Jerry Springer - Me?

Now, I don't really watch Jerry Springer. Have seen bits and pieces while channel surfing. Can't stand talk shows and DETEST what I call tabloid talk shows. But suddenly, I find myself living in what could be a Jerry Springer ongoing serial.

Don't get me wrong. I never thought adolescence would be easy. My own journey through that mine field was enough to warn me. But this? Never would have imagined it.

I was not the easiest 15 year old on the planet at the time, but I'm sure I wasn't the worst either. And there were plenty of arguments and differences of opinion between myself and my parental units. But there were limits. Certain things I might have thought, but would never dream of saying. Things I thought of doing, but would never have actually done.

You see, no matter how much they pissed me off, they were my PARENTS. Underneath all the angst and posturing, I loved them. Was conscious of an invisible line I didn't want to cross. Never wanted to hurt them. And I had a certain amount of respect for them. Of course, at the time, I often felt they were monumentally unfair. And I was going to be different with my kids. Well, the best laid plans.....

But how did my life with my son get to this? When did it become ok to heap verbal abuse on your mom? When did it become ok to threaten her? How did the norm become holes in walls made by angry fists, broken doors and windows? When did saying fuck off to your parents become an accepted means of communication? When did we start having to call the police to discipline a child? (When he grew to be over six feet tall and outweigh you by eighty pounds, I suppose).

This is so foreign to me. I did not live like this growing up and neither has my child, until recently. But last Monday, I realized that in three short months, my child has turned my home into a Jerry Springer show.

I want a word with the producers. I know Jerry gets paid more than me. I want a raise.