A Mother Knows: Helping Your Child Cope With Divorce
I’m living in teenage hell.
The “glitter is more, cleaning is a chore, mothers are a bore, in two seconds flat you are at war, and YOU just want to yell, ‘Shut the front door’” kind.
I’m not really sure how else to describe it.
Today I was asked a plethora of questions from the minute I picked her up from school, til the 10 minutes it took to get us home. It started with, “How was your day?” and quickly progressed to “Why are you always so mean?” ending with, “Are you starting menopause?”
I felt like I arrived fresh-faced, then emerged with scars so deep that hours of Heidi Montag plastic surgery wouldn’t smooth them out.
Yes, parents ruin lives. That is exactly what we set out to do when we have children. I actually made a conscious decision that I would be in labor for three days, beg for drugs only not to receive them, give birth, put in important mommy time by introducing her to BIG ideas and fostering cognitive development just to squash any dream she may imagine for her life.
Hey, go big or go home, right?
But tomorrow I am seeking revenge. I am going to wear her Uggs. And her favorite shirt. And then, I’m going to test-drive her jewelry, use her new straight iron, and make-out with her life-sized Justin Bieber cut out. Well, not really. Cause that would be creepy. But I am going to wear her Uggs. Just because I can. And I may use her shirt as a cleaning rag. But that would be over the top. You know what? Maybe I won’t even go in her room at all. Take that.
Truth be told our relationship blurs the lines of friend and mom. It’s probably 2.3 parts friend; 1.7 parts mom. For a long time it was just the two of us. Then along came a spider who sat down beside her stealing her curds and whey (figuratively that would be me, the mom). And there were three… then four... then five of us.
Continued on the next page
Follow Technorati