Call Me Crazy

Sixteen years ago this month, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She was a follically challenged little creature for the first several months of her life, and I had to resort to adorning her tiny head with those soft, elastic headbands so people would stop saying what an adorable baby boy...despite the fact that she was usually dressed in pinks and flowers! Baby girl eventually sprouted hair... lots and lots of thick chesnut colored hair that I now find clogging the shower drain.
But for the most part, she's a great kid and I'm planning a little something special to mark her sixteen years on earth.
She really doesn't want a party. My darling wants to spare me that expense because she'd rather I spend my hard earned money on buying her a Blackberry. Isn't she sweet?
"You don't need a Blackberry," I said. "People with real jobs like lawyers, accountants, and doctors need Blackberries."
"I am the only person at school without a Blackberry," she said. "You suck all the fun out of my life!"
Ouch. That left a bit of a sting, but I have a hard shell and have since recovered. I guess I'm tired of all the technology that has infiltrated one teenage girl's life.
So we compromised with a much healthier alternative. She wants to get in shape for summer, but isn't quite sure how to do it on her own. Instead of a Blackberry, her father and I are purchasing several sessions with a personal trainer, just a few sessions to get her on track to the point where she can devise her own workouts, without injuring herself in the process.
Still, it is her sixteenth birthday and some kind of celebration should take place to acknowledge the milestone.
So like the "creeper" my child has often accused me of being, I went through her list of Facebook friends, found twenty of her closest buddies, and we will surprise her with a scavenger hunt and dinner at her favorite shopping mall!
I know what you're thinking...dinner for twenty teenage girls!? If all twenty plan on attending, we'll eat on the cheap with pizza. Less than ten, I'll be happy to spring for a meal that includes cloth napkins and real silverware!

I'm Sure It's A Phase

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.