Thing 2 is pissed off at me.
Not that it’s particularly hard to upset a 15 year old.
Thing 2 likes to go to the mall with her friends on Friday nights. Grudgingly, I let her go. Personally, the mall (especially the one she frequents with her posse) is one of my 9 circles of hell. Right between nos. 3 (gluttony) and 4 (greed).
This Friday night, I want to take her to the movies. Not just any movie, but to see Girl Rising. It’s a limited engagement and our schedules are out of sync this week. Friday night is our only chance. And this movie is important–it’s important for not just Thing 2, but Thing 1 and Thing 3 and all the other Things out there to see beyond their immediate circumstances.
In my perfect, yet pretend world, I want this to be an memory (probably mostly unpleasant) for my daughter. I want her to recall when she is an adult how I dragged her to some indie film she had no interest in, and she was bored to tears, but then as an evolving adult, bits and pieces continued to come back to her and lead her to do something so amazingly awesome with her life and her talents.
But right now, she’s too angry to even sputter at me. I know she’d liked to slam her bedroom door on me, but lucky for us, our 110 year old house is sorta slanty and none of the doors fit really well in their jambs. I’m sure she thinks I’ve done this on purpose.
Parenting is hard (duh!). When you’re pregnant, you get this book called “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and it lays out exactly that. Those authors promptly followed up with “What to Expect in the First Year.” Again, self-explanatory. But then they stopped. There is no “What to Expect from Your ______(fill in the blank here) 15 Year Old Daughter.” It is a freakin’ magical mystery tour.
My mom has always told me: “pick your battles.” And I do. I let a lot of things slide. Beds go unmade. Dishes are stacked willy nilly in the dishwasher. Too much time is spent on FB. But not this. We’re going to the movies. Get ready, Thing 2, my heels are dug in.