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About Me

November, 2010

I’m a middle-aged mom, reasonably educated (master’s in human resources—la-dee-dah) and was a middle school teacher for over a decade. My children were born in 1991 and 1993 so, being that this is 2010, I’ve been a mother for 19 years. You’d think with my background, I would’ve been prepared for all the child/teen problems I encountered, but I was NOT.

My older child is typical of most older children—responsible, mature, easy to raise, incredibly easy to love—she’s pretty much a golden child. She is an amazing young woman and I’m exceptionally proud of her, but I can’t take credit for her amazingness. Daughter number one is so innately self-governing, so independent, so perceptive, and so sharp that I think she actually raised herself. She’s got her own mind, and it isn’t mine. Some of my words come out of her mouth, sure, but she’s developed her own sense of the world. DNO has moved to a cool city in another state, rents an apartment with international students, attends school full-time, gets stellar grades and actually learns from the coursework, keeps in shape, works at a fun job . . . the list goes on and on.

Daughter number two is also my love girl, my puppy, but she comes from a different mold of human being. She’s has ALWAYS been attracted to the edgy side of life—even as a grade schooler. If there was a rule to break or a bathroom wall to use Sharpies on, she was there. It developed into a propensity to hang with ravers, potheads, girls who had reputations, etc. and the older the friends, the better. She’s now almost 17, is a loving and sweet daughter and granddaughter, has gotten her GED, works full time, and pays for her own car and insurance—AFTER being in three car wrecks (two were total losses); being picked up for curfew violation at 2 a.m. in a park with a 19-year-old; being kicked off the school bus for cursing at the driver; and being arrested for shoplifting, using a fake ID, and having the arresting officer find pot paraphernalia in the above mentioned car. She’s also had speeding tickets . . . and these are only the things I know about. Most teens have a secret life, but this one probably has another family somewhere!

I started this blog to talk about being a parent to such a child and the intense life you must live in order to get through your days. I have felt many times like giving up and sending her “away” but could never do it.  I strongly believe she belongs with me, supporting her, loving her, putting up with her, and hoping for better. My children are imperfect, totally three-dimensional creatures, and no matter what they throw at me, I’m their mother and I live for them. I’m a wreck half the time, but I believe that I’ll have peace someday. 

For now, I'm keeping anonymous because I can be more honest that way, but someday I'll come "out of the closet" and let my friends and colleagues read this. Maybe then they'll understand why I'm a colorful, lovable nut job. 



July, 2018

Wow, eight years a long time to write an anonymous blog. At least I've graduated to hosting it--but I still, at age 54, don't have the courage to go public with my story. Chances are none of my friends would see this, but if they did, I'd either be a pariah or a hero. I've been great at not giving any hints about the sadness, fear, disappointment, and shame I've felt about how my daughter still conducts her life at almost 25. When I listen to my friends talk about their "struggles" with their kids, I want to barf. . . or get violent. When they're talking about Buffy getting a B in Advanced College Calculus while still in 7th grade, my ears close up. When I hear how Monty is so busy with two jobs, volunteer work, a model girlfriend, and a full course load in law school, it's all I can do to not punch proud mommy's face in. When a friend goes on and on about how their twins both got full rides to an Ivy League school and they're tormented about where to go, my face turns to stone. When they ask about my daughter (and I physically cringe when they do) I just say, "Oh, yes, baby daughter has moved to her new city and works full time. She's so happy there and loves the weather." I leave out that I still have to pay her rent 90% of the time because she always has a crisis (tire blow out, paycheck late, medical issue), that she is probably high as we speak, that she has a tattoo on her scalp, that she lives in a tiny apartment with five cats and a dog, and has an incurable STD. 

Yet, I love that fucking girl. Why can't I cut the cord, pull the plug, walk away, turn the other cheek? I read back through my posts from years past, and I still have no answers for my behavior. I can justify everything I do and don't do, but I can't seem to leave her life even though a blind man could see that she has left mine (until she needs something and she knows how to work me). Maybe it's because deep down, I know she's still good. She was a precious,  intelligent, beautiful, loving child who could've done anything in the world she wanted. I would've scrubbed toilets to put her through law school or anything she desired. I keep hoping she'll realize this and nurture herself so I don't have to always torture myself. 

"Happy" reading. Peruse my blog at the very least to make yourself feel better about your own life!