my daughter makes me smile

Not all the time. If you are a parent, you know this. They can be evil, rotten, devil spawn. But they can also be funny as hell, and sometimes even thoughtful.

Last week was horrid, as horrid as weeks can get. Sydnerella knew this. I hid nothing. And she cares. She has a pretty good heart for an evil, rotten, devil spawn of a 13 year old hormonal mean-ager. She hugged me when she saw me crying over T-Bone, brought me some peanut butter crackers when she knew I couldn't get off the couch a few days later, and she let me grab onto her arm when I almost lost my shit at Jackie's funeral.

What makes me smile sometimes is that she is sneaky. Or more like, thinks she is sneaky. She is oblivious to the fact that just 18 years ago, I was her age. I know whats going through her mind, for the most part. And I know what kind of games she's playing. Like the day we went school shopping. Her phone was on the fritz and her blaming attitude and snotty tone had me dropping the F-bomb in Wal-Mart. I used to care what people may think if I was all potty-mouth around my kid, or yelling at her in Wal-Mart ... but key word there ... my "kid". It's not like I was beating and berating my toddler in the toy isle. She isn't really a kid anymore, she is an evil rotten devil spawn and now, I just get looks of sympathy from other shoppers. People who have been here, done this. People that have their devil spawns at home because they can no longer bring them in public. Some of them are even in awe that I don't start swinging. People know. The Wal-Mart fight was my offer to buy the kid a netbook. Yeah, one of those tiny fucking laptops. I figured we could both get one for the same price as a laptop, and then I'd never have to leave my couch. The netbook was too small, she didn't need it, blah fucking blah, and all she needed was a new phone. Yes, hers was a piece of shit. Yes, her 11,000 text messages per month made it that way. Yes, I knew she needed a new phone. I was on it though, damn. And she knew it. Just needed something to bitch about, and probably just wanted to see what kind of scene I'd cause in Wal-Mart. Well, she saw it first - A fucking big one! We went about the rest of her back to school shopping, and I managed to get her new phone ordered up. Yes, I am fully expecting to be judged for allowing her to have the new phone after the shit-storm that day back to school shopping while I was sick as shit. I'd say within a 48 hour period of her phone being delivered (where I was held fully responsible for UPS taking two days longer than the phone company said) ... she comes to me, ever so sweetly .. "Um, mom, I'd actually really like it if I could get that netbook we saw at Wal-Mart"! The nerve. The fucking nerve. I haven't caved yet, and you can judge me when I do, but my feet are firmly planted on this one right now. I have no desire this time to run out and get the damn laptop, netbook, whatever, even though our home pc no longer turns on. I have my blackberry, I am comfy on my couch with my blackberry. It's all good. Yeah, I can't help but smile at my sneaky and manipulative 13 year old daughter sometimes. The day Jackie passed away, I was in and out of the house throughout the day. She knew it was bad. She knew I was sad. I got a text from her later that evening (word for word) "I know your not feeling good, but today or tomorrow, do you think you can take me to chapters?" Sometimes I smile because I don't know what else to do. I can give her away, but I don't really want to. I can turn into raging drunken mom, which I know with the alcholism in my family, wouldn't be hard. But I really don't like hangovers anymore. I can ground the shit out of her all the time. Take stuff away from her. Backhand her in public. But, the thing is, I like my kid. She may think she usually has the upper-hand, sometimes I even let her think she does. I'll even admit, that sometimes, she simply does. But she's a good kid. I love her. And I can't imagine my life without her.