all bowls should be made of bread

the boys in their basket

yesterday my big plan was to lay around the house and read, and take naps.  pretty ambitious for a saturday, i admit, but i was feeling pretty good about it.  then my mom called and invited the girlchild and i out to lunch with my aunt and nephew! so i got dressed, we went to anacortes, and had a lovely lunch at anthony's.  not to put too fine a point on it: but i don't know of any better way to eat clam chowder than out of a sourdough bread bowl.  my nephew ate his body weight in tartar sauce, and we all had a lovely time. 

today i'm feeling a little more motivated, and might do laundry and some sewing.  i also got a new bike! i want to take her out for a spin as well.  the boychik has a friend who is moving, and was selling her bike.  he bought it, thinking he would clean it up and sell it on craigslist, but it fit me and i talked him out of it.  hooray!  it's red, it has gears (i haven't had a bike with gears since high school, and even then i had no idea what to do with them), and is just the right size.  since my bike was stolen a few years ago, i've missed riding around after work.  i might even take to riding to work a day or two a week, to save on gas and such. (although to be honest, that makes me kind of anxious because i have to cross a busy highway and am convinced that i will get smooshed.) 

knee jerk response

this is my senior homecoming, 1994 that dress was $7

 ever since the boychik got me all worked up into a frenzy, he's been an absolute doll.  aaaargh.  D thinks that maybe he's picking fights with me so that i won't ask him "real" questions about him moving out or his new girlfriend, or whatever.  i told him that i'm going to choose to think that he's pushing my buttons because i'm his parent and he loves me.  "kids do that, right?" i asked, "it's like a thing they do to see where your boundaries are?" in short; he's treating me like a parent, so i'm going to focus on that.

the girlchild got asked to homecoming.  i don't know why i wasn't prepared for it; she's really, honestly a lovely girl. getting taller and prettier by the day, much to her father's chagrin.  no, that's not quite true. we're both digging watching her grow into her face, and agree that she's more than just pretty, she's also very down-to-earth and funny and kind.  i should have been anticipating that she would be asked, because she's not a 14 year old girl who is afraid of boys.  having spent most of her life with her brother and dad only, she understands boys. there's no mystery, no angst or anxiety about hanging out with them.  she tends to bowl all the boys over with her mix of adorableness and fart jokes.

she got into the truck friday afternoon with a pink rose.  i asked her where she got it and she told me she'd been asked.  i won't lie, i squealed a little.  she said, "yeah, i guess i have to go now." i said, "no you don't, you go if you want to, not because you think you have to. don't do something just because a boy wants you to." she gave me a sidelong glance and giggled and said, "you know i want to go, i'm just giving you a hard time."  i told her that i was excited for her, but still full of feminist agenda.  "i know, amanda."  

we went dress shopping this weekend, and for all my feminist agenda, i had a few knee jerk reactions to the dresses she tried on.  too short! too tight! oh my god, you have a butt hiding under there! no, no, something more shapeless!  none of these things i said out loud, however.  i don't want her to be ashamed or feel weird about her body, and i don't think it's her job to be all prim and proper so boys won't get ideas, as i could put her in a burlap sack and they'd get ideas.  she ended up with a stretchy black dress with one strap, no sequins ("they itch!"), and when she puts it on and pulls her hair up it's kind of audrey hepburn.  all long neck, legs and arms.  she looks 16 when she puts it on, not 24, thank god.  it gave D a heart attack, but who can blame him?  that's his baby.

i'm glad she wanted to go dress shopping with me, though. she made me a little crazy at first, but i realized later it's because we both hate malls (THANK GOD) and she was anxious because she didn't know what size she was, what to expect of the dresses, etc.  we talked about the boy she's going with (he runs cross country with her, he's a sophomore, "really nice"), who else was going, what people have been saying about the dance.  she's obviously excited. i always had fun at proms and homecomings, so i'm excited for her too.  i told her i'd pull out some old photos so i could show her my ridiculous dresses. like the one above; bought for $7 at the thrift store, all velvet and 1970's.  that was my friend jonathan, who i probably should have made out with, but i didn't think he liked me.  we had a great time that night; jonathan was totally into wearing something 1970s (down to the buster browns!), we went to the city for the day and then stayed up all night. i think i got home at 6 in the morning.  we had a lot of fun.  i hope she does too (but i'll probably ask her to come home sooner).

in which i rage against the teenaged machine

aaaargh, i'm all frothy and full of rage right now because the boychik and i were talking about his job and how they might go on strike and he was like, "whatever, if they do that i'll just see if my boss will bump me up and i'll take so-and-so's job."

i was stunned.  i said, "seriously? you'd be a scab?" and he shrugged and repeated his "whatever." "you know, these are people you work with. when the strike is over, they get to come back to work. then they'll work with you and know you're a scab who doesn't give a shit about them."  again, nothing but a shrug. 

i kind of lost my cool.  which i guess happens, but the end of our conversation was me saying, "it must be nice to not give a shit about anyone else. you're an asshole." 

i hate this part of youth. this i-know-everything attitude and the idea that the very earth revolves around you.  he's worried about not working for a few days, and he's got over $5,000.00 in the bank.  he's moving into a house where he'll have to spend $200 a month in rent.  he's got fucking amazing health insurance because I PAY FOR IT.  he doesn't do chores, he doesn't tell us where he is, he spend as much as he can criticizing us and eating our food, and yet...i'm torn between knowing i'll miss the fucker when he moves and glad i won't have to hear him skulking around. 

he really just had no idea or regard for anyone else.  he's a happy white kid who's just charming enough to be dangerous, and handsome to boot.  why should he give a fuck about anyone else? the middle aged women he works with who have families and debt and no one else to look out for them.  the grown-up working at a grocery store to take care of their kids, who want a fair wage and health insurance that isn't shit.  i want to cry when i think about his blase attitude.  yeah, his mom is a fucking mess who bailed, and there were parts of his childhood that were less than ideal, but the world doesn't owe him anything. 

i know i shouldn't let it bother me, and i'm sure my therapist would have some tips for not thinking about this, or some words of wisdom about letting him learn his own hard lessons, but i feel so terrible.  this is a kid i'm at least somewhat responsible for, that i love, that i'm unleashing into the world with a chip on his shoulder and an alarming lack of care for anyone but himself. he's a selfish jerk. and i'm an asshole for pointing it out.