teenagers
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• All My Mom Wants From Me

  

  Teenagers are intense people. Their emotional brains, and hormonal influxes rule their relationship to sanity. Every parent is going to have conflict with their teenage children because they are in such an intense state of growth, exploration, and questioning.

  As far as teenagers go, I wasn’t that bad. Fine… I may have had a LOT of parties behind my parents’ back, would go to raves to take crystal meth, got caught stealing, and maybe one New Years Eve I did a ton of ecstasy and called my mom at 3 am to tell her I was going to marry my 18-year old boyfriend. It’s possible I was once brought to the hospital with a police escort from public intoxication and running from the cops, and perhaps at 14 I spent a night “roof jumping” with some boys only to come home at 7am the next day really stoned.

  BUT I DID MY HOMEWORK!!

  I got along with my parents, but we also fought. Mainly because THEY SUCK!

  Over the holiday I was home in my childhood room, and I found this note I wrote to my mom. I think it was an effort to make up with her after an argument, and show I was listening to her “needs” in terms of our relationship.

  (PS my favorite is “no manipulating with tears.” As if I NEVER had an authentic reason to cry or be upset, and only wept to control my mom).

  

  January 6, 2016 • Family Drama, Old School Stories, Parenting • Views: 6125

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• Harvard Professors and Hospitals Do NOT Mix

  

  When I was 15 years old, you could say I was kind of a nightmare. Not that I was a rude withdrawn teen, just the kind that would steal all your liquor and fill it with water/juice. My parents seriously had a dinner party where they poured everyone cocktails that ended up being “water and tonics” and “apple juice on the rocks.”

  I liked to tinker with mind-altering substances okay?!

  Soooo one fateful Friday, my friends and I came back to my house after school, and decided it was a good time to get fucked up. It was 4 in the afternoon after all. We took some shots, and then had the grand idea of smoking weed – but we didn’t have an apparatus or rolling papers.

  Because we went to private school and were really smart, we problem solved this dire drawback, and realized we could make a pipe out of an apple. I know. Pretty genius. My friend Lila went to work on this task, but since we were already pretty wasted, she ended up slicing her finger.

  My initial reaction was “she’s fine, let’s move on.” Partly because I didn’t want to get in trouble for my friend hurting herself at my house, and partly because we still had weed to smoke. My other friend Marla however did not agree. She was using paper towels to physically hold Lila’s finger on, and insisted we go to the hospital. I resisted. You see, I was raised by WASPs, so we didn’t do things like admit pain or decapitated limbs.

  Marla was relentless and eventually I gave in. So us five drunken high school girls put on our winter coats, and started walking to Mass General Hospital. On our way, as Marla was still holding Lila’s finger on, we ran into my Dad on the street. I did my best not to slur my words.

  Toni: Oh hi Dad. We are just going to the hospital because Lila cut her finger. Shouldn’t take too long. Umm… do you want to come?
  My Dad: No I do not! I fell on the subway steps and hurt my hands! Look!!

  My dad then showed us all the palms of his hands. They were a little pink, and still had gravel on them, but not bleeding. It’s not like… ohhh I don’t know… he had almost cut his finger off and needed to go to the hospital.

  Toni: Okay. Well see you later.

  My dad continued on his way, and we inebriated girls continued on ours. You see, my dad is a Harvard Professor who is AMAZING at all things intellectual, but just is not interested in most things human. Like dealing with hurt teenagers who need medical attention. Anything that takes him away from his cerebral pursuits is major anxiety for him. Plus, he had fallen and hurt his hands remember!! He had to recover from that.

  We finally got to the hospital, and I was starting to panic a little. I really wanted Lila to be okay because I really didn’t want to get in trouble. I rushed over to the front desk to talk to the receptionist.

  Toni: My friend needs help!
  Receptionist: What seems to be the problem?
  Toni: She’s almost cut her finger off…
  Receptionist: Did she hurt her eye or her ear?
  Toni: What? No…
  Receptionist: Well, this is Mass EYE and EAR.
  Toni: It’s not “Mass Eye, Ear and Finger?”
  Receptionist: Afraid not. You’re going to have to go to Mass GENERAL, which is further down the road.

