Some Assembly Required

I’ve taken a bit of an hiatus, mostly because my parents came to visit and my blog time was spent going to the beach house and enjoying time with them. Now it’s a matter of getting back into the habit. Sigh. Like the rest of life.

When we last saw Hollis, she was craftily texting on two phones from under the covers after the mandatory 11 p.m. deadline. That problem ended the next morning. I contacted Verizon and put a block on her cell phone from 11 p.m. until 6 a.m. Sunday through Thursday and also during school hours from 8:30 until 3 p.m. Then I contacted her mother for permission - who enthusastically gave it to me - to do the same on her Kentucky phone.

I purposely halted my blogging to await Hollis’ reaction. I know she had been peeking at the site. I would have loved to be in the bedroom as she was madly texting 10 people and then have it all abruptly end at 11 p.m. (for the record, the texts show up the next morning after curfew lifts, so they aren’t lost).

 For two days, I heard nothing, but I’m sure she figured something was up when she couldn’t text until 2 a.m. (my online billing statement allows me to see what times she makes calls and texts).

Then finally, a curt statement: “Aunt Devon, you’ll have to relax the restriction on my phone because Shelby tried to text me last night and she couldn’t reach me.”

Now these texts back and forth at night are the usual girl talk: who is borrowing whose clothes because they can’t wear any of their own clothes because they are all on the floor, behind the dressers, under the bed or in the bathroom.

I simply informed Hollis she had to get all of her business taken care of before 11 p.m. and to tell Shelby of her curfew; because she, too, should be in bed by that time. And certainly 6 a.m. is early enough to remind someone of what shirt/skirt/pants/shoes/boots to bring with them.

I have to say, Verizon’s parental control feature is worth every penny I pay for it.

Well, Hollis and I just watched the DVR’d Dancing With The Stars premiere. A most brilliant observance on her part: The dancers are more celebrities this season than the “stars” themselves.

Of course this 45 minutes of decadence puts her late in going to bed and the massive resistance effort begins. Takes 20 seconds to go from family room to her bedroom, and then 40 MINUTES of pudtzing around in there to finally get into the shower. So by now, it’s nearly midnight.

Off to bed she goes….ostensibly to go to sleep. At 12:11 a.m., she makes a post on Facebook … clearly she’s not asleep. So a quick check finds her laying in bed with her eyes closed, looking angelic … while the glow of not ONE phone — but TWO — shines from under her covers.

Busted. She’s double-fisting texting. After a brief and half-hearted admonishment to GO TO BED ALREADY … AUNT DEVON IS TIRED … I start to shut the door, and then watch — stunned — as her arm darts out from under the covers to snag a phone with the same precision and determination as a green Amazon tree frog picking off a butterfly.

DOUBLE-BUSTED! I haven’t taken the phones away at night yet, because they provide — no kidding — a third and FOURTH wake-up alarm for her.

I’ll give her a 7 on her performance and charm, but the execution and footwork need a little more polish. She’ll live to dance another day … and I look forward to the challenge.

So here it is, Sunday night after a day a mostly wrangling and cajoling Hollis to do her homework. She actually did do some of it between bags of popcorn, a mad dash out to catch the ice cream truck guy (which, I have to say, is the fastest I’ve seen her move thus far) and enough Pop Tarts to drive Charlee insane with the smell of that Oreo goodness.

Her essay about A Thousand Splendid Suns (brought to you by Kleenex) was mostly good and mostly done. In fact, some parts she liked so much they were repeated a couple times in the essay. So we polished it up, in-between phone calls and rolling around on an exercise ball.

By now it’s 11:15 p.m. and she’s finally in bed. Her alarm is set for 6 and 6:15 a.m. She has her hair done and her clothes set out. So as I collected the myriad books, paperwork, and the printed out essay (two copies, in a plastic page protector and snapped into her notebook), I looked over at this child, propped up in bed, flipping through a trash magazine, listening to the music I installed on her iPod earlier today, while I organize her bookbag. Ever gracious, she thanked me and then went back to reading her magazine.

While I was left holding the bag.

I have a sprain on my left thumb this morning. It was caused by overuse of the Wii nunchuk. Because this weekend, fate has finally revealed to me why I have a 15-year-old girl living with me: Dancing With The Stars for Wii.

