Ah Dad’s guide to parenting teens.

Lately I have gained a lot of new followers of which some are trapped in the midst of the stress and anxiety associated with parenting.  I’m kidding!  Being a parent is the most ungrateful, toughest job in the world. I’m kidding!  The money is not good either.

But it’s rewarding.  In a don’t-make-me-come-over-there-and slap-the-stupid-out-of-you kind of way.

Then there’s teenagers.

Therefore, a drafted this simply guide for raising teens based on three years of governing my beautiful, darling, little angels through the monster-phase maze into adulthood.

I severed a third of my left foot.

Like this but on my left foot.

Holiday at my house implies camping. With a caravan.  I’m not a savage.

Some feel that camping is just a rich man’s way of understanding how homeless people live. I tend to disagree.  Camping is just my way of avoiding beds that had countless sleeping bodies on them before.

Another reason for using a caravan would the access to electricity, a roof and running water.  It’s something the Wife requires. She’s fancy like that.

Setting up camp is nearly not as much fun as it may sounds.  It’s hard labour and involves lifting, hitting, unfolding, holding and screaming at the rest of the family for not moving as quickly as I want them too.

Audrey has body-snatched my son

To everyone reading this, just bear with me for a second…

Kids, the reference to Audrey is a Venus fly trap with an insatiable hunger for blood as portrayed in the musical “Little Shop of Horrors.”  And this was not posted from Wikipedia.

So consider yourself informed because that’s what Fathers do. Now let’s continue…

Audrey was dying until Seymour accidentally discovers the plant needs blood to survive.  After that first feeding, the plant starts craving blood and demands more, even murdering a couple of people.  The plant turned out to be an alien.  Ooooops…Spoiler alert.

Braces off

You should thank me for NOT posting some of the other images one gets when Googling “crooked teeth”.  Image courtesy of http://www.mydentail.ie

As parents we are very much aware of events in the lives of our children, especially when it comes to signs of them growing up.

We celebrate their first tooth, their first word and their first step.  We celebrate their first successful poop in a potty.  And then commence to change a thousand soiled underpants thereafter.  We celebrate their first day of kindergarten with tears of joy and their last day of high school with unattractive sobbing.

Why the Blogger Recognition Award is the coolest thing to happen to me this week.

Most of my weeks sucks because I have to work and it’s been an eternity since my last holiday.  What makes matters worse is that both my kids have finished their final exams of their respective grades and they’re sitting at home doing nothing.  Sorry, that’s technically not true; they’re hanging out with friends around the pool playing pool, getting hooked on PS4 and YouTube crazes, sleeping in…you know keeping busy like teenagers keep busy.

And I have to pay for all of it with blood, sweat and tears.

Then this happened…

Ten reasons why parenting teens and parenting toddlers are exactly the same thing.

I’m half-way through the war and I’m happy to report that there’s only been a limited amount of injuries and no casualties.  One can only hope that the post-traumatic stress of the battles won’t cause excessive psychological damage in the long run.

The war I’m referring to is trying to get my spawn to migrate from kids to teenagers.  And I have two.  Don’t feel sorry for me, just send money.  And alcohol.

Seriously though, thus far they haven’t turned into the raging hormonal freaks so many other parents warned us about.  They’re merely two hormonal, moderately erratic, older versions of the loving kids that used to live in our house.  Two people trying to understand who they are, where they fit in and how to cope with life.  We pray that this journey of discovery ends in complete acceptance and unconditional self-love.

I’ve been tweeting

A love to laugh as much as anyone who isn’t walking around with a stick up their arse.  (Ass for my American speaking friends and buttocks for the rest of you.)  Just because I can.

So some of you might have been wondering where I’ve been lately and I’m grateful to be missed.  For those who haven’t even noticed my absence from this blog, please fake a feeling in order to spare mine…

Besides the fact that I was out of town, or more like out of the country, I was tweeting.  It’s my latest addiction and just to prove to all of you, that I’m not lying, I’ve decided to post fifteen of my Twitter-ations over here.

Laugh with me #48

I know this is cheating but I’ve been busy.  With work.  Hahahahaha.  I kill me.

I’ve actually been happily tweeting for the last few days and discovered a whole new way of wasting time. I promise, I am working on a decent post for you.

Seeing that I’m sitting at an airport, again, this guy reminds me of me when I travel.  Not so much the falling but the excessive luggage begging for a disaster to happen.

And due to some constraints on certain airlines, I’m also not allowed to take a cooler with me.

Asta la vista babies!!

Laugh with me #47

Woman use retail therapy almost as much as men would like to use the lie-on-the-couch-watching-sport-and-bitch-bring-me-a-beer-therapy.  The latter never happens because most female dogs have not learnt how to open a fridge.  Or crack a can.

And men would never expect the love of our lives to be our beck-and-call and bring us any kind of alcoholic beverage because they didn’t get married to serve our lazy asses.  Unless you might find yourself in the close proximity of the general kitchen area and you love me and you think o…uh love…uh…wait now…let’s talk about it…please put that down.

Let me rather get back to shopping…Our couch is not really all that comfortable.

The eagerness of finding a bargain may lead to extensive property damage, a severe crushed ego, some other minor injuries and hysterical, unstoppable laughter.

The owner might end up having to fire this window cleaner for a job too well done.

Laugh with me #46

Face plants are always funny but sometimes they’re just frigging hilarious.  Especially if it didn’t happen to you or a loved one.  No wait, that’s wrong.  Face plants are especially funny when it happens to someone you love…

I’m sure the guy/girl/friend/mother/uncle who was taping this little treasure had to be admitted to hospital, suffering a torn spleen caused by hysterical laughter, moments later.  

It’s also the reason why I prefer to just lie on a beach and do nothing.  I have no intention of landing arse in the air with my head in the sand.