When I was pregnant for the first time, I wondered how I was going to handle being a mom. I wondered if the instruction manual came out with the after birth or if they handed it to you as you left the hospital. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't a manual at all. So we persevered with the help of our own common sense, family, doctors and other parents and K grew up more or less well adjusted.
Now there must be a book (or a hotline to call) for the tween/teen years, because I am not sure I can do this.
I took K to the Dr's on Tuesday because she went ass over tea kettle off her horse mid jump on Sunday night. Yeah, I waited a day (sue me). The conclusion (after the most bizarre nurse practitioner we have ever come across) was tendenitis and not broken. We passed the note into school that said she should take it easy during the week in gym and sports (aka soccer). I told her, play soccer, just don't do throw ins.
The school nurse interpreted it a different way and told K, as she was boarding the bus on her way to Nantucket, that she could not play in the game or for the rest of the week. K does not do surprises, as in change of plans, very well. She called me in hysterics and I said, I would see what I could do. Since she had to take a bus and a ferry to get to Nantucket, I had some time. (Yeah, that's another story. She left school at 10am and got home at 8pm). Finally talked to the Dr and she said it would probably be a good idea to let the shoulder heal this week. She could fall on it, etc...
Fine. I texted K with the news.
The seething anger that accompanied the text messages back were frightening. She hated the world, hated soccer and especially was not fond of the nurse that put the brakes on her brilliant soccer career. According to K, this was a VERY important game and the rest of the season was gong to suck.
I was actually scared to get her at 8 last night. I was right to be scared. She had bottled up every emotion she had and let me have it. I totally understood. She was tired, disappointed and cranky. Now, if she was a toddler and was tired and cranky, I snuggled her on my lap with a blankie and a binky. That doesn't work so well now. After an hour, I calmed her down enough for her to go to sleep and told her we would talk about her options in the morning.
This brings us to 10 minutes before we had to leave to get to school, she said she wasn't going to practice if she couldn't play. This is her first experience on a school team, so I said, I would write the coach a note and tell her she could do drills just not scrimmage. This of course escalated because evidently I was suppose to write a note that said,
Coach, Let k play. She is fine.
Instead my note was "wordy".
Coach, K was devastated she couldn't play yesterday. Please let her do all of practice, but not scrimmage. She is good to do everything next week.
I think I wasn't suppose to write how K felt. Emotions are not allowed for 12 yr olds.
The kicker in the car was this conversation (after a good 15 mins of tears)
K: "you just don't understand me"
me: "I am trying"
K: "Well you are not doing a very good job at it!"
Thank God I read an article in Good Housekeeping the other day by Valerie Frankel titled: "Mom, I Hate You! When your child says these words, it may actually be a sign you're doing something right."
I guess, maybe now, I can accept the title of World's Best Mom.