I’m not one of those people who spills all and leans on friends like I should in times of crisis. It’s only after the storm has started to subside that I’ll sit down and pour out my thoughts. So, here I am. The storm has begun to subside, for now.

My daughter. Jeez. Where do I begin? I’ll start by saying RIGHT NOW, things are pretty good. Things are looking up. And yesterday, I saw the biggest sign of progress I’ve seen in a long, long time.

She’s depressed, but I’m beginning to see that she’s more manipulative than anything else. And she’s completely heartbroken over this boy who influenced her to do a laundry list of stupid things. We’ve had a solid week of HELL with that girl. Yesterday, though, she wrote a letter to her ex-boyfriend. She told him she loved him, but that she was letting him go, and even though she knew she was falling, she had lots of people who love her, waiting to catch her. And then she gave it to him. I can’t even begin to tell you how pleased I am with this. I’m so proud that she’s finding some inner strength to stand up for what’s good and right. She’s being considerate of herself and of her family and friends for once, instead of thinking of this lameass boy. And she’s finally seeing her own future, outside of a relationship with him. THANK GOD.

So, that’s where we are right now. We’re seeing a new, WONDERFUL shrink, who will hopefully outline a plan of action for getting our child back to where she wants and needs to be. And I can only hope there will be a ripple effect throughout the family, so that when the girlchild gets better, we ALL start to get better. Because it’s definitely affecting all of us. Everyone is walking around pissed off and high strung. Yay! Happy days in this household, NOT.

It’s getting better. Think happy thoughts for us, okay?

I’ve figured out how to eliminate all drama from the internet in a few easy steps.

Please don’t assume something is about you. Chances are, it’s not. I know it’s hard for all of us to hear, but the world really isn’t revolving around each of us. Few people have specific targets in mind as we go through life. Sometimes a post is just a post. MOST of the time, I’d wager. So before you think to yourself, “Well, what did she mean by that?” or “Is that supposed to be about me?” Just…stop. Step away from the internet, go for a walk in the sunshine, eat some noodles.

If it’s really under your skin, and you just cannot move forward in life without finding out the intent of whatever’s bugging you, here’s what you need to do. CALL THAT PERSON ON THE PHONE. Have an actual conversation, comprised of spoken words. Perhaps you don’t have that person’s phone number. I understand. Here’s what to do in that case. Find their email address, and send them an email that says, “Hey! I need to talk to you about something. Can you give me a call at ____ ? Thanks!” (Insert your phone number there.)

Here is what NOT to do. Do NOT post a vague comment or tweet, laced with hostility. Do NOT confront them publicly, on their Facebook wall, on Twitter, or in their blog comments. Do NOT write a passive aggressive note to them. (You could end up here!) It doesn’t matter how much you pepper your post with uppercase letters, winking smilies, and lols – people will misinterpret your tone and interpret what you’re saying in a completely different way than you mean. Pick up the goddamn phone and have a conversation like an adult. Think to yourself, “How would I have handled this problem if we lived in the year 1989?” Here’s how: you’d pick up the phone and call them up. You’d bitch about it to your husband, not to the entire world wide web. You’d have done all of this while wearing Shine Free purple mascara and 5″ high bangs, plastered into place with Bold Hold hairspray. But that’s what you would have done.

If everyone would just follow this philosophy – first, don’t assume it’s about you – and second, don’t try to get to the bottom of things through your keyboard – SO MUCH DRAMA could be averted. We could change the world, people.

Well, you know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words. I could probably just post the picture and leave it at that. But no, that just won’t do – not for long-winded ME!

My oldest child is driving me to drink. And I’m seriously on the fence, teetering between “she’s a teenager; she’s supposed to be apathetic, dishonest, overly dramatic, and hate school” and “how in the hell will she ever function in society OMG she’s going to be living here when she’s 30 years old and end up working at Del Taco.”

