Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Battle for the Hoodie

(The hoodie in better days)

What is the deal with preteens, or is it just my Angel?

So desperate to forge her own identity that she has to completely reject everything about her father or I. Our most basic issue is that our formerly sweet fille has convinced herself that she is stupid. Really, nothing could be further from the truth. But currently she is convinced that her father and I insist on nothing less than complete perfection. Straight As all the time. Oh, and we are trying to turn her into the geeks that we were.

I will admit to having good grades in school. Not necessarily straight A's but pretty darn close. I was also on the swim team, in band and chorus and drama club. If that made me a geek so be it. Similarly, her father was a straight A student, played the accordian (so sad, really) played tennis (jr. U.S. Opens) and taught Sunday School. (Ok.... I did that too)

The reality is that we just want her to do her best and to try. When she does, the grades flow naturally from the effort. When she doesn't... well you can guess what happens.

Add to this backdrop of domestic bliss, the Angel's quest to stand out from the crowd. Now add in her ratty black hoodie sweatshirt. Clearly this rag is not part of the uniform. She had been told that she could wear it TO school but not IN school. Yet, day after day, I get uniform infractions from her extremely reasonable teacher. The last one, on Monday, came with the sub-note "This is a daily issue". Naturally like reasonable adults, we banned this item of clothing from school.

Yesterday of course, she tried to wear the rag to school again. And of course, we called her on it. Thus began the first Battle for the Hoodie. With time ticking until the school bell, we reasoned, argued and otherwise threatened our stubborn daughter to get her to remove that tattered shred of a garment. Fun Daddy, eventually lost his ever-loving shit and began to scream at her until I thought he would have a stroke. That is when I sent him on with Imelda, so she wouldn't be late and then on to his workout.

I let her stew for a few minutes, then pointed out that she would a. not be receiving a excuse for being late and b. would receive some sort of suspension if she didn't comply with the school rules and that would mean no band and no volleyball. A few minutes later she eventually saw some semblence of reason and I took her over to school. As promised with no excuse for tardiness.

After school we even had a discussion about losing battles and when to give them up. It was almost a Brady Bunch moment.

Problem solved and lesson learned, right?

Hell NO!
(Will the Angel ever learn? Tune in tomorrow to our continuing saga)

Would you believe that she pulled the SAME CRAP again this morning? If the words, "Oh no she di-int?!" were ringing threw your brain, imagine when I got up late this morning to the same screaming and yelling that I dealt with only yesterday.... and on the same subject, no less!
Once again, I was sending Fun Daddy and Imelda off, so I could deal with my Angel. Fifteen minutes and the same arguments used yesterday later... we were off. Only we needed to make a pit stop at the Osco for nail polish remover... it seems my Angel had a NEW uniform infraction related to one blue thumbnail. GRRRRRR.

I can't wait until tomorrow!


Chicka said...

Oh lord, it has begun. I have a teenager, too, and she's merely 8 years old.

Actually I think it's partly the fact that they are the "smart ones," the "gifted kids" and are trying to fit in or fly under the radar.

It's sad, but Kate has learned how to dumb herself down and miss quesitons on purpose on tests so they no longer pick on her about her intelligence. (She's also of average height, but the other kids in her class are gargantuan. So they tease her about being short also. It's a double whammy.)

I have no advice. Only commisseration. Any chance talking to her master would work? It seems to be the only thing that works for Kate. But like I said, she's still only 8.

jimg said...

Time to throw the hoodie out.