She's leaving me. It's here. the day has come.
I'm totally freaking out here.
seriously.
Today is the day, (or the night before the day, which its actually the day, since it's 2:30 a.m.)its loading up to take #1 to college. in Colorado. tears for sure! - like they are on demand!! but first let me give you some perspective..
At 2:40 am as I lay my head down to sleep, I hear giggling and squealing from upstairs. I'm like, seriously? were leaving for Dallas in less than 10 hours. So i get out of my comfy bed with my "mom face" on ready to deal...as I go upstairs I find #1 and #2 wide awake, packing, sorting and laughing. i do what any normal mom would do at 2:40 am...I take pictures. #1 has become quite the packer. She has packed everything you can possibly imagine. There are bins. space saver bags (who even knew she had heard of these?), trunks, suitcases etc. I gently remind her that the school she's heading to has allotted her all of 26 INCHES for hanging clothes and a small 3 drawer dresser/nightstand.
She's got this. "Don't worry mom! And don't start freaking out!" (nice.) and follows this up with a deep sigh (as if I'm the over packer?! go figure!!)...and starts to tell me that she has a plan: under-the-bed roll away storage. (big cutesy grin) 3m hooks. (duh?!) trunks as foot boards. (she smiles that smile that says, "I'm brilliant! back off mom!") You name it, she has a thought for it. This is where mother/daughter words could erupt. I have many. Its 3:00 am. I weigh my options. give my own deep, guttural, slow sigh...and show maturity. and refrain. 20 points for ME! yay!
...but then i spot my CHI IRON.
This changes everything. It's on now. And I can take her. We do the whole "i know, that you know, that i just saw that, and you think you're taking this prized possession" look at each other, and end with both eyes on the CHI.
I'm holding steady. pulled out my toughest, most pathetic, wounded mom look.
She holds tight. She's not a "caver-in-er"either. Whips out her raised eyebrows, pouty lips, and tilts her head kinda funny to the side look.
I'm like, "NO way."Child, you have lost your mind!!” (OMG, I’m turning into that angry black woman I read about in the paper the other day…)
She’s like, “mom, it’s my hair!”
“What about my hair?” (Am I arguing over my hair? Really? This is what it’s come to? They’re trying to kill me by making me crazy. I swear it. You read it here first.)
“But you can share with #2!”
For the record…#2 does not share well! I feel this whole argument slipping from my grasp, and my CHI (for crying out loud!!)…I quickly avert my eyes from #1 to scan the room and determine if there are any other items that are about to leave my home. I need leverage. Bargaining power. Quick scan around her room yields hair bands, some “girl” razors, and… a box of tampons (which is a HUGE commodity in our home. If you have teenage girls you totally get this!) . Oh, no! Uh-uh. It’s on now. (think: I am mighty. I can do this. You own her.)
Now hear me out: I know this doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. It is not uncommon in my home to trade a tampon for a hair band-or vice versa . They are THE 3 things in our home, that on any given day, regardless of how many you have purchased (and trust me, we suck it up and go the Sam’s Warehouse route!!), you cannot find when you need them. Now don’t sigh, and say, “Why don’t you just buy everyone their own?”
WE DO!
We buy them in the jumbo quantity. In multiple packages. For every long haired, estrogen filled being who lives here, or stays for more than 24 hours. It’s like when you were buying diapers and formula. You buy them and just like that they are gone! Hair bands, tampons and “girl” razors are like a form of currency around here. But the CHI, well the CHI is like the $100 bill.
My man likes to say that when he realized he was having two girls, he should have just thrown every dime into Playtex stock. We went from Playtex bottles, to Playtex tampons. Neither is cheap. (Note to self – this could make for a good birthday gift for him! Duh, Playtex stock! Totally wish I would have thought of this before!!)…anyways, back to the story…
I am feeling a little "cold hearted." A wee bit guilty. I mean, we are from Texas. Good hair is like completely expected from a Texas girl. What kind of mature mother fights her daughter for a Chi? Like maybe, just maybe, I should just cave in and let her take it...and the “girl” razors, and the tampons, and the hair bands….and my money, and my heart…sigh…is there no end to this loss? This giving up? They just strip you down…piece by piece. Moment by moment. Tampon by tampon. Sad.
But… nonetheless, I cave. She wins. I tell myself this is just losing a battle to win the war. Right? I will win the war won’t I?
I tell her she can go on and take it, (just take it all I think to myself!) and she squeals (literally!), “thank you momma! Thank you! Thank you!”
I’m a sucker. I knew it the day she was born.
As I leave the room, (mourning the loss of my personal belongings, and thinking of how will I EVER negotiate with #2 to gain CHI access on a regular basis…sigh…), #2 pipes up and gently throws out, “uhm, mom?”
“uhhh, yeeeessssss.”
“Just want to remind you that I’m ready for that car you promised me, anytime you and dad are ready to buy it for me….just sayin’.” Cutesy smile. Flips her head to the side.
I just keep on walking. Play deaf….and dumb. And sleepy.
Takers. They’re all takers. Start hiding your things now, and be crafty!! Kids these days are smart.
Xoxo~
Pen
P.S. – please refrain from any bad hair comments for the next 6 months. I thank you in advance.
(To be continued....)
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