I'm Scared of Teenagers!

My oldest child is only nine so I know I have some time before I need to worry about raising a teenager. (Although he's 9 1/2 which makes teenagedom only about 3 years away...yikes!) And he is a boy and not subject to some of the skanky role models that seem to be plastered all over my television. In fact, my only daughter is not quite two yet so I know I shouldn't worry about it too much yet.
That being said, I can't help but worry. Britney Spears just shaved her head, added two new tattoos and then promptly checked herself into rehab. Personally, I have never been a fan but know there are millions of teeny-boppers out there that idolize her and someday my daughter might be one of them. Hopefully Ms. Spears will be totally out of the limelight by the time my little one is old enough to idolize anyone but me, but I'm certainly not naive enough to think there won't be ten more just like her by then.
Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Tara Reid - the list goes on and on. No, these girls aren't teenagers anymore but they are the role models for such and I can't help but wonder how many 17 year olds stopped wearing underwear once some of these girls made it headline news?
I live in a small town where everybody knows everybody and thankfully, it's just not "cool" to be skanky. The teenagers around here are good kids with good values and good heads on their shoulders. My boys worship Drake and Josh and The Naked Brothers Band from Nickelodeon but they also worship the starting five on our high school basketball team and I'm grateful for that - they are role models I want my kids watching. They are good-looking kids that work hard at school, (most of them Academic All-Staters) at sports and at their church and community service. This weekend we are going to the 2A State Basketball Championship where our boys and girls teams are #1 seeds in the tournament. Once we return, I know my boys will pick one of our high school starters to mimick when they're outside shooting hoops on our home court. There's not one of them that would make me cringe. On the other hand, I have to carefully monitor which NBA stars my boys want to become most like.
Why is it that the more trouble a celebrity gets into, the more their stock goes up? Why do we hear so little about the people that just try to live a good life? This is why teenagers scare me. It is going to be up to me to isolate the good stories and bring them to the forefront of my kids' minds when the worldwide media is working against me. The responsibility I have as a parent is so overwhelming to me and I know the world is only going to get worse as my children get closer to caring about what goes on outside of their little circles.
I know I can't keep all of the negative influences away from my kids and I know they aren't sheltered from the outside world just because we live where we do. But I wonder - if I blow up pictures of some of our high school basketball stars and turn them into posters to plaster around my kids' rooms, maybe the outside influences won't seem so important as the superstars they see everyday around town.

Didn't your mother teach you not to play with matches?

This is my newest hobby...blogging. At first it seemed like a mundane thing to do, a royal waste of time. But as my days alone with my young children seem to get longer and longer, I began to think of this as sort of a venting place; a way to really express myself and unleash some of my frustrations. Of course, I can always share these thoughts with Hubby, who is my number one supporter, but I usually don't get the opportunity to really lay it out there for him. The details of my day are usually shared in quick three word sentences as we pass in the kitchen.
And I'm not complaining...don't get me wrong. I work three 12-hour shifts a week as an RN so I really value my time at home. Only problem is, after working three 12-hour shifts a week, I'm usually borderline worthless to my family. Somewhere along the line I need time to recoup!
Which brings me to my first ever blog (confession). About a week ago after a long day at work and an even longer night up with my 22 month old daughter, I was laying in bed an extra minute (or ten) after Hubby, #1 and #2 left for school. (Hubby's a teacher and, bless his heart, shuffles the boys to school in the mornings so I can stay in bed!!)
So anyway, I'm laying in bed, not really asleep but not ready to get out of bed when I hear a blood-curdling scream from #3. My feet don't hit the floor until I'm out of my bedroom and I see my little guy holding a match that has burned down to his fingers and he won't let it go!
I scream at him to "DROP IT!" and kneel beside him to examine the damage. His thumb, middle finger and index fingers all have white blisters appearing at the finger tips and he's sobbing from the burns.
I stick his little hand in a glass of ice water and hold him while we both cry. Like any mother knows, if I could take the pain away, I would. But even more than that, my guilt is consuming me! How stupid can I be to leave matches within a three year old's reach?
I was spoiled with my older two boys, and I know it. I never had to baby-proof a house. Never had walls drawn on with Magic Marker, never had forks plugged into outlets, never had toy cars flushed down toilets; all of which have occurred since the arrival of my younger two.
It's been a good lesson to me...now I get out of bed as soon as I hear one of my kids scurrying about, although I still grab a quilt and lay on the couch until I'm fully awake.
My matches are above my fridge (even out of reach with a stool), buying outlet covers is on my list of things to do (I can't be perfect overnight!), and I have enough Magic Erasers under my kitchen sink to clean the White House.
I'm sitting at work right now at two a.m., helping deliver babies, knowing full well that even after this confession, tomorrow I'll wake up exhausted and worthless to my family once again, wondering if I'll ever amount to the kind of mom my own kids deserve.