A couple of Fridays ago, on what I believe was the second or third Friday of summer, I had a late morning meeting. Just a volunteer thing I’m working on, so it’s not like I had to make a super formal presentation or put on makeup or even string together two coherent sentences, really. But it was essentially the only functional adult type thing I had going on that week beyond driving my beloved babes to various games/camps/practices, so it would’ve been nice to get through it without a display of my parental ineptitude.
As the meeting was wrapping up, my phone rang and 12 year old girl’s name showed up on the display. My initial response was not not so much one that would win me mother of the year, but more along the lines of one that would land my kids in foster care. She never calls unless she wants something or is in hysterics. And, for reasons I cannot explain, even though I knew it was going to make me want to slam my head against concrete, I answered.
“Mom, I was in the kitchen, and I was just trying to make lunch, and J came in, and I was just trying to make lunch…”
Which is all I needed to hear,
because anytime she repeats the same phrase twice within the same sentence, I know all rational processing on her part has flown out the window. A tsunami of adolescent sibling bullshit where both parties are equally culpable, and they’re both out of their <not fully developed> adolescent minds is imminent. And the only way the scenario can possibly end is with me donning my noise canceling headphones and locking myself in the bathroom (after copious amounts of yelling on my own part) to ponder how I’ve managed to go so horribly, terribly wrong in my attempt at raising children who aren’t assholes.
Yes, I can know all this based on answering my phone and hearing one sentence.
Maybe it’s because I have some sort of super mom ESP. Or perhaps it’s because I know it’s summer, and I’ve been dropping the ball on effective parenting, and they haven’t been eating particularly well, or getting enough sleep, and have been consuming about 25 hours a day of screen time.
I was home within 10 minutes of receiving that call. And, it all went down just as I’d predicted. Weeping, gnashing of teeth, and confiscation of cell phones ensued. If I’d been watching it on TV, I’d have found it to be completely fucking hilarious. But seeing it happen in my own kitchen made me want to join a convent, or move into a yurt, or quadruple my zoloft dosage.
After the three of us had retreated to our separate corners and cooled off a bit, I received this:
Because I’m too dumb to know you fancy pants Mac people can text from your laptops if your mom takes your phone. And because it makes total sense to ask your mom to buy you shorts within an hour of a family brawl, provided you have a code for 30% off. Are you kitten me right meow??
Seriously, I wish you could rock motherhood as hard as I do.