I should talk about my daughter because of the way she looks at me.
She's 14, and her version of 14 is different than my other kids.
She comes to the table to eat in the morning from 7:45 to 8. I have her breakfast there which is a chicken and apple sausage cut up with scissors like they do at Costco, and some cereal. I make her lunch and get her water bottle filled up.
She doesn't look at me or make any conversation. I sometimes make conversation. I sit on the counter and eat some breakfast and I pretend I'm in the world's most unfriendly youth hostel.
When I ask her about school she can barely control not rolling her eyes. I passed by her room at night and said hey I wanna see the slides you're making for english. She looks at me like she didn't sleep in my room for the first 9 years of her life, like she doesn't even know who I am, like she's a norwegian foreign exchange student who is only in this for the travel experience. She is so white in the winter, like she didn't spend hours at the beach with me all golden and with different weird haircuts, this was the year of the rebel haircut.
She is so intent on not being herself, or morphing into her new self, or just being a silent douche, that she can't keep any footholds on the people who have loved her up to this point. And not just loved her, shined, buffed, dressed, supported, laughed, worshipped. She would prefer we not mention any of that love and it would be nice if we never talked or mentioned her in any way, to any one.
She would like to erase us.
She is, in fact, regretting us, and any past history we may have shared. If she could send us an Evite to never have existed, she would be so happy if we pressed YES. We will not attend.
It is kinda funny.
I remember when Nathan was 7 and was so loud and obnoxious I decided that 7 was the worst age ever. And then when Emma went through a few years of knowing it all, and being a superachiever while also loving a terrible boy band and I found it hard to understand her or like her. I finally texted Bruce, her other older brother up at college, "I only like one out of three of my kids." He texted back,
"well in school, 1 out of 3 is failing, but in life that's like a B/B-"
Barry and I are both I guess old and keep emptying out our soul pockets at night to sort through and see what it is exactly we did wrong here. We like ourselves. We treated all four total kids the same way. We feel like a game of pick up sticks, all the plastic sticks in a jumble and no way to pull one out perfectly without wrecking all the others. We come up empty every time.
So we sort of look confused, and shrugging. Oh well.
I got worried enough that I asked the doctor when I went in for a check up since dementia caretaking was I was pretty sure destroying all my internal organs and would eventually seep through to my outer organs, effectively erasing me as my daughter would, no doubt, feel huge relief from, my unbearable presence. I asked the doctor should we get therapy? She hates us. Worse, she tries not to see us
in any way
He laughed.
I love our doctor.
He said try stretching. For the many ailments I had. For the morose daughter, he said
check back in in a few years.
B/B-
It must be hard to be in the chrysalis, all cramped in there and trying to figure out who you want to be. I remember that. I'm still in there I think. That doesn't seem to get magically better, but there are some pretty amazing journeys you get in the meantime, as you stretch all your soul parts, and body parts, and mind parts. As you grow.
I'm hoping at one point, there will be again, a smile. A small half hug that is actual, like from need to connect. Some gentle joking. She is really funny. She is really smart. She is a thoughtful observer.
There's just no map from us to her right now. Google maps is showing all red. No need to be mad or confused. Better just hang out and wait out the traffic.
