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Sometimes My Son Reappears December 13, 2013

We’ve had growing pains, Kameron and I. I don’t like that he’s not my sweet little boy that he once was, and he doesn’t like that his mom is extremely hard on him. Thankfully, every once in awhile that sweet boy comes back, if even for a moment. Tonight he did, and I thought I would share.

Assignment: Write a letter to a Kindergartner from Santa about Christmas.

“Dear Kindergartner,

I am delighted that you wrote me this letter of your Christmas list this year. My elves are working on making and buying all the other children’s presents for this year, including yours. Mrs. Clause is in her kitchen baking cookies and our feast for Christmas Eve, which is full of mashed potatoes, green beans, pudding, and roast beef. Our weather in the North Pole is freezing compared to Indiana. The polar bears are cold even in their fur coats, the penguins are hiding in their igloos, and even the reindeer are feeling like icicles. Dasher is running all around the house. Dancer is dancing his hooves off. Prancer is not prancing but pacing. Prixen is eating all of the Twix chocolate bars. Comet is trying to fly across the sky. Cupid is showing love to me and everyone else in the North Pole. Donder is bonding himself with joy. Blitzen is sprinting at the speed of light. Rudolph is shining his nose to show positive energy. Meanwhile, I am checking my list to see who was naughty and nice.

I am getting ready with my sleigh, my sack of presents and coal, and I will be at your house very soon.

Thank you for writing this letter of your list to me and have a Merry Christmas.

Sincerely,

Santa”

That’s my boy….

 

The Question I’ve Avoided For 14 Years.. September 24, 2013

me and kam

Until tonight.

“Mom, why did you and dad get a divorce?”

Honestly, I’ve prepared myself for this moment for the last three or four years. I’ve gone through the situation in my head over and over again until it was completely exhausting. I’ve read books, watched so many Dr. Phil shows it’s almost embarrassing, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for tonight when my son asked me that question.

We were just sitting around the dining room table finishing up dinner and doing social studies notes when he looked at me straight in the face and asked “why did you and dad get a divorce?”kam glasses

I sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, it was probably only a couple of seconds, but it felt like the last fourteen years of my life has suddenly passed before my eyes. I looked across the table at Mr. D who looked as surprised as I was, anxiously waiting for me to answer. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I got my son into counseling about two months ago. He was having some anxiety about being in the eighth grade, high school, puberty, girls, friends, stress – I’m happy I found him someone to talk to, but I wasn’t expecting my usual non confrontational son to ask me about the end of our “happy” family at 7:30 on a Monday night.

The truth is, I should have seen this coming. He was questioning his dad (I use ‘dad’ very loosely) about why he didn’t get any one on one time with him. Why he wasn’t as important as his other kids. Why his “first son” wasn’t as important to him as his other children. I mean I gotta tell you, I’ve always encouraged some kid of relationship with his dad, no matter what it was, but his dad is a poor excuse for a dad. He’s an embarrassment if you want to really know the truth. If you don’t know me, I’m kind of a loud mouth, but I have made the exception with my son’s father, no matter what he says. I’ve watched enough Dr. Phil to know that children learn what they live, and saying something detrimental about his father would someday come back to bite me in the ass. He would resent me, it’s just a fact. I’ve kept my mouth shut, bitten my tongue more times than you can imagine, and it all comes down to that question.

I sat there and looked at my son waiting for him to look away, but this time he wasn’t looking away. He wanted answers, and I suppose it was high time I gave him the best answers I could. So I did.

kambo

I told him that his dad and I were married and that we were both very mean to each other. I told him that when I found out that I was pregnant with him, his dad and I were very excited and optimistic about the future. I told him that when he was born it was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me or his dad. I told him that when he was about a year old his dad and I started having problems, grown up problems, that didn’t have anything to do with him (even though I know kids have an amazing way to feel like everything is their fault.) I told him that we tried the best we could, but in the end, his dad and I decided that being together wasn’t the best thing for him. I did tell him that his dad and I did not do everything we could do to save our marriage. If I told him that we did it would be a lie, he was looking for answers, not lollipops and rainbows. I asked if he ever remembered his dad and I being together, he said no. Which I think is a blessing. I’ll admit I made mistakes, but I honestly gave my best effort the last time with his dad. In the end, he decided other things were more important, which reflects how he is today, and the relationship he has with his son.

