two dolla

the foil insulation master

Last year, The Kid did his science fair project on what types of insulation would work best in a house. He froze some ice in a paper cup and then went to Home Depot to pick out a few samples to prove his theory or hypothesis or whatever it is 6th grade scientists do. It’s weird to think that a kid who doesn’t even have arm pit hair yet (is that too personal?) knows stuff about Foil insulation, Bubble insulation, and Radiant floor insulation. Listening to a kid tell to a science fair judge that he wants a particular type of insulation when he buys a house is kind of hilarious. But that’s The Kid, you know? He can’t tell you what kind of Hamburger Helper he likes, but he knows the tools he wants to use when he builds/buys a house.

advantage #540

Here’s the cool thing about having a kid. Or, you know, a step-ish kid.

He got an iPod Touch for his birthday, which he plays with in some fashion from the time he wakes up until the time he goes to bed, with at least one or two battery charges throughout the day. We downloaded a Connect Four app that we can both use at the same time and play each other. Never mind we have the same game in tangible format in our game cabinet. This is obviously way cooler.

We just played a game with high stakes. Loser has to take a load of laundry down. Now, I won. Naturally. My grandpa never let me win at checkers, even when I was five years old, and that’s one thing I’ll never forget. Granted, he’s 13 and probably has the ability to beat me at Connect Four, but I’ve been training for a long time. Since fourth grade to be exact.

In my days at Horace Mann Elementary School, if the weather was inclement in any fashion (rain, snow, heat, etc.), we would have recess indoors. Sometimes it meant in the gym, sometimes it meant in the classroom. When we were stuck in the classroom, we played board games. I regularly challenged my art teacher (who was later fired, but I can’t remember for the life of me way, although I’m pretty sure it had something to do with looking down girls shirts and finding booze in his desk drawer) to Connect Four and made it my mission to slaughter him regularly. Quite a lofty goal for a 9/10 year old, but one I achieved after a lot of practice.

Eventually, the weather cleared up and we got to resume recess outside. I don’t think the art teacher held any hard feelings for me, because he never sent me to the principal’s office when I beat people up. We clearly must have bonded.

In 45 minutes, after the load of laundry is ready to be swapped out, we’re having a rematch. Little does The Kid know he’s going to be doing laundry All. Night. Long.

I met The Kid when he was 10 and helped celebrate his 11th birthday at the Mall of America. This was him then:

And today, he turned 13. THIRTEEN. He was at his dad’s today, so we let him open his birthday presents earlier this week. I think he was pretty happy.

I always knew I’d have kids. I just never expected to start learning this whole parent thing just before the teenage years hit. But like I told him in his birthday card, I couldn’t have asked for a better bonus kid and I’m proud of him for just being exactly who he is. There’s so much I could write about when it comes to him, but since he’s 13 and knows how to Google with the best of them, I just save it.

In the event that he does somehow find this, HAPPY 13TH BIRTHDAY, DON*!

(I’ve started calling him Don, since he’s clearly a grown man now and none of his other nicknames seem to fit him anymore…)

where i gush about a kid

So, today, I realized I’m pretty much in love with a boy. He happens to be turning 13 at the end of this month, but over the last week, I’ve realized that I don’t just love him like he’s my better half’s kid. I love him like he’s my own. I’m not his mom. He already has an absolutely fantastic one of those. I’m not his dad. One, I don’t have the parts to be a dad, but two, he also has a very incredible one of those, too. I’m just his Wendy and I’m cool with that. So very cool with that.
 
We met when he was just a shade under 11 years old. The first time we met was at the dog park. Less than 10 minutes later, he was using his metal detector to search the pockets of my cargo shorts. About a week later, the three of us were at the dog park again. He didn’t want me to leave, so he hid in my car and refused to get out eventually wedging himself on the floorboard between the driver’s seat and the back seat. He was stuck for a good 15 minutes.
 
He was not at all into sports before we met. In the past two years, he’s gotten into basketball and loves going to WNBA games. He waffles between Yao Ming and Shaquille O’Neal has his favorite NBA player. Over the last month or so, we’ve been playing catch with a baseball mitt I got him a while ago. He’s got a heck of an arm!
 
I wasn’t at all into sci-fi and, well, reading before I met him. I’ve read the entire Twilight series (save the last half of the 4th book, because C’MON, IT’S GETTING HORRIBLE) and can tell you things about Dr. Who that I’d never even heard of prior to that. I’m also still very capable of doing middle school math, if you can believe that.
 
Over the past couple of months, this kid has grown from a squeaky little boy to this young man whose voice is dropping and who grows out of jeans every two months. He’s abandoned most of his arguing when he screws up and gotten into the habit of doing his hair every morning. I’m still fighting the Axe Body Spray thing, but that’s a battle that’s probably not going anywhere.
 
Point is, I’m pretty much in love with this kid. He’s as much a part of me as any kid could ever be.

great clips to the rescue

I’m pretty sure that since I’ve met The Kid, he’s been trying to grow his hair out. When he and I first met, we both had faux hawks and, hell yes, we rocked them together.

This past week, he decided he wanted to get a haircut. To short and spiky. I, while extremely elated, thought he was kidding.

Nope.

