Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Warrior Mindset: Ninja-ing Out The Shenanigans

"You are the reason our family is this way. You make my relationship with my dad the way it is. It is your fault my dad doesn't love me. It's your fault he loves his step-daughters more than me."

I just stood there, not saying a thing until she was done. It went on as did her tears. When the sobbing consumed her, all I could muster was, "I love you."

Bug countered back with "no you don't" and "my dad doesn't love me because of you" and on and on and on. After a while, I just walked away.

Later she came up to me and said she was sorry, she shouldn't have said that. What do you say to your 14 year old when she just pretty much cut your heart in two? I told her if that is how she really feels, then she needs to get it out and we need to talk about it. I added I was sorry she felt that way. Again, I told her I loved her.

In my mind, I was thinking, WTF..."your dad cheated on me and told me he wanted a divorce on my birthday, while standing over me, and he had been 'practicing' sex with me in the last months to make sure he was 'good enough' for his new girlfriend"...although I didn't say it out loud. Yeah, like I was practice sex. Take that. Why is it a bad idea to say the truth of the matter to your teenager?

1) It would have devastated her. 2) Her parents didn't have sex...at least in her mind because that is gross...daughter denial. We got her at a baby store. 3) I made a vow for Lent to stop saying the f bomb which would have been interjected in that story out of reflex. God really trumped my thoughts of daughter devastation because I was really hurt and wanted to lash out as a natural bitch reaction. Gotta contain the bitch in me sometimes, especially for my daughter's sake. 4) It is REALLY BAD to say such things in front of children even if it is the truth. They then need years of therapy and it is all your fault because you were the ugly momster even if it appears to be the fault of the father. After all, I did not sleep with my friend's wife and carry on in a uniform whilst supposed to be protecting the lake residents. I'm over it. Well, for myself, but it still plagues my daughter and it is an embarrassment to her.

For some odd reason during this princess outburst, I had this calm resolve as she sliced and diced her mother and then handed me my head on a platter. It was serial killer creepy calm minus the killing thoughts. Maybe now I know why mice eat their young. Not really. That is really disturbing and no thank you.

Maybe it was because we had just gotten home from Jujitsu and I felt a little Yoda combined with my ninja warrior spirits which kicked in and saved me from epic mother failure.

Who knows? Maybe my brain disconnected for a minute and I was on a white sand beach with Alejandro.  It must have been a coping mechanism to prevent the daggers from hitting my heart. Teenagers can do it...check out...why not me? They are good at pushing buttons as well.

I kissed her forehead and went to bed. It was all I could do as my presence was agitating her inner Sybil.

When I hit the pillow, I was out. It was maybe an hour later when I had to get out of bed and take Moose pee outside which was -10 but felt like Antarctica's asshole which was probably -45.


I had just gotten to sleep when I felt this big nose staring me down.
It was like this only at my bedside.
And so we went downstairs. Bug was still up, of course, and again apologized. I told her to hold that thought because Moose was about to pee himself which ultimately would become my problem, not his. After freezing my face off...I came back to my daughter's permanent position on the couch. She again apologized and asked me why I didn't hate her.

"Well, honey, I could never hate you, you are my child. Sometimes I don't like how you behave and when you hurt it hurts me. I will always love you."

"But, mom, why didn't you yell at me when I was evil?"

"What good would that have done? Besides, you never know when one of us would get hit by a bus and then all you would remember was how bad the last moment was when they were alive."

"I know, mom. And my bus driver is dangerous. She drives fast on ice and turns corners over snow drifts and makes us pukey. She is seriously bad. She is going to kill us. Every day I fear for my life and that I won't see you again."


The dots connect even if they go to grandmother's house, through the woods, and over the hill first.

I think.

Life returned to normal in the morning when Murphy took toilet paper rolls about the entire house while I was in the shower. Bad dog. Bad dog.
Artistic dramatization

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Princess Diaries

Shopping with a teenager is about at the same level as getting waterboarded in a dark room full of CIA agents. But, as mothers, we must endure the anguish, the torture, and the bliss of making our daughters feel like Princesses. Who was the person to push us to this level of insanity? Who decided all daughters must be treated like Princesses? I am not sure, but later I must Google it.

Rarely does the father partake in these festivities. Why? He lives miles away. If I had one with me, I would make him go. So I have to be the mother and the father during these events for the Princess.

Her father helped with the dress because I asked and what do you know...he thought it was OK. NO, I don't have child support this month, but Bug gets her dress. I think he believes I make money on the meager amount and refused to participate in my hobby: raising his daughter. It makes sense in my mind. Where did I park my Mercedes?

Oh, yeah. At the mall. It was disguised as a 2005 Chevy Malibu.

The outing started out as me being excited to make my girl dressed in pizzazz (on a budget) for her Sweetheart Dance this weekend. I am all about class and glamour on a beer budget. Luckily in her size 0, it is easy. There are many selections left in the NO ONE IS THIS SIZE size.

She is very picky and tries on everything until she feels pretty. It takes a village. Of dresses. I encouraged her to try on things which maybe didn't appeal to her off the hanger, but would be beautiful on and she agreed. Some of them were wonderful and classy. She didn't pick out one slut dress or anything which I felt was too old for her. For this, I was proud.

We went to several stores. Some of them were drive-bys. A drive by is you look in the window and see if they have fancy dance your pants off dresses for teens and if the answer is "nope"...drive on by. Next store. She was discouraged and went on and on how she was ugly and fat and no one asked her to the dance. She does not do this because she wants my attention. She really feels like this. It kills me. She is the most beautiful child and she has a good heart. She does have teenager hormones which drive me to hell and back, but she is a good kid. Do other moms experience this self-esteem issue? I don't know. I just know I don't understand where it comes from.

At the last store, I told her if she didn't find the dress which was just right, we could look the next day in another part of town. She perked up a little bit at the thought the pressure was off and she had other options. We tried on about 5 more at the last shop with no luck. I told her we should make another round and see if we missed something. She agreed.

As she rounded a tall display of longer dresses, she looked up and her eyes sparkled.

"Mom, look. It is beautiful. It is in the budget. Can I try it on?"

Of course I said yes. It was beautiful and classy...just the way I like them. And pink. I love pink. Nothing says princess like pink and it was her favorite color as a toddler. She always grabbed pink things.

It just so happened, it was perfect. Her eyes lit up.

"I feel pretty, Mom."

Photo credit: JcPenny's..although this cutie patootie is adorable, this is not my child. 
"Good. And you don't need a date. You need to feel pretty and go have fun with your friends."

"Yeah. It's Ok. I will have fun. I will look pretty, don't you think?"


What more could a mom ask for than to see her daughter's eyes light up when she found the right dress. I do have a suggestion. I guess it was not a rhetorical question. Well, maybe one of these shops could serve the moms wine while they waited and watched the pile of no dresses accumulate until the yes dress was located. Just a thought.