I have three children. Two boys back to back…followed up a little later by a precious little girl. We all oohed and awed when she was born. So sweet. So easy. So quiet. So self contained. Little did I know she was a tiny little ticking time bomb. She was wearing adorable pink bows and efficiently wrapping everyone around her little finger…while she bided her time.
When my boys were little I was a stay-at-home mother. In addition to my own two little critters- I was blessed to babysit my nephew while my sister worked. Three…lets call them ‘lively’…boys under the age of four. It was without a doubt the most exhausting thing I have ever endured. My standard uniform of a sweatshirt, mom jeans and keds was complimented nicely by my unbrushed hair and quiet desperation. And this was before I discovered wine. Don’t get me wrong. It was awesome. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But damn I was tired. Day after day of unexplained messes, lost shoes, overflowing sinks, fights, naked boys in the yard, and broken things. To many broken things to mention. Lets all have a moment of silence for all those innocent things that died premature and needless deaths at the hands of my three little terrors… RIP vase that belonged to my Grandmother for like 100 years, baseball shaped ceiling fan (why wouldn’t you hit that with a bat…geez), TV remotes, guitars, toys, the washing machine… There are to many victims to mention. Sniff sniff.
I can remember thinking it would be easier to take three small goats to the grocery store than those boys. And I would probably receive fewer stares. Sigh. Every evening my X came home and glanced around with his condescending ‘what the hell do you do around here all day’ look while he poured himself another drink. I would reply with my obligatory sigh of frustration. At the time I thought I was enduring the most trying time in parenting. If I could make it through that I could make it through anything.
But I was naive. So naive… I now have a 13 year old girl. The shit just got real. And I wasn’t prepared…
Let me back this up a little. I’m a girl. Obviously. I was once 13. I work with teenagers. I come from a family of girls. Most of my friends are girls! I’m no stranger to drama. I’m familiar with hormones. In fact-my sisters tended to lean a bit towards the dramatic. Which irritated the shit out of me. So I purposely leaned away from any drama. I was better with silence and the occasional eye roll. Which irritated the shit out of them. Mission accomplished. No crying necessary. So I imagine they are enjoying immensely the situation I currently find myself in at home. With my daughter…
My daughter has embraced her teenage years with a vengeance. Each day is a roller coaster of tears, stomping, napping, and eye rolls. I irritate her like crazy-but she loves me fiercely-at the same time. She wants to be with me. Always… So that I can share in her emotional roller coaster. Did I mention I hate roller coasters? And tears. I’m not that great with tears. And not all tears are bad fyi. We have happy tears as well. Frustrated tears. Laughing tears. Mad tears. Sad tears. Super sad tears. Hungry tears. ‘That’s the cutest picture of a puppy wearing a sweater I have ever seen’ tears. There are many many kinds of tears. Which can be very confusing to say…your 17 & 19 years old brothers. Or also your mom…
Recently the kids were supposed to be leaving to go to their fathers. My daughter wasn’t having it. She didn’t want to go. No specific reason. She just wanted to stay home. In her bed… With her pets… With her mom… As the time to leave approached she collapsed (yes- collapsed…) onto the floor outside my bedroom door. Tears were in full force. She was limp with emotion. And I did the worst possible thing that I could have done… I laughed.
I was dead in the water. The wailing was in full force now. It was impressive. And now she was pissed. Because…I laughed. I don’t take her seriously. I hurt her feelings. I’m so mean!
Son #2 arrived on scene. “What is happening?”he asks. “I don’t understand.”
“Back away quietly,”I whisper. “Don’t make direct eye contact. And for godsakes…DON’T LAUGH.”
Those are the kinds of things I find myself saying now on a regular basis. “Don’t make eye contact with her.” “If you talk to your sister at all in the next 30 minutes-I will kill you.” “Do you think she has low blood sugar?””Did something happen while I was gone?””Did she hit her head on something?” “Why did you ask her to scoot over on the couch-are you crazy!? Have you lost your mind?! Stand!”
So we are currently being held hostage at my house by the most beautiful, kind, loving, funny, and sincere emotional tyrant in history. My daughter. She’s a teenage girl. The scariest of all creatures… But I love her with all my heart. She exhausts me. She makes me dream of day drinking but also cry with pride all in the same day. Maybe she’s rubbing off on me.
And I bet the X and the homewrecker are really enjoying this too…👠
Divorce Shoes 