Standing in the shower thinking

Instead of a new obsession, I'm revisiting old ones. Is that a sign of aging or an acknowledgment of the circular nature of existence? I dunno, but I'm digging Jane's Addiction's "Nothing's Shocking" album lately and something about listening to it - despite its often troublesome themes - makes me feel happy.

Apparently, I'm "intense." Sami's friends have voted me "scariest mom" and I can only laugh at this fact, dubious distinction or not. Her friend Stephanie thinks I "yell a lot" and it's true, but at least I know I'm not getting any 13-year-old lip from the back seat when I'm driving the squirrelly, giggling gossipers and text messagers in the back seat of my car. I try to be understanding about how annoying they are because I know full well that I was at least as annoying at that age. But still. Some days I have to ask them to sit quietly because the noise level reaches a pitch only dogs can hear and it makes my ears ring. They wear too much perfume and too much eyeliner; they are attached to their cell phones and meet boys at the movies and don't take kindly to my perpetually logical moralizing from the driver's seat. I remind them to be smart, assertive, not to drink, smoke, or accept drugs; to not talk to people they don't know, even kids their age; to not have sex without thinking about it and using protection. There is a collective groan and a "Moh-um" utterance from my daughter when I remind them that oral sex is still sex, and that they should never do anything they don't want to do or succumb to boyfriend or peer pressures. Moriah wonders aloud why I can't just drive them and not pay attention like her mother does. I responded that I couldn't possibly delineate how many things were wrong with her question in the limited time it takes to drop her off at home. I didn't have to look in the rearview mirror to know she first looked perplexed and then rolled her eyes and went back to her cell phone.

One of the signs of maturity - at least I think - is accepting who you are. Turns out I'm intense, sometimes embarrassing, and often don't filter what leaps to my mouth from my brain. I say stupid things; I swear when I shouldn't; I forget my train of thought; I'm tangential; hyperactive; silly; love to talk quickly and honestly; and sometimes, this makes people uncomfortable or causes them to dislike me, misunderstand me, believe me to be younger than I am, and the list goes on about how I don't always present the impression I hope for. But then it occurred to me: that's me and frankly, I don't really want to be associated with people who think I'm something different than I am. I'm not even going to apologize for my foibles. I shall simply embrace them.

Still dreaming of London. Last night I walked through Westminster Abbey, and I might have enjoyed it if the elephants would not have insisted on marching in front of me and I hadn't been trying to dodge Mary Queen of Scots who did not like my packing up relics from the church and trying to steal them. She haunted all of my steps.