I am pretty sure when my 18 year old has kids, one day she will thank me for all the redundancy that has ever left my mouth. Her side eye at my text messages telling her what to do for the cough or cold that has lingered for weeks will be met with “man my mom was right”. She will experience this very same thing and I will be sitting on the couch sipping tea with a smirk as she tells me her kids do not listen. This time it will be the grandma side-eye. Those are the best of them all.
I am convinced anything I say that does not sound like “I’ll deposit money into your account” goes out one ear, past the undeveloped frontal-lobe and onto the ground like putty. Sometimes I want to text her that I am not here for her shenanigans and then I get sucked in because, I am her mom. So my heart is all sorts of mush when it comes to my child not feeling well.
However I guarantee you she will not listen or refer back to the text I sent her this morning. “Get some rest, you have a long night ahead of you. Try the steam thing I taught you to help clear up the congestion and make sure you have tissue in your pocket. You don’t want your bugger friends making an appearance when you meet the boyfriends parents tonight.” She responds “lol true”. NO, I am serious. Not funny. Kind of funny. But, really serious. The last thing I need to envision is his parents meeting my smart, funny, feisty beautiful daughter with her friend billy the bugger because she chose not to do all the mom home remedies before heading out on a Saturday night.
This is just reminder 8,765 that my job parenting is never done. She goes on to tell me she wishes I was coming to visit this weekend so I could meet the boyfriends family. Apparently she thinks it looks bad just having her dad there. I am sure that’s because dad will do dad things and say something embarrassing.
She goes on to say well, “his dad knows my mom is black and my dad is white”, as if she needed to pull her black card out for extra security tonight. I can’t stop laughing about this. Just be yourself kid. If the parents can’t deal with you being bi-racial then they will not have a seat at our table.
This really made me stop to think that another conversation between her and I has to take place. Again. This parenting thing never ends. She does not need to yell from the mountain tops from the most non-diverse town in Washington State that she has a black mom to prove she is relevant to the black boyfriends family. I’m going to place this one in the fked up society box we live in, where our kids feel they are better if they claim one side more than the other depending on who they are dealing with. It’s a thing. Believe, me I know.
I’ve taught her from day one to own all of who she is, but I also see it’s a natural thing to still wonder who will accept you. All sarcasm aside, it’s a hard middle to be in. More on that subject after I Amazon Prime her Lysol wipes and hand sanitizer to fend off all the dorm germs. Now the question is (insert mom side-eye) will she use them.
Xo - LH