  Eventually we got to the RIGHT hospital, and Lila was taken by the doctor to get checked out. As we are waiting for her to return, Lila’s parents showed up, as did my dad. We sat in silence. Lila’s parents were furious at me for feeding their daughter alcohol and allowing her to get hurt. I was freaking out wondering if my dad had found the apple, weed, and bloody knife we had left on the kitchen counter. And my dad was livid because now he was at the hospital out of his Catholic guilt, and wanted to be home working while not thinking about his sore hands.

  In the end it turns out I was totally wrong, Marla was right, and Lila needed 20 stitches to keep her finger attached to her hand.

  This is my Dad… and this pretty much sums up his essence.

  PS yes he is in a bubble bath

  

  September 9, 2015 • Old School Stories • Views: 4484

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• Those Modern Teenagers

  

  Every generation looks at teenagers and thinks they are corrupted by modernity. It is natural to glorify your own youth, and believe there was a wholesome quaintness that no longer exists in current times. It is so common it’s cliché to feel alienated by teens just because you are not one – but fuck am I really that old already?

  Here is the deal, where I live right now in New Hampsha is the same town I grew up in. I mean, sort of. I actually lived in Boston, but I “summered” here, because yes summer is a verb. So being in this place that I have known my whole life forces me to compare then and now. It is impossible to avoid because I am surrounded by familiarity.

  I am always paralleling the past to the present – wondering things like “did there used to be this many cars on this old country road?” or “has this place always been so aggressively white?” I feel like the modern age is corrupting even the most remote places, and soon there will be nowhere to escape from the inevitable transhumanist nightmare of the future.

  The other day, I was at the beach with The Munch, reminiscing about the hundreds of hours I spent at that very same spot as a child. It was a peaceful moment, seeing my daughter enjoying the same lake, and playing with the same sand. I was transported back to a time of life that was coated with simplicity, and felt grateful for the continuity. Then I looked over and saw these 3 teenager girls – AND THEY WERE ALL ON THEIR FUCKING PHONES!

  I got soooooooo depressed. All I could do was think of all the times I was in their same position, but since we didn’t have phones we swam, talked, played cards, or read stupid sex tips from stupid magazines to each other. Those were the endless summer days with nothing to do but be together. Sometimes they were boring, but there was tranquility to that boredom because you were so glad you weren’t at school. Besides, being bored as fuck means eventually you come up with awesome ideas of things to do – like push on your friend’s chest until they pass out, or smoke pot and make chocolate chip cookies. Necessity is the mother of invention, and without boredom you are never forced to come up with creative ways to entertain yourself.

  Part of me was like “Who am I to judge this scenario? Maybe there are doing advanced quantum mechanics and solving equations? Or they could be editing a movie, or making a song using the sounds of life that no one notices or appreciates like some retro new age old school pop /rock/ psychedelic/ indi band.  Whenever I see any apple commercial that tells you all you can do with your iPhone, I realize that there is a shit ton I do NOT know about the iPhone. Perhaps these kids are way smarter  than me…. or they are looking at pictures of themselves on their Instgram profile?”

  Not that I blame these girls. It is not their fault they are seduced by the appeal of technology. The cure to boredom is no longer dependent on your imagination where you have to work for it, but in your pocket where you can just grab it easily. Yet all I could do is look at them with a mixture of disdain and pity. I felt like an old-timey guy wanting to sing Sinatra-esque tunes about times gone by. Sigh. Kids these days.

  (If I had a smart phone when I was 16, would I have come up with the below FANTASTIC idea of wearing a white turtle neck while humping a pillar with my friend?)

  

  August 25, 2014 • Musings, Old School Stories • Views: 9412

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• Music Is My Boyfriend

  

  When I think back to my childhood and teen years, the majority of my time was spent in my room, with the door closed, listening to music. I would sing, dance, and play songs that made my cry so I could look in the mirror and watch myself cry and then cry some more because of the sight of my own tears makes me cry. It was all very tragic and emotionally fulfilling.

  Music has served as the mood regulator of my life. It is like Prozac for my soul. I can be in the most pissy state of mind – ready to slap an innocent old lady in the face with my tit – and then I get in my car, pump up the jam, and suddenly I feel amazing. Music transports me into another dimension, and relieves me from the chaos of my mind. Most cases my misery is self-induced, and a driving beat reminds me that life is a ride so I might and well shimmy my shoulders to the rhythm.

