Kids are Assholes Sometimes

                                
Having kids is hard. It's hard when they are younger. They throw tantrums, they get angry, sometimes they say "I hate you!" When my girls were younger, they didn't say that too often but they would get an occasional one out at me. But when they get older- man, they can say things that sting.

Generally my oldest is very sweet. My youngest is the one with the mouth but she has gotten so much better. She is mostly sweet too now. Thank the Lord- it's been touch and go the past 2 years.

Last week, I dropped my youngest off at gymnastics and then went to the grocery store with my oldest. She was pleasant, we laughed, we generally had a good time. On the ride home we were talking and I attempted to give her advice about something. I obviously touched a nerve because a switch flipped in her and she said, "I don't need a lecture from you. I hope you cry yourself to sleep."
                                         
I hope you cry yourself to sleep. What kind of f*cked up thing is that to say to someone? Because I tried to give you a lecture? Oh hell no. She will not talk to me like that. Imma show her. My inner voice is kind of ghetto. I was prepared to say some real mean shit to her. Like, MEAN.

Then, the logical voice in my head stopped me. Why? Why would I do that? Am I really willing to destroy my 14 year old to prove a point? Do I really think it's okay to hurt her feelings bad because she hurt mine? I'm a grown ass woman, with a pretty thick skin and a pretty okay self-esteem. My teenage daughter is not there yet. Is this who I am as a person? No. Not it's not.

We remember every shitty thing our parents say to us. It's true. We may not remember the context or the situation but when your parents say mean and hurtful things, it cuts to the core. Forever. I try to remember that as often as possible when I am angry at the kids. I'm not always successful but I try to be intentional as much as possible.

So, I took a deep breath and I didn't say the mean thing that I was going to say in the heat of the moment. Not because she didn't deserve it, but because I believe that giving grace is not a sign of weakness but a sign of strength. I was too angry to talk to her so I said nothing the whole ride home. She looked out the window.

When we got home, I avoided her for a while. She came downstairs and tried to talk to me like everything was fine. I was short with her.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked.
"Yes. You told me that you hope I cry myself to sleep."
She cut me off, "But you were trying to lecture me."
"Your behavior is not okay. You hurt my feelings and I am so disappointed."

That's when she started crying. The worst thing for her is knowing you are disappointed. You can ground her or take her phone and she's like whatever but if you tell her you are disappointed, she gets so upset. Not my youngest. If you tell my youngest that you're disappointed in her behavior, she'll be like:
                 
Long story short, my oldest apologized and we had a nice long talk and we went on with life. She hasn't been mean since. A few salty moments but nothing out of the ordinary.

I have learned through the years that often, my children act like jerks or are mean when something is going on with them. I don't believe that they act like assholes just because. I think that the kids deeply desire to be on good terms with us, they want us to be proud of them and love them no matter what.

They get to a certain age where their emotions are so HEAVY, sometimes life is very hard, it is a confusing time and instead of verbalizing that it comes out in eye rolling, and attitudes, and sometimes telling your mom that you hope she cries herself to sleep at night. They project their feelings onto us and it's really hard to not take it personally. But you it tells you a lot about what's going on with them.

Adolescents are like babies in some ways. Baby's are non-verbal but attentive mothers learn their cries. The hunger cry is different than the tired cry, which is different than the bored cry and the hurt cry. Learning your adolescent's moods is a lot like learning your babies crying. They can tell you when they are struggling with something without saying anything at all.

Sometimes I would pick my daughter up from gymnastics and ask her about practice. Some days she would scowl at me and say, "You ask so many questions. You are the most annoying person on the planet." That means she had a rough time at practice and is frustrated with something. So often I'd say, "If you don't want to talk about practice that's okay. I'm here when you are ready." Sometimes she rolls her eyes and stuffs her earbuds in her ears but sometimes she'd take a deep breath tell me about her frustrations.

My oldest would come home from school and I'd ask about her day and she'd roll her eyes and say, "Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you," and storm up to her room. I'd go upstairs and say through the door, "It sounds like you had a rough day at school. I'll be downstairs with a snack, if you want to talk."

Usually,I'd hear steps on the stairs a few minutes later and she'd been standing in front of me with tears in her eyes. "I had a hard day."

They think I have some kind of psychic ability...like, how do you know?

But our house is a mostly harmonious one for that reason. When the kids act like that I could say (or want to say), "You need to stop being a little bitch, you're grounded for a week" But why make life harder than it already is?

