BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl

You’re Not My Friend (the Sometimes Sting of Motherhood)

4 Comments

I need you, Mom. I know that since I’ve become a teenager I act like I don’t, but really I do. I need you to take me to school and sign my permission slips and pay for sports. I need you to clean up after me and buy me clothes and make sure I get to the orthodontist. laundry-1024x808I need you to take me to the doctor if I’m sick, and make sure I take my medicine. I need you to make sure I have a comfortable bed and tasty food and the latest video games and cable television. I need you to go grocery shopping so I can have snacks I like and I need you to pack my lunch, whether or not I feel like eating it.  I can’t possibly be expected to do all those things for myself.

Sometimes I have projects; then I need you to drop everything and take me to the office supply store to get poster-board or chart paper or a glue stick. Sometimes I have clubs after school, then I need you to pick me up at a different time, and oh, by the way, can you drop off my friend at his house too? imagesSometimes I forget my book at school or at Dad’s or somewhere else so I need you to take me there, unless it’s too late. Then I need you to listen to how I didn’t know I needed it but I really do need it and I need you to believe that it’s not my fault that I have an impossible problem.

But you know what I need most of all? I need you to be my Mom. I need you to understand that sometimes I’m going to be a jerk, but I still love you. I need you to understand that you’re not the same age as me, and it’s embarrassing when you try to act like you are.  I need you to be nosy and know where I am and what I’m doing, even when I hate you for it. I need you to say no, and I need you to protect me from my own stupidity. I need you to know that just because I keep my distance from you, I still know I’m your kid, and I still know that you love me. I need you, Mom, more than I will ever admit.

Author: BulgingButtons

I'm a middle aged woman doing the things that middle aged women do and trying not to beat myself up. I'm living the life I choose with the man I love, the teenage son who impresses me all the time, and the most adorable pup ever rescued from the euthanasia list. We live in the heat of the Southwest, where I regularly sweat through my Lane Bryant bras.

4 thoughts on “You’re Not My Friend (the Sometimes Sting of Motherhood)

  1. oh how true– That neverending tension between “I need you” and “leave me alone”– sometimes all in one sentence!

  2. This hits the proverbial nail on head! So much of this article is my son and probably lots of other teenagers as well. Thanks for sharing and thanks for commenting on my original post 😉

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