  I always have music playing in the background, and I guess this compulsion has passed on to The Munch. She now wants to spend hours a day listening to her songs. Currently we don’t exactly have the same taste, but it is still something we can do together. Munch is really into the soundtracks of The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and Frozen. Wait… I take that back… we actually do have the same taste because those records are fucking awesome.

  I am sure she will eventually broaden her horizons from Disney movies, but right now she is committed to memorizing every word of every song of every film they ever made. There is a pretty good possibility I will be committed to a mad house before this is accomplished, so pray for me that she transitions to 90’s hip hop soon.

  

  July 18, 2014 • 4 years old, Musings, Old School Stories, Parenting, Playing, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 5260

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• Why Are We Such Hypocrites About Sex?

  

  When I was a kid my parents took my brother and me to Europe for the summer.  They wanted to show us the places where they grew up, and travel down memory lane with their children to bear witness.  I am sure they took us to many historically significant sites, and spoke with nostalgia about their past gone by – their intentions being to educate and expose us to the culture of our heritage.  But for some reason all I remember about that trip was listening to Prince on my Walkman while driving 120 miles per hour down the Autobahn, and boobs on TV.

  I guess in Europe it was considered okay to advertise yogurt with bare breasts.  Considering the fact that all the beaches were topless, why not have a nipple remind you that strawberry is a delicious flavor for your favorite dairy treat?  Actually, I now remember the topless beaches too, and my being too shy to expose my 7 year old chest, but then also feeling awkward about being the only girl in a full piece bathing suit.  But I was fascinated by the idea that on the beaches in Hungary, showing your breasts was not considered nudity.

  I wonder how we in America can be so uptight about nudity, and yet still use the woman’s body as a selling point for almost every product on the market?  A sexy girl can sell cars, cigarettes, beer, men’s body spray, peanuts, fast food hamburgers…. Yet at the same time if we happen to see a nip slip while she is breastfeeding then quick call the cops and arrest her.  There seems to be such a mixed messages when it comes to female sexuality where it is totally okay for major corporations to exploit her, but if she is to look sexy on her own then she is asking to be raped.

  Which brings me to an article that a fellow blogger wrote about here, where this mom of 3 sons wrote an open letter to teenage girls.  It starts like this “Dear girls, I have some information that might interest you. Last night, as we sometimes do, our family sat around the dining-room table and looked through your social media photos.”

  Okay stop….

  Call me old fashion, but that seems like a really weird thing to do at dinner.  Shouldn’t you guys be talking to each other instead of look at pictures of teen girls on Facebook?

  She then goes on to say how “I think the boys notice other things. For one, it appears that you are not wearing a bra.  I get it – you’re in your room, so you’re heading to bed, right? But then I can’t help but notice the red carpet pose, the extra-arched back, and the sultry pout.  What’s up? None of these positions is one I naturally assume before sleep, this I know.”

  Ummmm, actually yeah I do do that.  It’s actually really great exercise.  But has this women ever looked at a magazine, or turned on the TV?  It seems really condescending to blame girls for being inappropriate when they are imitating what they see as culturally acceptable in our every day media.  And if mom thinks this is the sauciest stuff her kids are seeing on the internet I invite her to do an hour tour of the porn-world that is out there for everyone to enjoy assuming they have fingers to click the “yes I am 18 button.”  And believe you me, the culture of modern pornography is way more disturbing and graphic then any 16 year old trying to look cute before going to bed. (If you are my grandmother read no further… skip to the next paragraph… but I think we should be way more concerned of videos like “2 dicks one ass” and how that is impacting the male expectation of sex then we should care about some young girls mimicking a Vodka add).

  I guess this mom had good intentions with her open letter – thinking that girls should care more about their personalities and intelligence then worrying about posting seductive selfies online.  But at the same time, should females feel ashamed for wanting to be sexually desirable? Or should they alone be held responsible for men wanting to fantasize about them? And why is sex something disgraceful?  I mean I know it is kind of funny that a man puts his wingy-ding in a fuzzy-wuzzy, but that is nothing to be embarrassed about!

