Yesterday I was crazed, swamped with work I’d put off all weekend, trying to carve out a spot in the afternoon to write here. Because although I write for a living, writing HERE is what keeps me sane and grounded (despite periodic exclamation-point-riddled evidence to the contrary).
But then my work day got cut short, because Chickadee—who has been doing her very best recently to make me reconsider selling her to the circus—texted me from school. During school. Which was weird. And it got weirder. And my baby wasn’t okay, and despite weeks of clashing wills and shrill shrieking about how I am the worst mother ever, when all was said and done last night, my nearly-as-tall-as-I-am teenager curled up in my lap and hugged me hard and whispered, “Thank you,” because when push came to shove, she knew that Mama had her back. Because I do, always.
Now I’m left waiting to see what happens next, and fairly vibrating with rage in the meantime. Until we reach a conclusion here, all I feel comfortable saying is that some situations call for a righteous anger, and I will do my damndest to teach my daughter that if someone tries to shame her for someone else’s actions, she has the right to get good and pissed.
(I shared this over at Off Our Chests because I wanted to make sure other teenagers see it. But this is one I hope you’ll click through to read, especially if you have kids.)
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