doNt sPeaK tHe lAngUaGe?

Teen talk, or text. I don’t speak it. It took me a few months to understand that LOL was about laughing. I was certain it was some code for “Love you Mom”. Come to find out they were laughing out loud in code.

I am a “good mom”, debatable statement I am sure, but I pay attention to my children, their friends, their conversations... (yes, I listen in when they are talking. No, I am not creepy listening in from another phone…I hear one sided conversation, my child’s side. HELLO…cell phones don’t have a second line).

I even try to read between the lines
as a “friend” on Facebook.
While I refrain from commenting on their status’s,
I do sometimes “like” them,
and thus follow the chat.

One particular conversation left me googling for definition. “Hella sketch” my son said, which apparently means something to the degree of wear a helmet; it could be a little dangerous. To which his friend replied, “sounds sick”. I wasn’t sure if that meant disgusting or flu-like possibility might be heard of. I caught that the boys were jonsen to “hit urban”. That means stay local, throw down some ski tricks ---i think? At least they were staying close to home.

As they continued to convo I learned that “scope it” does not mean fresh breath, and “hit me up” doesn’t mean anyone is getting smacked. “Fo sho” means yes, and “nagguh” is no, except when I respond “fo sho you be picking up your dirty clothes off the floor” I don’t get a nagguh…I get a blank “don’t speak the language Mom” stare.

I did understand “that’s a damper”, which soothed me that some things mean what they say. But when his friend responded “it will be ill” I was certain a get well card was in order. And when the boys say, “word, son” they are ending the conversation.

What needed to be said was said.

They “thro ish” and that is all that it sounds like. It’s ish, as opposed to ish it. I’ve heard it both ways.

I understand him about the same as I did when he was babbling as a baby boy. Still, a mother loves. Word.

man-boy don't need instructions, take 2

it seems i have blogged here before. hmmmm


Tuesday night driving C-14 to piano she tells me a NEW story about boys and men and instructions...i have to share.

C-14 is now a TA for the Phys Ed teacher at her school.
She takes dance so this experience with the Physical Education teacher that G-16 absolutely adored...abhorred...uh, which was it?

Sorry ...cant remember, but you can probably guess.

Anyhow she is TAing for her and having random experiences.

There is another boy who also TA with her. Her assignments are anything from carrying a pencil around and taking notes of things, to carrying a pencil so when said teacher gets to said destination she can sign something.

Random,
anyhow...

Tuesday she was assigned to put together a desk chair. One of those fancy desk chairs with a levy to pull and move up and down...and a twisty function.

Moving on...there were TWO of these chairs,
and conveniently TWO TA's.

Of course as it is with boys and girls I smell a competition.

C-14 says something like,
"bet i can finish my chair first"

to which boy TA responds,
"i can do mine without instructions...." !

Familiar....man-boy don't need instructions.

So they each proceed to make their chairs.
C-14 reading the instructions.
Man-boy NOT.

They finish at the same time. WALAAAA!

C-14 says something to the effect of

'okay...but whose actually works.' [loosely quoted.]

Boy sits in her chair....pulls the lever...wheeeee ...it goes UP and DOWN. ...it SPINS, it TWISTS...it TWIRLS.

HIGH FIVE CECE!!!

C-14 sits in MAN-BOY TA don't NEED inSTruCtiOns chair.

K PLUNK.

the back falls off

i think we can forget the up and down feature
and "what twisty function?"

"KAPOW! Can you say INSTRUCTIONS?!!!"

how to brush up on your driving

i am always looking for a good "how to"

This one is brought to you
by three BACKSEAT drivers
currently taking DRIVERS ED
at the local high school.

Me driving....
Them....talking

Me taking a left turn, briskly... because I want to turn before the oncoming car...who has time for signals.

Them....previously oblivious to my existence
other than the convenience of chauffeuring
them two block from
said local high school
front and center
to our refrigerator.

Quote: [all talking at the same time] that was illegal, you didn't use a turn signal, you are suppose to use a turn signal xxxxx distance from the turn and xxxxx seconds before you turn, which signal lets other motorists know of your intentions to turn, you can get in a lot of trouble for that, and you turned when the oncoming car was not of a safe distance. and by the way you didn't signal at the last turn either and you didn't stop for the right amount of time. if there was a police person you would be in time out for that. you can lose your license and have to take drivers school. don't you know the rules?


Me...nose rubbed sufficiently in my mistake.

[happy
they are paying attention....maybe
they will be a few of
the "safe" drivers
soon to be practicing
on a road near you.]

wOrdLeSs wEdneSdAy

woRdlEsS wEdneSdAy

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years,
sat feebly on the patio bench.
She didn't move,
just sat with her head down staring at her hands.

When I sat down beside her
she didn't acknowledge my presence
and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK .


Finally,
not really wanting to disturb her
but wanting to check on her at the same time,
I asked her if she was OK.

She raised her head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,"
she said in a clear voice strong.


"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma,
but you were just sitting here staring at your hands
and I wanted to make sure you were OK,"
I explained to her.


"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked..
"I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.


Grandma smiled and related this story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my Grandma's hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of Grandma.
I know she has been stroked
and caressed
and held by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God
and feel His hands upon my face.

wordless wednesday: have you ever seen a baby porcupine?