Perspective.

This weekend I agreed to housesit/babysit for a psychologist at the VA. She has a 16 year old son, who left to his own devices, might starve or forget to feed the dog (a really spunky, stinky Jack Russell) or something, and thus I am on the scene. I was telling Mom that it's so strange to hang out with "normal" adolescents. Bright, pretty well-adjusted, no major pathology, a two parent home, with minimal distress. Thus far I've learned that this particular 16 year old is an expert on EVERYTHING (politics, religion, you name it), and his life revolves around music. He's the type of kid who loves Tool/System of a Down, and pretty much wears a Tool tshirt every day. At least that's all I've seen. I hope to god he has more than one. Music seems to be the main point of connection between him and his friends, and they spend hours on the phone talking about it, listening to it, criticizing it, and making judgments about people and what they listen to. My iPod was confiscated and critiqued when I drove him and his friends to a concert last night. Lots of eyerolling ensued too (to which I replied in my head, listen you little fuckers, if you want a ride you better not hate on Ashlee Simpson!). On the way home I got to hear all about the concert. Not that anything was said directly to me, mind you. Although, the smelly chap in the front did make idle conversation for a few minutes when the kid I'm responsible for was in a deep convo about "cretin pop" in the backseat. One of the bands that played was called the Tasty Dactyls. I'm not making this up. Apparently the moshing is the thing to do, and if you aren't bruised the next day, it wasn't a good concert.


Most of what I have learned about the normal 16 year old I have had to glean because he isn't very interested in spending much time with me, which I accurately predicted. I did not accurately predict how little this kid would eat, though. I have been hunting down every last tupperware because I thought I'd be cooking for three, essentially, not 1.333333 people. I'm around to cook dinner, give rides, answer random questions, and give reminders. This teen spends most of his hours at home in his room with the door shut, talking on the phone to somebody. There was major drama this morning/afternoon around the cell phone. He came flying out of his bedroom at 11 AM as I was crunching on cereal and reading the New York Times over the counter. He speaks in monologue, not so much to me as at me, and I'm usually not even sure of that. "How would I find the number of Cingular. My phone isn't working" was mumbled as he paced around the kitchen. I suggested "um, the internet?" in an offhand way, in case he wasn't actually addresseing me. He got on the computer, called the 1-800 number and I could hear the muffled automated voice on the other end of the line. "Shit!" he mumbles, "they need my actual cell phone number!" He stalks off to his room, evidently unable to RECALL his own cell phone number, and had to look it up. Two minutes later he's back, listening to options and selecting numbers. "Shit!" he mumbles again. "How am I supposed to KNOW the billing zip code??" I suppose he has rarely encountered this kind of situation before and wasn't exactly prepared with the problem-solving skills to adequately cope. In the end, it seemed that he had RUN OUT OF MINUTES. 2100 to be exact. He lamented the fact that this made him "like a girl" but then shrugged and reasoned that "at least its the end of the month" (the implication being that he can flap his gums anew on his cell starting June 1st with 2100 fresh minutes at his disposal). He then disappeared into his room with the house phone and didn't come out until 5 PM, when he asked if I could take him to the movies at 7. Of course I could. I had reworked a pasta dishthat was leftover in the fridge, made it into a baked ziti, and left it out on the stove cooling in the event that this kid ever wanted to eat. He ate, and I'm not kidding, exactly one piece of pie for breakfast the other day. He had an ice cream sandwich (by report, I didn't actually see it consumed) for lunch, and then two chicken enchiladas I made for dinner. That was it. He bypassed the veggies, the refried beans, the corn on the cob. Tonight he asked if he could have some of the casserole on the stove and I gasped in surprise "of course you can, I made it for you!" Never mind that the sauce ended up on the carpet as he walked around the living room with it, talking to me about movie plots as I was trying to in fact WATCH a movie in the same room! I was touched he wanted to connect and didn't tell his ass to pipe down. The subtitles were inexplicably on, and we two tech-era-raised kids cannot figure out how to change it, so I didn't miss too much of my movie plot while getting an earful.

I have somewhat bonded with the stinky Jack Russell, and I took over the dogwalking since I was unsure it was getting done anyway, what with the sleeping all day. Apparently the breed is a little temperamental. I'm being facetious. The breed seems to be straight up high maintenance and a pain in the ass. I made the mistake of letting the dog out by himself into the fenced in backyard (perfectly reasonable, right?) and he tunneled under the deck. When the 16 year old got home and I mentioned I hadn't seen the dog for a few minutes, his shoulders dropped and I knew I had f-ed up. We had to crawl under the deck to pull the dog out. Jack Russells are trained to tunnel for foxes, etc and won't come out til they've killed something and retrieved it. The poisonous frogs that dwell under the deck are the problem and so time was of the essence. Luckily the two of us pulled "Rock" out by his short little legs and then he had to take a serious bath. Whoops. Also, if you don't walk Jack Russells three times a day or more, they get really restless, and anxious and destructive. Charming. My biggest issue is the dog breath. I actually enjoy walking Rock, and we get along great when we are both busy and occupied. Problems tend to enter our relationship when he wants to jump all over me when I am working on my laptop.

I am due back to the theater in one hour and ten minutes to retrieve the teenager.