The best part of this story is that my son has my husband Mr. D. He’s everything any kid would want in a father. He’s loving, appreciative, patient, kind, funny, responsive, active, I could go on and on, but I don’t want to inflate his ego…

Being in this position is terrible. It’s just a bad situation. The worst part is that I don’t have any answers for my son except for the answers I gave him tonight. I don’t know if that is the end of the questions, I doubt it. At least my answers now (I hope) ensures that he won’t hate me later. Maybe those answers he’s looking for he will figure out for himself, if he hasn’t already.

I know I’ve done my absolute best, I know it. I’m good with that.

 

“Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee” August 7, 2013

At least that’s what Muhammad Ali said….

How about stung by a wasp, and by the way, your momma is gonna collapse tomorrow?

That’s how I feel.

Sunday may have been the most scared I’ve ever been in a long time. Kam was out mowing the backyard and he got stung by a wasp on his ankle. When he came in he was scared, and obviously hurt, but nothing that he couldn’t recover from. As I was looking at the sting to see if there was still a stinger in his leg he started screaming and ran away from me. What I didn’t know, and found out seconds later, was that the wasp that stung his ankle crept into his shirt and continued to sting him. He became very frightened, which made me extremely frightened. He ran into his room screaming, Mr. D and I literally had to hold him down while he was twisting, screaming, and crying to pull his shirt off and kill that damn wasp.

That wasn’t the worst of it.

It hurts me, I mean it physically hurts me to be this honest. I just can’t lie, it’s just not part of my DNA anymore.

My son is damaged, and after this, there has to be something done. I’ll spare you the intimate details because he’s my son, I love him, and I would never ever do anything to hurt him. He’s hurting and I have to help him, and I’m the “CAN DO” person to the absolute extreme. I will do anything and everything to make absolutely sure that my son has the best life. It’s not negotiable.

I spent two and a half hours on Monday calling counselors. He didn’t want a female counselor, he wanted a male counselor. (By the way if you’re in college and thinking about a counseling career and you’re a upstanding male, that truly cares about children, I would highly recommend it, because you guys are in demand – big time.) The last call I made was to an out of network counselor that was accepting new people. I think the lady that I spoke to had pity on me (because after two and a half hours I was in tears) scheduled an appointment for my son because I basically begged her. I told my son that I had an appointment scheduled for him and he seemed happy about that, I was in turmoil. Questioning every move I’ve made for the last fourteen years.

“You’re only as happy as your saddest child” is what Dr. Phil says. I’ll be damned if that isn’t the truth.

I just have to believe that I’m doing the best thing for my son. I have to pray that the people around me will understand, and know that I have everyone’s best interest at heart.

But my son comes first.

 

The Old Gentleman At Walmart February 26, 2013

There are few things that Kameron hates more than to going to Walmart with me after school, but not many. He would like nothing more than to have me just pick him up and taxi him straight home. After a long, hard day of middle school a teenager just wants to go home and relax.

To tell you the truth I don’t like going with him. It’s a pain. All I want to do is zip through, pick up the things that I need, and get out of there. When we do go together inevitably Kameron will get distracted by someone or something and it will prolong our stay. And Walmart, ugh..Walmart is pure hell. It doesn’t seem to matter which Walmart we go to something always happens there.

When I saw Kameron coming towards my car today he already looked dishevelled. He spent the weekend at his fathers house which means lack of sleep. He went to bed late last night. Got up early this morning, and has been in school all day (poor kid.) I knew he was tired and I knew he wouldn’t like hearing we were going to Walmart. I told him that we had to stop by there, he said “REALLY??” “Mom, I just want to go home.” I told him I understood and we were just going really quick. He heaved a heavy sigh as to say why are you doing this to me?? I got it, loud and clear kiddo.

Just for good measure I grabbed one of the hand held baskets instead of getting a shopping cart. He looked at me like I was serious – I was serious – Dr. Phil comes on at four o’clock.

We walked past the deli which was busy, I told him we would come back to that.  Cruising through the bread and coffee aisle I was feeling pretty good. I grabbed the coffee that Mr. D likes and we were on our way to the pasta aisle. I had almost rounded the corner when I noticed that Kameron was stopped in the middle of the aisle (distracted by the dreaded snack cake.) I also noticed an elderly gentleman with a Walmart vest on pushing a large broom down the left side of the aisle. I touched Kameron’s arm and said “excuse us” to the worker. He smiled at us and said “it’s ok.” Kameron grabbed his snack cakes and we started to walk away.

