ANOTHER TRUE STORY IN THE SAGA OF RAISING CW
Sunday, we had a meeting with CW about his attitude--which is arrogant, disdainful, superior, rude, condescending and obnoxious-in short, he is a typical 16 year old. I, being the quintessential nurturing maternal figure, in addition to having a degree in
psychology and years of practice working with wayward and disturbed adolescents, informed him that I would put peanut butter on the table and buy cheap clothes from WalMart because legally I had to clothe and feed him, but that I wanted nothing more to do with him until he could speak to me in a tone of voice slightly more respectful than the one he uses to the cat when it puts a half dead animal on his bed. Since he knows that to storm out of a room no matter how stupid and inane he thinks the conversation is, will bring immediate sanctions, his way of communicating his opinion of said conversation is to slide to the floor and lie on his back staring at the ceiling while we talk
at him. After an extended interval of useless railing, we usually pretend that we have accomplished our goal, and excuse him. And Sunday was no different.
He headed upstairs, post-tirade, to his computer to look for sympathy from his friends as Dan and Ammo slid out the back door to escape to the batting cages. I headed to the study to write the bills and balance the checkbook, but noticed that I had a blinking msg from Freddy. Meanwhile, the ceiling began to vibrate-extremely loud music, driving drums and a pounding bass emerging from CW's room directly over the study. I smile to myself--how immature, how adolescent- playing loud music just to get back at me! I rush over to the CD rack and find my Karaoke Opera CD and crank up the volume. Then I msg. Freddy and whine about parenthood. He says, "What's he listening to?"
"Who knows? It's all drums and bass." A minute later, Freddy informs me it's Nine Inch Nails and that CW doesn't like it either, but figures I like it even less than he, so it's worth enduring. Freddy, the traitor, is talking to CW at the same time he's talking to me!!!!! I hike the volume up as far as it will go and begin to sing "O Mio Babino" from Gianni Schicchi loudly. The drums upstairs become demonic. Meanwhile I can almost hear Freddy chortling all the way from L.A., egging CW on while telling me that kids are merely pets that talk and I don't expect Blue to do chores, so why do I make such harsh demands on CW? (Poor CW was complaining howe he had to ride the new riding mower around the back acre--or did he tell Freddy that he had to cut the grass by hand with a scythe?) I am now singing "Un Bel Di" from Madama Butterfly repeatedly and really letting go on the high B flat at the end. CW has gotten out his keyboard and begun playing along with the CD , and I swear he's not playing in the same key as the CD on purpose. And besides, he had stolen the speakers from the poolhouse and has about eight speakers wired up around his room, so it's am uneven battle except for my
high B flat which can do severe damage even through walls. The phone rings. Immediate silence from above. Then a message flashes on my screen.
"Mom, do you need anything from the store?"
I type back, "No."
He types, "I'd be glad to go for you."
I am no fool. "Why?"
"Just trying to help."
"Well-I have to make a list."
"I have to go now."
Suspicion stirs. I turn down Puccini. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Nicole. She has one hour to go out."
Hmmmm- let him go or....
More Nine Inch Nails......
"You have one hour, and I hope you appreciate it," I type magnanimously, graciously.
I turn off Karaoke Opera and put on Enya's Shephard Moons, volume at level 2. CW pounds down the stairs, comes in,
hugs me and says sweetly, "Thanks, Mom. I love you."
I look out the window as he pulls out of the driveway, car stereo blaring and wonder...
Who won? |
