It came at me like a freight train and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't even get the Hell out of the way. In some ways I ran toward it in a childish game of chicken. I lost and I am sad, hurt and shocked. My daughter and I went toe to toe for the very first (and sadly not the last) time.
This has been coming on slowly because of hormones, life stresses, growing pains, the desire to be more grown up (test boundaries), the wish to keep things the way they were (simple and young)and summer heat. She is "me" to the core meaning she is a slow boil but when the point comes (and it will) get back because you WILL get burned.
I have been begging, pleading, screaming, and stomping for them to clean their friggin rooms. Nothing new and I'm certainly not the only mom in the world who is ignored when speaking that ancient indiscernible language: "Mother". I think it is spoken in the pitch similar to that of a dog whistle. Winston and Birdie cock their heads and yawn or make whiny noises when I talk. They at least acknowledge me. (That says so much for my state of mind if I have become a dog whisperer). Or maybe they just want a cookie.
At the start of summer we made a deal: clean one thing each day: be it your dresser top, your four corners (because four quarters equals one whole) your bookshelves, lalala. "Okay" was the cheerful response. Response not result. BIG difference. So I took it one step further. If I had to pick it up, it went into a trashbag. That got eye rolls and nudges to each other "Yeah right. Okay mom." Still no result. I began to simmer way down inside. I became short with them when I really didn't need to...and I asked one last time. (Anyone counting?) They huffed and stomped up to their rooms, shoving everything into their closets. "All DONE" they proudly clapped.
From my childhood I remember the infamous room inspections. I pulled one; yanking that closet open and flopping my hands on my hips, I began to boil over.
"WHAT IS THIS???!!!!!" I hissed.
They both shrugged and said "We didn't feel like it."
I will pause here because it (still)makes me so angry I am afraid I will break the "f" key off this "firetrucking" computer.
I became the monster Bruce Banner warned everyone about:
"Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry"
Oh yeah baby. In a flash, before they could comprehend the "Mother" mumblings pouring from my tight lips, I began to clear up the mystery of what I wanted them to do. I put everything on their beds: The Legos, the books, old papers, clothes, toys (broken and not) cars, dolls ALL of it. There was so much crap, it slipped and dripped onto the carpet like a bulging giant sundae of clutter.
"NOW!" I was panting and on the brink of breaking a furious sweat. "You have ONE thing to clean today." I swept from the room with tinges of guilt and disappointment in myself floating behind me like a cloak. I'd gone too far. I'd screwed up.
Maddie was right behind me. She was panting and on the brink of a furious sweat. I faced her.
"WHAT?" I dared her to proceed.
We looked like mirror images, both leaning in nose to nose. Our eyes locked. Tears welled up.
She tore at her hair and yelled at me.
"WHAT is it you want me to do? I can't DO all this! It's just TOO MUCH! I'm trying--" A small sob cut her off.
Ben stood in the hall tears leaked down his cheeks to see us at each other this way. I clenched my teeth biting my tongue so I wouldn't cry. I dug my nails into my palms so I wouldn't slap her. We were both reeling and stunned.
She recovered, deciding that she'd taken the first step; might as well begin to run with it. Maddie took a huge breath beginning to list all the things I was doing wrong. How I was too demanding, unappreciative of her efforts and never asked the same things of her brother. She was working as hard as she could and not one person was helping her but asking MORE. She was more than just a maid. She was truly proud of her point.
Check.
I straightened up and licked my lips. Ben ran into his room arms flailing. He hugged Winston and said "I love you Buddy". I believe he thought the Apocalypse had arrived. He heard my blood thumping and raging. He saw the words formulating, the mental gears grinding. He knew....to take shelter.
"Welcome My Dear." my voice quivered for control. " I've been waiting for your arrival to this wonderful moment in time for quite a while. I'm glad you can now understand how I feel."
Checkmate.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. I stood firm digging at my palms some more; remembering the countless times my parents told me to "get that look off my face or they'd wipe it off FOR me". I closed my eyes, whispering "I'm sorry" in my mind.
We didn't speak the rest of the day. We fumbled at dinner but when she went to bed, I followed her, sitting carefully, gingerly on the bed knowing I was not particularly welcome. My rule has always been that you end the day on a good note: a positive word, a laugh, something good. We began to talk. She reached for my hand and tried again to make her point. Softly. I saw some of it and acknowledged her. Softly. Then Winston jumped in the middle with his stinky bone and began to slobber and mumble. We laughed with tears of regret and forgiveness.
I don't think I've hugged her so hard in months. So sad for me. I told her how much I loved her no matter how angry I got. She laughed, pulling away while looking me in the eye that beautiful young woman said.
"Now you know how I feel"
Checkmate
Man, I'm gonna need to up my dose for the teen years.
