I was seated at a table, in a crowded restaurant bar. Seated around and beside me, were several women, in varying age, who through the grace of God, have been given the same task. Raising children.
My friend to the left began, “Every day my daughter tells me how much she hates me. Every single stinking morning, if I don’t set aside ten minutes to help her-with whatever, she broods, cries, and then turns into a cranky hormonal bitch.”
We all laughed; simply because, we have either already experienced the hormonal tirade of teenage boys and girls or are currently going through this period (no pun intended) ourselves. “My doll tells me several times a day, how much she hates me-with attitude and body language thrown in for good measure” I relay. “Whenever my daughter told me she hated me, I would say to her ‘Oh good, I’m doing something right’…which usually resulted in a slammed bedroom door or locking me out of her room”. Another woman offered.
We all laughed again.
“Just wait…it gets worse…” Another woman added. “How much worse can it get?” Some of us say (ME ME ME) under our breath. In reality we REALLY don’t want to know. “Don’t you remember…” Another woman asked, “What you were like back then?” I laughed and then replied “Actually, I wasn’t that bad. You see, my older sister Ann (who was seated next to me) set the bar really high for me. All I had to do was the complete opposite of Ann and it was smooth sailing…” Shaking her head up and down she agreed, “Yes, I was a bitch to my mother. When she was going through menopause, I used to walk up to her and sing ‘Ch ch ch ch changes….things that make you strange, ch ch changes….’ among many other things. I really was quite bad…” She finished, with a laugh.
As the conversation then turned toward other topics and reasons to laugh, I paused for a moment, taking in the luxury of having such good friends to laugh and commiserate with. After all, we are “The hated” parents. Honestly i can’t think of a better place to be right now.