Then the gentleman said “he’s almost as tall as you now.”sed kad standing Which made me turn to look and see if I knew him,  I didn’t. I smiled and said jokingly “I didn’t need to hear that today.” He winked at Kameron and said “sorry mom, he’s almost got you beat, but you knew he was going to be taller than you anyway.” Kameron and I found ourselves walking with this old gentleman while he continued to talk to us. “How old are you now 12, 13?” I said “he’s almost 14.” “Fourteen” he said, “you look very smart.” Kameron was just standing there, I nudged him and he said “thank you.” We all stopped together in the middle of the store. The man propped his broom at his side and said “stay in school, it’s very important for a smart young man like you to stay in school.” Kameron nodded a yes, and I said “you’re getting pretty good advise here bud.” I smiled at the man and told him to have a good day and went on about our shopping.

There was something very familiar about that man. When I heard “he’s almost as tall as you now” it made the hair on my arms stand up.

sed kad2

 It’s exactly like something my Dad would have said.

I guess it’s time to face the facts (for real this time.) Kameron is getting older, and yes more than likely he will be taller than me.sed kad1

But he’s not taller yet.

 

Are You There God, It’s Me Stephanie, Again January 16, 2013

I wrote a post last year titled: Are You There God, It’s Me Stephanie

I would suggest reading that post first and coming back to this one. I’m really proud of that post. It was probably one of the first times I really opened myself up and let you into part of my crazy world. I’m about to do it again – so here it goes…

Confirmation. So I decided not to have Kameron confirmed last year. The reason I told everyone else, and even myself, is that it would be nicer for Kameron if he waited and got confirmed with his class. He’s the oldest kid in his class. I decided on a recommendation from the pre-school that he attended to wait one more year before sending him to Kindergarten. He needed to develop more socially, and he was sad because his dad and I were starting what turned into a very long divorce process. Waiting for everyone else to catch up age wise and get confirmed with his class was a much better idea….

Better for me, because I wasn’t ready to have God back in my life.

I wasn’t even slightly interested. Even though my first post had a glimmer of hope in it, and I was hopeful, at least that is what I told myself. Honestly, the thought of going into church again made me sick to my stomach. So I sold Kameron on the idea of getting confirmed with his classmates, and he bought it. Which bought me time, because time heals all wounds right?

Sorta.

At least in my case. In that situation and others I was still fighting my secret battles.

Last Friday email – subject – Confirmation. This email didn’t catch me off-guard like last years email did. I knew it was getting close to time to start having meetings about confirmation. The email confirmed that yes, it was in fact time to start meeting about confirmation. Meeting at school (not church) about the confirmation that doesn’t happen until April/May buys me time. I can do meetings in my sleep. I can do uncomfortable meetings standing on my head. Meetings are not my problem. Wednesday night meeting – sure thing! So I had it in my head confirmation meeting Wednesday night, I can be as enthusiastic as I need to be.

A few hours later I get another email – subject – Meeting Change. I thought I hope it’s not a meeting on Thursday, I already have something going on. A change of plans. Instead of the meeting at the school on Wednesday night, we are going to church to have mass with the Archbishop. I put my head in my hands and said (fuck) very quietly to myself. Mass, that’s my first problem.  With the Archbishop is another problem, the bigger the hat in the Catholic Church the longer the mass. I’m looking at a an hour and a half mass easy. At this point it’s fair to say I would rather stick a pencil in my own eye than to have to walk into church tonight.

I haven’t been to church since my dad died, that’s not an accident. I’m still very upset and angry about the untimely death of my father. Where was God when my father died right before my very eyes? I asked for him, I prayed to him, I begged him on that day not to take my dad away from me. Yet my dad was gone that day, and it changed me forever.

Going back to church to me in a way is like saying it’s all good between me and God again. Which it clearly isn’t.

