I Don't Like Mondays

Was I the only one who thought of the Boomtown Rats last Monday?

I can understand not liking Mondays. They can come as a shock, depending on the quality of your weekend, juxtaposed with how much you really don't like your day gig.

On this Monday night, I find myself thinking about my dad, and wondering how he put up with me when I was a teenager. I'd think about my mom, but I think that might be too painful. She lived with me and my brother most of the time. My dad saw me on Wednesday nights and every other weekend. Normally, I'd feel bad for the dad not getting as much time with the kid, but in this case, nah.

My darling-about-to-be-teenaged daughter is, I think, a good kid. Tonight she told me she wanted to be an organ donor. I said, sure - you just need to sign something that says so and then I can ok it if something happens to you. She said, "NO, I want to be a LIVE organ donor. I want to give someone my kidney."

That's very generous, honey. but I think first you have to be an adult and find out if you might really need that other kidney....

Is that true? I have no idea. I'm assuming for the moment that you have to be 18 to decide to give up your spare parts. I'll add it to my list of things to Google (on the list at the moment: Greg Kihn's album names - did they all have a play on the name 'Kihn' Like, "Kihn-Fused" or "Kihn-Tinued" or "SmoKihn"??)

I love her so much, and watching her grow up is just going to kill me, I fear. It's painful watching your kid stumble into some of the same habits or problems that you had yourself, or still do have. Such as: too much caffeine, binging on donuts, letting your homework build up, being the biggest slob on the face of the planet, being unable to fall asleep without the TV being on, not eating enough protein and having your blood sugar run your day, signing up for ice skating lessons but then not wanting to go.

You watch your kid start out with all this innocence and promise and uniqueness, then they turn 12 and the sheen starts getting crud built up all over it. You can still catch glimpses of the sparklyness here and there. And I know it's different for everyone. Maybe it's not so bad for some kids. My daughter has developed into a 12-going-on-13-year-old supermodel. She's obsessed with her looks. Of course, I would be, too. She's tall, superthin, blond, blue-eyed - all those things that are supposedly valued. Looking good is fine, but being smart and funny is what it's all about, in my book. Which I've told her over the years. Right now, though, she doesn't care so much about smart. Not school smart, anyway. Luckily, she is pretty funny. When she's not busy getting annoyed at her parents or her brother.

Of course, I used to be just like her. In fact, I think I was pretty much like her until I was about 44! Somehow, I want her to be better than me. I want her to get things sooner than I did (if I ever really did). Damn, I don't want her to have to make all my mistakes! There are some she might not have to make. Time will tell. The vision I have in my head is of some bird-mother on some Animal Planet show. The bird-mom is teaching her lil birds to fly. Some make it, some don't. It's kinda hard watching them learn, but not knowing for sure what the outcome is going to be.

I believe in the power of love, and I'm going to have faith that the love I have for her is going to help me teach her to fly. Can you teach someone to fly better than you can fly yourself?

That reminds me of when my friends and I were all getting pregnant. We'd always joke about the smoking and drinking thing. "Oh, our mothers drank and smoked and we all turned out fine!", they would say. I would always reply, "I don't know. I think I could have turned out a little bit better..."