15
Aug
08

Bye-bye, baby

When I dragged my carcass down the steps this morning (late night, friends, concert, etc.) I found four large white trash bags stuffed to the seams lined up in the front hallway.
To what do I owe this unsolicited gift? Christmas in August? One of the kids ran away but oops, forgot some of their stuff? Someone felt guilty and made up for all the forgotten birthdays?
Nah. Girl from the West decided since she’s starting high school in a few weeks that it’s time to remove ALL TRACES OF CHILDHOOD CHILDISHNESS from her bedroom. All of it. I’m envisioning something that took all of two minutes to complete.
Pull drawer out of dresser.
Turn drawer upside down over trash can.
Wait as flotsam and jetsam topple, pour and plummet to their death.
Upright freshly empty drawer.
Replace.
All performed, no doubt, while texting three friends on her cell phone. All performed without a shred of nostalgia or remorse.
And why, do you ask, did Girl from the West not just deposit the trash bags in the trash receptacles in the garage? Good question, Internets.
Here’s the thing: There’s a track record here and it’s not good. There’s a history of finding things in the trash that shouldn’t have been tossed. Like entire packages of computer paper. Like brand-new clothes. And gifts.
So, Girl from the West knows better. She bags it up and I sort it out.
I begin unpacking and sorting contents into various piles.
Several times during this process, I stand up and stomp into her room.
“What the hell?” I shout, waving brand-new notebooks, bundles of pencils and pens and new books. Also, there are travel-size containers (full, never used) of shampoo, hand lotion and cotton swabs and jewelry.
“Mother,” I’m informed with cool distain, “I don’t want them. Chill out.”
“Chill out? I’ll tell you what I’ll chill out. The amount of money I spend on you,” I shout back. I’m losing it here now, because I know within a week or two will come the barrage of requests.
“I need new pens and pencils and notebooks and Q-tips and travel-size shampoo.”
But she won’t want what she threw out because the pens and pencils have flowers and smiley faces on them; the notebooks will be the wrong color or be “too sparkly”; and the shampoo and Q-tips will be the wrong brand for a high-school student.
I know it. I hate it. But it’s her and I have to deal.
I end up so worked up I have to take a brisk walk. Along the way I dissect the issue.
What is really bothering me?
Is it that she’s wasteful and doesn’t understand the value of things?
Yes. But there’s more.
How can she be so callous, throwing away jewelry and other items that were gifts? It’s not that I don’t understand her feelings about some things, but holy catfish, have a little discretion.
Then it hits me. (This is where you can imagine the sound of tires squealing on the pavement and me coming to a screeching halt in a wake of smoke and flames.)
I don’t want her to grow up.
All those bags of Junie B. Jones books remind me of the nights we don’t sit up reading before her bedtime anymore. All the little craft kits, the framed kitty-cat pictures, the bead sets, are all things we shopped for together, worked on during summer breaks. Haven’t done that in a few summers. The sparkly notebooks, the smiley faced pens? No big deal to me. But to a high school freshman, probably the kiss of death.
While I’ll forgive her for growing up, it may take more work coaxing my wallet to open up.

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3 Responses to “Bye-bye, baby”


  1. August 18, 2008 at 1:29 pm

    i’m in tears. it won’t be long until my BC is right there where your daughter is. she is already past her junie b books (though her little brother loves them. i wish there were junie b-type books for boys… hmm… maybe i ought to write them. okay, back on track…)

    right there with you, sistah.

  2. August 19, 2008 at 4:53 pm

    I’m watching my neice go through the same type of thing. She’s 15. Of course her mom has to deal with the teenage angst. I’m not ready for her to grow up either. She used to think that I was funny, now she thinks that I’m just old. I’m just waiting until I get really old. She’ll probably think that I’m funny again, but in a weird old person way….

  3. 3 mom zombie
    August 19, 2008 at 6:17 pm

    Alias LIz: I know what you mean about the funny business. I know Girl from the West is only laughing AT me, not WITH me these days.
    –MZ


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