Then of course there is Kameron. Kameron is young and still has faith. He hasn’t had his faith tarnished by life and its unexpected curve balls it likes to throw at us. Even though he was old enough to understand what happened when my dad died, it didn’t break him like it did me. In Kameron’s eyes “Pop” is in heaven with God, having a good old-time. As time has gone on Kameron’s mentions of my dad have become fewer and fewer. In a way that makes me mad, but in a way I have to be happy for him. Knowing that his school is doing exactly what they’re suppose to be doing in religion class. Teaching that we are all God’s children, and that he loves us, flaws and all.

So I’m going, but I am not happy about it. I’m not going for myself, I’m going for Kameron, I don’t want to disappoint him. I promised him that I would try to make an effort and go to church more often. It was just going to be on my time-table, which kept getting pushed back further and further away. Abruptly, it is in my face and ready for me, scorn and all, at 7:00 p.m.

I doubt I’ll have some kind of epiphany, but if I do, you’ll read about it soon.

SED

 

Are Choir Girls More Aggressive These Days? November 30, 2012

One of my least favorite things of all time is the car line at Kameron’s school. I’ve seen people literally look like they were going to come unglued in the car line. I have to admit, I’ve said a few choice words to myself about this idiocy. Seems pretty simple to me..you get in line, wait for your child, the child gets in the car, you drive away. I guess there is some book somewhere in the principal’s office with a special drawer; you must have the exact key code to unlock the car line secrets. I imagine unlocking that drawer someday, opening up the book with angles singing in the background as I uncover all the secrets of the car line.

Who the hell am I kidding? We’ll get through seventh and eighth grade and move onto what is sure to be a more complex car line in high school.

Anyway I was sitting in the car line today waiting for Kameron to come out of choir practice. Choir practice ends at 4:00 which really puts a dent into my Dr. Phil time, so already I’m irritated. Did I mention that my son moves as slow as a snail? Especially after a long day at school and choir practice on top of that. Did I also mention that Kameron still doesn’t recognize my car that I’ve had for two months? I’ve seen him walk right past it looking for my Jeep that Mr. D now drives. It’s frustrating.

I caught a glimpse of Kameron in my rear view mirror today, he seemed to be moving, almost speed walking to my car. “Great” I thought to myself. He’s going to blow past my car again. In anticipation of that happening I rolled down my window in order to get his attention which didn’t happen. What I heard from inside my car certainly got mine “Kaaammmeerrroonnn I love you!” “Kameron I’ll see you tomorrow – kisses!” My mind instantly turned into scrambled eggs because I didn’t even notice that Kameron had gotten into the car. Flushed, eyes wide open, with a look of (dare I say) terror on his face he said “Mom get me out of here!” Putting the car in drive and throwing caution to the wind as I drove quickly out of the car line.

I think we were both in a state because I said in a somewhat crazy voice “who was that?” Kameron told me the girl’s name, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell you what it is now. “It’s her mom, she says she loves me, she won’t leave me alone!” “I don’t like her like that mom!” I thought “man, choir girls are more aggressive than I remember.” They were always the soft-spoken girls when I was in school. I guess things have changed a bit.

I let Kameron calm down a bit. He was listening to his iPod to some really loud music. I do that too when I’m frazzled. What do I say? What do I do? Last year he can’t get enough of the girls (one in particular.) This year he’s running away from them. I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned off his iPod, he knew it was time to discuss the situation.

I said “Kameron do you know why she’s teasing you and making a big deal about her liking you?” “No” he grumbeled. I said “well, she probably does like you, but she’s telling you and you’re freaking out right?” I got a defeated “Yeah.” In my infinite mommy wisdom I asked him “do you want her to stop?” “YES!” “If you want her to stop ignore her. She’s only doing it to get a reaction out of you. If you don’t freak out after a while she’ll stop.” “Ok Mom,” I could tell he was feeling better.

He seemed relieved and I was too. Now not only do I have a car line problem, it appears I have a girl in the pink sweatshirt problem. Fabulous!

 

Kameron Goes To D.C. October 12, 2012

I’ve been agonizing over this for weeks. Kameron taking a class trip to Washington D.C.

To Our Lady of Greenwoods credit, they were very organized planning the trip. Meeting after meeting, they had the trip planned down to the last-minute. So why worry right? Kam is in the very capable hands of OLG and their chaperons.

The activities they have planned for the next two days are unbelievable really. A trip to the Smithsonian Institute, the Holocaust Museum, mass at the National Shrine, a guided tour of DC including the White House, WWII Memorial, Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall, The Lincoln Memorial, The Korean War Veterans Memorial, and the Martin Luther King Jr. National Monument, and that’s just the first day!

