It’s Michael’s 13th
birthday. Hard to believe my baby is 13! He is a typical 13 year old as far as
I can tell. He has a mouth full of braces, many pimples, and mood
fluctuations of a woman with PMS.
I let Alesia drive for about 30
minutes this morning, at the mall. There was far less giggling. She practiced
parking, and making turns. I let her drive from the house to the mall and back,
which I felt was OK since it was Sunday morning and the churchgoers were at
church, and everyone else was mostly sleeping in. She did really well. The only
big thing she’s not remembering is to turn her head and look back before
switching lanes.
When we got back, Michael was still
asleep and it was after 11. He refuses to eat when he first gets up, unless
it’s a school day. He was grumpy and acted like a zombie. Mother pointed out
that he hadn’t eaten anything in about 16 hours. He kept refusing to eat.
Finally, I offered to take him to Waffle House and his mood brightened a bit.
Waffle House, a little after noon,
was a madhouse. There were 10 folks behind the counter buzzing around, so to
me, free entertainment. I love watching a well-run short-order restaurant. The
kids and I sat at a counter since there were no tables. Michael ate a waffle
and a large plate of hash browns. He then became human. Hallelujah.
One of the waitresses at the Waffle
House heard me call him birthday boy, and asked him how old he was. “I’m
thirteen,” he said quietly, grinning. “That’s what I woulda figured, honey,”
she said, grinning. She had horrible teeth, like little kernels of seed corn
with big gaps in between. One of the other waitresses gave him a smiley face
Waffle House pen, which delighted him. So thank goodness for Waffle House. It
ain’t health food but once in a while we indulge.
I told him when we got home if he
wanted to go to Dave & Busters he had to clean up his room. I asked Alesia
to help him, and she did most of the cleaning.
Mother thinks I should be more
strict with Michael. I don’t agree. When I am really strict he reads that as
harsh and he just emotionally shuts down. At first, this morning, he said he
wouldn’t clean his room, and I said very calmly that he couldn’t have guests
over for a sleepover if his room was dirty. He still refused. I knew if I could
persuade him to eat he would be cooperative.
I have a theory that he goes for
hours without eating sometimes because that hunger is a familiar feeling, and
perversely comforting. We all crave the familiar. Even children who are abused
want to return to their abusive parent rather than be put in an orphanage.
Children of alcoholics often marry alcoholics because of the comfort of the
familiar, no matter how negative. For Michael, eating means he’s alert, and
then he has to do what’s asked of him. It’s much easier to refuse food and curl
up in a ball on the bed with your face to the wall. I hate seeing that
withdrawal, though.
We went to Game Stop, and then Dave
& Busters. Mike bought a new game at Game Stop, and used part of his
birthday money to help Alesia buy a new game. I was so glad we had eaten lunch
before going to D&B’s, because their food is expensive. So I sat in the
incredibly loud, Las Vegas style game room and read a book, and rank a Sprite,
and let the kids play the machines.
Alesia was bugging me all the way
home about driving. I am going to have to tell her she’s only allowed to badger
me once a day, at most. I hate nagging.
Mike’s friends came over around 5. They played outside for a while, and ate pizza for dinner. Now they are watching a movie. I am in my room while Alesia watches the movie Twilight. I am not watching it but I can’t help but hearing it. What incredibly lame dialogue. Jeesh. Why do the kids all like this Twilight junk?! It's like a really lame version of the Anne Rice books I used to like.
This was made on Alesia's birthday. I love this photo. It's a great shot of both girls, and Coco, of course.
These are from Mike's birthday today. The one of him midair is not an accident. He had just done a flip, but I didn't catch him mid flip..
