Let’s face it…sometimes the best self-preservation tool in my kit is disengaging from these overly hormonal, angsty young people and spending time with my delightfully snarky friends. During this time there may or may not be tequila involved (though I wouldn’t lay odds on the latter). But hey, on the bright side I figure it keeps my hands busy so I don’t end up snatching some smart ass tween off their feet.
Can I get a holla?!? (And some shot glasses.)
10 tween behaviors that call for tequila (and Squirt):
- Extensive eye rolling. The kind where the pupil nearly disappears, a dramatic sigh hisses between the lips, and if there was any justice in the world the kid’s face would freeze like that.
- A stank rises up which is so horrifying it demands a five foot perimeter around said child. No amount of prodding can convince them to apply additional deodorant, and there’s an 80% probability they’ll be wearing armpit exposing clothes to boot. If the buffer doesn’t deaden the stench, maybe the tequila will deaden your olfactory senses.
- Learning that a classmate shared his favorite twerking thong video with your kid. This is delightful for oh so many reasons, not the least of which is it launches conversations about a) Instagram exposure, b) thongs, and c) the permanent visual of twerking.
- Mediating the sixth argument of the day about my room or they pushed me or Don’t touch my stuff! or The Face (as in He’s/She’s making THAT FACE at me again!). Yeah. At a certain point, I’m out.
- The huff, puff, stomp, SLAM! combination after being told to do something. Apparently a directive about anything from putting a glass in the dishwasher to brushing teeth is now a massive imposition.
- Being plugged into iPads so completely that nothing short of a nuclear blast pulls their attention away. Questions about homework? Nothing. Requests for chore status? Nada. Being called for dinner? Still as statues. I admittedly get a little shrill after the third time I’ve called someone’s name. I can’t claim this is a new condition, but it seems to have been aggravated by the tween ‘tude.
- Finding myself on the receiving end of what can only be described as Tornado Bear. (This used to be T-man’s area of expertise, but he’s passed the baton.) Remaining calm in the face of a swiftly decompensating tween girl takes superhuman strength. The ability to dig down deep, grab hold of some self-control, and not scream back “Well, what on earth made you think I’D be in charge of where your other shoe is?!? is a well honed skill.
- Enduring three rounds of late night, last minute, entirely inane fighting about clothes or toothpaste or hair in the shower or wet towels on the floor…seriously, kids…after 8:30 nothing is worthy of raised voices unless your hair’s on fire so suck it up, buttercup.
- Their ability to take a pile of neatly sorted and folded clothing to their room then a) dump it in a chair, b) shove it under the bed, or c) cram it into drawers until the dresser is ready to burst. This behavior makes finding a particular piece of clothing challenging, and if that problem drops on the wrong morning? Well, see #7 above.
- An inexplicably stubborn refusal to purge underwear that’s two sizes too small, favorite shoes they’ve outgrown, or a toothbrush with bristles bent in half. Apparently these are all things my mommy radar is simply supposed to sense. Guess my radar’s on the fritz.