just call me mommy

I got about 1/2 mile from home this morning, on my way to work, when my phone rang. Younger pathetically wailed, "Mommy! They won't straighten!"
It is 8th grade picture day. At her haircut on Friday, Younger decided to get bangs. She has naturally curly/wavy hair. I imagine there is no greater trauma to a relatively well-adjusted 8th grade girl than having uncooperative NEW bangs on picture day. (On Friday, had I realized that today was picture day, I probably would have discouraged bangs.) Live and learn.

I actually drove home to help her and started this blog at home as I had to drive her to school since her bad hair morning = (a) not eating or (b) missing the bus. She was bawling and puffy eyed (and clearly PMS'ing), so I waited at home to drive her.

As for the bangs, I managed to make them acceptable but not without burning her forehead. Ugh.

That's the report on the easy child.

Then there is Eldest. Thank you all for your kind words and hugs over the weekend. A lot of people have been asking what's going on.

I'll start by reporting that I did not tell Eldest I don't like her. I worked very hard at not showing my feelings. That was a good thing because, of course, there are always additional developments with Eldest these days.

Lots of what's going on is just that she is 15, almost 16. This isn't the most likable of ages. There is nothing in life that Eldest ever did the easy way and I think she's just making this time tougher than it needs to be. But there are other layers mixed in.

I disliked her so intensely on Friday (and actually most of the weekend) because she spent most of that time trying to make me mad . . . no, truthfully, to piss me off. She wasn't just looking for mad. She knows my buttons. She was not only pushing them, she was electrocuting them . . . jumping up and down on them . . . doing anything to cause me to fight with her. And I did. A little. But not nearly enough to satisfy her.

But here's the thing, I have no doubt that she's truly depressed. I may not like her, but I love her and I see the pain. So I am getting her help. She's going to start with a new therapist and we're trying a little medication to see if we can get her serotonin to kick in and provide her a little happy. We've also finally convinced her to go back on some medication for the ADHD. I've known that she had a borderline anxiety disorder since she was about 7. It's more than borderline now. So the new ADHD mediation will also attempt to address the anxiety.

Further, the fact that she has a disorder in the Autism spectrum isn't helping. While she believes I am absolutely full of shit wrong, she doesn't really understand a lot of social interaction. And because she doesn't understand, she thinks she's doing just fine. In fact, the reason she's low on the friend-meter really has to do with the fact that she's socially inept.

You see, there is nothing that Eldest won't share with anyone willing to listen to her. She has no damn filter. She'll tell her homophobic cousins that her boyfriend is bisexual (yeah, I hadn't shared that little tidbit with you, had I?) Oh, and EX-boyfriend (more on that in a bit . . . but can I just say, "Phew?!") She'll tell people at her Catholic high school that she's sexually active and on birth control (oh, wait, I hadn't shared that with you either, had I?) She'll tell you she's been suicidal and had a boy molest her in the hallways of her school in 7th grade (oh, yeah, that too) and . . . um, hmm, . . . I don't know what all else. And she'll tell you that just because you're talking to her. Even if you don't know her very well. And then? You'll think, "Hmm. I may not want to be a part of this person's life because she's kind of scary and she's telling me way too much stuff." And so, you'll smile at her nicely, because she really does seem like a sweet little person, but who needs this much stuff? And you'll say, "Oh sweetie, you shouldn't feel bad about yourself." And then you'll slowly edge away from her and try to avoid her in the future.

It's got to hurt to have everyone in your life treat you that way.

And it's also a problem when the only person in the world who knows you well enough to see this and tell you to knock it off, you are scaring people away, is your *horrors* MOTHER. Because you are a teenage girl and your mother doesn't know shit about shinola. You are, after all almost an adult ('scuze me, I must go laugh). And you can handle this stuff by your-big-self, thank you very kindly.

But you will also break-down when your boyfriend has finally had it "with all your crap" (and maybe when your mother has grounded you for your horrible grades and so now he can't see you and isn't getting any, so he might as well go look in more succulent, fruitful pastures, if you know what I mean) and so breaks up with you. And when you break-down because that shit-head you've been dating (and who has also been text soliciting blow-jobs from other girls) has rejected you, you will feel the need for grease and sugar and your mother is the only person who will drive you to the grocery store on Sunday night to buy a bag of Hostess powdered sugar doughnuts.

And then, then next morning when your mother hugs you and says she loves you and that being single isn't so bad and, in fact, you are a lovable person? Then, you will push her away and, in a very mean voice, announce, "Leave me the hell alone. I am fine." She will see that you are not. And when you mutter quietly, "And you are going to make me cry." She will know that really means, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that I've got on this mascara and all . . . " And she will forgive you. And wish that she could put your life on fast-forward so you could skip through the shit-field of teendom.

But she can't. So she'll just love you. Even if she doesn't like you very much because she is your mommy.

This picture just feels like my mommy-house.