Real Life Conversations with JT: The Art of Listening

The backstory: JT is training to run a 100 mile race and so nearly every day is a running day.  Some days, there is rain in the forecast and he’ll tie on his shoes and then stand on the porch and announce he doesn’t want to get wet.  Every single time, I respond, “Why? You aren’t made of sugar.  You won’t melt.”  It’s sensible and it’s true.  

Today, we went to Colonial Park so he could run and I could go for a walk.  We set off in the same direction and heard thunder in the distance.  

Me: I hope it doesn’t rain.  

JT (as he ran off): Why? You aren’t made of sugar.  You won’t melt.” 

I guess that he does hear me.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Weather edition

The backstory:  We’ve had some heavy rains in the last few days and, like many gardeners, I’ve been glad to see the storms.  Naturally, I mentioned to JT that we needed the rain.

JT:  Every single person over the age of 35 says the same thing when it rains…..”good thing it’s raining…we really needed it.”  No one under 35 ever says that. 

Me:  You’re not wrong.  But we did need the rain. 

JT (heavy signs with eye rolling) 

Me:  Now you can look forward to turning 35.

Real Life Texts with JT: On Brand edition

The backstory:  For a wide swath of his childhood, JT was into pirates.  So into pirates that he would spend his days dressed as one, all while commanding a veritable fleet of Playmobil pirate ships bent on world domination.  

JT: I had a dream I was a door dash driver but I drove a pirate ship. 😂

Me:  That is awesome.  And very on brand.

JT:  Argh matey.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Feeding Frenzy edition

The backstory: Having just finished his lunch, a giant sandwich I brought him from a local deli and while raiding my work desk for my emergency chocolate supply, JT wanted to know what’s for supper tonight.

Me: Well, there will be roasted chicken.

JT: Why not just say you are making some kind of summer salad that will never fill me up?

Me:  Perhaps because I’m not?  There will be lemon pasta, chicken, and bread.  Will that do?

JT:  Yes.

While it’s true that I have made my fair share of refreshing summer salads, my primary activity this summer has been to bake endless chicken breasts for a certain bottomless pit.  Notably, often while eating said chicken, he frets that no more food will ever be forthcoming.  This is a nightmare that never materializes.  But the boy is wary nonetheless.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Good Thing I am Amused edition

The backstory:  JT has embraced the Spring of his Senior year with a vengeance and is increasingly annoyed when there is schoolwork to be done, as if this is a gravely unreasonable expectation.  He announced an assignment in his European History course and then asked for my help with the project for the time period he and his partner had selected.  Naturally, all of this exchange occurred by text message.

JT:  Time period for Euro project is 1850-1894.  Age of Nationalism and Realism and Age of Progress.  I’ll e-mail you the instructions.

Me:  Great time period.  I look forward to the details.

A few hours passed during which I received and read the assignment, dealt with my son's suggestion that I wouldn't be able to help (note: I majored in History in college and have taught it for more than 20 years) and then I had an idea.

Me:  I think you should do a project on the unification of Italy and Germany.

JT:  Took the words right out of my mouth.

Careful readers know this is exactly the kind of sass I deserve.

Real Life Texts with JT: Annoyance is Universal edition

The backstory:  JT has been studying Spanish since he was in the Lower School but he’s never quite taken to the language, having inherited his mama’s poor foreign language skills.  He studied for a test on Sunday night as I made a last-minute emergency run to Target in search of Christmas lights, having discovered that mine had died.

Me:  Long line at Target. I am triggered.  note” triggered is JT’s favorite word when he is annoyed.

JT:   Still better than studying Spanish?

Me: Si.

La manzana didn’t fall far from the tree.

Real Life Texts with JT: Digital Parenting edition

The backstory:  Like most families, JT and I often communicate by text message.  Typically, we’re exchanging need-to-know information.  But sometimes, need-to-know is complicated, as it was earlier this week when he was at home and I was at Middle School Back to School Night.

JT:  Do you know what time you are coming home

As an experienced reader of JT’s texts, I sensed the urgency in this message and opted to ignore the poor punctuation.

Mama: Yes, around 10:30.  Do you need anything?

JT:  I can’t find a shirt to wear tomorrow.  I have no clue where my 2 blue shirts are and the white one does not fit

He’s referring to dress shirts.  The next day was a dress-up day at school and he needed a shirt and a tie.

Mama:  In your closet fresh from the dry cleaner.

JT:  Alright thank god.  Still gonna need something for pic day on Friday

Mama:  There are two shirts in that dry cleaner bag.

JT:  Sweet.  Also, I fucked up and forgot to tell you I am supposed to bring treats for advisory Thursday so do u think its possible to get Munchkins from Dunkin I’m sry.

I pride myself on providing homemade treats and on the next day a late-afternoon cross country race was scheduled at a course more than an hour from home, so this late-breaking news created a bit of a jam up, which our hero well knew.

Mama:  I may let you live…we will get a treat together because I am awesome.

JT:  Thanks m8.

