Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunset on Childhood
Yesterday was the irksome middle child's birthday. She is officially an adult - which in her mind means she can do anything she wants and consequences? Damn them and bring on the booze.
We have tried, tried tried to instill a sense of responsibility and right and wrong, only to see our efforts flung back in our faces.
Keeds. They only hear what they want to hear. When I told my newly fledged adult that she had established patterns of behavior that would lead to failure in life....note how carefully I chose my words...she went ballistic and begun sulking ever so loudly, with lots of added profanity. So loudly was her pouting, in fact, that I had to roll up the car windows so as not to offend the patrons of Haydn Zug's (a historical eatery in our town, and expensive, too).
All Unit #3 heard was that I thought she was a failure.
"Well, tell me. What are you are doing right now that could be considered successful."
"Aside from that, I mean."
"So you agree, that you haven't really tried."
"Does sleeping in late and not working make you successful in life?"
"Does drinking and hanging out with your friends get you an income?"
"Okay, then. You are now 18. And that means if you do whatever you want, you get to own it! It will be all yours. Not me, not your father will bail you out. Not out of your bills, not out of jail.
"Effin' effity-eff-effin' effer!"
"Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday."
It is really hard to slap a child while driving, so please do NOT lecture me. I have this fear of running someone over while angrily smacking my child, and then, while smacking the fartling some more, backing over the poor pedestrian and running him over again, just for good measure. It's called 'Transferrence' in Psychospeak.
Though she clearly did not deserve it, Dad took her out and let her get her nails done, which means we have to open her soda cans for awhile. And she got some little things, that she liked, like some cologne and some baubles and make up. We went out for her special dinner at Macaroni grill. She wouldn't eat anything more than a piece of fried cheese. And then she went out to celebrate with her friends. She didn't want a cake. She didn't want much from me.
At 2 am, I called her and again at 4 am, but nothing. I wanted to worry my head off, thinking she may have been drinking, and whatever other horrors follow from that, but she came home this afternoon, as though nothing happened. And then she asked if she would be getting more presents.
Sigh. School starts next week, and she must be drug tested, abide by a written contract and other adult realities. We shall see how long she lasts before she moves out.....and then back in.
Here she is at her most very beguiling, courtesy of Christian Behr: (click the link, and let the music play....it's definitely Ms. Vexatious Minx's style.) She has much potential. To lead or to be a follower. Boys beware. Miss Trixie is back in school. Someone's gonna learn a lesson, that's for sure.
She ain't jail bait no more. Damn.