Shoved Gently Out to Sea

Apparently, I’m not needed anymore.

Just a lowly, used up mother, set aboard a flaming canoe, clutching dried flowers, and shoved gently out to sea.
Don’t even bother telling me that I’m not.
Just leave me.
*Dramatic pushing away*
All I have left is this drama and this fainting couch.

As evidence I present the Homecoming dance,
when the middle two shunned my every suggestion.
As if I have no idea what the styles are now…
Nevermind that in regards to those exact styles, I have been there, and done that, and I’ve got the poor quality pictures developed at the drug store to prove it.
You just pair pants the size of a small urban flat with a shirt that would fit an American Girl doll, and BOOM.
You have a trending outfit.
Absolutely NOTHING they are wearing is new.

The shopping for Homecoming lasted for days, and spanned three cities as we searched for all the pieces they envisioned.
I tried telling them that their feet would kill them if they got the 5 inch heels they had their eyes on, and that maybe they’d want to bring a jacket because it was predicted to pour rain on them.
They didn’t listen. They just cast me aside,
and I’ll admit something to you:
There was a small amount of joy watching them clomp, getting drenched through the rain in those shoes that within 30 seconds had mud covering them.

Exhibit B) I present the middle one’s birthday that will happen on Saturday.
She will turn 13; a milestone year that I would like to help celebrate.
After all, I have put in the work.
*presents a record log*
This kid has taken four kids worth of guidance.

But, instead of my dinner reservation for her and her friends,
she just wants them to walk home from school Friday to hang out at our house and watch a movie together.
Doesn’t even want me to come get her.
Instead of a beautiful cake, made by me,
(for which I have been formally trained by a European baker)
she wants to just pick up some ice cream and toppings for them to make their own, like a sundae bar.
Just a crop top and jeans I used to wear, and a “No thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

I offered all kinds of grand celebratory things, but she wants to be with her friends while I,
(and I quote)
“maybe stay in my room quietly NOT taking my creepy candid pictures”

So, I guess I’ll hang out alone, possibly complimenting my own cakes in the mirror and blowing a lonely little party horn at my own reflection.

*Pfffffft*
*Pfffffffffffth*
*makes sad craft out of saved baby teeth and old Santa Letters*
*cries one single tear, and wonders if she can come out soon*

I, at the very least, reserve the right to wait until I hear footsteps in the hall, and to slide a note under the door about the length and difficulty of her labor.

They don’t want my help with their Halloween costumes this year.
For years that was my pride and joy.
They have won costume contests, and had photo shoots.
They once had a photo of them stolen and used by a brow bar in Massachusetts because I had drawn them on so well.
Instead now “they can do it,”
“They’ll figure it out,” and
“No, that’s not at all what I pictured.”

My canoe rocks gently as I stare up at the stars, and bid goodbye to the life I knew.

I guess that’s what I was for, in the end.
Helping and then being forgotten.
*hand flings across forehead*
*wails silently into hand-stitched handkerchief*
Never mind all that I have done for them.

Nevermind that when we were at dinner this week, and my husband sat scowling at the bill afterwards, tallying the tip, I looked over to see what was taking so long and

ME: “Are you just trying to figure out the total after the tip?”

HIM: “Yeah” *still scowling, trying to carry 1’s*

ME: “Aren’t you just trying to add an even $10, though?”

HIM: “Yeah”
*still not clicking*

ME: “Adding $10 just puts the total in the next 10 place bracket. It was $39, so now it’s $49.
It’s that simple.”
*eyes squinting, willing him to know. Praying, pleading that this is making sense to him*

HIM: *realizing what had just happened*
*mortified at himself*
“Laugh now. From now on I’m just taking you to Taco Bell.”

See. I just save these people again and again.

My youngest, Paige, has agreed to one final year for me to be in charge of her costume.
Maybe it was because she is deeply impressed with my skills,
or maybe it’s because she heard me moaning about it to the orthodontist through the hole in the plexiglass and just wanted a halt to the embarrassment,
but that’s neither here nor there.

She patted my arm and said, “You can help me. You’re so good at it.”
(Golden, life-giving words to a mother of teenagers)

This week I finalized her costume, and as I was zip-tying things to her fingertips, she whispered to my thirsty soul as I fastened:
“You are so talented. I don’t know WHY the other girls wouldn’t let you help them.
They are honestly crazy to not let you.”

I felt suddenly emboldened;
Yes! It was true!
My strength was coming back as I tightened.
Surely, I would once again rise up and save the city!
A true superhero!

“Um. That’s kind of tight…
They’re going to be sorry they didn’t take you up on your offer when I end up having the best costume.”

And the canoe stops flaming;
I am back on shore, changing into my superhero clothes again.

I am going to show my skill.
I will save the day,
and as soon as I’m finished visualizing, pinning, warming, cooking, planning, cutting, and calculating tips for them,
I am also going to do one last big thing:

I am changing my will and leaving Paige everything.

This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.

Mom Outnumbered

Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.