Oh, 16, sometimes you can be charming.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Interview Ready edition

The backstory:  The back-to-school packet arrived in the mail last weekend and JT got word that there is a before-classes program from Juniors on resume-writing and interview practice.   We agree that he should attend the program and then I suggested that he think about answers to standard interview questions.  I offered a few for his consideration.

Me (as interviewer):  What is your greatest weakness?

JT:  I have no patience for idiots.

Me (now a nervous interviewer):  What is your greatest strength?

JT:  I’m not one of those idiots.

At that, I burst into laughter.  I’d hire him, but I am not your average employer.  Perhaps the workshop will help him to refine his answers.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Midwestern Manners edition

The backstory: Though he was born in Nebraska, JT has lived in New Jersey since he was two.  He’s made the occasional trip to the midwest, but most of his life experiences are in fast-paced, get moving, go-fuck-yourself New Jersey.  When we loaded on to the bus to get our rental car at the Kansas City airport, he was a little taken aback by the polite driver who unloaded our suitcases with a smile.

JT:  I think that the bus driver is triggered by the way people handle their luggage.  He’s taking everyone’s suitcases out for them.

T & S:  Nope.  He’s being midwest polite.

JT:  No way.  He's triggered.

We head to the rental car desk where the young man working there is also unfailingly polite, friendly, and gracious.  T and I exchange looks but say nothing.  We all climb in the car…..

JT:  Okay, you were right.  Midwesterners are really nice.

Well-mannered midwesterners for the win.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Culinary Genius edition

The backstory:  I like to cook and I’m a good cook so it’s rather an irony that I gave birth to the world’s pickiest eater.  As he’s grown up, JT’s become less picky and whenever he discovers something new that he likes, he’s prone to acting indignant, as if this food has been purposely denied him for years.  The truth, of course,  is that I’ve avoided something for years because the whining about it is more than I was willing to endure.  Case in point: walnuts in chocolate chip cookies.  Though it is my most favorite cookie, I have avoided making them for 12 years, since a three-year-old JT spit a mouthful of walnut chocolate chip cookie on the floor, gagging as he did it.  Last weekend, I threw caution to the wind and made the kind of cookie I like.  JT tried them.

JT:  What’s in those cookies?

Me (cautious):  Walnuts and chocolate chips.

JT:  Those cookies are straight fire.  You’ve never made them before and you should make them again.  

Oh, the charms of a teenage boy.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Apple and Tree edition

The backstory:  Lucy the cat likes to eat holiday ribbon, especially the curling kind that shows up on holiday gifts.  Though she eats it, she shouldn’t, because it makes her sick.  Years ago when I made this realization, I quit using that kind of ribbon.  But there are holidays gifts from friends and students in the house, and Lucy is on the prowl for the ribbon.  Sunday morning, JT and I heard Lucy make the yowling sound that proceeds a cat hurl.

Me: She’s gonna hurl….get out of the way.

Then we watched as Lucy hurled up a pile of ribbon.  Twice.

JT:  Ribbon.

Me:  She can’t help herself when ribbon is involved.

JT: Well, given how much she enjoys it, I’m thinking of eating some ribbon myself. 

JT’s sense of humor is perhaps the most obvious evidence that I am his mama.  World, you’ve been warned.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Role Reversal edition

 The backstory:  For some time, I’ve had a personal rule to limit road rage on the major boulevard in front of school.  That’s a place where I may see students and their parents and it seems wise to avoid flipping anyone off in that venue.  Enter last Wednesday morning, which was a rather stressful commute made difficult by drivers who were either not paying attention or annoying me (or both).

Me (excitable and annoyed):  That’s it! No more white cars may drive on my roads (gunning past two white cars but stuck behind another; preparing hand for non-verbal signal of dissatisfaction).

JT (calmly):   Settle down now; don’t break the no “fuck you” rule right in front of your workplace.  I can hear the conversation now, “Son, who is that crazy lady flipping us off and yelling?  “That’s Ms. Sassafras, mom, she’s the Middle School Assistant Principal.

Please note that the guilty went unpunished.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Fan Diagram edition

The backstory:  We are baseball fans of the old-fashioned sort, with complicated loyalties that can sometimes make things tricky.  We dislike the Cubs, because they are the traditional rivals of the St. Louis Cardinals, for whom our devotion is most reserved.  We dislike the Dodgers for a host of very good reasons that boil down to the fact that I am a born and bred northern California girl.  The other night the Dodgers were playing the Cubs.  I texted JT for guidance.

Me:  Cubs v. Dodgers.  Who do I cheer for?

JT:  The umpires.

Me:  Well said, son.

I followed instructions.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Personal Grooming edition

The backstory:  Long ago we got over the "why should I bathe every day and use deodorant?" hump of adolescence.  But shaving has been a less easy transition.  By the end of the 8th grade, JT had reached a point where he needed to shave.  He didn’t have a full beard and once a week seemed to do the trick.  I’m not going to say he embraced this responsibility, as it was a reluctant transition.  The passage of time has increased his need to shave and these days, he probably should shave every other day.  Instead, he shaves every other week and in between his cheeks and upper lip are unevenly grizzled.  My suggestion that he looks sketchy and should shave more often has been rejected.  But baseball’s Coach Davey seems to have more influence.

