The gods help me, Princess has been hit with the puberty/pre-teen stick hard! She may not live to see her next birthday and I'm not too sure how sad I am about that. I told her I am going to kill her and bury her in the manure pile in the backyard, then her dog will eat that manure pile and expose her body thereby insuring me a life sentence in prison, where I will enjoy the peace and quiet and freedom from a snarky little booger like her. I'm not sure I can take her actual teenage years if this is a taste of what's to come. When I did foster care, they liked to give me teenagers because I "did so well with them." Its really not that hard. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Don't try to be their buddy and don't try to force confidences with them. It also helped that I am not interested in their "secrets" because I know their secrets ain't that great; mine are better, and mine ain't that great either. Regardless of my lack of interest, they spilled their guts anyway. And I was right: their secrets ain't that great. Princess is already starting that know-it-all attitude. No matter how many times I tell her that I have already been through the 5th grade -- and yes, I passed it -- she still tries to stump me with nuggets of wisdom that she learned in school and has the audacity to be surprised that I know them. She is shocked that I don't spend my days in a corner, not knowing what to do with myself when she is not around to tell me how things should be done. I am hopelessly uncool and I have no idea how to function in this world without her to hold my hand and lead me through it. Never mind that I have made it 34 years without being committed to an institution for the mentally handicapped, and, believe it or not, they are not chasing me around with a big dog net to catch me and put me away before I can do any more harm to myself. Although I think she is hatching a plan to call them and tell them where I will be to make their jobs easier.
It's okay for everyone to barge in on me in the bathroom and check out my goodies, but GOD FORBID if I need something out of the bathroom while she is in there! She wraps herself in the shower curtain like I'm some Chester The Molester trying to rake my eyes over her body. I have been through puberty, too. Why do you think I can actually fill out a bra? It ain't all Kleenexes in there. I am 100% uninterested in how puberty works. I already know. I don't need to check her out because I remember it all. Jabber is even worse. He acts like his beans and weenies are the most sacred of all things and we are all dying to check out what we have never seen before. I changed his diapers and, something I'm not going to say to him, I was married for a few years and have seen my share of twigs and berries, so I don't need to check his out. Alas, my words are all in vain.
This morning we got into an argument about what time I get up each morning. She tried to tell me that I never get out of bed before 4:30am and it has always been that way. Beings as I'm the only one up each time I get up in the morning, and I have always had a strict rule that I DO NOT get out of bed before 4am, I felt pretty confident that I do not get out of bed before 4am, not 4:30am. She only gets up at 6am each morning because I get her up, and if she lollagags too long in bed I pull out the noise makers from New Year's and get her up that way. But what is my knowledge of my waking up times compared to an 11 year old's knowledge? Nothing.
Thank goodness I have her to tell me what I'm doing wrong and how to do it right, otherwise I would be drooling in a corner waiting for her to come home from school and remind me to breathe. Whew! Another bullet narrowly missed!
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