Is it a cliche if I say my 16 year old hates me?

Lately, living with Yusef is like living with every teenage adjective that's ever been used: angry, sullen, selfish, moody, hateful, accusatory, disbelieving, confrontational, isolated, mournful, and, my favorite, condescending (Miss, if I were [your client] and I'd sat in your dirty car, I don't know what I would have thought about you). 

If I refuse to get pulled into combat and lamaze breathe through the insanity of his attitude, then I get moments of quiet need: standing opposite me in the hallway just listening quietly, poised on the threshold of my bedroom door asking me for help, reading expressively to me from the Hunger Games.  

Hanni thinks Yusef has lost his mind. Their relationship has deteriorated. They are waging a war on each other by taking one another's stuff without asking. They've stopped laughing together. I told them they have 2 weeks to work it out with or without my help then they get a counselor to help them work through it. 

Yusef has isolated himself at school. He doesn't feel like socializing with the other kids. But he works so hard with the teachers, an hour before school and every minute he's there. 

Raising Yusef is such an experience. 

"Miss! Who put my stuff here!!!

"Yusef. I have no idea what you're talking about.

Miss! Come look at it then!!!

I will not."

30 minutes of stomping and angrily folding clothes ensue...

Time to feed the dog.

If my life were a movie, I'd be played by Ben Stiller.

It's like slapstick around here. The hits just keep coming and if I can snap my head back fast enough, I get to laugh a lot.

Two Saturdays ago, the tub exploded. Two drunk plumbers came, didn't fix it. The older gentleman, in spite of only having one tooth, managed to sing me a quite nice rendition of 'The Love Boat'.

I barely could afford a gift for the engagement party I was going to this past weekend, and broke the one I bought while gift wrapping it in the car. 

I lost the charger to a very important part of my social life. 

My dating website has yielded amazing dating prospects, such as the man who tried to induct me into his cult. He is married and has pictures on his profile with his wife, and my personal favorite, himself naked in a circle of flames.  

The situations around the toilet with two teenage boys can be terrifying. At the very least, mystifying. 

My dog is mentally unstable. Hates small kids and other dogs. Is currently chasing his tale in a mad frenzy. But he spoons me.

My kids are quintessential teenagers even though they're transplants from West Africa and Yemen.

They remain hysterically funny. 

Last night, Yusef put real soap in the dishwasher, suds covered the kitchen floor. When I showed him, he yelled, "Dammit! Are we going to be okay?!" 

Hanni wandered back into the kitchen after I thought he was asleep and got a glass of water. As he walked back to his bedroom he said, "Last night I dreamed I was in the desert, tonight, I'll be prepared".

Do your eyes light up?

I haven't written anything in quite a while. Since the beginning of January, if we go by what's posted here.

I didn't expect this blog to be so focused on what it's like to suddenly be a mother of two teenagers, but I guess that was naive thinking, since I started this blog after suddenly becoming the mother of two teenagers.

I get very busy with work mid winter to the end of spring, and I forget, every year, what that feels like. Being a mom and busy with work (with a dog who has some major emotional issues, welcome to the family, Opus), is a lot like being a married devout Catholic who is sleeping with her priest.

Meaning, I feel guilty. All. The. Time.

I have less of everything these days. Less energy, less time, less patience, less home cooked meals (they probably aren't mourning this one), less Sunday Fun-days, less laughter... And I need so much more from them. They have regular chores now. I know, I know, I probably should have done this six months ago, but I hated to ask them to do anything other than keep their room and clothes clean.

I think that's why I haven't written in so long, not because I gave them chores, but because it's hard to write about feeling like a crappy mom.

I try, every day, to do what Toni Morrison instructs, to greet them when they walk in the room with unabated joy. Stretch my jaw muscles into a smile, look them in the eye and say, "You're home! Hello! I'm so happy to see you!" This is very hard as a busy, working person and single mom. Lately, I have lists I run through with them, lots of questions that need fast answers. I need to know if they ate lunch, do they want a snack. Are they ready for tutoring, will they be ready for soccer, can they go get some groceries and run by the bank.

Toni is right, though. It has had an effect on my little family that I'm not lighting up when they walk in the door. Running through all the things that need to be done for them does not make them feel seen and loved. It makes them tired.

Hanni's a trooper. He loves to work and help--he's doing the best he can, and so damn politely. Hanni also isn't shy--he's a communicator. He will sit and tell me about his day and anything that's on his mind no matter how busy I look.

