The Bad Mom

Yesterday, my daughter told me I was cool. She told me that she was really glad that I was her mom, because I was a cool mom who did things with her. She said that some of her friends’ moms may buy them lots of things, but she would rather have me because we always have fun together. I can’t even tell you how proud I was. And really, we DO do fun things together. We went to Fright Fest at Great America not once, but TWICE this year. (And we’re going again next Sunday.) We watch tv together and laugh about the characters, or discuss in depth what we think is going to happen next. (Like on Lost. Or The Amazing Race. Or our soap operas. Yes, I know, we do watch too much tv. But I’ve already admitted that.) We talk about everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. There are no taboo subjects between us, and I don’t want there to ever be any.

Anyway, I was really proud. And then what do I do? I get crabby at the end of the night last night and I wind up being mean to her. She was getting ready for bed, and asked if she could sleep in my bed since it was cold in her room. Now, she’s right, it DOES get cold in her room, and I have to eventually get new windows, but it doesn’t get UNBEARABLY cold until the winter months. So from December until February, she pretty much does sleep with me. And although I am not a big fan of sharing my personal space, I do have a king size bed and I can’t really let my daughter freeze, so I deal with it. (Until we get those new windows!) But as I said, her room was not cold at all last night. Maybe she was freaked out from Fright Fest, I don’t know, but in any case I made a big production about how I didn’t want her in MY bed, and there was nothing wrong with HER bed, and besides, wasn’t she ten years old? She hemmed and hawed and even though I knew I was making her feel bad, I continued on. Maybe if her room were CLEAN, like it was SUPPOSED to be, she would be ok sleeping in her own room. MAYBE she didn’t want to sleep in her room because it SMELLED in there, since she hadn’t cleaned it last week like I asked. And then I told her very sarcastically that she could sleep in my room, because OBVIOUSLY she always does whatever she wants anyway. That it really didn’t matter what I wanted. She told me she would sleep on the very edge and not bother me while I slept, and I just gave her a “whatever.” So she slunk off to bed with her little stuffed dog, and when I went to sleep a half hour later, she was squeezed all the way over to the edge and was barely under any covers at all.

Well, I felt the pang of guilt kick me in the stomach, and I covered her better and moved her away from the edge. In the morning, I got up and showered, then woke her up. Now, a little backstory here – she had a field trip with school today that she had known about for about a month. And yesterday she tells me she is going to wear her sandals to school because she “can’t wear gym shoes to the opera.” Apparently the kids were told they have to dress nicely. So, I am deservedly a bit frustrated that she is telling me this THE DAY BEFORE the field trip, but also thankful that we already had plans to meet my mother and go shopping for other things. I pointed out to my darling that obviously if she couldn’t wear gym shoes, I would assume she couldn’t wear jeans either – so what was she planning to wear? She admitted she didn’t know, so I gritted my teeth and told her that we would buy her something new today, but that she had to tell me things like this RIGHT AWAY – and not THE DAY BEFORE. Anyway, we wound up getting her a really cute pair of slacks, a dressy-casual top, and a cute pair of black suede shoes. Oh, AND a new pair of gym shoes – Nike Airs, no less.

So back to this morning. As I am running around getting her lunch ready, and myself ready, she finishes her shower and I go to dry her hair. We finish that, and she goes to get dressed. All of a sudden, I hear the telltale heavy sigh. “WHAT IS WRONG NOW?” I yell. “Nothing…” she sighs. We go back and forth like this until she stops sighing and tells me that her socks don’t look right and I made her get pants that are too big and she doesn’t like the shoes after all. So, do I become the nurturing mother and tell her everything is fine? No. I feel my blood boiling and give her a pair of my black socks to wear (which of course, she complained about more) and then proceed to tell her that she has NO IDEA how lucky she is that she even got that outfit at all, that because I charged her clothes at the store yesterday, I may not be able to get my refi approved, and won’t be able to pay our mortgage and we might just have to move, and if we move, maybe she will realize how lucky she HAS been because we will be living in a tiny apartment far away from all her friends and she can sleep with me EVERY night since we won’t be able to afford a two-bedroom place. I tell her that she is spoiled rotten, and I guess that it is MY fault for doing everything for her, and she has NO IDEA how good she really has it. That I am working so hard every day to do things FOR HER and buy things FOR HER, and that even though I can’t afford to pay my bills, I will take her shopping for a costume tonight because EVERYTHING IS ABOUT HER. But that someday in the near future we may be broke and living in an alley somewhere, so she’d better enjoy what she has now.

All this because… hell, I really don’t even know why. I think I just get overstressed and frustrated and hearing her whining about silly things like that put me over the edge. But that doesn’t mean that I should react like that. And I CERTAINLY shouldn’t tell her we’ll lose our home because she needs a Halloween costume. I know, I’m mean. I always apologize, and try explaining to her that sometimes it frustrates me when she takes everything for granted, and she says “that’s ok” – but it’s not. I have to realize that she is only ten, and I can’t worry her about things she doesn’t need to worry about. I think maybe I vent on her because it IS just the two of us, and there’s no one else to vent TO. Just like she can be beastly to me. And believe me, she CAN be beastly.

I’m always having people tell me how I’m such a great mom and Lexie is such a great kid – and sometimes I feel like such a damn fraud. I want to say, “No, I’m not. I’m mean and I yell, and I hurt her feelings on purpose even though I regret it later. I’m an AWFUL mom, and my poor daughter is probably going to grow up hating me.” But instead I say, “Thank you.”

The funny thing is, Lexie and I know each other on that mother-daughter level that every mother and daughter have, but about 100 times better. Because we’ve ALWAYS been a team act, just the two of us, and we’ve managed this far alone. And even when we DO fight, or hurt each other’s feelings, we’re quick with an apology or a hug. I think we both know each other’s moods, and have learned to weather the storms. Which doesn’t make it right, of course. No excuses here.

And even though I seriously AM scared about finances and the mortgage and other adult-things, they shouldn’t affect Lexie. And even though sometimes she can be more like an adult that I feel, she’s not. I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone, and I’m scared to death that her childhood memories will be bad ones. I really WANT to be the good mom that everyone thinks I am, and I WANT to be the cool mom Lexie says I am - I want to deserve the compliments.

I feel like “I’m sorry” is getting old, for both of us – Lord knows she says it enough too – and maybe I need to refocus on the big picture and not so much the little things. Maybe I need to think more before I vent, or vent HERE instead of at home. Lexie deserves sooo much more than me, but unfortunately I’m all she’s got.

But either way, I still want her to clean her room and quit complaining about her clothes.