I’ve never thought about my blood pressure. Isn’t that the topic of conversation in retirement homes? Lately, it’s on my mind because we have teenagers in the house. Conversations that begin with, “Mom, don’t freak out, but….” raise my blood pressure numbers, as does Call Display with the school’s phone number. Mostly it’s my 16-year-old son, whom I’ll affectionately call Boy Genius on this blog, who can really get my blood boiling. Texting him about simplest things can turn into extraordinary bouts of frustration. Example: ME: When are you going to be home? HIM: Never. ME: Why don’t you answer my texts??? HIM: (no answer).
A couple of days ago, I was cleaning his bathroom. Even entering his bedroom and adjoining bathroom gives me heart palpitations now, and I wonder, “What undiscovered secret will I find that will put me over the edge?” Opening his bathroom cupboard, I saw this:
Yep…that’s right. Six unopened Heineken! Should I blame this on his father’s German heritage?? What to do? What to do? I walked over to his bookshelf and had a chat with Wise Ol’ Teddy Bear (a Build-a-Bear no less).
How did this happen? Where did my little boy go? From Bear to Beer?
Then I did what every self-respecting mother would do….I cracked a few bottles open ….and lowered my blood pressure. [smile] And this is why I scrapbook…to escape into a world of happy memories.