JT:  Coach Davey asked me if I was trying to grow a beard.  I said no and he said, “Oh.”  I think I need to shave more often.

Me:  I believe I have made a similar suggestion.

JT:  I’m gonna shave now.

Me:  Tell Coach Davey the check’s in the mail.

JT (laughing): Okay.

I think we call this progress.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Hip Hop edition

The backstory: JT and I were listening to public radio when an interview with Tom Chapin, who has recorded an anti-cracking record, came on the radio.  Apparently, the album includes a hip-hop anti-fracking song.  This, JT could not let go.

JT:  Sure, mate.  I can hear it now: “Fuck fracking and fuck that bitch.”

Me:  I should advise you to watch your language, but hey, now I can blame hip hop for your vocabulary.

Someone hasn't been fooled by the mainstream media.

Real Life Conversations with a Teenager: Why Are You This Way? edition

The backstory: Though he is often a very pleasant companion, sometimes I’m reminded that living with a 15 year old is still a landmine, as was the case when JT and I discussed the 10th grade summer reading list.  It requires the students to read two books and then choose a third from a small list of classics that seems exceptionally appealing to boys (we’re talking All Quiet on the Western Front, A Farewell to Arms, David Copperfield).

Me:  It looks like a pretty good list.

JT:  The second list is short.

At this juncture, because his tone suggests that the short list is a grave injustice and I am aware that teachers often blow off the third summer reading book, I cheerfully encourage open rebellion.  I do this because he’s a teenager, a sect known for sometimes enjoying a flouting of the rules.  And because a short reading list of decent books seems just fine to me, a point I made when this conversation began.

Me:  So read something from the long list instead.

JT (in an exceptionally scornful tone that suggests he is being raised by a simpleton who understands very little about formal education):  We’re. supposed. to. read. from. THE. SHORT. LIST.

Me (now trying to figure out how this seemingly short throw-away conversation has turned into yet another example of how I don’t get it):  Got it.

A quiet descends.  But the boy might be just as mystified as I am by how this conversation played out because few minutes later, he crawls into his bed and calls, “Good night.  I love you, Mama. See you in the morning.”  As I have for years, I reply, “Not if I see you first.  I love you, son.”  And all was quiet on the Sassafras House front.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Common Sense edition

The backstory:  Growing up in California, my awareness of electric storms was pretty minimal.  As it turns out, it really doesn’t ever rain in California and it wasn’t until I moved to Tennessee that I learned the basic rules of thunder and lightening.  I next made my home in Nebraska, smack dab in the middle of tornado alley, and the rules of storms get meaning real quick in a place like that.  New Jersey has electrical storms, but not as often as Tennessee and Nebraska.  My prairie-born boy hasn’t been paying attention to the rules, as T and I learned on Saturday evening, when he came in from the outdoors and made an announcement.

JT:  There is a storm outside. 

Me:  It does look rather ominous.

JT and and T then looked out the windows at the darkening skies.  

JT:  I think that there was thunder or lightening.  Whichever one is silent; I saw that a few times.

Me:  Well, that’s the one that should bring you inside son, so good call on that.  

Then T explained to him that electric storms should bring a boy inside and tornado warnings should get him to the basement.  And T and I congratulated ourselves on keeping him alive this long.

  

Real Life Conversations with JT: Poor Decision-Making edition

The backstory: The arrival of baseball season invariably finds baseball items left all over the house.  Among those items are protective cups that I keep finding in places I would prefer they would not be, as was the case on Monday.

Me:  Dare I ask if the cup here on my kitchen counter has been used?

JT:  I didn’t know where to put it.

Me:  Really?  Really?

I took the offending item upstairs and placed it in the closet that T and I renovated specifically for the storage of sporting goods.  If it is any consolation to those of you who eat meals made in my home, it was a fresh-out-of-the package item.  Of course, that may not be the case the next time I find it on the counter.

Sigh.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Unspoken Communication edition

The backstory:  JT takes Ceramics at school and the teacher uses the large plastic bags from dry cleaners to keep projects damp before they are completed and fired in the kiln.  We save our bags for that purpose, which likely explains the conversation JT and I had last week.  

Me (upstairs, unwrapping a wool skirt just back from the cleaners):  Does Mr. L still need…….(here words escaped me, as I wrestled with plastic in the morning, and couldn’t remember the demanding phrase “plastic bags from dry cleaners”).

JT (downstairs, finishing his breakfast):  Yes.  Just leave the bag on my bed.

Apparently words are not strictly necessary for the two of us to get an idea across.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Self Awareness edition

The backstory: We spent part of our Thanksgiving break cleaning out two rooms that seem to become the repository of crap in my house: the guest bedroom and the downstairs study.  JT helped in the study because most of the things abandoned in there belonged to him.  One of those things, a plastic red devil’s pitchfork, attracted his interest.

JT:  We got this for a Halloween costume I never wore.

Me:  No.  We got that for you when we were at a Halloween store because you wanted to march around with a pitchfork and protest.

Pause.

JT:  Really?

Me: Really.

JT: Huh.

Left unsaid: JT was a little kid with one hell of an imagination.
Related: he was sometimes a tad weird.