Instead of lovely mornings spent cuddled together reading stories, I now get a grunt and a cutting comment if I don't remove myself forthwith from her presence.
Instead of the day starting at 6 am with her bouncing into our room, full of excitement for another day, I now play paper, scissors, rock with The Bloke, the loser gets to wake the teenager (known in our family as poking the bear) and break the bad news...it's morning.
Some days she is barely civil, a sneer permanently marring her lips, other days she's effervescent. It's exhausting. I can hear the lyrics from that John Legend song running through my mind. 'What's going on in that beautiful mind, I'm on your magical mystery ride'.
Friends try to commiserate with stories of their own teenagers, describing years in the desert of emotional turmoil. That's not helpful, by the way, just depressing.
It's conflicting to love someone so deeply, yet be treated by them so appallingly, then at other times have such wonderful conversations. No predictability at all. If this were a marriage we'd be on the rocks.
I have a false imagine of myself as the Zen Mother who understands that hormonal instability coupled with an existentialist crisis and egocentricity is what makes her act this way and isn't personal. But it feels bloody personal!
Below are some of the tactics I use to try and maintain my sanity and our relationship. We're both still breathing, so some of it must be working.
- I remind myself she is not a mini-me. She has a different world view. She's growing up in a completely different world and it's neither good or bad, just different. Applying her reactions to my own experiences isn't always relevant or helpful.
- Co-parenting is my savior. I don't know how single parents cope. My hat is off and I salute all parents doing it alone. The Bloke and I have different tolerance levels for different things. We ping-pong parent when either of us has reached their limit. When the more rational parent can take over, the outcome is usually better for everyone.
- Finding some way of giving her choice, within the boundary of doing what I want her to do, has helped at times. No-one likes being told what to do. That force is strong in our genes.
- I remind myself that having a spirited and determined child means they will (hopefully) grow into a spirited and determined adult. Traits that will stand well in life. No-one wants their child to be a doormat.
- Get some space. When it all seems too much, taking some time away from her helps with perspective. Breath (fire streaming from your nose doesn't count as breathing)
- When all else fails and I'm on the net searching up boarding schools, looking at pictures and video of her when she was little reminds me that she is still a child. My precious child. A child who needs me, no matter what she says. A child who needs to know she is loved even while being told a certain behaviour is not acceptable. A child with limited life experience who is flailing around in an emotional soup trying not to drown. It's my job to throw out the lifeline. Ready? Catch.
The truth is, it's damn hard work being a parent. I hold onto those conversations when she opens up and I see glimpses of the woman she'll become and I see she's someone I really like, not just love.
It's a bit like climbing this mountain. You don't know how you'll get to the top, but you know the view will be worth every drop of sweat.
So only around six years and she'll come right, my friends assure me.
Right.
Breath.
Start climbing.
