Conversations With Our Daughters

Then, out of nowhere, she heard Mom yell something. Marcy hopped downstairs in a very good mood until she saw Mom’s face and it wasn’t a happy sight.

“Marcy, why is my bedroom door open?” Mom snapped, in an accusatory tone.

“Oh, I left it open,” Marcy answered, matter-of-factly. It was amazing how quickly a good mood could change when faced with one of Mom’s attitudes.

“You know I keep the door closed because I don’t like the dog in my room! And, what were you doing in my room in the first place?”

“I needed a pair of socks.”

“Marcy!  This is the third pair this week!  I told you to do your laundry!”

“But I have no socks in my laundry anyway!”

“Wait a minute young lady.  I told you yesterday that you could not have any more of my socks until you did your laundry.  Knowing that, you took socks anyway, and without asking me first?”

Mom seemed to want to freak out so Marcy felt she had no choice but to oblige. “I knew you’d say no!  That’s why I took them without asking!” Marcy answered, tensing her brow then rolling her eyes.

“That’s it young lady!   Go back to your room!  And since track seems to make it impossible for you to keep up with the laundering of all the socks you need, you’re off the team!” Mom continued, following Marcy closely behind. “And until you learn how to respect my privacy and show respect with your tone of voice, this comes off,” she added, removing Marcy’s door from its frame.

Mom was a ranting, raving freak show.

“Who cares?” retorted Marcy. Hey, she thought, Mom started, so why not make the best of a bad situation by using just one more of her ‘guaranteed to irritate Mom further’ lines?

“I’ve had it with your pushing my buttons!  This has been going on all week. I’ve HAD it!  Not only did you invade my privacy, you are obnoxious beyond belief! I’m calling Grandpa and Grandma for their advice. You are too much!”

With that, Mom stormed down to the telephone in the kitchen and dialed her parents’ phone number. Marcy waited quietly in her room.  She hated when Mom ratted on her to Grandma and Grandpa.  Marcy listened to hear what her mother would say on the phone.

“Hi Mom and Dad.  This is your daughter and I’m furious with your older granddaughter!  She took yet another pair of my socks without asking because she knew I’d say ‘no.’ As far as I am concerned, she’s now off the track team. I took her door off its hinges and I don’t know what else to do. I’d appreciate a call back. I’m not very proud of how I sound right now but I am just furious with her!  Call me when you get home.  Thanks.”

“Whew!” Marcy mumbled to herself.  “At least they weren’t home!” She reached under her pillow to pull out her faithful friend: her diary.

Dear Self,

I wonder what Grandma and Grandpa will think of me now?  I hate my mother!  She doesn’t understand anything.  I need to be on the track team, even though the other girls ignore me and talk behind my back.  I love to run!  I don’t care that I am all alone in the weight room while the other kids flirt and show off their bodies to each other at the other end of . . . oh, I don’t even care about it!  I just want to run! And does Mom care about me at all? NO! All she cares about is telling on me to Grandma and Grandpa!