There are times when being a parent is the biggest pain in the ass since post-partum hemorrhoids and then there are days when your chest swells so from parental pride, that you feel your heart might burst out of your chest. Welcome to my rollercoaster.
I was driving my son to a doctor's appointment yesterday morning and I took the opportunity of his captivity in the car to clarify the meaning behind a very stupid comment that I had made about a week ago. One day when I was driving him and a group of his friends somewhere, I made an offhand comment about not liking parents. Somewhere later in the day I realized that the kids in the car probably thought I meant that I don't like THEIR parents. This was not the case, but just because my son probably knew what I meant, didn't mean they did.
"Your friends know that I don't hate their parents, right?" I began. "Yeah, I know you don't hate them, but you're not exactly social. You don"t really hang around and talk much." He replied. "I know, but that's because I'm always running and in a hurry. It doesn't mean that I dislike them. You know the parents that I hate are just your friend's dad who threw you out of the house for your political views and the PTA." Then he looked over at me and uttered the most beautiful, pride inducing words that I think I have ever heard. His response was - "I know mom. The PTA are a council of plagues."
I'm not sure what I was more proud about, his well honed harpy detector or his brilliant use of language. Maybe both. With that one phrase, he crystallized what the PTA is in our school district and supplied himself with a great band name, should he ever decide to form a speed metal band.
My maternal pride balloon was burst this morning however, when I found that he did not close the refrigerator door properly, leaving the light on to heat an entire Memorial Day weekend worth of food to an unsafe temperature. I had to throw out the entire contents of the fridge. I have to go now as I have to re-shop for all of the food that I lost. Guess who's getting rousted out of bed at an ungodly (for a teenager) hour to put the groceries away? Yup, momma's pride and joy.