Sweet 16. (OK, Not So Much on the Sweet Right Now But I Guess That Goes with the Territory).
16 years ago, right this minute, I was wearing a very unflattering but serviceable hospital gown and cracking jokes. No, really. In between contractions, it was a big ol' laughfest in the delivery room. Months later I ran into my labor nurse at the hospital and she told me that in her entire career she'd never laughed as much as she had at The Child's delivery. I like to think that the fact that there was more laughter than pain at her birth has some sore of significance.
I am feeling much more sentimental today than I expected. Probably because last night The Child, with much weeping and gnashing of teeth, delivered the "you don't believe in me, you never support me, blah blah blah" speech. I really hate that speech. Especially delivered on the eve of an occasion. Like her 16th birthday. A moment which, let's face it, I had something to do with. And yes, I am well aware that this goes with the territory and yes, certainly, I would much prefer The Attitude, born as it is of strong will and spunk, to the alternative. Like sex and drugs and alcohol and smoking and truancy and running with the wrong crowd or dating someone menacing with a name like Butch and a motorcycle. There is a lot about my 16 year old that I will put up against any other 16 year old and I'll do so with a whole lotta pride.
But when your baby turns on you, especially when you know that nothing you were saying to her remotely smacks of a lack of support, especially when you know what you've done to get her to this moment, yeah...it smarts a little.
And I was going to say, "but enough about me" and try to conjure up some sentimental crap about motherhood and the milestone of a daughter turning 16 and then I remembered, "This is my bloody blog and if I want to write about how I was, once again, told that I truly am 'the worst mother in the world', on the eve of my child's 16th birthday no less, and how it smarted and how it still does and how truly annoying that is, well then, that's what I'm going to do". So there. Pft.
So a happy birthday to my rotten, ungrateful child. I love her very much. I know she was put on this earth to do great things. And that's true whether she believes it or not.
I am feeling much more sentimental today than I expected. Probably because last night The Child, with much weeping and gnashing of teeth, delivered the "you don't believe in me, you never support me, blah blah blah" speech. I really hate that speech. Especially delivered on the eve of an occasion. Like her 16th birthday. A moment which, let's face it, I had something to do with. And yes, I am well aware that this goes with the territory and yes, certainly, I would much prefer The Attitude, born as it is of strong will and spunk, to the alternative. Like sex and drugs and alcohol and smoking and truancy and running with the wrong crowd or dating someone menacing with a name like Butch and a motorcycle. There is a lot about my 16 year old that I will put up against any other 16 year old and I'll do so with a whole lotta pride.
But when your baby turns on you, especially when you know that nothing you were saying to her remotely smacks of a lack of support, especially when you know what you've done to get her to this moment, yeah...it smarts a little.
And I was going to say, "but enough about me" and try to conjure up some sentimental crap about motherhood and the milestone of a daughter turning 16 and then I remembered, "This is my bloody blog and if I want to write about how I was, once again, told that I truly am 'the worst mother in the world', on the eve of my child's 16th birthday no less, and how it smarted and how it still does and how truly annoying that is, well then, that's what I'm going to do". So there. Pft.
So a happy birthday to my rotten, ungrateful child. I love her very much. I know she was put on this earth to do great things. And that's true whether she believes it or not.
Labels: milestones, The Child, worst mother in the world
cobbled together by Moi at 7:00 AM
6 Comments:
I feel your pain Cuz, truly I do. And sadly all one can do is just get through it with as much grace and patience as you can muster. And when that fails I've found a nice dry Chardonnay quite helpful... But you'll make it, really. I felt very much the same a few years ago, and lo and behold 18 is right around the corner. With college and all those scary (for me) things on the horizon, I'd almost rather have the drama back.
Happy birthday to your 16 year old ungrateful child. You will both survive. Hang in there.
I remember wanting to go back in time and erase the hurtful things I said to my mother after hearing them from my daughter. The teenage boy version isn't much better. They just slilently look at you with disdain in their eyes and then walk away.
Cuz, you are my hero.
Thank you, Mom. I believe you. I think.
Random, yeah, I feel another one of those "geez, Mom, I haven't apologized lately for being such a snot nosed kid but you're due. Again".
I got 18 months before my fruit turns 16. However, being a third-year Spanish student, she wants a quincenera party this year. Sheesh.
I love your honesty, Rainey. :)
Happy Birthday to your ungrateful child. *smiles*
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