Title is from William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part Two
I sincerely hope that the door creaking open and quickly shut downstairs was my kid. You can’t see it, but I am totally making a scaredy-face.
I have no real insights or funnies today, unfortunately. I’m too freaking tired. Between travel and nighttime coughing – either my own or Mister Man’s – I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while. I miss the sleep I had when I was a kid. Do y’all remember that sort of sleep? Where you just passed out in whatever position you happened to be in, and then slept all the way through until someone woke you up? I keep wanting to tell the Girl that she should cherish it now – in just a few short years, it will all go away. I’m pretty sure she would use it to argue against getting up in the morning for school, though. No way I’m handing her any ammunition for the ongoing Morning Skirmishes.
This morning’s battle lines were actually over socks instead of snooze. I won’t get into many details except to say that wearing yesterday’s (or the day before that’s) socks Is Not Acceptable and no, we are not.discussing.this.goputonCLEANSOCKSNOW!!!
Sorry ‘bout that.
One of these days, I will get through a morning routine without a drama flare or a puppy-dog lip quiver or any sort of envelope pushing. Because that would be freaking awesome. I do realize that it is just the stage she’s at – that she is pushing boundaries because her endocrine system is not only secreting enough hormones to fell an elephant, but her brain is making structural changes as well. Doesn’t make it ANY easier when she pushes yet another shiny, candy-like button in my brain.
I use the knowledge like other parents might use counting:
“One…two…three…structural changes….five…pituitary out of control….seven…mass hysteria, dogs and cats living together….”
I’m positive that even the Buddha was a terrible teen; I’m sure he rolled his eyes and stared moodily at the ceiling all the while thinking that no one understood him.
EVERYbody goes through it. The trick is to continue to enforce the rules without forgetting what being that age was like. I recall being twelve1. It sucked. You couldn’t do half the stuff you wanted because you weren’t old enough – and yet, you were expected to start taking on more responsibilities. Also? The homework load got geometrically bigger as well as more difficult. All of this while you’re experiencing emotions that careen out of control, from rage to sobbing in 4.2 nanoseconds.
Being a tween/teen is rough. I truly grok. I still want you to wear clean socks. Every day.
Why? Because I’m your Mom and I want the best for you. Which includes you not smelling like moldy corn chips. So go put on the clean socks – there’s some in your drawers – right now. Hup, hup, hup.
1 – For the record, my parents said that twelve is “when you lost your damn mind.” I’m sure that they’re right.