Confessions of a Teenage Terror

I'm sure I'm not the only parent to question their level of input into their child's life....

We were in the bathroom the other night for the nightly teeth brushing bonanza. Ava, who is our delightful, feisty and very physically capable, but teeny tiny 19 month old sat on my lap, wriggling against my vice grip, trying her best to get out of brushing her teeth. Lucy, our delightful, insightful and conscientious almost four year old stood looking at us, calming watching Ava's struggling while she dutifully brushed her teeth until Ava was done and I'd have a turn to double check the job she has done. And I noted Lucy's very mature behaviour and said "Well done, Lucy, you are doing a wonderful job of brushing your teeth so fabulously! Who taught you how to brush your teeth so well?"

I expected her to acknowledge me. I honestly did. So when, with a mouthful of toothpaste and toothbrush, she enthusiastically started gesturing out the door of the bathroom, I didn't quite understand what she was doing. "Hhhaaaadi-idd" she said. I laughed. "Pardon?" She took the brush out of her mouth and said "Daddy did!" And I laughed. We finished brushing teeth and out of interest I asked her if Mummy had taught her anything.

She smiled. I thought to myself, ah, here it comes. And I got comfortable on the edge of the bath where I was perching, ready for her to spend the next hour listing my achievements as her mother. and you know what she said?

"You taught me to clap when I was a little girl like Ava".

"Anything else?"

"No".

Did I mention she is almost 4? Next month. And her summary of my input into her education starts, and stops, with hand clapping. Initially, I chuckled and thought oh well. Here begins a lifelong existence as the mum who is unrecognised for her magnificence, her utter devotion, her true and enduring sacrifice and the hours (weeks, months, years eventually) spent answering an endless chain of questions about everything and anything. I've seen it all before, I've read about it in the books, I've seen it in movies and drama shows. It's the age old story, isn't it?

And then the penny dropped. I wondered if I had ever had a similar conversation with my own mum at a similar age in which I actually had no idea of what she had invested into my life. And my smile turned to a cringe. Oh, my poor mum! I honestly don't know if I had this conversation with her at that age, but my god, I know I had that conversation with her a million times throughout my primary and high school years. And it may not have sounds exactly like "you didn't teach me much", and probably more like "why do you have to ruin my life, I wish Dallas and Lynne were my real parents, you don't care for me at all, I wish you were cool like Emma's mum, why won't you let me eat cheese?" and on it goes.

I remember my first Mother's Day, with miss Lucy only 3 weeks old at the time. I was blissed out on hormones and love for my amazing newborn and filled with a deep sense of belonging to her and to my role as her mother. I was CONSUMED by love for her. And already knew that I would have done ANYTHING at all to protect her, to further her development and to show her how loved she was. And still is. And I remember writing that Mother's Day card for my own mum, so full of remorse, shame and horror that I had treated her in such a disrespectful, hateful and downright rude manner. How it must have broken her heart to hear the terrible things I yelled at her over the years.

How hard it must have been not to bite back more often than she did, how tormenting it would have been to wonder how she could get the sweet (I'm making assumptions that I was sweet at some point) innocence back, and how to keep the raging teenager at bay.

Oh man, I was so naughty too. I can't believe I made it through my teenage years without being abused, kidnapped, bashed, or drugged, because without a doubt I put myself in positions where I could have easily fell prey to an asshole, that's for sure. I drank my first alcoholic drink at 13 (thanks Jane), I used to buy homemade alcohol by the 2 litre recyled Coke bottle (might as well have been moonshine) from the older brother of a guy in my year (thanks Darryl), I used to hang around with people who smoked marijuana all the time (fortunately I didn't like it), and I would walk the streets of our city at night, with and without company. I'd sneak out of my bedroom window, and occasionally sneak boys in. I'd never do my homework, sleep with my head on the desk though English classes (with Pete) and I talked my way into being school captain, not once but twice.....and never fulfilled any election promises (apologies, school friends). I had underage drinking parties while my dad was on shift (being a police officer). I stayed with my friends at peoples houses i didn't even know. I witnessed domestic violence at parties I felt unsafe at.

And all through it, my mum was there. My parents separated when I was 11 but both were still very present in my life. When I was letting my hair down (loosely put) in my teenage years, my mum was behind the scenes, fighting the good fight for me so I would do as well as I could manage during school. I used to tease her that she was in love with my most hated teacher, Mr Whiteway, who I truly believed had mum on speed dial. I was awful to him, and he would dob me in to Mum regularly, and I would be absolutely hostile when Mum brought it up with me. I thought my mum and all my teachers were against me, all ganging up on me to make my life harder than it needed to be. But that was not the case...