I bought this game about a year ago when Dance Dance Revolution was seemingly impossible to get. It was deemed by my niece and nephew a poor second choice and when a couple weeks later I got the real deal, the DWTS Wii game sat, unopened, on my TV console.

Until this weekend. Hollis opened that bad boy up and we danced like no one was watching (well, gyrated and waved our arms around) for a couple of hours. It was fun and certainly nothing I would have done on my own.

I think Hollis considered it lame and “gay,” as she likes to say (gee, I wonder how gays feel about that word being used to describe something lame), but she’s committed to beating her aunt with the scoring. Because surprisingly (at least to Hollis), Aunt Devon has rhythm. But Hollis is making gains on me. She was still going toe-to-toe with Len, Carrie and Bruno after I hung up my nunchuk and went to bed around 11:30 p.m. I’m expecting a dance-off tonight.

It had been a great day on Saturday. Hollis and I have been competing on Wii Fitness and Sports, which explains other sore muscles (tennis, boxing). We didn’t get a lot of other work done and that’s OK. Her room is mostly clean at the moment and there was a discussion about the proper time and use of a plunger.

We also had a nice talk about not letting a need to be perfect in something a barrier in enjoying a hobby. I like to sing and I have no grandiose ideas that I’m even good at it, much less perfect. But I enjoy it nonetheless. That’s why choirs were invented.

Hollis is concerned she doesn’t have anything she’s “great” at yet. I tried to explain she should be great at being nice. It’s no coincidence that movies about teenage girls are more about “Mean Girls” than “Nice Girls.”

Being OK, or pretty good, or even above average in sports or some other skill will come with time and practice. Those skills, however, will fade with time and age.

But being “great” at nice will last forever.

Hurrah! Hollis showed marked improvement on her biology test concerning the chemistry chapter. She scored an 84, which is a B-minus! This will help her overall grade considerably in a very difficult class. I’m very proud of her. We’ll celebrate tonight by watching taped episodes of Glee and Office and share some popcorn. Maybe even with butter on it!

The students had a half-day yesterday, so Hollis enjoyed some “Hollis” time before I got home. Then when I did, we watched the MTV reality show named Run’s House about a wealthy black family and their children. Pretty amusing, I have to admit, especially the part about the kids begging their dad for another dog when the one they have isn’t trained. The night before, we watched the DVR’d Music Video Awards and commented about Kanye West’s inconceivable butting in on Taylor Swift’s moment. I have to say I saw more pelvis gyrations and strange costumes than any of the Rocky Horror Picture Shows I used to attend at the Kentucky Theater in Lexington. It was pretty risque then to see people in public wearing white granny panties and a bra — and those were the guys.

Besides studying, Hollis is trying hard in other areas, as well. When she came home from school due to illness, I stopped in to check on her at lunch. As I walked back to the kitchen, I heard her holler: “Aunt Devon, I let the dogs out.” And sure enough, she had. Now, the door hadn’t been shut all the way, allowing for a pair of curious cats to get outside, not to mention the bugs coming inside, but hey, I was quite pleased. Small steps!

I’m as anxious as an award recipient standing on a stage and realizing Kanye West has just left his front-row seat.

I’m awaiting the results of Hollis’ biology test. I don’t think I was this nervous 25 years ago when I was looking at a little plastic stick and trying to figure out if there were two pink lines, one pink line or if one pink line blurred into looking like two pink lines.

If Hollis does well, that’s excellent, of course. But if she doesn’t do well — despite all of the effort — then there will need to be some major regrouping.

For her part, Hollis feels pretty good about the test. She spent time studying for it in the morning, going in early. She was able to tell me later that afternoon what she wrote about Niels Bohr and his taking part in the Manhattan Project. I’m really hoping she’ll ace those 10 points on the quiz.

While she got herself out of bed yesterday (yeah!), this morning at 6 a.m. it was a little tougher. Although there was no “just five more minutes” pleading on her part. She’s also sick with a cold, and that’s what caused her to take the test early and go home mid-day. There is no question her ability to retain what she reads is much better while on her medication.

So now I will wait — checking Edline every few hours to see if her teacher has updated her grades.

