Every weekday morning, I make the 30-minute drive, taxing my teenagers to school, complete with loud “ghetto music,” frantic last-minute studying for tests, and the random, “Shit, I forgot my backpack!” as we pull into the school’s lot.
Sure, I bitch about “teen taxi time,” but the truth is, I’ll cherish these days long after they’ve left the nest.
My kids crack me up.
The other day I decided to give them relationship advice – not that they wanted it. I just like to annoy the hell out of them sometimes. So the topic of the day was “What to look for in a life partner.” I could feel them cringe at the announcement.
I started with what I feel are the two most important questions to ask when you’re considering spending your life with someone:
1. Can you imagine your life without them?
That got a shrug, with my girl blurting, “I can’t imagine looking at someone’s face day in and day out… forever.”
Hopeless romantics they are not.
My boy’s response was, “Yeah, whatever.”
Then I hit them with number two…
2. Would you wipe their ass?
My girl confirmed I just solidified my most-inappropriate-mom status.
I went on to explain how in life one never knows what will happen health-wise, and you always have to be prepared to take care of someone.
My boy ponders this concept for a minute, and then chimes in.
“Mom, I only have one question – why the hell would I marry someone who couldn’t wipe their own ass?”
Excellent point, Son. Apparently personal hygiene is actually important to them. Go figure.
This morning, the topic was “Is there any room of our house our dog hasn’t shit in?”
We proceeded to go through each room and reminisce about “perv dog” and his poo. My boy groaned how the cats keep pissing in his game room, but quickly pointed out the upside, “At least you wouldn’t be able to tell if I was smoking weed in there.”
Who would have thought pet excrement would lead to drugs. I may have to kill the cats.
But the reality is, even if he was smoking pot in there, I just gave him an opening to talk about it with me. I guess I should thank our incontinent cat.
In “teen taxi time” we swear, we sing, we laugh, and sometimes we’re even silent. In fact, I learn a hell of a lot from those quiet moments too. It’s not always what people say, but what they don’t say that speaks volumes.
Yes, that is me rationalizing them putting duct tape on my mouth.
Just now, on the ride home, after the F bomb had been dropped a dozen times, I stated, “I think we need to stop swearing so much.”
My girl: “blah, blah, blah”
My boy: “Shit, no!”
A swearing ban is not going to happen, but not because I’m a horrible, undisciplined mother, but simply because my car is a safe zone for us to just be us. No veneers, no judgment, and no topic off limits.
What happens in the teen taxi, stays in the teen taxi… except if your mom is a writer.