So this week I planned on writing about the season premiere of The Walking Dead and possibly the insanity that was the Real Housewives of New Jersey reunion, but then I was confronted with something a tad bit scarier than a rogue zombie herd and middle age bullies in heels.
My teenage daughter announced her latest plan: she would rather take the GED test than finish high school.
WHAT (or wAHt in Jersey speak or rAWrrr in zombie)?
Scary for a parent to hear, but I guess I wasn’t that surprised considering it was only the latest in a long string of big ideas and grandiose plans.
You see my daughter has one objective, kind of like a zombie (only in that they both have one objective, because of course my daughter is smart, beautiful and has way better teeth).
Zombies only want “food” and my daughter just can’t wait to leave home. It is her motivation for everything, but apparently this week graduation seemed too far off. It’s a mere 18 months away, but you see that’s seventy-two years in Teen speak.
Anyway, this week she decided that maybe finishing high school wasn’t necessary.
My first instinct was to sprout six-inch heels from my feet and flip a table Teresa Giudice style (hey I am technically a Jersey girl).
But I contained myself. Instead I pulled out the big adult speak–dropout and GED statistics, the cost of rent, insurance, food, etc. The fact that she did not own her precious car she’s been driving for the last couple of months. The fact that simple dental upkeep is not cheap. Um, did she want zombie teeth?
The truly frustrating matter of the whole interaction was my apparent inability to convince her of the holes in her plans.
What I want to know is when did I lose the ability to speak Teen? I mean I know what it’s like to be a teenager, I spent seven of my own precious years as a teenager. Plus, I already know what it’s like to move on to adulthood, accept responsibility and even give over a huge chunk of my life over to said kid and yet somehow it’s as if I need an interpreter to speak to my own child.
It was like she didn’t hear a word I said. When did I become Charlie Brown’s teacher?
I felt like my daughter and I were transported to a Bravo TV couch in the middle of a Real Housewives reunion. Nothing she said made any sense, but it didn’t matter what I thought, because well, everything I said was apparently just plain stupid.
Or as Caroline Manzo said this week in the reunion, “I am in a whirlwind of stupid.”
Oh Andy Cohen, do you make house calls?
Anyway the “conversation” ended when my daughter went to work. I stewed, alongside my husband, both of us wondering where we went wrong.
Then we watched our zombies (The Walking Dead), then I watched my zombies in prettier packages (Real Housewives of New Jersey).
The next day my daughter came home from school and said, “Sorry, I was in a weird mood yesterday. Don’t worry, I plan on finishing high school.”
And I thought the zombie apocalypse sounded hard.