I get a lot of flack for being like this. Maybe I do need to be a little more tough on them, maybe they won't respect me, maybe I'm doing things all wrong and I'm a terrible mother....but this is the only way I know how to be. Time will tell, I guess.

Sometimes the kids say mean things without realizing it. Like the other day when I was sitting on the could next to my 12 year old and she patted me on the chest right below my shoulder and declared,
"Mom! Where are your boobs?!?!"
"Ummmm......lower than that."
"Why are they in the middle of your body?"
"I don't know- gravity?"
She made an icky face and said, "That's disgusting!"
                                            
Sometimes they tell me that I'm "old" or "cringy" or "cray cray." I will only accept the "cray cray" as truth. I think they secretly think I'm the coolest, but like I said, sometimes adolescents are not always good at verbalizing their feelings. ;)

My Big One

                             
My oldest daughter will be 14 in two days. The children know the stories of how I found out I was pregnant with them, and they love to hear the stories about the day they were born. The story goes, that with my oldest , I was 19, I didn't find out until I was almost 10 weeks pregnant (because I was in denial), and that when I found out- I cried. Sobbed.

A few years ago, my daughter was in trouble for something- I don't even remember what. She was really worked up and she blurted out, "You didn't even want me. That's why you cried when you found out you were having me!" Kids really hold shit like that against you.
                                                
Is that really what she thought? I tried to explain it to her in a way that she could understand but I don't know if she could really comprehend it. I didn't cry because of her, I cried because of ME. I had this real fear that I would be a terrible mother. I cried because I knew this child deserved better than me. I had a lot of baggage. Not a small, rolling suitcase. We're talking a Louis Vouitton trunk, 3 large suitcases, a carry on AND a tote bag. I wanted this child to have a beautiful life and I was unsure that I could give that to her.

My husband was fantastic. He held on to me and over and over again was like, "It's going to be fine, you're going to do great, it's going to be okay." He saw things in me that I couldn't. He always had.

The day she was born was so surreal. They gave me horrible medicine that made me loopy, it was an out of body experience almost. After the drugs wore off and I felt like a normal human being, they handed her to me and it was like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. From that moment on, I ALWAYS thought of myself second. I was in love with her.

We lived in Texas, we had no friends and family. My daughter was born on Monday and my husband went back to work on Thursday, the day after we got home from the hospital. It was TRULY just the two of us. She was a velcro baby. She was not content unless she was in my arms. I didn't mind really. I accepted it. We pulled our glider into the living room and for the first 8 weeks of her life, all I did was eat, sleep and feed the baby.

I sat in the rocker and watched every bit of the Athens Summer Olympics that year. We nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked.

In life, we were doing okay for a 20 and 21 year old. We had an apartment in Dallas, we had a car, we were financially independent but we weren't going where we wanted to go. We were living paycheck to paycheck. My husband came home when she was a few weeks old and waved the white flag. "You know, I can probably get on with the Department of Defense. The pay would be better, I'd get paid time off, it would be easier for you to finish school....." He loved Dallas, he dreamed of living in the big city but we had a baby now.

So he made a few phone calls, and that November we were making the move back to Oklahoma. We got approved for a small mortgage and brought a small, brick rancher on the edge of town. It was a little house- but it was OURS. It had a big fenced in back yard and was perfect for our little family. I took off college for a year and was home with her and we lived off my husband's modest income. There wasn't luxuries but we had a bills paid and just a little bit left over to do some fun things or go out to eat every once in a while. I went back to school part time at night after she turned one. It took me 5 years to get my Bachelor's degree instead of 4.

It was just the 2 of us in that Oklahoma house for two years. She was my little buddy. We'd play in the backyard and blow bubbles, we went to story time at the library, we would go to the park. She loved to slide down the sliding board, and watch the prairie dogs popping in and out of holes along the perimeter. We played blocks and watched Dora and the Wiggles. We spent every day together and it was the happiest time of my life.

I was enough for her. More than enough. I was home to her. And I needed her as much as she needed me. This big-eyed, whispy- haired child who grew to look more and more like me everyday, she was my heart, my soul, my every inspiration. By the time her sister came along, I was calm. I knew that I would love this baby too and that I wasn't, in fact, a terrible mother like I'd once feared.

She brought to our life so many gifts. She inspired us to be better people, to reach higher, to work harder, to build a better life for ourselves. Becoming a mother healed me in so many ways. My children have taught me so much.

