Life with a 15 Year Old

I got home late last evening after being on the road for all but about 6 hours of the last 17 days.  Even though it was well past her self-defined, very early bed time, my 15 year old came out to give me a hug, before I even put my bags down.  That was nice.

After putting my bags down though, she wanted to talk, but I had to use the bathroom.  When I told her that, she said, “Well fine; I’ll just go to bed then.”

I said, “Good night,” and off she went.

As she left, I fully realized that any hope of a peaceful and relaxing morning the next day had just been pushed aside by putting off till that time the 17 day stream of information that my 15 year old obviously had waiting to gush out to me whenever I’d give her that chance to spew.

So, this morning, the fire hose of information started.  Most of the news was hockey related, and she needed to let me know what my schedule would be from now till the end of the year based on the games that she was most certainly going to attend.  She also wanted to talk about the vacant captain position, and who was most likely to get that coveted “C” on their jersey with Joe Sakic now retiring.  And she wanted to talk about the recent trades and tell me who joined the team, although I had no clue who they were and certainly no understanding of how they’d help the Avs climb up from the bottom and get back to playoff contention.  And she’s a world class talker, rivaling the fastest speakers with the most packed in information, leaving her listeners swirling in amazement and confusion, trying to pick up on every third word and not have to ask her to repeat what she just said.

Megan

As she kept spewing, I kept doing my early morning tasks, listening just enough to say, “I really am”, as she accused me of not listening, and wondering when in the world the encyclopedia of all things related to current hockey news would stop talking.

The education process continued through the stop at the cleaners, the breakfast at a local restaurant, a visit to our local Best Buy, all the way till the time we dropped her off at her baby sitting job that would last for the rest of today.  At one point, she even mentioned that we have to take her to Barnes & Noble’s today to get her the latest book on hockey.  OHHHH  MYYY GOSHHHHH.  That’s the last thing I need right now…her brain packed with more stats, more trivia, and more passion for hockey.

I do love my 15 year old’s passion for hockey.  But if it weren’t for this baby sitting job today, my head would have exploded by now.  My slightly bigger than pea size brain is barely big enough to handle the information I need to live day to day.  When all this hockey news and information is slipped into every vacant crevice of my brain, I feel the pressure building and the brain cells numbing.  It wouldn’t take much of that hockey information to prevent me from understanding or remembering anything else that I need to do.

I must admit, I have a much greater respect for my wife now, who obviously is the willing (or maybe unwilling) target for this incredible barrage of information when I’m not here.  Fortunately, my wife remembers the most mundane events of our life, and I’m sure she has vast chasms of space in her brain that can be filled by this rapid fire launch of hockey news.  She’s my only hope, because as long as she remembers something that was said in the current or previous spew, we have a remote chance of not having to hear it all again.

So now I’m resting.  Catching my breath.  Dumping much of what I just learned about the latest hockey news to make room for the most certain torrent of new information that she will want to educate me with this evening when she returns.  With the help of some good tunes, candles, and blogging therapy, I’ll be ready for her regardless of what time she gets back. 

Who knows?  I may even go out on the web and find some remote hockey fact and surprise her with my knowledge.  Of course that will be a challenge she won’t back off of, and it will increase the spewing and mind numbing flow of information until she once again claims the title and crown for being the “King of All Hockey Knowledge” in our household.

I better not to do that.

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