  There is this idea that we have to protect our children from sex, and if we keep them away from it they will never be curious about it.  There even seems to be the prevailing opinion that sex or nudity is more dangerous for them to see than violence.  But is this reasonable thinking considering sexualized images are so prevalent in the advertising world and modern pop culture? And I feel like kids in indigenous tribes are exposed to naked people all the time, and I am pretty sure that the exposure makes sex, nudity, and sexuality less intriguing because it is so in their face.  I mean when you are waste-high and constantly have to dodge bumping into genitals, chances are that you are not going to be half as interested in sex as a repressed American teenager.

  

  September 6, 2013 • Current Events, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 5104

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• Puff Puff Pass… Wait, Not To You Mom or Dad

  

  My parents were pretty liberal when dealing with my “experimental phase” of smoking weed as a teenager.  I think they figured that if they made a big deal about it that would only encourage me more, and assumed it was a phase I would outgrow.  As long as I was doing well in school, they pretty much turned a blind eye.

  So if I happened to run into them after smoking pot, I would just play it cool, and they would placate me.  But thinking back to what they must have been thinking when they saw their daughter with blood shot eyes and reeking of pot trying to pretend I was sober– it must have been kind of hilarious for them.

  Example 1

  My friend Bitty and I were smoking weed outside while my parents were at the movies.  We decided we needed to eat raw cookie dough, so went into inside to make some.  The movie had sold out so my parents were home in the kitchen.

  Toni: “Oh. Hi mom.  Hi dad.”

  Mom: “Hi.”

  Toni: “Why is it so smoky in here?”

  Mom: “What?”

  Toni: “Were you guys cooking something? Why is it so smoky?”

  Mom: “What?”

  Toni: “Is the oven on? Its just really smoky in here.”

  Mom: “Ummm Toni, the only thing smoking is your head.”

  Toni: “Oh.”

  Example 2

  Again, Bitty and I were smoking weed outside, but this time we decided that we needed to eat raw cake batter and watch Alice in Wonderland.  My mom was adamant that we never ate in the living room, but we really needed to watch Alice in Wonderland while we ate the cake batter.  Since it was 3 in the morning, we snuck in the living room and figured my mom would never have to know.  But unfortunately she woke up and I heard her coming down the stairs.  So of course Bitty and I did the only logical thing.  Hide the cake batter behind the chair and tried to hide us underneath the table.

  Mom: “Toni? What are you doing underneath the table?”

  Toni: “Oh nothing.”

  Mom: “Are you trying to hide from me under a table? You know it is empty under a table right? I can see you both.”

  Toni: “Yeah, totally. We know you see us. We were just looking for something.”

  Mom: “Okay, well did you find it? Are you coming out from under there?”

  Toni: “We found it.  Yeah.  Coming out.”

  Mom: “Why is it so dark in here?”

  Toni: “We were just watching a movie.”

  Mom: “Well I am turning on the lights.”

  Toni: “Okay.”

  Mom: “Hey, were you girls eating in the living room?”

  Toni: “Nope.”

  Mom: “Are you sure you weren’t eating in the living room?”

  Toni: “Yup.”

  And then I looked over at Bitty and she had chocolate cake batter all over her face, as did I.

  Example 3

  We are smoking some weed outside on my parents terrace because I thought they weren’t home.  My dad opens the door seconds after I inhaled.  I exhaled into my shirt thinking he wouldn’t see the smoke billowing out of my armpits.

  Dad: “Its smells like roofers out here.”

  (Okay… so I lost my shit laughing.  It was too much).

  Toni: “Dad its reefer!! Not roofers!! It smells like reefer out here!”

  Dad: “Oh right! Duh”

  Its hard to say whether or not I will take the same approach as my parents did with The Munch.  I have no idea what it is like to have a teenager, and after what I put my parents through, I am sure I am really in for it.  But they were right in many ways, that it was just a phase, and it did smell like roofers.

  (Here I am at 15 going to my friend’s prom…. Yeah…. pretty sure that girl was trouble)

  

  April 25, 2013 • 2 years old, Family Drama, Musings • Views: 3743

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