Now, my girl is turning 14. She's officially taller than me. She's so talented and so beautiful. Next month she'll start high school. She's a old soul. She wakes up early- even in the summer. She comes bounding down the stairs between 8:30-9:00 am, in athletic shorts and a tee shirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. "I'm going for a run!" She runs a mile in the morning, then comes home and fixes herself breakfast. Then she takes a shower, straightens her room, does laundry, then lunch, then she plays her flute for 2 hours. In the afternoon she watches Youtube, or campaigns for me to buy her something (Mom, so Hollister is having a sale), we have dinner as a family and then she spends the evening on her phone. Although, if my husband and I sneak out on the back porch to sit by the fire and have a drink, she always finds us and hangs out.

I've been teaching her how to drive a LITTLE bit. In an empty parking lot by the house. She'll get her permit next year. She talks excitedly about the future. About Governor's School, and college. She's coming into her own and she's mostly happy, I think. I could not ask for more for her. In spite of all my fears, I know that we have given her a beautiful life.

She's becoming more independent but she is still my velcro baby. She always wants me to be close by, she'll hug me in front of her friends, she texts me all the time when she's not with me, she sends me random memes. We are close to each other.

These 14 years have passed by in a flash- she grew up and I grew up too. And still, we have a ways to go. It wasn't my plan to start a family so early in life, but it was Gods plan and I trust that. He knew what He was doing. He gave me a gift and I am so grateful for that.

Happy 14th Birthday to my first baby!

My Little One

   
I'll never forget the conversation that I had with my husband when we decided we were going to have a second baby. It was an early autumn day, and our oldest was 14 months old. She was a velcro baby, not a great sleeper at that point, I was generally pretty exhausted. We were in bed, my toddler in a kitty cat sleeper, curled up to me on one side, my husband on the other.

"You know, I've been thinking. If we're going to have another baby, we should do it now. Once this one is out of diapers and sleeping through the night, I'm done. I'm not having any more babies after that. The kids can be 2-3 years apart, they will be close enough to play, I'm already staying home, we can just have our 2 and be done. You know?" I was 21 years old.

My husband was like, "Okay." I was surprised that he was so open to the idea. I had prepared to plead my case.

Less than a month later, I was standing at the kitchen island, dressing a chicken that I was making for dinner, my oldest was on my floor at my feet, playing with the pots and pans she pulled out of the cabinet. I thought to myself, "Oh my God. I'm pregnant." I just knew it. I stopped what I was doing and took a pregnancy test. Was my 14 month old standing right in front of me watching the entire time? Yes, yes she was. Did she try to climb on my lap while I was on the toilet? Maybe.

The 2 lines came up right away. I knew it! There was no overwhelming feelings about it. It was almost as if I had crossed some item off my to do list. I went back to the kitchen and slid the chicken into the oven and then I sat on the front porch to wait for my husband who was due home any minute.

My little one explored the yard, picked grass, tried to eat a bug.....When I saw my husband's car round the corner, I gave the pregnancy test to my daughter and told her to give it to her dad. She ran over and handed it to him. He was confused at first and then his face lit up in a huge smile. "You are?" I nodded. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. "I'm so happy!" We both were.

He picked up our daughter and we went into house for dinner. Another baby. This pregnancy was easier. I was home with a toddler and in college part time in the evenings so there was little time for anticipation. We talked to our oldest about the new baby. As my belly grew, she became interested. Sometimes, she would lift my shirt up and kiss my belly. She would always come to my midwife appointments and she would insist that the midwife measure and listen to her belly too. I loved my midwife, she would humor her.

She was born 10 days shy of her sister's second birthday. When she was born, she didn't cry. She just let out this little whine. She was calm, the expression on her face at first was like, "What the hell just happened?" Then she looked at us for a long while, totally calm and alert. We spoke to her quietly, all of us- even our soon to be 2 year old. She belonged to us, our family was complete.

She was a much easier baby than her sister- or maybe she wasn't, maybe we were just more experienced and confident, we worried less. She went through a few week colicky period but was a breeze. She woke up twice a night to nurse and then went right back to sleep. I mostly just kept her strapped to me as we went along with our lives. She was a calm and happy baby.

In so many ways, she was a gift to my oldest. Her sister loved her. She was always trying to entertain her and make her laugh, once she was old enough to sit up on her own, they played together. My youngest did everything earlier because she was constantly trying to keep up with her sister. She walked before she turned one, she talked early, I never really had to potty train her. Shortly after she turned 2, she woke up one morning and was like, "I wear panties now." That was it.