Mum tells a funny story about me in early primary school when I started to receive homework. Funny to me, not to her or my teachers, I'm sure. Apparently one day at the ripe old age of 8 or 9, I got fed up with my teachers issuing me with homework and I declared that if they weren't effective enough to teach me what they needed to, within their work hours, then they weren't doing their job properly. Makes sense to me, to this day. And from that moment on, homework was not my best friend. Fortunately for me, and frustratingly for everyone else, I winged my way through school and exams, and passed with an average pass mark to get me through the door of whatever I wanted to do.

What I didn't know is that during year 8 (my goth year), my mum got sick of the teachers calling her and begging her to intercede on their behalf and beseech me to do the work they had prescribed. So she called a group meeting, with my year advisers, and every one of my teachers at the time. And she sat down in front of the lot of them and said something to this affect:

'Lauren is off the rails; no-one is disputing that. But what is most important to me right now is that I maintain a relationship with her. I will NOT distance her further by having a go at her every night about her homework. If she does not meet your curriculum requirements, then fail her.  If she does, then pass her. I care about her schooling, but I care about our relationship more. So do what you have to do, but don't expect me to put what we have on the line, for the purposes of an essay, when things are so difficult as they are.'

And I had no idea. My mum shared this story with me last year, when I was 31! All this time, I had NO idea she had gone in there and stuck up for me, and basically gave them some perspective of the crisis I was experiencing as a child of divorce, and a consequence of general female teenage hormones. I couldn't believe it when we talked about it last year. It shifted the axis of my world a little bit. All of a sudden, I was confronted with the fact that my mum wasn't actually against me all those years ago, but was actually proactively seeking space from the teachers in order to try and keep our fragile relationship intact.

My poor mum has never got the credit she deserves. My poor mum must have a resilient heart, after the crap I dealt her out in my teenage years. Mr poor mum must love me beyond my understanding to allow me to learn the lessons I did.

So I want to take a moment to tell you about my mum. As a child, I remember being happy. I remember having an early appreciation for music and singing, both loves I share with my mum. I remember growing up to the soundtrack of John Denver, Les Miserables and Priscilla. I remember my mum picking me up from my friend Belinda's house after we watched the Lion King. I remember her taking me to Point Hutt Crossing and telling me she and dad were separating and that it was her decision - which must have been a very difficult conversation for her to have. I remember her prioritising our annual holiday at Lake Tabourie after that time, where we took our watches off, ate when we were hungry and spent all day at the beach, reading and swimming. I remember her getting  a full time job with the public service and I remember her walking me through the family budget of a single mum of three teenage kids when I ungratefully couldn't understand why she wouldn't give me $20 to go shopping with my friends. I remember her trusting me, and me breaking her trust. And her trusted me again. I remember disappointing her with my actions, and her still loving me through it all. I remember stealing from her. And I remember she forgave me. I remember her encouraging me, believing in me, providing opportunities for me, all of which I didn't deserve. Because she loved me.

I remember her support, acceptance and love when the hardest day happened to me. I remember her heart breaking alongside mine when she listened to the story of my precious nephew, Aidan. Her joy for my love for Greg. Her love for Lucy and Ava that knows no bounds. Her concern for me when I wasn't doing okay and her help with our girls whenever we ask. Her unexpected generosity. Her wise words and careful counselling. Her positive perspective.

My mum has taught me resilience. My mum has taught me strength, ambition, drive, vulnerability, forgiveness, faith, courage, determination, humility, a love for music and light, optimism, kindness, tenacity, humanity, social responsibility, courageous love. And most importantly, more than any other thing, my mum has demonstrated over the years how to be a loving, forgiving, kind, caring, protective, and fierce mother, who still to this day, does anything she can to help me and will come at the drop of a hat, if I need her.

Mum, I love you fiercely, and am so very grateful to have not only had you as my mum, but to rely on you as a friend and confidant now. I am so very pleased we both survived my teenage years (albeit with a few scars) and have come through the other side with love and appreciation for each other. I am so sorry for putting you through it all (and I desperately hope my girls are better behaved than I was!) and so very relieved you still love me! But as a mother, I now say of course you do, as I would love my girls too.

I remember you used to say to me: "One day you'll have a daughter..."

Well, now I've got two! And Greg has NO idea what he's in for!

It's Mother's Day soon....don't leave it for just that one day to tell you Mum how much you love her and appreciate all she has taught you over the years.

Ciao for now,
LG - Life's Great!

P.S My dad taught me to drive a car. ;)
P.P.S Don't worry Dad, I know there is more than that.... you'll get your own blog one day. xoxo