It’s a tough road we’re on right now. Without overstepping the boundaries of privacy too much, I’ll simply state that she’s been struggling with some depression. I recognize it. I understand it. Hell, I LIVE it. I know exactly what it’s like. And I’ve told her that. The thing is, you can’t rely on the excuse of depression as a free pass for getting out of everything you don’t want to do. Like, homework. I know she doesn’t care about school, and I get that. School is a big fat drag when you’re fourteen. And how often do you really use algebra once you’re out of school? I fully recognize that she is only there for the social aspect. But I just can’t make her GET IT that she still has to DO THE WORK. It’s that whole fake-it-till-you-make-it thing. You might not care about it, but you still have to DO it. Even if you struggle with depression, you still have to fulfill certain responsibilities. That’s life, y’know?

Ugh. It’s nice that I have my husband to talk me down from the ledge. He’s already raised two teenagers, and he’s sooooo easygoing about all of this. I know that there are plenty of folks out there who didn’t give a shit about high school, and they aren’t homeless or anything like that as adults. But still, it’s so completely frustrating when I can’t find ANY passion in my child whatsoever. She’s looking forward to seeing her friends at lunch tomorrow, and she’s happy to know that she’s not going to die in the near future. And that’s IT. There is nothing else that she cares about. Nothing. It just feels beyond the normal teenage bullshit to me. And like I said, I’m wavering. Part of me is scared to death for my child, and worried about her future and completely stressed about her mental wellbeing. The other part of me is like, “Eh.” Almost everyone I know with a kid in high school is telling me a similar tale. Her issues are just not that unique, really.

I’m praying hard that she straightens out and realizes that life is awesome and that there is true joy to be found in it. I know being a teenager sucks. I remember. I’m banking on the notion that by the time my other four kids are teens and putting me through hell, my oldest will be well-adjusted and content with her life, so she can help knock some sense into her siblings. I think that’s my only hope. And maybe in years to come, I’ll mellow out a bit, too.

That’s a Snoop Dogg lyric, did you know that? Betcha didn’t. I don’t imagine Big Snoopy D-O-double-G was considering the plight of the stay-at-home-mother when he wrote it, but I can sure relate to it.

Things are swell. Things are great! Things are a train wreck and a half! I keep thinking that if I just embrace it and own it and realize once and for all that this is our normal, I’ll deal with things better. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m just going to write about it so it all makes sense for me, because I really think it’s scariest when it’s inside my own head. Once I get it out in the open, it’s like, eh. No biggie.

My oldest child is seriously struggling in school. We’re almost mid-way through freshman year, and thing’s aren’t going well. She’s so painfully unmotivated, and it’s something we’ve been dealing with for the past four years now. I can’t even begin to list all the many ways we’ve tried to light a fire under her ass. She’s just so damned apathetic, and it’s something I see over and over with kids her age. We want so badly for our kids to have what we didn’t have, and to not have to struggle or go without, and because of it, they value NOTHING. My husband grew up poor, and actually was homeless several times as a child. He’s mentioned many times that he wishes our kids could go through a safer version of what he went through, just so they’d know what it’s like to not have electricity or to have to sleep in the car. I don’t know that we need to go THAT far with it, but I sure wish there was a way to boot these kids in the ass a little, and make them realize that the world doesn’t revolve around them and their skinny jeans. I think I’m going to start dragging my daughter out on Saturday mornings to volunteer in a soup kitchen or something.

Besides the drama with the teenager, I feel like I’m losing my mind a little in this crazy house. Or my hearing, anyway. I’ve never been around such LOUD children before. From the time they wake up until the time they snuggle up and fall asleep at night, they are SHOUTING at one another. I’m sure it’s at least partially genetic, since I’m married to the loudest man on the planet. Normally, I’m not bothered by it at all, but it seems like they’ve cranked it up to eleven this week. We need to start a marathon round of The Quiet Game.

And when I left my house today, it was CLEAN. It even smelled good. Every bed was made, every inch of carpet vacuumed. Within an hour of returning home with four monkeys, the house looked like I hadn’t touched it. I found toys, shoes, books, and clothing on the floor in five different rooms before dinnertime. Erma Bombeck once said that trying to clean house when you have small children is like shoveling while it’s still snowing. I can’t think of a better comparison! Still, I’m thankful that I have my five monsters, and we have a roof over our heads. Things could definitely be worse.

Tomorrow, I think I’m going to take myself out for sushi.