Lord help me.
I had no idea. No idea what 12 would be like when she turned 12.
But she did. And she’s good at it.
The mood swings are killing me. I mean, it’s ok if I have them. Because they’re mine. My mood swings are totally legit. According to me. But hers. Oy.
You know that scene from Steel Magnolias when Sally Field is screaming, “I don’t think I can take this… I don’t think I can handle this..” or something like that? It’s like that.
The other day, she asks for help with her homework (last blog entry), I ask her a question, something like, “Wait, what?”
“Oh my God! You know what? Never mind,” she says, stomping off. “I don’t care.”
I just asked one question. Excuuuuse me.
And she’s all, “I’m not doing it. Fine! I’ll fail. I don’t care.”
I just asked one question. Geesh.
Lately, it’s like that a lot. I don’t know what I did. But everything I do or say turns her into the Tasmanian Devil.
I don’t remember being like that.
We had a fight last night. I told her to go to her room. That I’d had enough. So this morning she wouldn’t talk to me. She’s sitting in front of the wood stove, warming her feet. I lean down to ask her a question and she shut her eyes on me.
“Are you trying to make me disappear?” I ask her. (There is a hint of smile at the corner of her mouth, but she won’t budge.).
Fine. She goes to school. I go to work. I’m sad all day. Then the phone rings.
“Hiii,” she’s all sweet now. “Hi,” I say back. And then….
“Where did you hide the Halloween candy?”
Hang On Mom 