Nov 28, 2022
“OK, so I’m like, ‘Mom, can I show you something?’ and then Mom sighs because I interrupted her and so then I say, ‘Never mind,’ and I look down at my feet and mope and then she’s like, ‘No. It’s ok. I’m sorry. What is it?’ and then I’m like, ‘Nothing,’ and I try to go away and she says, ‘Don’t walk away,’ and then I sigh and she says, ‘Don’t huff at me,’ and I’m like, ‘You huffed first,’ and then she says, ‘Just show me what you wanted to show me,’ and then I show her and she says, ‘Wow.’”
And that’s not too far from the truth.
We were just playing Uno as a family. Samantha was viciously attacking me with every undesirable card, one after another. I had about 25 cards in my hand when my husband won the game. I think she was regretting not being able to attack him, so she was done after one hand and my husband had to follow her into her room and guide her back out to the living room floor to get her to play one more hand.
If you didn’t already guess, Samantha is 12.
She is at the age where she has perfected her eye rolling, her huffing, her sighing, and her absolute lack of patience for the rest of us.
We recently took her and some of her friends to see a play. She commented that her friends were lucky because they weren’t with their moms. And I’m thinking, “But they are here with ME. I’m a mom. How is that better?” But the point was (as it turned out) that they could spend their money on junk food at the concession stand during intermission, while I (no doubt in a perceived effort to embarrass her) restricted her junk food intake.
And I’m inclined to tell her, “MY mom would not have let me have ANY thing. She would not have even taken me to a show that ended later than my bedtime in the first place.” But I don’t because I remember those, “I had to walk four miles to school every day–uphill, in the snow” stories that I did not really appreciate at her age.
Twelve does not feel like that long ago that I was twelve. Everything before twelve does seem like a lifetime ago. But twelve. I can name my friends, my favorite songs, which movies I saw, every time my parents embarrassed me, what electives I took in school, which boys at school were cute, all of my teachers’ names, my schedule, particular illnesses and injuries and small victories. It is like it just happened a week ago instead of years (and years) ago.
I know what is going on inside that brain of hers because I lived it. I remember how important it was to have my bangs look just so. I remember feeling out of place because I brought my PE clothes to school on Mondays in a grocery bag while all the other girls used plastic bags from Wet Seal. If I had only thought to go into Wet Seal and ask to buy a bag for a dollar, it would have changed my entire junior high school experience.
One more thing I know about being twelve: It passes. Some day she will remember that she loves me. Some day she will roll her eyes at herself for doing the very things that I now do that make her crazy.
Until then, there is medication by chocolate.
