Friday, February 8, 2013

Giant Crap Sandwich, Bone Lazy.



Scandal of all scandals, I had my first child when I was in my teens. I was not the first, wont be the last, Not ideal, life goes on.
I had a lot of support but I mostly heard a lot of negativity, whatever, people are well meaning dick heads.

I decided to focus on the positives of my situation, one of those being that I have an uncanny knack of remembering what being a teenager was like. It has held me in good stead so far and has proven to be invaluable now that I have a teen myself.

One of the things that I have been completely unprepared for though, is the laziness.
Not just any type of laziness, but bone deep, teenager laziness.
I hear from a multitude of mammas that this is normal, and yes I do remember being teenager lazy.

I recall my mother grabbing wildly under my bed for the source of the latest bad smell and pulling out a rotten apple and seven petrified Sao's, and me shrugging my shoulders in a 'meh' fashion when confronted with it.

I would defend my space and tell her that I know where everything is, while inwardly suggesting that if she didn't like it then she should just stay the fuck out of my room, like any normal teenager.

Mum would say things like, 'your fathers art group is coming over tonight for an independent film night and a Steam Boat, what will they think?'.........And I said, that I would be more concerned about why your nit infested hippy freak friends would be wandering in my room for, it's not an open house'

And I got grounded.

Anyway, it's time for Friday's Giant Crap Sandwich.




The latest resentment filled, PMS inspired shit fight in our humble little home, centres around the laziness of all those in it, me feeling unappreciated and has left me on more than one occasion screeching at the top of my lungs 'WHY DOES EVERYBODY IN THIS HOUSE GET A MAID BUT MEEEEE.!?!
Followed by mutterings of "Wouldn't work in an iron lung.."

 And I don't even know what that work in an iron lung means, or who coined it, or even why anyone says 'coin a phrase" I dropped out of high-school remember and hate researching stuff, But I say it anyway, because my dad used to say it, such is the frustration I am dealing with right now.

I'm not just talking a usual level of teenager laziness OK? get this;

Yesterday, I heard the familiar and slightly annoying bell of the home ice-cream man. For those of you unfamiliar with  home ice cream, it is a franchise that offers ice cream and other iced treats, in bulk quantities, for a very reasonable price, with EFT POS facilities, delivered to your door once a fortnight and his/her arrival on your street is heralded by a large clanging bell.

So yesterday, we heard the bell, and this bell is usually followed by a sound not unlike an elephant stampede up my hallway, followed by excited screeching of "Maaaaam can we get ice cream? in various squeaky voices.

Yesterday however, the stampede was short some footsteps, and came in only in the four year old variety. My blood turned cold at the lack of reaction, so I wandered up the hall to find one of the usually excited for ice cream clan on the toilet so that explained that, and the teen sprawled over his bed texting someone, probably the girlfriend.

I handed the teen 20 bucks and informed him that the ice cream man was here if he wanted to go grab a box, because I am clearly a fun person, and the home ice cream man comes late on a Friday afternoon when most parents are into a wine and clearly more inclined to buy ice cream.
Sneaky bastards.

Meanwhile, I'm standing there, handing out $20's like I'm Al Capone giving the kid free reign over the fortnights ice cream selection, and teen shrugged his shoulders in a familiar 'meh' manner, and said " I don't want any ice cream, it's too hot to stand in the driveway and wait for him"

Whatever the loving fuck? How can one be too hot and lazy for ice cream? I mean, the dude delivers it for crying out loud, to your driveway, a mere ten meters from where the teen was sitting?!? And yet he reacted as though I had asked him to walk across to the cattle paddock across the road, rope and milk a cow, churn it into cream, source the cocoa from West Africa, return, mix, freeze an package it himself.

Sadly this is not an isolated incident, most of my very reasonable requests lately are met with eye rolling and followed through with exhausted body language and half arsed attempts at completing the task.

Its what I affectionately refer to as the cant give a stuff stage.
It doesn't matter what I do,

Can't play the PlayStation,
Couldn't give a stuff.
Can't go to Macca's on Wednesday,
Couldn't give a stuff.
Can't leave your room,
Couldn't. give. a flying. Stuff.

 I don't recall my teen laziness ever getting in the way of something I really wanted to do. I certainly would not have volunteered to wash up at home, but I willingly and enthusiastically scrubbed dishes at the restaurant of a local pub till midnight on Saturday for the seventy bucks I needed to buy Jebadiah tickets.

After careful consideration, I decided that the teen was really not that different to me as a teen, he just wanted for less.

He really was quite capable of doing anything he set his mind to should he want it bad enough, he had proven that with his improvement at school, so that he could stay with his friends and girlfriend, and his keeping his room in a general state of almost tidiness, to prevent me from entering it or any reason.

The success to surviving the teen laziness was to find out what it was he really wanted, and apply sneaky motivation type activities associated with it.

I'm a genius.

The problem is though, that he doesn't very badly want anything. He will mow the lawn for phone credit, improve his grades to stay at the school he is in and empty the bin and dishwasher to avoid me screeching like a banshee, all the while earning himself an Oscar for his lead role in, Exhausted.. A tale of the hard done by, but doing them all the same.

Right now though, I'm fresh out of ideas, and rapidly running out of the motivation to motivate.

Also, does anyone know what "wouldn't work in an iron lung" means?

The latest, GCS, brought to you by PMS.
Happy Frahday.

Emma.

1 comment:

Mrs Catch said...

I've got one of those too. Sigh...