Yusef is younger, just turned 16, and struggles with verbal communication. My busyness is showing up in his attitude, which has been pretty poor lately. I can tell that he misses me--misses when I would spread out enough time so that he could get out the things that are on his mind.

I received a text from Hanni when I was on my way home after working an event tonight, "I'm going to go to bed now, Cathy, is there anything else you need?". Sweet, but, dagger to this mom's heart.

When I got home a few minutes later, I found out that Yusef broke a house rule. I went to the other side of our house after scolding Yusef, and things felt icky. I had no idea how to fix anything.

Then, the grace of God walked my feet back to where Hanni was finishing a remembered piece of homework, opened my mouth and spoke, "Thank you. Thank you for helping me so much when I need you, and for being so polite when you're exhausted. It's hard to do that, and I want you to know that I see you, and I'm so grateful."

God didn't stop there. He had me call Yusef into the kitchen and make a deal. "Let's forget all of this. You didn't have attitude yesterday. You didn't take the family iPad to soccer practice tonight. I miss you and you're one of my favorite people on the planet and I don't want to be angry with you anymore. I want to spend time with you and have fun, because I love you. Fresh start-we're good, there's no trouble between us, okay?" And then he couldn't speak. He turned around and did that thing where he scrunches up his mouth so he doesn't cry and gave me a nod.

Things felt better. I thought of this piece. I took off my damn pantyhose. Put on my pajamas and got into bed with my crazy dog.

And, then Yusef knocked on the door and asked if he could tell me something. I made sure my eyes lit up when he walked in the room.

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Please forgive typos and poor editing in general until mid-May.

Crazy Love, otherwise known as, 'Crap, I just realized we don't have any toilet paper'

There's these moments that happen, that I've heard all moms refer to in one way or another. The crazy love for your kids moments.

They happen, most often, for me, during the in between times. In between the furious wiping of the counter tops, the guilt of working until 8pm and ordering delivery instead of cooking the organic fish I defrosted, walking the dog with the mysterious diarrhea, talking to one of the boys about learning to be kind even when things don't go his way, worrying about the over-kindness of the other kid and what future or past transgression he might be preparing me for, the realization that sometimes I don't make the boys take their vitamins because I don't want to take my own, hoping that neither my attempt at quinoa nor my reunion with my stomach flu infested soul sister are the cause of my stomach pains, and feeling that I'm in college again, broke and out of toilet paper.

In between these times, which usually happen after I've said good night for what I'm sure is the last time, I feel the urge to ask one more question, interrupt one more conversation, give one more reminder, just so I can finish by saying, again, 'I love you'. Because, I do, I crazy love them.

When is Seven O'Clock coming?

I have two pieces that I'm sitting on about my Muslim kids' first Christmas (Santa centered). The posts have the potential to be so good, but they're sooooo half-written. I can't wait until I carve out enough time to finish them, because, guess what? I just got a dog.

I really want to share some of the highlights of experiencing Christmas (NOT IN ANY RELIGIOUS CONTEXT AND WITH LOTS OF SENSITIVITY TO THEIR OWN MUSLIM TRADITIONS) with the boys now.  I hope you enjoy...

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Yusef: I'm not buying anyone presents. And then I'm taking all of Hanni's.

Hanni: Presents aren't very important.

Yusef: They're extremely important to me.

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I'm becoming budget conscious as a single mom of two. I heard from a friend that the trees are cheapest in Queens, so I organized a much publicized four hour window in the kids' busy calendar to go buy ourselves some Christmas cheer.

I tried to get them excited about the tree for an entire week, when that wasn't working, I invited our beloved and highly cheerful friend Rose to come with us. Sunday came along, and we loaded two grumbling teenagers into the big car, and this was their response to my enforced fun...allll the way to Sunnyside, Queens.

Yusef: Why are we going to Queens?
Hanni: Why would we pay money for a Christmas tree now when we could just get one on the street after everyone throws them out?
Yusef: I didn't know we were going all the way to Queens.
Hanni: Maybe we could rent a tree. We should rent a tree.
Yusef: Miss do you know where you're going? Gawd.
Hanni: How much is this tree going to cost us? We could just go to a forest and cut one.

I responded the way any patient, rational parent would. I grabbed the phone from the kid closest to me and threw it across the car.

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Hanni: What time is Seven O'Clock coming?

Me: Who?

Hanni: Seven O'Clock!

