Nemesis or Sidekick?

Let me introduce to you my son D. My son who is currently 13 years-old he has not decided if he wants to be my sidekick or my nemesis. It has been too many years for me to remember what it was like being 13. But I don’t remember seeing if I can push my dad into an early grave. Have you ever had a situation where you are telling your child they are grounded and they tell you “NO!”  What the hell do you mean NO! This is not a yes or no question; I may also add this is not multiple choices either. There is no negations you did the crime now do the time. This is where the Homer Simpson way of parenting looks appealing. Will I really get in trouble if I reach across the table and strangle him? So the other day I yelled at my son for playing a video game that he was grounded from playing. His reply to me was calm and quiet (A new method for him. It works and drives me crazy!) “Why do you get to yell at me and make the rules?” he goes on to explain that I had no right to ground him from video games and that he will clean his room when he wants too. Yes this is the point where I can feel my heartbeat in my eyeballs. Luckily for my son he must have noticed my super powers kicking in. (The veins popped out of my head and it must have looked like I was going to change into the Incredible Hulk, but instead of green I was going to be red or more of a plum color. I am pretty sure all parents of teenagers have this super power.) His resolve crumbled as I took a deep intake of breath and set my blood red eyes on him and began to speak in a slow and quiet voice. Before I finished my statement about him going to his room, he had began to shake and decided he was tired and was ready for bed anyway.

But not all things are bad with having a 13 year-old. He is my greatest fan. He believes there is noting I can’t do. He is very supportive with me going back to school. He strokes my ego by telling me my ideas at the dinner table are wonderful.

 It takes me back to the days when he was just a lad. He must have been about five; my son and I were off to the computer store, lunch, and then grandma’s house. After that I was going to go to the shooting range with some friends. So at the computer store, I was talking with the manager about how he feels it was ok to try to screw me over. (Some work equipment was stolen by the store, and they clamed it was never there.) So as I started to talk in a not so pleasant voice, with the manager. My son honed in that his daddy was upset and decided to kick the glass cabinet in front of the manager and give him the nastiest look I have ever seen to this day. The manager must have got the idea that my son was going to lay waste to the store unless he complied. So the manager went back and found what I was saying they had. Amazing! This was going pretty good. Just for the outstanding job my son did on shaking down the computer store manager. I decided to take him to Hooters for lunch. We went there often so I could recruit waitress to work for me at the club, and my son really enjoyed the fries. To my surprise, he was picking up on the waitress. Ok not really, but he had several of the waitresses flocking around the table as he put on a show of cuteness. So Hooters turned out to be a lot of fun and now one quick stop at a gas station and off to Grandma’s! As we are going to Grandma’s, I ran a yellow light. (YES OFFICER, IT WAS YELLOW AND YOUR COLORBLIND!) In Rio Rancho, New Mexico the police are very proud of their jobs. I do believe that Jay Walking has been eliminated from the city. Or is it that Jay Walkers are eliminated by the Swat Team. I get those confused some time. Needless to say the police are excited when someone breaks the law.  Today I was that special person. As the cop approached my vehicle with his hand on his gun, I began to think we might be in trouble for shaking down the computer store manager. Boy, would I be in trouble with my wife had I got arrested with my son for that!  I shook off the notion of how my wife would kill me. The officer asked for my driver’s license and explained that do I have a habit of running red lights with cops behind me. Once he was out of earshot, my comments lashed out a reply. The cop came back and said that he was going to give me a warning. This truly was a wonderful day. Then I heard words that would make this joyous occasion come to a quick end. My son thinking that the cop had threatened me, he decided to speak. He asked why I did not just shoot the police officer with one of my guns, so we can get to Grandma’s quicker! As the young cocky police officer heard this, all the color left his face as he reached for his side arm while screaming into his radio officer needs assistance.  As the gun was pointed at my head, the officer’s high pitched voice told me to get out of the truck. He also ordered me not to move. So I just sat there with my hands out the window. Did I mention I got pulled over about a block from the police station? Within a minute my truck was surrounded with ten or more police cars. My son enjoying all the noises and lights, not understanding the situation is laughing and was having a good old time in his car seat. As more police officers level guns off at me. I become defensive of my son being in the car and explain loudly that if officer numb nuts would calm down and quit shaking and decide if he wants me out of the truck or not to move we can move forward as I have done nothing wrong. (Running a yellow light is not a crime!) A tactical officer took control of the situation. I assume he was the tactical officer as he had a very big gun. He allowed me to exit the truck, so I can be slammed up against it and violated. My son did not like seeing this from his car seat as he began to cry. My life flashed before my eyes, as I saw an officer point his gun towards the back seat. I stepped into his line of fire and hoped he understood why. As the cops finished searching me and I explained the situation and said yes I did have guns in the vehicle and explained why. They ran a few of my guns to make sure they were not stolen. Then after about two hours we allowed to continue on to Grandma’s house.

 My son entered Grandma’s house bragging about how he had the best day ever. As he explained about eating at Hooter’s and that he got to see a bunch of police officers with guns, and flashing lights. The color drained from my very religious mother-in-law face and an expression of horror appeared in her face as my son continued with his story. The expression my mother-in-law had put a big smile to my face though.

Flash back to a few weeks ago. My parents take my son to get a haircut before school. The lady cutting his hair must have loved the band The Monkeys, because she gave D a haircut to match the band. My son confided with me that he hated his haircut. He did not want to hurt Grandma and Grandpa’s feelings. He felt like a dork and needed his super hero daddy. As I put on my straight jacket and cape. Ok I just grabbed the car keys and told him to get in the truck we drove to a different hair cut place. As punk rock music blasted out of my car’s speakers, I asked my son what type of hair cut he wanted. He expressed with a smile bigger then the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, he wanted a Mohawk. So that is what I got him. Grandma and Grandpa hate it, so when we go out to dinner I make sure my son has it up, so his grandparents can see all the attention it gets him. As well as how happy it makes him. I don’t mind fighting with my parents for my son’s happiness. We were very lucky that his mom likes the Mohawk.

I love him dearly and wish he would go easy on my heart. I am scared that the teenage years just started! I wonder if I will have the strength to deal with the future situations of the terrible teenage years!