|You can't have her, she's alllll mine....|
As I described to him the changes going on with my 14 year old daughter, a freshman in high school, he said, "It's like she just got off the bus in the middle of Times Square. She is so overwhelmed having to adapt to these new surroundings - learning the language, how to dress, what music to listen to, where to go, how to be, noticing what the older kids are doing - her brain is over flowing."
His recollection and description truly helped me. Before he explained this to me, I really couldn't grasp how she could sit down to eat and keep forgetting to get a fork. Seriously - she's been eating since - well forever! The fork is now a hard thing to remember? Yes, he helped me understand. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel like Jekyll and Hyde living in two very opposite emotional states of mind.
I want to shoot her.
She has been brain dead at home. Worst grades ever. No ability to string two thoughts together. If I ask, "What's your plan?" she looks at me like I am speaking French - no wait, something far less interesting - like I am speaking whale. Or like those teachers on Charlie Brown.
"Mom, I want to live in the moment," she says clarifying as she heads back to her bathroom to make yet another cosmetic adjust. Fifty-year-olds don't spend this much time on their faces. My god.
"That's fine honey when they are all your moments, but in the case, you need me to drive, get food and frankly put my life on hold while you figure things out," I say while I am often picking up another pair of her shoes (not co-located) or moving her crap off the table an into a single location.
And thus the battle begins. No matter how hard I try to eliminate any challenges, just simple communication seems to be impossible. And she's explained to me it's perfectly normal: all her friends hate their parents. Gee, awesome. Let me run right out and get the special yogurt you want.
I am missing the crap out of her.
My friends theorize since I am a single mom, it's probably harder for me than most. But I don't think that's it. I've busy and fairly fulfilled - I've been working like crazy and I am blessed to have a fantastic, diverse group of friends.
No, I think it's because she and I actually got along really well and liked each other's company. I always counted my blessings I got a kid that liked to do what I liked to do (wasn't the case with me and my mom - she was an orange and I was an apple...well, actually she was more of a banana). I miss the time I would spend with her getting into mischief - even if her friends were along for the ride.
Just keep swimming.
So here we are.I'm 90% sure I haven't changed on iota since September 1st. Yet little miss NYC is caught in the swirl of emerging adulthood and is fifty shades of different: excited and overwhelmed in the middle of Times Square. Please tell me I'm not just a pigeon on the sidewalk trying to avoid all those feet.
This too shall pass. Right?