Yusef: Santa Claus

Me: Oh, umm, he's coming Christmas eve--after midnight.

Hanni: Is he real?

Me: Yes...yes, of course he's real.

Yusef: How will he find us?

Hanni: Is he the Snowman?

Yusef: He's not going to have enough time.

Hanni: Is he going to bring his cows in here?

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While decorating the Christmas tree...
Yusef: Oh my gawd. We have to stop putting stuff on the tree it's going to be so ugly. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! 

Hanni: We should say good-bye to her now.

Me: Who?

Hanni: The tree. 

Me: Why?

Hanni: Because it's going to hurt too much later.

Yusef: Miss, Christmas music is nice. Baby, it's freezing out there. 

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Me: Hanni, come down quick, there's carrollers outside.

Hanni: What are they doing?

Me: They're singing Christmas songs.

Hanni: They should go home. It's cold.

Funniness...

Yusef: Ms, It's too early for apples.

(10:00AM)

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Yusef: Good night. Please.

(In response to my multiple returns after the first goodnight on his birthday. I thought he wanted me to sing. One. More. Time.

OMG, Christmas Tree.

The Christmas cuteness is abundant at my house. I've been sitting on this post for almost a week because the funniness quotes are being slung at me with sling shots. I'm about to buckle under the burden of the sweetness of Hanni & Yusef's first Christmas....

My kids are Muslim, and I am very careful to uphold their families' individual religious practices for them. But I really wanted a Christmas tree, therefore, we are celebrating a non-religious, Santa Claus based, Christmas in the Casey household.

I loooooveee me some Christmas trees. I name them, talk to them, stroke them, kiss on them, thank them for coming into my life.  (Turn on warm, twinkly lights and turn down the room lighting and you have the exact recipe for every party I've ever thrown.) I BELIEVE in the Christmas tree.

Money is tight. Going from single woman to single mother of two very hungry teenage boys has meant a vast difference in budgetary capabilities. I heard from a friend that the trees are cheapest in Queens, so I organized a much publicized four hour window in the kids' busy calendar to go buy ourselves some Christmas cheer.

I tried to get them excited about the tree for an entire week, when that wasn't working, I invited our beloved and highly cheerful friend Rose to come with us. Sunday came along, and we loaded two grumbling teenagers into the big car, and this is what I had to listen to alllll the way to Sunnyside:

Yusef: Why are we going to Queens?
Hanni: Why would we pay money for a Christmas tree now when we could just get one on the street after everyone throws them out?
Yusef: I didn't know we were going all the way to Queens.
Hanni: Maybe we could rent a tree. We should rent a tree.
Yusef: Ms. do you know where you're going? Gawd.
Hanni: How much is this tree going to cost us? We could just go to a forest and cut one.

I reacted as any calm and graceful woman would--I took the kid's phone that was closest to me and threw it across the car, plugged in my iPod and turned up the Christmas music. I mean, I recognize everything they were saying was funny, but I wanted family bonding cheer time. And enforced fun always goes well.

The tree picking out went reasonably well. A sweet French Canadian responded well to my bargaining for a seven foot beauty. I made the children meet the tree, Yusef kept his hood up and gave me 'the look' that I think he believes can inspire fear, Hani told me if I had worked harder, I could have gotten the tree man down to $10.

Rose was starting to look a little like she couldn't figure out why she was in Queens with two teenagers and a crazed mom, so we took a break and left the kids to figure out tying the tree to the top of the car. We could hear them cursing at each other in Arabic and Mandingo all the way into the Rite Aid across the parking lot. I knew they'd figure it out.

The boys were laughing by the time we got back to the car, and the ride back consisted of Christmas music and even more laughter. Poor Rose had to hold the tree through the sunroof in order to prevent it whipping off the car and onto the BQE.

Is Santa real?
Is he the snowman?
Oh my god. We have to stop putting stuff on the tree it's going to be so ugly. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Miss, Christmas music is nice.
Ousmane sitting on floor under tree, I'm going to take all of Walid's presents. He's going to have nothing.
Walid so sweetly into decorating and making the tree beautiful.
Liz holding the tree out the sunroof. The wide berth given to me on the BQE.
The Grinch scared Ousmane.
Cars made walid happy. The sweetness was back. The boys yelling at each other while tying the tree down.
Baby, it's freezing out there.
Standing in the street looking up at our tree.
Cathy, who's going to give US presents.
I'm not getting anyone anything.

We should say goodbye to her now.

We should put her in storage.