Oh, and by the way, that test 25 years ago? It turned out to be two pink lines that resulted in a squalling baby boy named Cameron. My favorite test results ever.

My atoms, at the moment, are highly charged and increasing their oxidation state. The ensuing loss of electrons are imploding out of my ears and eyes. This, in case you are wondering, is not a good thing.

That is because I have been attempting to prep Hollis for her chemistry chapter test in biology class on Tuesday.

Despite all of the worksheets, homework, “study” time and mandatory study time with the teacher, this child has no more an idea of what the difference is between an enzyme and a catalyst than I did four hours ago. But by all that is sacred to Niels Bohr (could there be a better last name for a chemist?), I’ve done all I can to help her with this test tomorrow.

I did at least know about pH levels … thanks to owning several fish tanks over the years.

So now it’s up to Hollis whether she sinks or swims tomorrow. I’m hoping it’s a body of water with a high alkali content.

If they made Farmville on Facebook more realistic, such as making the kids determine different types of pH levels in the soil to grow certain crops, and why it is necessary to rotate crops,  I bet suddenly there would be a lot less interest in this time-waster of a game.

Hollis’ Farmville is now on notice. Foreclosure proceedings have begun and I’m revving up the John Deere tractor … Unless study behavior improves, her plot of land is going to be plowed under.

Another adjustment I’ve had to make since Hollis became my roommate is the increased laundry. Before, I washed a small load once a week and a towel load after I washed the dogs.

But since Hollis’ main method of cleaning her room is to place all of her clothes in the laundry basket, I’m doing more laundry than normal.

So one thing I’ve learned: Always wash the towels last, because if the towel lint ignites and sets the house on fire after the dryer has run for 12 hours, at least when the firemen come over, your underwear won’t still be in the washing machine waiting for those blasted towels to finish drying.

This was going to be a weekend of study for Hollis. She’s beginning to understand her typical homework routine isn’t going to cut it at Norfolk Collegiate. She’s dug quite a hole for herself in biology. I’m a little annoyed the only grades they have posted on Edline have been her not-so-great classes. Where are those PE grades to offset biology? What about English?

She woke up Saturday at 12:30 p.m. with a cold. After medicine and hot lemon tea, she went to her room to clean it up. What that meant to her was to re-arrange her headband drawer. So when I checked on her, as I do a hundred times a day, she’s sitting amongst underwear, jeans, shirts, tank tops and shorts — sorting her hair clips and thinking she’s cleaning her room.

Then she mentioned she wanted to upload some songs on her new iPod. Since I’m pretty sure she’s not a great fan of Three Dog Night and Anne Murray, we went down to the Ortiz’s to upload some songs off their far more hip library. Should have been easy, but somehow — don’t ask me how — it wasn’t. Got a bunch of songs downloaded — but none of them actually play on her iPod. No sound. Another battle for another day.

So back to the house and begin work on finishing up her English essay. Guess who forgot her book and her English book where she’s supposed to create the document based on pages 1190-1194? And the first two guesses don’t count.

Luckily, Aunt Val-Del has a copy of the book so at least we have that. Hollis writes for an hour or so (in between peeking at Facebook — I’m gonna learn to disable my wireless while she’s working on this computer) and as I look over her work, I asked about the original outline that was supposed to have been graded by her teacher. Seems she doesn’t get it until Monday. Duh. So no further work on A Thousand Splendid Suns. Way too sad a book, although filled with hope at the end.

Random tidbit. The girl likes her double-stuffed Oreos.

It’s now Sunday. I went to early church but didn’t haul Hollis out of bed because of her cold. I was home by 9:15 a.m. with hot chocolate and she was actually awake. She got to watch MTV for a while, which further cemented my feeling that all of the great music ended in the 1970s. Then back to work on her room and study for biology.

I did walk in on her filling out note cards, which helps her study by writing. I have to admit, that was a pleasant sight — her stretched out on the floor carefully penning the vocab words into her notecard binder with her neat, tight printing. Made my heart swell with pride.  And another time she was working on her English vocab, which she pretty much nailed when I tested her later.

I took a break this afternoon by attending the Virginia Symphony with Val-Del, thanks to some comp tickets by one of the teachers at the school who plays in the orchestra. Beethoven’s Emporer — one of my favorites.

