Would you please go to bed?

The nice thing about Jennifer having mid-winter break is that fact I don't have to rush out the door at 4:30 pm and pray I'll get to her before the coffee shop closes.

The bad thing about it, is that my darling feels she can stay up until the wee hours, and then once she decides to go to bed, guess who wakes up? Not my hubby, who I swear could sleep through a minor nuclear explosion, but me.

This happened last night, as at about 1:30 am this morning (I'd told her to please go to bed by midnight) I heard her rattle around in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. When I stomped into the TV room, she was there curling up with the cat, munching on a banana and watching late night TV- not the Olympics but "That 70's Show'

"Jennifer, get to bed..now. Some of us have to get up in 4 hours and I have to actually function tomorrow," I snarled.

"OK, OK, I'm just eating a snack and I"ll be to bed."

20 minutes later, nothing.

So I stop out again, and again, she says she's just turning off the computer and she'll be to bed, which she does. But now it's 2 am, and I'm mad and can't get back to sleep.

Perfect President's Day

With all due respect to the dead presidents, this is a great day. TNT is running a Supernatural marathon.

Vagina Monologues rock!

Wasn't exactly sure I wanted to see the Vagina Monologues, but my friend insisted, so on Saturday we went and saw them down at PLU's theater.

And sure enough, they were great - once you got past the shock of the actors wanting you to shout "vagina" if you approved of a given monologue. "Cunt" was acceptable too, but didn't really hear too many people shouting that. (and I'm sure the psa ads will appear beside this blog in a few minutes)

Of course the play is to raise funds for women facing systematic violence throughout the world. And some of the monologues,from women in Bosnia or the Congo were heart wrenching. Others were just plain funny, like the angry vagina.

I described the play to my daughter, who's interested in seeing it next year, but I think I'll let her see it with a friend - I doubt she'll want her mom by her in some of the skits - moaning was one of my faves.

Off to shop

Even tho Apolo shows up on NBC in about a half hour. Daughter has priorities you know, and it doesn't seem to be watching the Olympics with mom.

The un Valentine's day

Since Jennifer's not dating anyone at the moment, she's planning on spending v-day with a friend who is "single" too. And go to the Valentine's Day movie together.

That aside, when I told her Gary proposed to me 23 years ago Sunday, she thought that was cheesy and unimaginative.

I told her it was nice.

Now if he would just bring home some flower besides carnations from Safeway.

I'm resigning from my UN peacekeeping post

"You're not mad at me are you?"

This was after Jennifer and I drove to Top Foods in rather stony silence after she announced that she just couldn't talk to either of us any more and couldn't express her true feelings to us, certainly not to her father, and as of yesterday, not to me.

Okaaay. I actually thought we had a pretty good relationship, and suspected that part of my "firing" as confidant had to do with the fact I'd taken Gary's side on whether or not he was rude to Jennifer in telling her to clean up a pile of teriyaki had had just ejected itself from the fridge late Tuesday night (note to self- we need to clean the fridge before it starts growling at us).

I was listening to from the bedroom, and heard Jennifer open the door, and the thunk of something falling out.

"Well, it looks like you're going to need to get a broom or towel and clean that up" - Gary

"That won't work" Jennifer

"Well, find something to clean it up, since you made the mess" - Gary

"Stop being rude dad" -Jennifer

"I'm not being rude" Gary

"yes you are"-Jennifer

And on and on. She finally cleaned up the chicken T and I decided to stay out of. But alas, Gary came back fuming over her tone (which was getting snarkier by the second) and wanted to ground her this weekend.

I just let it be, and sure enough, he changed his mind by the next day, but we both agreed, next time the snark comes out, the texting or the privileges are going away.

Fast forward to last night. She's in tears and mumbling something about reading something in her lit class (which I don't recall signing a permission for for) about how middle class families often ignore their teens emotional needs. (Thank you mr. McDermott)

So, now we're both evil. And she wants a counselor to discuss her true self with.

Fine. Fine. I"ll ask around today. And I'm officially retiring from this gig.

A permission slip for what?

Mom, you need to sign these slips while I am thinking about it - say daughter at about 6 a.m. this morning as we both emerge from the shower.

"OK, what exactly am I signing?" I say, as I scribble away.

"They are permission slips,one for seeing Schindler's List, and the other in case I'm assigned to read Catcher in the Rye"

"I just gave you the book to read, and we've already watch the film together, why do I need to sign this?"

"They just want to make sure you're okay with it...don't argue, just sign."