Teenagers -- bleck

So, I'm currently immersed in the utter joy of transitioning a teenager into an adult. It's really one of the most unpleasant experiences that I've ever had - even worse than ARC meetings that require more than 6 people. And before I begin, I think that I should get a very big thank you from my parents because I am quite certain that I never, but never, put them through this same sort of crap -- Holden Caufield was never a character that I identified with. Teen angst wasn't my schtick. However, Franklin seems to be right there in the middle of the world is unfair, why can't I make my own rules, I have no freedom, you are stupid and old and don't know what it's like. (Though to be fair, it's entirely possible that I'm putting some words into his mouth, but since there aren't any words coming out, then what's a girl to do.) And to top it off, he's so like a man in that I've been pissed off at him and barely talking to him for a week - and when I told him today that I had been very angry at him, he looked at me in shock. Which lets me know that I need to step up my game on being upset. I suppose the latina way is to rant and rave loudly, throw stuff, something like that. Maybe I'll try that next time.
Anyway, today I told Franklin that without ire, irritation or meanness, I was going to start treating him like an adult. That meant that I wasn't going to follow him around and remind him that he had obligations. And that if he wanted to go and do, then he needed to give proper notice - which for me was always, but always 12 to72 hours depending on the need. And that as an adult, he was going to be allowed to make mistakes. And if he didn't like the result of those mistakes, or missed opportunities because of his lack of iniative, then that was no one's fault but his own and he'd have to deal with it. It was, so to speak, a formal letting go. And I think that I needed to say it more than he needed to hear it. But, it's also a little bit like the mini-death (the first big illness that puts your parents, grandparents in the hospital when you realize they can die, so that when it actually happens, it's not as big a shock as it could have been). I know it's not the only time that it's going to be said or talked about, but each time, it should get easier - I hope so anyway.

One of those Moments

So, Friday, we took a day. We'd gone to Cadiz to see my dad, who had the flu - though we didn't know that until we got there. So the boys and I, in consideration for senior citizen illness - and hidden concerns about swine flu - decided to turn the day into an educational field trip day. We went to Land Between the Lakes. The first stop was the planetarium. We got out of the car, and began to walk in, me and my boys. And being a good mom of boys, familiar with the simple joy in creating a lovely, loud fart, as I was walking and felt the urge, I succumbed. And when I looked behind me to see the reaction of the boys, instead, I saw a strange man, who had mysteriously appeared behind Elijah, walking up. And I froze. Now, in retrospect, if I'd been a bit smoother, I would have laughed out loud and told him that I'll be he sure wasn't expecting that. What I came up with was, "oh... oh..." blind grasp for Isaiah's hand and another "oh...Isaiah." With a deep seated, though realistically fantastical, belief that perhaps the man would credit said gas passing to my young son, instead of me. And then, there was the painful walk into the planetarium, as he sped up and passed me - catching and avoiding my eye as he walked by. And me, not to be cowered into embarrassment, looking at him and saying, "hello, how are you?" And then once he'd passed, Elijah came up behind me and looked at me and whispered, "you passed gas in front of him." In my deep felt mortification, I can't recall all that he said - I know that he had a "that's just not right." sort of approach, and all I could do was grin stupidly while I attempted not to break into hysterical laughter, nodding all the while. And now as I think of it - that man could probably witness the whole conversation in the window of the doors as he was walking up - and still, he had the courage to open the door for us. And I, had the courtesy to not pass gas again as I entered.
And now, I challenge each of you to share your own caught passing gas story - because you know you all have one. It's liberating to share it and own up to it. I FART therefore I AM.