Hell Hath No Fury Like a Tween
So you have a tween in the house…
I’m living in the same house as “Mommy Dearest”, except mommy dearest is a 10-year-old and who the hell has wire hangers anymore? It’s like taking your chances and frolicking through a field of aged landmines. Preparing to face an explosion at any moment. There is Dr. Jeckel who is my sweet, loving, and considerate daughter…and then there is Ms. Hyde. The evil crazed troll that inhabits her body from time to time; yet it seems to be more and more frequent.
It’s 6:30 am on a Tuesday. I enter her lair and bestow upon her my true morning beauty… retainers and all. A simple “time to get up” escapes through my stagnant dragon breath and out of nowhere the beast unleashes her fury.
“I slept terrible, I’m tired, I don’t want breakfast, I have nothing to wear,” “jeans are uncomfortable,” “long sleeve shirts itch,” “sweaters bother me.” Being the empathetic mother that I am, I sweetly respond with “looks like you going to school naked, now get to the table and eat something.” 7:30 and it continues. “I hate brushing my hair, its full of knots.” This is when the sobbing begins. I again offer my condolences with “well, if you would have brushed it at all over the last two days you wouldn’t have to be ripping the knots out of your scalp. Now pull yourself together we’re leaving in 10 minutes.” This is usually the morning start to 2, sometimes 3 days a week.
Sarcasm runs rampant in this family and I will be the first to tell you that I am responsible for spreading the infectious habit. That being said my tween has yet to learn the art of how and when to use it. When I am adding a chore to “ms. emotionally unstable’s” ridiculously simple to-do list the response I get is “I need to complete the long list you already gave me, thanks!” Oooooh! I wanna cut someone. This is around the time that she gets sent outside to pick up dog shit and I go into the kitchen to chop something. Don’t use sarcasm when your mother is pissed off and trying to get things done.
The hormones seem to be generating at an alarming rate. I can’t keep up with the highs and lows; it’s mentally exhausting. We are teetering on age 11, not 16. What gives? Already presuming to know the meaning of life yet still having to ask me how to turn on the dryer. I am constantly being engaged in a game of “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” But we should change the title to “Let me constantly try to prove that I am smarter than a 35 year old”…which would be me.
My tween is an amazing child. She is accomplishing things that I would have never thought about attempting at her age. Bright,charismatic, and exceptionally inquisitive aka: a brilliant rubbernecker. I am incredibly proud of the young lady she is becoming. This doesn’t change the fact that after a rough day with the beast I like nothing more than to curl up into the fetal position and watch The Goonies. To be reminded that sometimes being a grown up sucks and that things were so much more fun as a child and… how if I had met One Eyed Willy I would have totally smuggled some jewels off of that ship. Screw the Fratelli’s! But I digress.
Many conversations we have together leave me with my mind blown. She is incredibly astute and witty. Me and the hubby must be doing something right. My secret? My coping mechanism? Coffee run 2-3 days a week (specifically when Ms. Hyde presents herself) and whiskey 7. This liquid diet seems to work well for me. Forget maintaining my weight, this diet is solely for the purpose of maintaining my sanity.
About Sara Pittman –
Sara is from sunny San Diego CA. She is a wife, busy mother of 3 and amateur chef stumbling through organized chaos on a daily basis using sarcasm and humor to stay sane. She will take any opportunity to demonstrate the running man in public and enjoys being a sarcastic smart ass.
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