She was an easy baby, but once she was walking and talking- that girl was a firecracker. She loved to test the limits, loved to test the boundaries. Highly intelligent child. For instance, I'd say, "Pick up your toys or you're going to time out." This little B would walk over to time out, fold her arms and look at me.

She would always call you on your bullshit. She'd ask you a question and if you gave an answer like, "Maybe later," she would just look at you and say, "Maybe later, means no. Why don't you just say 'no'?"
                             
She was always teeny tiny and when we'd be out in public, people would stoop down and talk to her in a sing-song voice. "You are so cute. How old are you? I like your headband." She'd say a quiet 'thank you' and then look up at me with her big, brown eyes and curly blonde hair and say, "Why do grown-up always talk me to like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a small child."
"I don't know. Maybe because you are six."
"I'm not stupid, mom. I'm smart."

My youngest child has always been 30 years old in her own head. We always joke about that. She's 12 now. She's 12 going on 27. She's so funny and so cynical. Her insights on the world are so hilarious. A few months ago we were in the car and she said to me, "Mom, I don't really understand boys. I feel like they want girls to be hard to get but also to be easy." I mean, she's not wrong. Or, if It's Wednesday and I'm excited to watch A Handmaid's Tale, she'll roll her eyes and say, "Not that feminist show again." She's one to try to shock you for sure. Which to us, is normal but when we are around other people, we are like, "Tone it done a little." She'll agree. "I know how to act around other people- behave, don't discuss religion and politics, and always give vague answers." I love her so much.

I sometimes worry about her relating to other people her own age. She loves musicals. Showtunes are her jams- Hamilton is her favorite, she loves Wicked, Chicago and Anything Goes (which is random), she's OBSESSED with Korean Pop and and all things Asian. When we went to Japan she was beyond excited. She loves Rick and Morty, Brooklyn 99, and Arrested Development. She has a very eclectic taste in food. She loves sushi and seafood. She'll try any food - she's not picky. She's extremely adventurous. She is obsessed with gymnastics. She works so hard and never complains. She's just an all around amazing person. She's so much smarter and talented than I'll ever be. I'm proud of her.

For her birthday, her only request was that we go to a museum. Could have gone anywhere- Velocity, ice skating, roller skating, the mall. No, she's 12 and she loves museums. So, I took the girls downtown and we went to the Charleston Museum. She is so funny because she likes to read every single plaque. When you go to a museum with her, you do a lot of waiting.

After we walked down to the pineapple fountain and got gelato. She got a lemon creme. I watched her as she sat on the bench, facing the harbor - her long, curly hair that changed from golden blonde to light brown a few years ago. I thought about that day in the kitchen when I knew I was pregnant with her and all the time in-between.

She's not childlike to me anymore. She's a little lady. My heart ached a little. It is a bittersweet time. I miss her being tiny. It's gone by much too quick.

My girls both fell asleep on the couch when we got home. They looked so little then, curled up together.

We went to dinner and then had the obligatory cake, icecream and presents. Then, her 12th birthday was over. In a year, she'll be a teenager. I'll have 2 teenage daughters. Now that's a frightening proposition.

I love this child more than she'll ever know. She's brought us so much joy and laughter.

Going Away

For the first time since June 7th, I have both of my children home at the same time. My youngest spent 8 days in Siesta Key, Florida with a friend.
                               
What the heck? I need someone to take ME to Siesta Key for 8 days. What is this life she is living? We packed her bags the day before and when I dropped her off she hugged me. Not a lingering hug, but a short, obligatory type of hug. "Bye Felisha," she said, waving to me.

I told her to text me when she got in. Did she? No. She did not. I texted her, "I miss you and I hope you're having fun." She'd text me back things like this,
                         
Rick and Morty gifs are her favorite. She sent me a few pictures and called me once. I was grateful to hear from her. She exploded all of her adventures out to me and then was like, "Okay. Talk to you later." She posted pictures on Instagram and Snapchat. I saw her by the pool, on a white-sand beach, at Busch Gardens. She was having the time of her life. I was happy for her.

