November 2, 2007

First of all, I have no earthly idea what the heck was up with the post for November 1st. Stupid thing. I wrote it like a civilized human - complete with paragraph structure, and spaces between paragraphs. It posted like it was written by a left-handed chimpanzee. No spaces, no paragraphs...stinking difficult to read. After 2 days, and a dozen attempts to edit it, I rewrote the entire post - only to have it happen again. The only way I could make it remotely pallatable, was to put in those giant spaces. I fear I will have to do that again today - so please bear with me, and with blogspots apparant bug-a-gogo. Ack.


My real reason for writing today? I'm old. I'm ancient. I've crossed into a new, and admittedly terrifying, phase of my existence. I am now the mother of a teenager. May God and the universe have mercy on my pitiful soul....


My oldest daughter crossed the threshold to teen wonderland today. I believe I could actually hear the gray hairs springing forth with a new-found gusto. I can guarantee you, I could hear the increased whoosh-whoosh of my heart beat, as my blood pressure climbed to never-before-seen dizzying heights. I now own a teen...I have found fear.


As my daughter assured us this morning, she can most definitely feel the difference in her life. She can tell the world is different now. I mean, like duh..., she's a teen now, that makes everything different. Now she's just so mature she should be able to stay up later, make all her own decisions, talk on the phone for more hours than there actually are in a day, and be allowed to do/buy/get anything and everything she wants. Uh huh. Oh, my dear child is in for "such" a rude awakening. I may be old...but last time I checked, I wasn't entirely dead yet.


So here was my day, partially massaging the Macy's-balloon-sized over-inflated ego of my new "teen", while simultaneously patching up the bruised self-esteem of an aging diva who is having trouble reconciling her perceptions with her actual life. Oh yeah, its been a contradictory kind of day. "Mom, I think I should be able to stay up an hour later, pick all my own clothes, and be allowed to go the mall alone with a friend." "Daughter, you're still a little kid, your taste borders on vampire sleaze, and those boobs paired with your lack of common sense will guarantee I won't let you out of my sight for years." You may deduce how well the day went for me.


And what was my dieting self doing while attempting to adjust to this new chapter in our Family History? Eating. Eating a lot. Eating sugar. A lot of it. Eating Halloween candy, and pretty much anything else that wasn't nailed down. I'm afraid my spiral into self-destruction is picking up speed. I have an overwhelming feeling this downward (or by the scale, upward) trend is not finished yet. Crap on it all...I'm frustrated! I can't figure out how to staple my lips shut. Worse, I can't figure out why I can't figure it out.


Ack. Are all parents of teens/toddlers/cancerkids/and first graders this nuts?! I've gone so far overboard, I'm considering changing my name to Brazil. I'm quite the hard nut to crack.



Fudge farts...I can hear the Snickers calling.


Alicia, the Crazy Cancer Mom, losing weight (well, entertaining the idea) and my mind, to raise awareness of pediatric cancer.

www.crazycancermom.com