As volatile as daily life has been around here since the arrival of the not invited yet I-should-have-seen-it-coming hormones, I’m surprising even myself when I say that I had a lovely day last weekend with one said teenager with whom I live – namely, my 13 year old Samantha.
What did we do? We went shopping.
Now before you roll your all-knowing eyes in “of course-ness”, let me admit something out loud: I hate shopping. In my perfect world seasonal fashion changes would stay the same year after year. No more “orange is in . . . polka dots are out . . .” Everything would just always be in and out, I feel like my cowboy hat and flip flops today, thank-you very much.
But of course the world does not spin according to my non-fashion sense, que sera, sera.
Despite this, Samantha and I had a great time last Saturday. Together.
The hormones didn’t make an appearance – not even once!
Something was oddly funny though. And I’ve heard of this kind of thing before – possibly even expected it – but just not now. Not yet.
I’m talking about “role reversal”.
I would ask Sam her opinion on something (“what do you think of this purse? Or this one?”)
And like my little partner-in-shopping-crime, she would say something like, “hmmmmm. Well they’re the same price. Which one do you like best?”
(Answering a question with a thoughtful question. Clearly there’s a future job for her in PR.)
And speaking of “jobs”, by the end of our shopping hour (yes HOUR. I told you. I’m not a shopper, which means I need to build up my endurance.), I was seriously starting to question my role as MOTHER. Seriously.
I mean, this kid obviously has her head screwed on with the right threads meeting the right threads. I was beginning to feel . . . Useless. Like maybe she’s going to wake up tomorrow and say, “mom, I need my own space. I’m moving into my own five-star condo.”
To which I would hang my head in shame and say, “I know. I’ve failed you as a mother.”
And then she would say something sweet and mature and considerate.
“No, mom. It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve just out-grown you.”
Funny how we (“we” being parents) do this to ourselves. Because here’s what really happened.
We ended our shopping hour by going home. She took all our bags (don’t get excited; there were only two) into the kitchen and responsibly cut off all the tags and refolded our items into two uniform piles: hers and mine. She went up to her room to do whatever 13 year olds do and I went to my computer to check email, write.
Some time later I walked by her room to find her sitting on the floor, performing a quasi operation (read: mutilation) on herself.
“What are you doing?”
“fixing my ingrown toe nail.”
“Um, WHAT?!! How do you know what you’re doing. And since when do you have ingrown toenails???”
“Since yesterday and I learned how to do this on YouTube.”
To which I thought, “YES! She’s not moving out. She still needs me!”
I’m so still needed as a mom.
Mona Andrei says
LOL – Yes, thanks for introducing that word to us, Camille 🙂 Happy to report that the ingrown toenail situation has taken care of itself. AND I’m still needed. Double yayyy!
No girls…no fun shopping trips. Which is probably good because I hate shopping too. Those non-sucky moments are the validation we need. Too bad they’re so rare!