“I Hate You, Mom!”

In this inspirational/self help book I’ve been reading about GALS AT MIDLIFE, there’s a funny bit about middle aged women going through menopause who have teenage children going through puberty at the same time. It really is quite the combo.

Mama, the clown you punch and she comes bobbing back up again, that idiot grin on her face.

No need to go into too many details (church youth group retreat this weekend, Seth said he would go, he got special dispensation to get there late – this morning instead of last night — because of his soccer party yesterday, this morning he was saying he wouldn’t go and that he regrets every time he ever does what I say, growling and swearing in his new-man voice) but the upshot when I was calmly asking him for the umpteenth time to get out of bed, was the title of this post.

Hurt my feelings. Had to go sit on the couch and cry and reread bits of Get Out of My Life But First Could you Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall? while he slammed into the shower. I had to come bobbing back up again. Tell him I don’t like him speaking to me that way and carry on.

I made him breakfast and got his stuff thrown together in a backpack. He bitched at me the whole time. I actually really understand – another similarity – he’s dealing with the excess of his life, the excess of interesting things to do. I’m sure he’s going to enjoy the retreat, but what he wants to do right now is go longboarding. It may be the last good weekend for that, and I’ve ruined it for him. So he’ll never listen to me again, he’s not going, he’s not hungry (meanwhile sneaking bites of breakfast – he’s of an age where his body’s growing so fast he can’t pull his hissy little “I’m not going to eat” fits the way he did when he was younger, there’s too much physical imperative to pack it in). And most definitely, he growls that I don’t know anything. At all.

But wasn’t I just writing in my journal this morning that it’s so hard and crazy-making to have to pick a couple of things and settle down? Like, what if I did this blog more professionally – I could turn it into a book, like mommywithapenis! What if I wrote erotica full time – I could be a sexy celesbian like Tristan Taormino! What if I went back to school to learn how to be a more effective social justice doer gal – I could change the world! What if I started singing and playing the piano again – I could have a band! What if I started studying Tibetan Buddhism really seriously – I could get closer and closer to “This Thing” (as Gerald Heard calls it, reported in My Guru and His Disciple by Christopher Isherwood)!

Instead I piece things together as best I can, trying not to get too scattered, trying to go deeper in a couple of key areas and to remember that whatever I pick, it will unfold to encompass all the things I think I have to go flitting after.

This is a lesson I am learning, a lesson I would like Seth to learn also, start learning, maybe earlier than I did.

This is a lesson he would like to shove up my ass.

Grin, baby, grin!

Epilogue

I put him in Tex’s truck (she and the dog were giving him a ride), saying how sorry I was it worked out this way, that I know he really wants to longboard, that I love him and I hope he has fun at the retreat anyway. “I won’t.” Maybe he won’t and we’ll both have learned something. I’m learning about him all the time, just the same way he’s learning about himself. I hope I’m listening, because that’s my mama job. And damn it, I really am sorry he can’t go longboarding today! Because I love him. And that, thank god, I know he knows.

Published in: on November 5, 2011 at 7:24 PM  Leave a Comment  

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