I don’t need to wonder what it’s going to be like mothering teenagers, I already have one and she’s only 3.
3 years old, 13 years old – to me, feels it could be the same.
And when she’s screaming from outside on the balcony and you see your neighbours on their phones who can assume they're calling the police.. and then, the struggle becomes very real. What can you say or do to placate and distract your threenager? If you get that flickering glint of calm you can pounce and wrestle them inside..
If that flicker never comes. You're doomed.
Despite the fact your pulsating face vein is ready to burst and your fuse about to pop, through a faux smile, gritted teeth and in a deep voice (cause deep voices sound calmer) you try this…
What is the matter?
Would you like some sultanas?
Are you ok?
Would you like some cheese?
What about some yummy sausage?
Are you ok?
Why don’t you try and take some deep breaths ..?
(even more screaming, just louder)
Can you please stop screaming?
What about some yoga? Like what you've learnt at daycare?! (cause that’s really fkn helpful in times like these)
Why don’t we do some together?
(more louder heart felt painful, totally dying, emotionally driven screaming)
You wait it out and just when you think it’s never going to end you get them into bed and they go to sleep sobbing.
But you know the scenario right?
When it’s a constant it can be an absolute struggle to find anything new and innovative to say, or do.
So when Chucky comes to possess my child and crazy face sets in these days, I often find myself thinking, how on earth did you come out of me??
What did I do that was so wrong that I have given birth to a Chucky? I don’t dwell on that for too long because I know exactly what I’ve done to deserve such wrath. Anyway, that’s another blog.
The point is, like all those parents and caregivers gone before me, I am past ‘that point’. You know that point?
My mind flashes back to the countless times I peed on a stick, watched the clock to get the timing right, took my temperature, the needles, the drugs, the supplements, the poking, the prodding, the sleeplessness, the stress, the uncomfortableness and the incredible amount of pain just to realise this dream of being able to hold a tiny wee beautiful baby in my arms. This precious angelic gift from the gods who I would look down upon, our eyes would lock and there it was, a moment, we’d have a moment!!! Then I'd rush to the living room and announce to baby daddy that me and that precious angel of ours, we had a moment! Yes.we.did. A fkn moment! #babymoment
And now? I watch with trepidation as my Chucky's eyeballs roll into the back of her head, spit flies my way, arms flailing each time catching my face and hissing ensues.
I tell myself, in a high octave tone - this is just a phase.
Chucky tells me that I’m not her bestest friend anymore.
I’m gone. So far gone. Beyond that point of those first smiles, giggles, and cutesy faces and the bubble blowing.
So when Chucky came to visit the other night: ‘I hate you Mummy’ ‘Go away Mummy’ ‘You’ve got fat boobs Mummy’ REPEAT.
I looked at her and not knowing what to say I just take a moment.
Then, I say it.
I say, would you like to go back up inside my vagina? Whence you came?
Instantly I feel my cheeks go red. Oh.my.God what just came out my mouth? I felt like I’d just told my first boyfriend I didn’t want to go round with him anymore, or like the time you tell your husband you want a divorce and you actually mean it, but it still doesn’t feel right coming out your mouth.
My brain goes into shut down and I wonder what Aladdin and his fkn magic lamp are doing right now, cause I need his lamp make me disappear.
I look from my 3 year old to her father, and back to the 3 year old again, then back to him.
What does he think of me now? Has he ripped me from the mummy pedestal? Will he have me replaced?!
To my disbelief Chucky stops dead in her ranty tant-ness, looks at the crazy lady (that’s me) and with utter disdain lets out a very drawn out … ‘Nooooooooo’
Ok, well, that worked (Me and Aladdin are doing silent high fives). But what about baby daddy? I look at him and await my verdict.
Then I see it. His massive hairy man body shaking. He's vibrating all over, so hard in fact, individual body hairs are waving back at me. Is he that angry?
I look up to his face and relief floods me as I see that baby daddy is doing his utmost to stifle the laughter that has erupted inside of him. Thank you good Lord, I can stay!
Panic subsides and now that Chucky has left the building harmony is restored once more. At least for now.
Grateful it worked out this way because I really wouldn’t know how to get her back in and I'm still amazed at how she came out.
No one gave me a parenting handbook and as far as I’m aware, there isn’t one. All I know is; I do the best that I can, my parenting decisions are based on my own experiences of growing up and trusting my instincts and this is a perfect example of the imperfectness that is, parenting.