Darkside. He has plenty to discuss with his therapist. During the school year, he has been caught several times with a vape pen, he went to the park to “meet a friend” who turned out to be a stranger on Snapchat. Luckily he wasn’t murdered and chopped into little pieces! There was another rumor going around the school supposedly from Jameson’s lips that his fifth-grade girlfriend was good at hand jobs. When I spoke with this girl’s mother, all of us devastated, who I’ve known for years dating back to probably kindergarten, we commiserated by trading horror stories about raising teenagers… I mean honestly it was just fantastic to talk to somebody else going through the same kind of struggle.

Favorite Pic of my Twirling Girl

This was also the year that my daughter decided 14 was the perfect age to try pot. After multiple D.A.R.E. talks with her father, re-assuring us always,”I’m too smart for that, I would never say yes,” she came home reeking of weed and fell asleep promptly after making eggs for an afternoon snack. I am not ashamed to admit that I sprang a surprise drug test on her 30 days later to prove that I’m not messing around. When she says I won’t do it again, she better mean it. Hopefully, she continues to pass.

My daughter has continued to get great grades despite recreationally smoking weed at fourteen so there is a plus side. We have been working with her to share her kindness and empathy with her brother even if she believes he’s somehow the bane of her existence. Jameson has been diagnosed with ADHD and with medication has done a 180, really turning around his school work and most of his attitude. But the Collins family war wages on.

Me at 13- the most scowling girl on the track team

Jason and I were awful awful teenagers. I remember one night at my best friend’s house, her mom told us in the midst of a Miss America pageant party after trying to wrangle a later curfew,“Fine! Leave, stay out all night if you want!” So we did just that. Staying at a friend’s house then eventually sleeping in the park while her mother probably worried all night. I remember throwing a roller skate at my mother’s face as she opened my door to get the last word. I remember so many other awful things I did that hopefully she doesn’t know about. I know there are plenty of things I did that SHE remembers though I’ve long forgotten. I understand how karma works. I just didn’t really think it was going to be this awful.

Jason and I (17 and 18-cradle robber I know) asshole teens 100 years ago

I was warned repeatedly that raising teenagers would be a nightmare but no one ever told me I’d be doing it while simultaneously mourning the loss of my babies and my own youth. Dealing with teenage drama is crappy enough without feeling like I’m also going through the five stages of grief:

Denial that my snuggle bugs with squeezable chubby cheeks and any desire to spend time with Mom have been replaced with these hormonal monsters.

Anger that I will never hold my babies again. Anger that I’m still dealing with acne in my 40’s and sharing that frustration with my teen.

Bargaining with these cheap Target Mom jeans to cooperate and zip up.

Depressed that this new achy, wrinkly body is here to stay.

• And

Acceptance… I havent gotten there yet.

Why didn’t I stop at one? Be an only child with an only child? Nobody to fight with, nobody to bully, nobody to torment. I wouldn’t have spent years cutting grapes in half. Constantly have to battle with my children over what age either was allowed to do whatever, like be dropped off at the mall or get their first phone, while somehow making a super unfair world constantly balanced and equal.

But look at our lives now

All tattered and torn

We fuss and we fight

And delight in the tears

That we cry until dawn

Hold Me Now- Thompson Twins

Actually, while we’re at it, why not just be a single mom? I wouldn’t have to argue over every single decision we made with my husband- co-parenting sucks. Sometimes, teamwork does NOT make the dream work. I’ve honestly suggested he raises Bella and I’ll raise Jameson just because I’m so tired. And yes I know being a single parent is very very very very very hard but the grass is always greener, isn’t it?

I know I wouldn’t change a thing. I look at my friends without kids and I understand but I fantasize. To be 43, instead of 13, still having fantasies about running away. I wish I would have done more work on me before starting this motherhood process so maybe when they’re yelling at me I wouldn’t scream back in THIS IS ME YELLING! DO YOU LIKE BEING YELLED AT? DOES IT FEEL GOOD BEING YELLED AT? because I know that is shitty parenting. I know I have done plenty of shitty parenting. Pretty sure some good too. I reassure myself by watching shows like Better Things about other moms with kids who are just as disrespectful and mean to them, who love them just as much. Even as I envision my thumbs crisscrossing over their throats as I shake the shit out of them. Even though my son refuses to sleep so what used to be a twenty minute “snuggle” with funny YouTube videos has turned into screen-free time where we craft or carve soap…. in my bed. My own mild OCD is just the latest gift parenthood has given me. At least my room smells fantastic even if I’m sleeping in slivers of Irish Spring. Looking for pros in what feels like a landslide of cons.

Know absolutely, that I didn’t write this for any “you’re a great mom” feedback. Pretty sure only my own mother and close friends read this stuff anyway. 🤓 I’m an average Mom, often at her wit’s end, often doing a half-assed exhausted job but knowing most of the time these assholes are my best work. It’s been cathartic to write this down. Every post has been like a diary entry to reflect on maybe when the clouds part, knowing we made it through somehow. I’d also love to hear other people’s #parentfails or #kidsareassholes anecdotes. Misery loves company, so they say. Good luck out there!