The Teenage Flashback Project

The Teenage Flashback Project

Fusing an embarrassing past, and a Parental Future…Come On Down and Write Your Tale!

Do you remember when you were a teen? Do you remember the feelings that reeled through you, the horror of a first kiss and the dread of dangling precariously by the phone waiting for the Kisser to call?

Do you remember the vicious fights and the name calling between ‘friends’.  Do you remember walking in on your best friend kissing your boyfriend? Granted you had only been dating the dude  for a few days and couldn’t remember his last name…But then, at that time, it was the most devastating thing that will ever happen to you. 

Do you remember missing out on the biggest party? Or having to leave prematurely because your curfew was earlier than everyone else’s?

Do you remember the screaming matches with your mean ol’ parents. The millions of times you’d call them stupid, or told them you hated their guts. Do you remember them telling you, you were being irrational, and you simply rolled your eyes and stormed off slamming every door you could find.

Does it confuse you, how such an conscientious and upstanding person like you, could have been so unruly and rebellious in prior years?

WELCOME TO THE TEENAGE FLASHBACK PROJECT!

Where a parent of a teen can take a little trip down memory lane , while discovering that they too weren’t in fact the angel adolescent they had imagined they were.

Hell you don’t even have to be the parent of a teen!

I’m not, but sure as the cellulite on by ass from carrying the two of them, I will be in a matter of 8 more teetering years. So here I am, wanting to give a little blast from the past to myself and all the other ‘rents out there that are and will be one day parents of the dreaded TEEN!

By doing this little experiment I hope to give myself and others something to look back on when the teenage years of our children do come…

  • Whether it will give us a little more insight into the minds of our children
  • Or maybe, it will make us be that much harder on them
  • I’m not sure of what result it will convey…If any!

 

All I really know is that right now, quite frankly the idea of raising teens scare the bejeezus out of me!

So maybe if we can rummage up those idiotic moments that WE ALL indulged in as teens, we won’t feel so bad when our own kids manage to blindly run into preposterous situations themselves (that we will more than likely have to dig them out of!)

And if all else fails from this project I am proposing, at least we will know that we parents can UNITE AS ONE in the memories that once were!

Okay, THE PLAN:

  1. I  will take the honors of beginning this little jaunt into the horror that was my teenage years by writing about a thermostat..My waking hour…And a total mental breakdown. Sure to please!
  2. Please, please, please share your outrageous teenage stories in the comment section of this blog (or Facebook post) And don’t tell yourself you can’t participate in this little feat of mine because you don’t have any stories…EVERYONE HAS AT LEAST ONE!
  3. Share/Re-blog  this post and let’s see how many of these awesome TEENAGE FLASHBACKS we can round up!

 

 

Okay People; I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours….

First of all I am going to make this short and sweet (one- Because I have a bad habit of rambling on when I clearly do not need to and you people probably don’t want to hear me go on and on and on about silly things…And two- Because FINALLY it is your turn to do the story telling!)

I think I was around 15. The night before I had borrowed a bottle of Peach Schnapps from Daddy-O in which a friend and I shared whilst on a sleepover.  (The happenings of that night, I will share with you if and when we get a real good outcome of commentary on this thing)

Next morning I wake with a headache from hell and an extremely weak stomach. I may have been able to handle that, if it hadn’t been for the fact it felt like a god damn ice box in my house and it sounded as if my parents were screaming pleasantries to each other over their morning coffee right outside my bedroom door.

It was then that Crazy Teen Psycho Path came out and buried sweet little 15 year old Lindsay whom always respected and held fast to her parents word.

“Why the hell is it so cold in this house, it is summer for god sakes!” I screamed through a croaked and drained voice.

“What are you talking about?” Dad countered almost immediately as he never stood for this type of insolence.  I, always being a bit frightened by the ol’ man, try to take a slower approach, but again am commandeered by the crazed hormone hyped bitch that resides within me.

“It is so fucking cold in this house, and you two are so loud in the mornings it is ridiculous!” I stomp towards the thermostat and crank it to its highest level.

“Turn it down.” He says in an eerily calm tone. It is the tone that scares me to the point in which I can once again take command over my own body and turn it down to its previous locale.

Once I feel I am in the clear from my little rampage, Crazy comes around for one more spin and as I make my way back to the sleeping quarters I yell in a screeching hell-bent sort of way,

“I HATE YOU GUYS! WORST. PARENTS. EVER.”

I did not end up going back to bed that day, I ended up being busted for the stolen booze and my punishment was to weed the entire garden…Believe me when I say it was huge, especially on the sweltering day it ended up being. From then on out, I tried my damndest to keep Crazy at bay when hung-over and around the parents.

