…when kids actually expressed appreciation for the things that were done for them.
Please allow me to vent for a few minutes.
Chicky has long been on a course for thinking she is better than me. She’s been in this mind-set since she was in the second grade. I kid you not.
I remember standing at the soccer fields bemoaning her latest mouth-off to a good friend, whose daughter was Chicky’s best friend.
You’ve read about some of her antics, but here are the latest that are really driving me over the edge, which is, perhaps, her goal…to have me committed to the funny farm.
We left for her practice on Saturday…a four-and-a-half hour drive from home. I had decided to make her drive most of the way to give her interstate driving experience. I also wanted her to get used to focusing on the road for long stretches of time since she’ll probably be going away to college in a year and a half.
She protested. Her standard routine is to sit in the backseat of the car and watch movies on her laptop.
It’s an easy life, to be sure. And, honestly, it’s a fair trade-off. We want her legs to be in optimum shape for her soccer practices and games.
She started off driving, and things were going well. I know that she is a safe driver, so I quickly settled into my seat and began working on my Swallowtail Lace Shawl. Now, you know I must have been comfortable to be able to focus on a project with yarn overs, k2togs and p5togs. Oh yeah, baby. That’s what I’m talking about.
We left around 9am, so I didn’t talk much. I wanted to give her a chance to wake up and acclimate to the rhythm of the road. However, as time passed, we said a few things in passing conversation.
This was fine.
Until I stretched out a conversation into more than one sentence. At that point, she glanced at me and said, “Now, Mama, just because you’re sitting beside me doesn’t mean that you can talk to me.”
Did your jaw just drop open? Pick it back up.
She says stuff like this ALL the time.
Just like when she said to me, at the end of the evening when we were settling into bed after her evening practice, and I was shooting the breeze as the sleepies worked their way into my head, “Mama, why do you always do this when we go out of town by ourselves?”
The overall message? Speak only when spoken to.
Perfect, as long as it goes both ways.
Today, I didn’t have a subbing job, so I laundered the clothes, shopped at Sam’s, paid bills, and cooked dinner. Of course, according to Chicky, “Mama, you were home all day.”
Um, yeah, eating bon bons and watching Days of Our Lives. Not!
She called me halfway through the day and asked me to take Airborne to her. She’s either getting a cold or suffering from an allergy attack. I grabbed what she wanted in addition to the Zicam. Of course, I grabbed the wrong form of Airborne, only realizing it when I reached the school’s office.
Oh boy. I warned Ms. D, the attendance lady (also my friend, whom I’ve blogged about before) that she was about to witness the ugly side of Chicky and might just see my ugly side come out as well.
Was I right or wrong?
Mama knows best. Chicky pitched a fit when she saw the gummies instead of the fizzly tablet and refused to take the Zicam.
A stare-down ensued. She must have seen, in my eyes, the image of a cell phone flying out the window. She bowed to my request…command. Ms. D looked at me incredulously saying, “I can’t believe that something that sweet would bow up at you like that.” Obviously, she doesn’t know Chicky as well as I do.
Enter in dinnertime.
I made Swiss Steak, and boy did it smell good. Chicky got home, took one look at it, and turned up her nose. Of course, earlier today, she had texted me some advice an order to look on the Food Network’s website to find a recipe for round steak.
Um, I’ve got it covered, I wanted to say, but instead I asked her if she thought she had passed her AP Biology exam.
Score 1 for Mama.
Needless to say, I’m a bit miffed right now. I’m seriously considering going on a cooking hiatus. She thinks she can cook better? Fine.
In my heart, I know that this is not the attitude that God calls me to, but oh boy. I’m fighting myself, let me tell you. If this had been a conversation between my mom and me, I would have found myself across the room, permanent wooden spoon mark on my rear. She did not tolerate talk like this, and I rarely spoke out of turn.
Just another day in teenager-dom.
Sigh…
Filed under: children | Tagged: teenagers | 6 Comments »
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