Not even a little.
Maybe it's because I don't really like her or maybe it's that my Dr has my crazy pill dosage set to "comatose", (possibly a combination of both), but I tend to think it has more to do with the fact that we've been completely successful with our kids and I'm just really excited to see what comes next. The amount of stress I've had during the high school years of either one of our kids has been minimal to say the very least. I mean they didn't sneak out of the house, drink, get high, or even have sex! Crazy, right? Oh, I KNOW how crazy that is because I DID ALL THOSE THINGS and MORE when I was in high school!
[YES MOTHER, I KNOW I certainly did not raise the kids I deserved... you've told me a million times.]
Bug's high school years went something like this:
"Mom, I have to study. I have a test."
"Do you need my help? I AM one of the smartest people I know."
"Oh. Well, Algebra is stupid anyway."
"Mom, I can't have a Girl Day with you. I have to go work."
"I just don't know why you have to work so much."
"Ummm, so I can make my own money and put gas in my own car and pay for my own phone. I can name a million more reasons. Why is everything so hard?"
"Well, because Honey, you're more responsible than half the adults I know and you'll never be standing in the line for free handouts. And just so you know, it's not going to get any easier."
"Mom, why are girls such bitches? Does it ever get better?"
"Mostly it's Eve's fault and no, it never gets better."
"Mom, I had to have a little talk with my teacher after class today because she thought giving me a B on my test was gonna fly."
Oh God..."Ok, what did you say to her? Were you respectful?"
"YES! Gawww Mom! I just asked her to explain why she thought my answer wasn't right and she couldn't give me a good enough reason. We argued about it into her next class period but I refused to give in. We both knew I had a good point. She gave it to me."
"You do know there's nothing wrong with a B, right?"
This conversation ended with Beighly giving me the how-could-I-have-come-from-the-loins-of-someone-so-completely-ignorant look.
On the other hand Brock's high school career was more like this:
Half the High School football team was over every day after school. This was not easy, but it was fun. They ate a lot and they did get into a few minor bits of trouble here and there like when AJ's butt went through Brock's bedroom wall and they weren't even doing anything at all except playing video games. Or the time they all ran in the front door to tell me "their" version of why Brock's windshield had a hole in it the exact same shape as Shawn's body because they accidentally hit him with the car. How DO you accidentally hit your best friend with your car anyway? (I never did get to the bottom of THAT.) Another night they thought it would be fun to put Octavio in the trunk of a car. At just the right moment they pulled up to a stop light where he jumped out and ran screaming down the street giving the old lady behind them a near heart attack. Try explaining THAT to the police, "Really officer, the black boy in the trunk is a good friend of theirs! They were just playing." And there was that time they
"Mrs. Brintnall, there's a boy duct taped to the tree in your front yard."
Me calling Brock, "Bubby, is one of the boys tied to the tree in the front yard?"
"No. Not really. I mean we kinda duct taped Daniel to the tree though."
"Ok, I kinda need for you to get him loose before the police show up...again."
All in all, I'd say we raised pretty normal, well adjusted kids. And by "we" I mean mostly me because let's be honest...who really keeps Dad from killing them anyway?