Mummyfried

For those who do not know me, I am not particularly comfortable around animals. I selectively pet dogs and avoid cats like the plague. I think household pets are seriously smarter than what we give them credit for. Find a good docile attentive owner - and the ideal lifestyle is created. This gives any human like me, watching from afar hope to be reincarnated into a household pet. Birds are as close to my heart as my love of hard labor on a summer’s day. Fish are to be eaten, or left to navigate the planet's plastic polluted waters. They definitely should not crammed into a small round fishbowl or not flushed down the toilet when they die. We live in a dog-friendly and dog-loving leafy area, decorated with an enormous sprinkle of dogshit. This means I walk around the area with a not-so-happy or light spring in my step.  My discomfort goes further. I simply can’t deal with houses that smell like animal. Despite the above, I often find myself in the distasteful position of having cats...

The unwelcome invasion of hormonal, attitudal  (is that a word?), smelly teenagerhood has rudely planted itself in my once, almost peaceful home. One day, I woke up and it was firmly implanted like a concrete blob. Ugly, tough, impenetrable and difficult to remove. No warning, no instruction manual, no return policy. And - it is as brutal, hurtful, scary and about as confusing as a head on collision.  I get that teenagers are stressed, angry, hurting lonely -  I once was that hormonal mess - and this is what worries me.  Under the steel strict ever watchful eye of my mother - I had no wiggle room to be a smart ass (at home) but I have an inkling on how the 'A Clockwork Orange'  type of teenage rage campaign is, and for how long it lasts for. Frankly, I want none of it. I want to pull the plug and now. I am ill equipped, ill prepared to handle this. Modern day teens introduce a whole new complexity to the concept of parenting. I not ready to parent this gracefull...