He went from a mini-Chuck Norris look-alike to s Backstreet Boy. His mom? Kinda hates it. His Wendy? Seriously loves it.

I know it’s just the novelty of it, but for the last three days, he’s been sampling new hair product (my leftovers) to see which holds his hair up the best and which makes it look more spiky.

best advice today

Were you to encounter a ninja, they would kick your everlovin’ ass.

I love The General. A lot. And I love the reasoning that it takes to get The Kid to understand things. Especially how he’s not a ninja. Clearly dressing as Chuck Norris/Walker Texas, Ranger for Halloween has gone to his head.

the last 5 minutes of conversation?

The Kid, coming out of the bathroom: You can tell I wasn’t paying attention…

I’m adding that to the list of things I never want to come out of his mouth again.

He said “threesome” earlier, but I didn’t acknowledge it. I was too scared.

The Kid, just now while watching the baseball game: Uh, is his last name Puto?

Me: Nope. Punto.

The Kid, clearly having paid attention in Spanish class: Okay, because that just wasn’t appropriate.

I’m a single parent this week, which explains why we had McDonald’s for dinner and baseball is on the TV.

I could write another post about the new foster dog we have that won’t stop humping things, even after being neutered, but that kind of post disturbs me way too much.

i’ve got my eye on you, h1n1

My new favorite show on TLC (The Learning Channel, obviously, because I learn SO much from it) is Police Women of Broward County. Shut up. It’s awesome. I love watching some little 5’3″ police lady chase down some trashy thug and then bragging to all the dude cops around her that she got to him first.

The Child just says, as he’s watching it with us which we normally don’t let him do: “Why is it that all of the drug dealers have the same color underwear on this show?” And he’s right. They do all wear the blue plaid boxers that stuck up above their pants.

Also The Child has the flu: fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, chills, fatigue, no energy to do anything but lay in bed all day and read Sims Strategy Guides, even though he’s never played the actual PC version.

And you know damn good and well I’m on Swine Flu watch. Sometimes I hate the internet and it’s diagnosing of things.

cool things about the 12 year old

Trust me. There were times this summer, when I didn’t really think I’d ever in my life want to title any post like this.

• I bought him a copy of NBA Streets v3 for his PS2 this weekend from GameStop. It’s used and it was cheap, and I figured it was something I could play while he wasn’t here. Today, he designed a shoe for me and created a character for me, and generally talked to me about a video game that wasn’t inspired by some damn comic book or fantasy Disney movie.
• He and his dad have been into slot cars very recently. He’s showing a pretty cool interest in cars now, identifying what kind, noticing ones that he really likes, etc. As much shit as I give my brother for his 650 subscriptions to car and truck related magazines, I’m kinda stoked that this kid is showing this kind of interest in something not video game/computer related.
• He got braces a few weeks ago and he’s taking such incredibly good care of them. It’s gone from begging him to brush his teeth at least one of the day, for the love of all that is holy, to telling him he’s spending enough time gargling with mouthwash that’s strong enough to burn your eyebrows off. His teeth are moving so quickly and he’s being such an amazing trooper about it all.
• We threatened him a week ago that if he didn’t start taking care of his hair, he was going to have to get it all cut off. He hasn’t had a haircut in the year plus that I’ve known him. Since that threat, he’s really started showing some pride in how good his hair looks. While I don’t necessarily think it needs to be down to his shoulders and am really scared it’s turning into a mullet, I’m not going to ride the kid’s ass about getting a haircut when he’s actually combing it more than once a week.

In all, this whole pre-teenager thing is turning out to be okay. (I refuse to use the word TWEEN.)

It’s likely I’ll delete this post in about a week when he does something like stay up until 3am playing Playstation on a week night.

a 12 year old with a phone

The Boy turned 12 at the end of May. After many, many in depth conversations between The General and I, we ended up getting him a cell phone for his birthday. The biggest pro for me was that we don’t have a landline, so anytime we leave The Boy at home alone, we have no way to get in touch with him and, really, he has no way to get in touch with us if there’s an emergency. I don’t know how much a landline costs, but I know that we got his phone for free and we’re only paying $5 more per month to have him on our cell phone plan. And, we can see everyone he calls and texts, which is pretty much safer than a landline anyway.

We wound up getting him the Samsung Gravity, which comes complete with a camera and a QWERTY keyboard. He’s already taken full advantage of our unlimited text and photo package. On Friday, I got six different messages while at work ranging anywhere from “Wassup dog” to “What are you doing”. For the most part, he keeps busy texting me, The General and his dad. He also has a Flickr account (which I can give to you if you want to email me and you’re not a psycho), which has proven to be quite interesting. Most of his pictures turn out something like this:

Why, yes, that is a picture taken of his TV while he was in the midst of playing Kingdom Hearts. Or maybe Kingdom Hearts 2 – I can’t keep track, but I do know they’re releasing a Kingdom Hearts 1.5 in a little while and he’s dying to get his hands on a copy of it because his favorite character is in it… Seriously.

And, then, every once in a while I’ll get a surprise picture message from him that will be something as adorable as this:

And then I don’t get so irritated about the text messages that tell me what episode of Roseanne he’s watching while I’m on my way home from work.