Teenagers

I don't think I will ever understand teenagers.  Take today for instance, I get a frantic text from Lindsay who had left her English presentation at home. So as any dutiful parent would, I drop everything and drive to the school with the forgotten pages. At that point I am, in her words "THE! BEST! MUM! EVER!". Sadly, that sentiment was fleeting, because a mere few hours later when I return to the school (for the third time in one day) to carpool kids for swimming practice, I am persona non grata, as Lindsay does her best to pretend she doesn't know me. The journey to the pool is an exercise in frustration, as my futile efforts at conversation go ignored. Not sure how I went to being a shoe-in for the "Parent of the Year" award to resident Pariah in such a short time.

I know how to fix it though, the next time the kids clamber in the van, instead of relinquishing control of the radio to my daughter, I will turn up my Kris Kristofferson CD and bop away to my heart's content. Try ignoring that, Sunshine. Payback's a bitch.

While I am on the topic of teens, why is it that when I ask anything of my eldest, or remind her -in my nicest dulcet tones of course - of something that needs doing, I always get an exasperated "I know" accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.  If she knows so goddamn much, why do I have to keep issuing reminders ?