 

YOUR TURN…

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3 thoughts on “The Teenage Flashback Project

  1. A Tweens Birthday Party
    I can’t remember all the ins and outs but essentially it went down like this…
    My birthday is in August so my mother always allowed me to throw a birthday party when school started again so I would actually have friends in attendance and people would once again like me, if feelings had dulled over the summer. So, I guess I should give a shout out to my mother for her endless attempts on keeping me cool. Anyways, grade 6, eleventh birthday party: All “socially accepted” of the grade six year are in attendance. My thirteen year old brother, Mitch, who had found his love for weed and drinking over the summer, had taken it upon himself to make this birthday one for the books. Not only had he supplied me and a few girlfriends with a bottle of, yes you guessed it, Butter Ripple Schnapps, he has also invited the grade 8 class. This is fucking wicked.
    The night naturally progresses into numerous puking 11 year olds, cake fights, and Adidas tear away strip teases (you know who you are). Sometime during this I am cowering behind a large stack of tires in the garage, crying and hiding from my mother. Reasons unknown, but I imagine the fact that I was butter ripple wasted probably played a part. And then the inevitable parents start to show up to collect their previously angelic children, now forever tainted, from this unruly party. Mom is irate, she had no idea we were all getting wasted, as she thought it would be nice if she did not directly chaperone the party (thanks again for giving us our space mom). Needless to say my house and my mother were forever blacklisted for the remainder of my junior high years. To continue my embarrassment this party and it’s after affects were brought up in numerous school and class meeting.
    Obviously my Mother attempted to ground Mitch and I for our deceitful behavior. We decided we would have none of that as the outcome couldn’t have possibly be any fault of ours. We come to the conclusion we must run away in order to avoid the penalties of our situation. We gather our bit of money, write our note and hit the road. Now my Mother is not only the pinnacle of bad parenting the eyes of her peers, she has also lost her children. As mentioned previously Mitch and I had been blacklisted so we didn’t actually have anywhere that would take us. We succumbed to the shelter of our garage where we spent the night eating DQ and sleeping on old bean bag chairs.
    The next day we revealed ourselves (though my Mother had figured us out without telling us) and were found guilty of the crime and punished. That night set the tone of the remainder of our years in the Woodland house. Sorry Mom.

    Like

  2. A Tweens Birthday Party
    I can’t remember all the ins and outs but essentially it went down like this…
    My birthday is in August so my mother always allowed me to throw a birthday party when school started again so I would actually have friends in attendance and people would once again like me, if feelings had dulled over the summer. So, I guess I should give a shout out to my mother for her endless attempts on keeping me cool. Anyways, grade 6, eleventh birthday party: All “socially accepted” of the grade six year are in attendance. My thirteen year old brother, Mitch, who had found his love for weed and drinking over the summer, had taken it upon himself to make this birthday one for the books. Not only had he supplied me and a few girlfriends with a bottle of, yes you guessed it, Butter Ripple Schnapps, he has also invited the grade 8 class. This is fucking wicked.
    The night naturally progresses into numerous puking 11 year olds, cake fights, and Adidas tear away strip teases (you know who you are). Sometime during this I am cowering behind a large stack of tires in the garage, crying and hiding from my mother. Reasons unknown, but I imagine the fact that I was butter ripple wasted probably played a part. And then the inevitable parents start to show up to collect their previously angelic children, now forever tainted, from this unruly party. Mom is irate, she had no idea we were all getting wasted, as she thought it would be nice if she did not directly chaperone the party (thanks again for giving us our space mom). Needless to say my house and my mother were forever blacklisted for the remainder of my junior high years. To continue my embarrassment this party and it’s after affects were brought up in numerous school and class meeting.
    Obviously my Mother attempted to ground Mitch and I for our deceitful behavior. We decided we would have none of that as the outcome couldn’t have possibly be any fault of ours. We come to the conclusion we must run away in order to avoid the penalties of our situation. We gather our bit of money, write our note and hit the road. Now my Mother is not only the pinnacle of bad parenting the eyes of her peers, she has also lost her children. As mentioned previously Mitch and I had been blacklisted so we didn’t actually have anywhere that would take us. We succumbed to the shelter of our garage where we spent the night eating DQ and sleeping on old bean bag chairs.
    The next day we revealed ourselves (though my Mother had figured us out without telling us) and were found guilty of the crime and punished. That night set the tone of the remainder of our years in the Woodland house. Sorry Mom.

    Love Chelsea

    Like

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