Are you talkin’ to me?! 

I’m just gonna leave this right here because I would normally post this story on Facebook but have taken a break from the site for Lent. Although, in typing that I think this auto-posts to Facebook so I’m probably participating without even meaning to participate. Feel free to judge me. 

I had a situation this morning that is perfect for Facebook as it would elicit much needed messages of comraderie from my fellow mothers of teenage daughters and if Facebook isn’t for comraderie over teenage daughters than WHY DOES IT EVEN EXIST?!?! 

So…I was driving 87 hours (or 40 minutes) to a 354 hour (or 8 hour) volleyball tournament with one of my teenage daughters. During which time our conversation became slightly strained with tension as I reached my compassion limit on the swirl of emotion that does encompass all teenage girls. I mean…I get it, I remember how ALL THE THINGS ARE BIG THINGS at that age and I usually try to temper my reactions due to this understanding. Yet…there’s a limit at which high emotion becomes blatant disrespect and I go all Robert DeNiro and start with the “Are you talkin’ to me?!?” in disbelief and warning of her tone. 

She smartly hears this tone and backs down…but only temporarily as then she says…”look, you need to sit away from my first game because I need some space from you…” 

I am immediately propelled to speaking like the idiot drunk in the bar looking for a fight. 
I tell her…”I’ll sit where I please.”

To which she replies…”why can’t you respect my wishes???” 

To which I yell this hum-dinger of a response to my child…

“BECAUSE I’M A GROWN ASS WOMAN AND I DO WHAT I WANT!” 

Then…in embarrassment of my ability to lose it WITH A CHILD I look down at the clock at see that I have been propelled to Everest levels of fury at the lowly hour of…

7:08AM.

Lord help me. Thank God I didn’t give up drinking for lent.