Sometimes I think no truer words have been spoken. Just when you think all is well... the kids are happy, well adjusted, no one has had their feelings hurt over a friend's passive aggressive Facebook post... just when I think it's fine to exhale and just enjoy the fact the everyone is in a good place... just when I think it's safe to go back into the water...
WHAM.
Some one's pissed.
Some one's crying.
Some one's yelling.
And always, inevitably, somewhere a door is being slammed.
I don't know why they get upset half the time. And I'll be honest... 99% of the time it's one of my three teenage daughters. My son's bad moods are as quick and fleeting as one of my New Year's resolutions. Over before you know it. But my girls' moods, not so much.
Sometimes I can tell that it's not worth it to get involved. Like when they come home from school, raging on about the indignities of some social injustice at the lunch table. I try to gauge within the first minute if this is something they just want to vent about, or if they actually want to hear my opinion. Oh, who am I kidding. They NEVER want to hear my opinion. My advice is considered out-of-touch and woefully inadequate, at best.
When they tell me how their best friend told them what someone else said about them, I hold up my hand and stop them.
"Whoa. Why is YOUR best friend telling you bad things about you that someone else said? You need to ask your bestie why do others feel so comfortable talking about YOU around HER? Hmmmm?"
My daughter will look at me like I suggested she gargle with toilet water. "Because Mom, she is my BEST. FRIEND. and I have a right to know who is talking smack about me."
At this point my right eye begins to twitch and any semblance of open and engaging dialogue between us has vanished. Because these are the dramas that don't cause me too much concern. I've been dealing with various levels of girl drama since the late 90s. It started out as toy sharing issues at day care and progressed to broken hearts and betrayal in high school.
Some girl drama I know exactly what to do. And that is nothing. It gets resolved on its own and requires no interference from my behalf. In case there was a doubt, that is my favorite kind.
However, the older they get, the more ambiguous of my level of involvement. And sure, I feel good and accomplished and all mom-of-the-year-like when I can help them navigate the tricky waters of middle school or give them advice that they actually (GASP) take and appreciate when it comes to a boy. Again - in case there's any doubt - that doesn't happen all that often.
But by far the most helpless feeling is when there is nothing I can do to help.
I feel powerless.
I feel desperate.
It reminds me when my daughter Sophie was about 18 months old and developed a fever. It lasted several days, and no matter how much Tylenol or Motrin I gave her, nothing would seem to break the fever longer than an hour. I don't know what it is about a child having a fever, but I felt very much like I was in a surreal episode of "Little House on the Prairie". I wanted to throw her in a tub of ice and beg Pa Ingalls to fetch Doc Baker. However, it was the year 2000 so I did the next best thing. I drove her to the hospital, carried her in my arms and literally KICKED open the door to the ER and told the nurses, "Someone has to help my baby!" Turns out it was just a virus and she eventually turned the corner, but I remember sitting in the exam room, thinking I could smell my own fear. In hindsight, I probably just needed a shower.
Fast forward several years, and I still feel that fear sometimes. I feel it when one of my kids is vulnerable and hurt and scared and angry. I'm afraid I won't know what to say to make them feel better. I'm even more afraid that there's nothing I can do to make things better.
Because isn't that what mothers are supposed to do? Whether it's a metaphorical band aid or the real deal... moms are supposed to know what to do. And let me let you in on a secret... half the time I'm wingin' it. I have the whole dinner, doctor, school responsibility thing down... but when it comes to making sure I'm raising them to be confident, secure and well adjusted??? Shit, that involves nothing but a lot of gut instincts and a weekly prayer.
I have stood outside a bedroom door at night and listened to a daughter wail. Cry so hard I'm convinced she's being murdered. I've rested my forehead against the door, and listened to make sure the rhythmic sobs eventually subside. And when they haven't... I've gone into her room, crawled into bed with her, and just curled up behind her. I don't have a plan. I don't know what to say, and I certainly don't know what to do.
But I just have to be there. That I do know.
Because the truth is - sometimes just being there and saying nothing, is way better than my initial desire. And that is to pull into the school parking lot, grab the hair of some snotty little teen, shove her up against a locker and hiss in her ear with a vicious voice, "Listen here you little bitch. If you don't leave my daughter alone, I will CHOKE YOU." And her eyes will grow wide with fear and she'll nod meekly and never bother any of my children again.
But alas, that plan would probably result in a restraining order and other criminal charges. So for now, I stand outside the bedroom door and hope I'll figure out this parenting thing of teen daughters.
Because once they're all happy, then this momma is very, very happy.
And that's when I can truly exhale.
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