When I got back, Hollis and I had another one of those “deep” discussions that shows this child has more to her than what she generally shows. She still manifests all of the lovely teenage characteristics mixed up with GIRL DRAMA and HOW DO I LOOK anxieties, but she seems to grasp the need to reach for that brass ring on the carousel of life. She’s just not sure how far out she can reach and she wants to be sure someone will be there to catch her if she falls. Translation? She going to try and get herself up for school. She’s set THREE alarms in her room — two cell phones and an alarm clock. But she also knows if she misses the 6:30 a.m. brass ring, I’ll be there at 6:45 a.m. to boot her butt out of bed.

Last night, Hollis went to a Middle School Mixer to “chaperone” some of the kids, including her soon-to-be 13 cousin, Michael. I don’t believe it was all that interesting for her and she clearly didn’t believe anyone of note would be there given the casual attire she wore. But it sure beat her watching TV and playing Farmville all night.

So now it’s Saturday and she’s been sleeping for 9 1/2 hours at this point. She has an essay paper due on Monday, a major Biology test on Tuesday for which she has a mandatory study period with the teacher after school, thanks to her blowing a bio quiz on chemistry. And she has a big Western Civ test on Wednesday. So a lot of her time this weekend will be spent on homework.

I want her to have fun things to do on the weekend with her friends, though, so perhaps she’ll step up and invite them to here or suggest something they can do.

Hollis was able to work ahead on some of her homework thanks to a freshman retreat Thursday-Friday. That gave her three study halls each of those days. Although she claims she did homework – and I believe she did – I’m guessing she had a lot of chat time as well with the other one or two sophomores in those classes.

Besides the homework, there will be the cleaning of her room so the mess can be at least manageable. And more lessons on how to hang up a towel and turn off a light when she leaves the bathroom. And of course there’s the “I’ll get myself up in the morning” training. Because truly, even though I hate to sound mean, I believe strongly that if someone wants the responsibility of driving a vehicle that can kill either herself or others, then that person needs to show responsibility for being able to take care of her own needs. Other sound sleepers wake up in the morning … I know it took effort for Cameron. So that cannot be an excuse any longer.

At choir practice, I spoke to one young lady on how she got herself up for early church when her own parents didn’t get up. She admitted it was hard. One lady said her 14-year-old daughter was in bed, with lights out, at 9:30 p.m. And she had no problems getting up in the morning. I’ll have to check to see what other appropriate bedtimes have been for 15-year-olds.

I do believe Hollis needs to be in bed by 10 p.m. That would give her 8 hours of sleep for those 6 a.m. mornings. And if she can  shorten her fussing with her clothes and hair routine, that would be more than enough time for her to get ready for a 7:05 a.m. pickup.

But I can’t keep giving in to doing the first wake-up call at 5:45 a.m., then begging her to get up at 6 a.m. and have her beg right back to sleep until 6:15 and then have the mad rush to get out the door and brushing her teeth in the car. That’s no way to start a morning.

And there is one other area I am hoping to resolve with her. On Friday, I got home at 6:15. She was already there. I asked if she had put the dogs outside when she came home. Yes, she told me. Yet when I started to open up the back door, it was still locked. Now, I can’t be for sure, but while I can believe Hollis would unbolt a door, but for her to then REBOLT it after bringing the dogs in would be something I haven’t yet seen her do. Especially since that bolt is a little tough because the door is swollen due to all of the rain.

Why not just say, “no, I didn’t think of it?” Then I can work on more situational awareness outside of her own immediate needs.

Telling me Aunt Val-Del approved a too-short skirt is one thing; a fib that affects the comfort of an animal is another.I know she has a soft heart for pets, but I haven’t yet seen any effort on her part to actually care for one. It’s easy to snuggle with a dog or cat — not so much fun changing the kitty litter or making sure they are fed, watered, walked and given timely bio breaks. Without being told.

Again, it goes back to that responsibility she must show me before she can get that learner’s permit.

I think I’m going to hang cue cards up around the house. I’ll have her make them since she has such cute handwriting – the only one in the family, I might add – that will tell her what she needs to do when she comes home from school and I’m not there.