I packed The Tortoise’s lunch aggressively this morning, anger bubbling up in my throat until I just couldn’t contain it any longer. I had tried to be diplomatic, give her an opportunity to make a better choice about her wardrobe, but the message was just not being received.
Or she didn’t care.
However, I did care.
“OK, that’s it,” I said, smacking the pairing knife down on the cutting board, “either go put a tank top or cami or something, anything, under that dress so that your boobs aren’t falling out all over the place or I’m going to start picking out your clothes for you.”
If I had been standing any closer, I would’ve been knocked over by the amount of force from her eye roll. In a huff she disappeared upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a more appropriate neckline. We shared the kitchen in silence for a few minutes.
“You know, ” I said tentatively, “I’m just trying to protect all those goofy boys from failing.”
“What?” The Tortoise asked.
“I don’t think you understand how easily distracted boys can get and if you show up at school with those accessories in their face all day they wouldn’t be able to pay attention in class.”
The Tortoise giggled realizing my ridiculous sarcasm. I took advantage of this change of mood to talk about first impressions and appropriate wardrobe once again. It seems to be a daily discussion when you have a teenage daughter.
My daughters would probably use words like conservative, strict, serious, organized, and predictable to describe me. They’ve never seen me wear a multicolored spandex dress with purple tights and lace-up black boots. They’ve never heard me throw out a slew of “f-bombs” or seen me falling down drunk. They are unaware I have stayed up all night writing a paper the day before it was due because I wasted weeks to get my work done or run through a drive-thru wearing pajamas in the middle of the night because I was craving egg-rolls. And they would probably never suspect that I have played practical jokes on my friends, jokes that left us rolling in the grass laughing so hard we thought we were going to pee our pants.
To them, I am just mom.
They don’t realize all the things I used to be: young, immature, selfish, and naive to name a few. It’s not that I miss those unbecoming qualities of myself, qualities that matured after becoming a parent, but sometimes I wish I didn’t forget so much so I could relate better.
This post was inspired by the following prompt: 5.) Share something you miss from before you were a mom. (inspired by Life’s Unexpected Blessings)
Every week you’re invited to join Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop by responding to one of the provided writing prompts posted each Tuesday. To view more detailed instructions on how this weekly meme works, check out the Writer’s Workshop FAQs.