One of the hardest things about motherhood, at least for me, is having to look at the little darling I delivered to the world (a two day ordeal, thank you very much) and declare her one of the biggest bitches I've ever met. She is a piece of work, my daughter. But of course, I love her.
The other day, there was not one thing I could have done or said that wasn't up for debate. For instance, I was running errands, busy as hell, and needed to ask the male adult in the house a question. I phoned home not in any way, shape, or form, anticipating issues. Darling daughter answered the phone.
"Hi, sweetie, is daddy there?" My tone was light and neutral. Very pleasant, yet bland, I thought. No need to poke the tiger, or in this case, teenager.
"Why do you want to know?" I couldn't see her face, but the sneer made it's way over the cell, loud and clear.
"Look, I don't have time to argue with you," I said. "I need to talk to your father. Is he there, or isn't he?"
It was a question that required an answer of yes or no. Why, I wondered, did she insist on making it a thousand times more difficult than it needed to be?
As it turned out, her father was not there, but the rest of my interactions with her for the remainder of the day were equally as challenging.
She says it's because I'm annoying. Clearly, I had no idea.
Silly me...I thought I was simply being a mom.
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