Today the kids get to go to Fords Theater, US Capitol Building (tour), lunch at Union Station, Mt. Vernon, Alexandria walking tour. After that, get this, a private pizza dinner and dance cruise on the Potomac!

Tomorrow they get to visit the US Marine Corp War Memorial and are touring Arlington National Cemetery that includes a changing of the guard and a wreath laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Then they come home.

Pretty exciting stuff right? Kameron was totally stoked going to the airport at 4:30 in the morning, me, not so much. When we got in he immediately found his friends and starting talking with them. I was trying to take a picture of him – this is what I got, annoyed as hell. His chaperone found his group and they started getting their tickets. I could feel my stomach churning as they grabbed their boarding passes.

I thought is he going to be too cool to say bye to his mom with all his friends around?

I get a little wonky when Kameron isn’t around. He’s been to CYO camp but that’s only 45 minutes away. This was a big trip for him, and just another step in the process of those words I really hate; growing up.

Looking at Mr. D I was like well, I guess it’s time to go. Then I heard “Mom.” I turned and Kameron had stepped away from his group and was motioning us over. I walked over to give him a hug (lying to myself that I wouldn’t cry.) He hugged me and then hugged Mr. D. Then he hugged me again, a little tighter than before. I told him that I loved him and to have a good time. “Ok” was my answer, and he was off.

I of course cried all the way to the car.

I was very happy to get a text message from Kam last night that said “We are in Washington D.C.” I asked if the plane ride was ok (he has problems with his ears) “Yes” he said. I was all great, have fun, I love you, text me if you want…I waited for a reply. Nothing. He did his due diligence and was off to monkey around with his friends. Which is fine. I’m surprised I got the text.

I’ll be very happy to see my little man and hear all about his great adventure in D.C. tomorrow, and to have him home.

 

“You Don’t Know What It’s Like To Be A Teenager” August 20, 2012

That’s the new catch phrase in my house. It usually is said with some type of eye roll, sigh, foot stomping, or a combination of all three – which is my favorite.

The problem of course is me and Mr. D. Apparently we’re unreasonable in the eyes of this 13 year old.

Let me give you an example of the madness. Last Wednesday as Mr. D. was dropping off Kameron at school Kameron decided to TELL Mr. D. that he was going to the library with a friend after school. Mr. D. is much more patient than I am, he calmly asked if Kameron had asked me about going to the library. The sigh came and then he said “no.” I don’t know why Kameron thinks he can manipulate this situation. Perhaps he’s testing Mr. D. to see how far he can push to get a yes out of him. Kameron isn’t stupid, he has learned that timing is everything. He figures that if he asks when he’s getting out of the car that Mr. D. will be distracted and won’t think of asking “have you talked to your mom about this?” Don’t let the sexy grey hair fool you, Mr. D. is pretty quick on his feet at 7:30 in the morning. Kameron quickly got out of the van. I’m pretty sure Mr. D. didn’t get “have a good day at school” out before Kameron slammed the door and stomped into school.

A few minutes later I got a phone call from school saying Kameron would like to talk to me. A last ditch effort before class starts. “Mom, can I go to the library after school?” Ugh. “I don’t recall you asking permission to go to the library last night, did you?” “No” he said, sounding disappointed. “Well Kameron when you want to do things you have to ask for permission before you just assume you can do them right?” “Yes” he said sounding very irritated by my speech that I’ve given him a hundred thousand times. “So no Kameron you can’t go to the library today, I’ll see you at three o’clock.” “Ok” sounding so defeated, and hung up the phone. So it goes, I’ve ruined his life yet again. I suspect he’ll live.

So I go back to the statement “You Don’t Know What It’s Like To Be A Teenager” yum, yeah I do. However my teenage years look very different than yours Kambo. I’ll admit it, Kameron leads a very charmed life. It’s my fault, well, mine and my parents fault. I overcompensated a lot after I divorced his father. Where I lacked, my parents filled in the gaps.

Just in the last year my poor, can’t go to the library kid, has done the following: Gone to Florida, Holiday World (twice), CYO camp (twice), Roncalli Theater Camp (twice), and WWE Wrestling matches (twice – maybe three times.) Countless number of games to play, having friends over, plays, theater, extreme Christmases. He’s been to California three times (I’ve been once.) He’s going to Washington D.C. in a month through a trip that his school has coordinated. I could go on and on, but frankly, it’s embarrassing.

