You don’t have to suffer to suffer to be a poet. Adolescence is enough suffering for anyone. — American poet John Ciardi, 1962

Especially for the parent.

Changing teen brain has taken to answering my questions and requests with "what the hell MOM!?"

I shake my head not really understanding why innocent requests such as "call me when you get to your friend's house" or "take your wrestling outside, you've already broken a lamp and ruined the carpet" or "stop beating up your brother" or even the casual "stop with the attitude - what is wrong with you?" always have to result in "what the hell MOM!?" Actually the response to "take your wrestling outside" also included "why are you so mean to me MOM?!" because the ground wouldn't be quite as soft as the aforemented ruined, expensive, felted-wool carpet from Pottery Barn that makes me want to weep as I mourn its lost beauty.

I can kind of understand why my mother isolated herself in her room reading fiction and eating chocolate from 1977 to 1986 because I kind of want to hide out at the neighbours, drink wine and read magazines (or hide out in my room and read the pile of books I'm desperate to get through).

But I won't. I will hopefully instead figure out how to successfully manage this new relationship - and mark off on the wall each day until he turns 18 - with the help of my friends (real and virtual), books, and perhaps this article:

http://www.walrusmagazine.com/articles/2006.11-science-the-teenage-brain/

and have a few skills and tricks in place before the 8 year old's transformation begins, because after all he's always been the more difficult one...god help me.

Oh happy days - Fuzion Shiraz Rose is back on the shelves of the LCBO and it's still only $7.50!

Run, don't walk, to your nearest store and stock up!

Especially if you have a wedding planned for late July...

http://lcbo.com/lcbo-ear/lcbo/product/details.do?language=EN&itemNumber=122424

I'm typing while in pain. Cursed cookies and cream ice cream! Why must you be so good? And especially after my ex-son's comments about my weight gain.

Better to balance it with beer and nachos. Oh ... did I just divulge my darkest of secrets?

Think GLEE.

I just finished my guitar lesson and plying the instructor with beer, organic because I feel very maternal towards him and do not want to stunt his growth further, and also so that he will consider me his favourite student. Because really, he is only 26 and are the 10 year olds going to offer him a drink? I would hope not!

We practiced Dear Prudence and to mix things up, a little Neil Young: Down by the River. And because I'm a sucker for punishment, and typing to the sounds of all the boys in my house (the lush is here too and no that is not self referencing THOMAS) playing war games on the xbox, I think I might help myself to another organic beer and think about life...while holding my stomach together...and counting the minutes until Glee starts.

Ex-son: Mom, have you gained weight?

Me: Why yes I did. In fact I gained SIX POUNDS OVER MY BIRTHDAY WEEKEND living on cake and wine. Thank you for noticing, I love you, do I look like I've gained weight?

Ex-son: Yes but now you're even more cuddly!

He's a spinner, that 8 year old.

Because our house is full of culture, my 8-year old is singing Prom Night Dumpster Baby from Family Guy and has just asked about the wire sticking from the baby's belly.

Being the loving and patient mother that I am, chock full of information, and one who takes great pleasure in shocking her children, I have just explained the workings of the umbilical cord, the placenta, transferring of nutrients from mother to baby while in utero, and what happens to the umbilical cord after the birth which finally results in the perfect belly button that most of us have.

I say most because I'm not part of that special demographic. I used to have a cute little navel that was capable of holding nearly a cup of water but no longer. Now it's just a scarred little frown but because I have not yet had the first glass of wine of the weekend, I will keep that story to myself.

Back to the umbilical cord story:

Jakob's reaction?

That's NASTY!

Because two boys, 1 husband, 2 cats (one very old and who likes to follow me around the house, constantly yelling that I'm just not doing a good enough job and could I please just get it together!) and one snake is not enough fill every waking moment of my day, we have added a fish. A beautiful blue beta fish. Which in my constant state of delusion thought that it would be the easiest of all to take care of: a sprinkle of food and done.

But I was wrong. So wrong.

First I nearly kill it trying to transfer it from the plastic bag to the small bowl, and then nearly kill myself by having a heart attack as I scream at Paul to PICK IT UP, IT'S DYING (because even though I have no problem picking up frozen rat cubs the sight of the gasping fish puts me over the edge) and then he drops it TWICE on the counter before successfully getting it into the bowl.

And then we watch with Jakob in a near panic since it is his Easter present and he has already made me swear that we will not eat it some night for dinner.

Fine.

And finally it starts moving.

Encouraged I decide to feed it the four measly flakes according to instruction - seemingly they like to keep their fish thin - and as I gently tap the package, FWUMP, the bowl is now filled with what looks like brownish bits of paper.

Jakob panics again: IT'S TOO MUCH FOOD, THE FISH IS GOING TO DIE! GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!

I would like to pretend that this blog is full of exaggeration...but it's not really, Jakob is that dramatic almost every waking moment of the day. I blame his dad.

Now once home from work, my new routine is to sneak upstairs to see if this new little addition to our family is still alive. So far so good and we are now on Day 4 - but the stress is killing me! How am I supposed to keep it alive for 2 more years?

For fun and lack of space, and because Jakob insists on having it in his room, I have the fishbowl beside the snake tank which is making for a very enthusiastic Ember who is now plotting her escape and seldom hides under her log.

I know that Easter is all about the resurrection but is there anyway that can apply to the lamp in my living room the boys just smashed?

Please?