“He’s awful. I wouldn’t babysit him for a million dollars.”
I heard what they said about me, those teenage girls. I heard every word. So did you.
It’s me, your stubborn, strong-willed child.
Mom, those girls don’t see the countless hours you spend trying to figure me out. They don’t see the tears you shed. They don’t know that you feel helpless and lost. You wonder whether you’re a terrible mother. I’m always in trouble. It seems that way, at least. I’m rebellious, constantly pushing boundaries. I never sit still. Ever. You’re spent emotionally, physically and spiritually. And the comment from those girls pushed you over the edge.
