time out
Fact: girls hate their mothers Daughters are predestined to be hard on their mothers LEA HANSON
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nyone who is a girl, has been a girl, or is a mother to a girl knows girls are hardest on their mothers. It’s science. Sure, this can range from “Maaaahm, you’re so embarrassing!” to the concise “I hate you!” but we can all relate to some effect. I think my own mother-hating stage may have lasted longer than normal—maybe from the age of 13 or so until solidly into my 20s so I acknowledge I may be biased toward the extreme end. On the other hand, like I said, it’s science: girls hate their mothers. Maybe it’s due to this elongated stage that karma has perfectly cut my work out for me. My daughter is only 4 and while she’s still madly in love with me and attached to me like a precious little bunion, she’s clearly and seemingly deliberately harder on me than she is on her dad or any other adult with authority in her life. Her teachers and my adult friends generally find her to be polite, obedient, and pleasant. She does what she is asked, says please and thank you, and talks and acts like the competent 4-year-old she is. Enter me, she’s flopping around, talking in baby talk, asks 100 times although I’ve answered a patient “no” after 99 of them, and generally presses my buttons. When she has a babysitter, the report is that she goes right to bed and directly to sleep. When I’m out and her dad puts her to bed it’s almost that perfect. And, when I put her to bed there is always flopping, almost always crying, and definitely for sure no doubt about it getting up no fewer than six times to ask for unneeded things. She’s smart enough to push buttons, I know. And (sorry, mom) I have clear memories of intentionally pushing my mom’s buttons to get what I wanted. It’s what people do. Because, science. I’d like to think I’m somewhat stern and very consistent as a parent but the fact that 40
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she does this tells me I might be neither of these things. So, I just try to be patient and end up turning around so I can roll my eyes in peace. I get it. It’s not personal. It happens to all mothers and I did it to my own. In some cosmic way I’ve earned this, for sure. But it’s exhausting. Why can’t she just like me? Other people like me,
at 16? I just didn’t see it. Listen, I’m smart and savvy enough to see the writing on the wall. I’ve got some long, tough years ahead of me, I think. So I’m already thinking of ways to stay cool and relevant but deep down I know it won’t matter. It’s just science and I can’t argue with that. In ten years my daughter will probably die from
including kids for the record. Many find me a joy to be around, in fact. And that’s the thing. I remember my friends liking my mom. It was unfathomable at the peak of my teenage years that my (super awesome) friends would think my (totally lame) mom was funny or nice or (GASP) cool. It was very clear they liked her and I could not figure out why. I mean, it’s very clear to me now why a person would like my mother. She’s a gem and then some. But,
embarrassment simply by the sight of me and I’ll just have to let it roll off my back. I’m tired just thinking about it. But, as previously mentioned, I know this game. I was so horrified to the max by my mother I sometimes actually think I may have invented the game. So, as inventor, I know all the rules. I may be a little rusty, but I hopefully have it in me to play another round, but this time I’m playing offense, which should be interesting.