The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Perspective
“Another reason to hate New Year’s Eve,” I remarked to my husband as the negotiations got under way.
Our sixteen-year-old daughter planned to go to a “small” party—only her drama class of thirty kids was invited--hosted by a girl we had never heard of who lived beyond cell phone range. Or apparently beyond the range of anything but ESP, since there was no land line either.
“Find out the number and then we’ll see.”
The wailing commenced.
“You’re ruining my life! Why can’t you just trust me? Basically, you’re teaching me to lie -- if I said I was going to hang out at Jessica’s, you wouldn’t care. This isn’t the ‘70s, you know!!”
Unsure whether or not to take solace in that last observation; we stood our ground, which was hard to do while also attempting to not fall over laughing.
Our daughter’s big concession was that she would find out the phone number, but only if we promised not to call.
“Can we call you at midnight to wish you a happy new year?” I asked, which set off a fresh wave of hysteria.
(Later my husband suggested that injecting humor was not as helpful as I might hope.)
The negotiations continued, with neither side budging from the positions of (a) calling the parents and (b) dying of mortification if any parents were called.
Then, amid the tears, she shrieked, “I know that in twenty years I’ll look back and see that you were just watching out for me, but right now I’m a teenager.”
Exactly!
Still, that display of perspective helped us worry a bit less.
The party never materialized. Apparently lots of similar conversations were taking place between beleaguered parents and their outraged offspring.
Our daughter spent New Year’s Eve hanging out at Jessica’s. Or so she tells us.
By Lorrie Goldin
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Our sixteen-year-old daughter planned to go to a “small” party—only her drama class of thirty kids was invited--hosted by a girl we had never heard of who lived beyond cell phone range. Or apparently beyond the range of anything but ESP, since there was no land line either.
“Find out the number and then we’ll see.”
The wailing commenced.
“You’re ruining my life! Why can’t you just trust me? Basically, you’re teaching me to lie -- if I said I was going to hang out at Jessica’s, you wouldn’t care. This isn’t the ‘70s, you know!!”
Unsure whether or not to take solace in that last observation; we stood our ground, which was hard to do while also attempting to not fall over laughing.
Our daughter’s big concession was that she would find out the phone number, but only if we promised not to call.
“Can we call you at midnight to wish you a happy new year?” I asked, which set off a fresh wave of hysteria.
(Later my husband suggested that injecting humor was not as helpful as I might hope.)
The negotiations continued, with neither side budging from the positions of (a) calling the parents and (b) dying of mortification if any parents were called.
Then, amid the tears, she shrieked, “I know that in twenty years I’ll look back and see that you were just watching out for me, but right now I’m a teenager.”
Exactly!
Still, that display of perspective helped us worry a bit less.
The party never materialized. Apparently lots of similar conversations were taking place between beleaguered parents and their outraged offspring.
Our daughter spent New Year’s Eve hanging out at Jessica’s. Or so she tells us.
By Lorrie Goldin
Labels: Lorrie Goldin
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