So when I hear his tale of woe, I roll my eyes and heave a sigh. Teenager? Let me tell you kid, you don’t get it. As I’m writing this I have a feeling that he’s going to “get it” very soon.

My teenage years were full of responsibility. A lot of responsibility. When I was Kameron’s age my days while I was in school were filled with school, homework, and taking care of my sisters. When I was thirteen my sister Marcia was ten, my sister Ashley was a newborn.  My mom would pick me and Marcia up from school with Ashley in the backseat. We would go home and start on homework. Ashley was about seven months old, so she was mobile. While we were studying we had to keep a watchful eye on our infant sister. The weekends were filled with chores (that you didn’t get paid for), and “babysitting” (babysitting you didn’t get paid for.) If the chores didn’t get done, we were grounded. That’s it, that was the way it was.

My sympathy meter for Kameron’s “teenage life” is low, very low right now. I am going to start some new rules, with some new responsibilities. It’s time, and way overdue.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

 

Kameron’s Melt Down November 27, 2011

Filed under: Stuff — stepheppichdaily @ 10:52 pm
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Normally, at least I would think, people like to sleep in. I would say if a person was asked “given the opportunity would you sleep in if you could?” I think most would say “yes.”

Then there’s my son.

I woke up late for me.  Mr. D let me sleep in, which I always appreciate.  It’s just a deal with us not to bother the other person if they are asleep.  If Mr. D sleeps in it’s because he really needs it. Sometimes  it gets him breakfast in bed, which doesn’t hurt, right?  Anyway, I woke up late.  I looked into the hallway and saw Kameron and Samanthas doors were both shut.  Which meant they were still sleeping.  Too much Thanksgiving celebration perhaps.  Kameron’s had a little bit of a cold, so I figured the extra sleep couldn’t hurt.

I walked out into the living room finding Mr. D in the “Sunday Position.”  The Sunday Position is him sitting on the couch with coffee, the news paper up on the computer, and some ridiculous political show on the TV.   He must have heard me because he got up, gave me a kiss and a hug.  I squeezed back and asked “where is everybody?”  “Still asleep I guess” he said as he sat back down to watch the political ridiculousness.  Samantha surfaced not too long after.  Kameron was still not spoken for, like I said, he had a touch of a cold, so I wasn’t too worried about him.

About a half hour later I heard a rather large sigh.  I looked back and there was my son looking barely awake and rather annoyed.  I said “hey Boo” and got up to hug him – which he was clearly not in the mood for.  I stood back and asked “what’s wrong with you?”  I mean, the kid has at least ten hours of sleep, how could he possibly be in a rotten mood?  He looked at me with big tears in his eyes and said “how could you?”  A little surprised, I said “how could I what?”  He started stomping towards the stairs and I said “Kameron, get back here, what is your problem?”  (Now I’m irritated.)  He sat down on the steps with his head in his hands.

Thinking the possibility of his explanation being completely without merit and ridiculous, I do what any good parent would do – push record on my iPhone.

He said “how could you let me sleep in like that?”  I said “well, you’ve had a cold, and I thought you might need the rest.”  “Mom, I didn’t get to start playing my game!”  (It’s a wrestling game that he got last week – I didn’t buy it – he paid for it himself.)  I thought to myself is this kid serious?  Surely there has to be some explanation for this upheaval of emotions regarding this game.  I sent Mr. D to make sure as Kameron stomped upstairs.

Kameron sitting on the couch crying, Mr. D confirmed that nothing could have happened to the game while he was asleep.  No levels were lost.  No players gone.  No match not finished.  He just wanted to get up earlier damnit and play the game.  Since we didn’t get him up in protest he was just going to sit on the couch, stare at the blank tv, and cry.  This is what I call 12 year old boy PMS.  I sat on the couch and just shook my head.  What was I suppose to do – it’s freakin ridiculous.

About ten minutes later his friend Ben who lives down the street rang the doorbell.  Mr. D let him in and told him Kameron was upstairs.

It was a transformation.  Right before my eyes my emotional, pathetic, crying at the blank tv son became Kameron again.

Geez he’s only 12.