I was in the shower when she got home. I stepped out and heard her voice. I dressed quickly and went to meet her. She was smiling, was a lot tanner and just a smidge taller than when she had left. "How's it going?" she said to me, casually. I held my arms out, "I don't really hug, mom." She reminded me. That's a lie. Sometimes she hugs when she forgets that she doesn't REALLY hug. She fist bumped me after being away for 8 days. That's what life is like now. *knife in the heart*

Nine hours later, we loaded the car and drove 3 hours to drop off my oldest for 2 weeks at Governor's School. She was so excited. She had dreamed of this day. In March of 7th grade, someone told her about Governor's School. She watched the Youtube video over and over, she looked at their audition requirements. "I want to go, mom. I have to." She practiced her audition solos for 10 months. Every day. It was finally here. We got in early to have Father's Day lunch and then we moved her into the dorms and attended orientation. Then it was time to leave.

There were kids and parents crying but we did good. We held it together. There was no reason to be sad. I was happy for her. She is my hugger. She leaned into me and hugged me tight. I breathed in her smell- warm vanilla and her floral, pomegranate shampoo. "Have fun, work hard and behave." She rolled her eyes, Of course. "I love you."

We made the 3 hour ride home in silence. It's been strange the past 2 weeks because my youngest is in the gym for 4 hours every evening so my husband and I have had a lot of time to ourselves. We made the most of it. I went out with friends, we had quiet dinners alone, watched movies, reconnected. The house seemed so quiet. "I wonder if this is what it will be like when it's just you and I again."

My oldest texted me everyday. Just an update- things are fine, I'm alive, I love you. She'd post pictures on Snapchat every now and then. Pictures of pieces she was working on, the practice room late at night, fellow classmates. Giving me glimpses of what her life was like when she was away. She called me 3 times. The last time, 5 days had elapsed. I answered the phone and her voice on the other end seemed foreign to me. She talked excitedly about her recital and her new friends and when I hung up - I felt terrible. I'd developed this routine without her. She'd only been gone 2 weeks and I was already used her her being away.

On Friday, we drove back up to watch her recital. We sat in the audience and I watched her walk across the stage. She looked beautiful- her hair just right and her eyeliner perfectly applied. Her flute shone under the light and when she brought it to her lips, a beautiful sound came out. I was so proud of her.

Afterwards she met up with us and gave us a quick hug and kiss. "There is a dance tonight, like, right now. So I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you." And she left as quickly as she came. I sighed. There were more pressing matters than us, for sure.

The next morning, we watched her ensemble concert and packed her things back into the car. She had made plans with her friends to go to lunch and we obliged. All the teenagers sat at one table. Some of them could have been mistaken for college students, others hadn't quite grown into their bodies yet. The parents were relegated to a separate table where we made small talk and lamented about the cost of instruments and shared the dreams of our children.

On our way home, she told us about her time there. The long hours spent practicing, her new friends, how they had named the squirrels on campus after dead composers. "They talked to me about early admission into the residential program. Sometimes they take sophomores. I want to apply to it for next year."
"You'd be okay with living 3 hours away for 3 years?"
"Yeah, it'd be fine. Plus, I could come home every few weeks for the weekend and the summers."
"Well, let's look at the application when they release it."
"Okay," she said before falling asleep.

So, both the children are home again. For now. People have asked if I missed the kids while they were away. That's a loaded question. I've missed them all the time, this whole time. When they start to crawl, you miss them being tiny newborns nuzzled into your neck, smelling their milk breath, and when they turn to toddlers, you miss them being babies. When they are preschoolers, you miss the wispy-haired toddler days. Then they go to school and you miss the sweetness of the preschool days. Then one day, they stop bringing home pictures that they drew and you miss the pile on your counter, then the day comes when they don't cuddle you any more. This person who was once a part of you becomes this whole separate person.

That is the cruelty of motherhood that no one prepares you for. That it's just one, long, drawn-out goodbye. We spend 9 months anticipating their arrival and then we have 18 years to learn to let them go. It is the most beautiful, yet painful thing in the entire world. Like layers of skin being pulled back over, and over again.

Yes, I miss my girls when they are gone. But I miss them all the time. I miss them being little. When they stand eye to eye with me, little women themselves, I can hardly believe that they ever grew inside of me. The days when they were little are like ghost memories now, from some other lifetime, and even I am a stranger to myself.

While painful, it doesn't make me sad. If it did, I wouldn't be able to go on. I'd drown in the sorrow. It's hard to explain this feeling that I feel now. Like they are water slipping through my fingertips, like the universe shifted without me ever knowing it. It's hard and strange and wonderful all at once.

Maybe it's because I'm PMSing or because their birthdays are coming up that I'm feeling sentimental. People always tell you not to blink, that it goes by so fast but you can't even know until you get there. And we're getting there.