Circus Act

One of the most remarkable things the bouncer ever said to me was “How could a woman like you see anything in a guy like me” That not only flattered me, but made me sad. There was nothing all that special about me and why would he think he didn’t deserve a woman like me? What did I see in him you ask? Well, I’m not sure if it was because he was handsome or the thrill of living on the edge, but I was extremely attracted to him. Not in a boyfriend material kind of way, but more an animal magnetism that kept me coming back for more. This “thing” between the bouncer and I was short-lived and done before it began, but it was fun and fun was exactly what I was looking for. The end of spring and the beginning of summer proved to be tedious with teenage girl drama. I’m not sure, but I am pretty convinced I was never a teenage girl. They are a creature that is unrecognizable to me. The speak a foreign language and they are messy and unrefined. They speak at decibels only heard to their mothers like that high whistle only dogs can hear. It is ear-piercing and I realized very quickly with my children that I had bred a community of extremists. They did everything at 600% except clean their rooms and chores. My children leave nothing to the imagination. They are open and honest for the most part and the things I’ve had to hear in discussions with them are no things any mother should be subjected to. Boys. Every thing is about boys. That and “She’s wearing my shirt” “My socks” “My headband” I can remember being a teenager for a split second and wearing my sisters wigwam socks. She tackled me in the living room of my parents house in front of my mother reading a magazine and as I screamed for help, my mother simply turned the page and ignored both of us. I’m sure there were many more instances of my sister and I fighting over clothes, but I can’t really remember. I do know that we didn’t fight like my children do. It’s an all out assault of yelling and screeching and inaudible swearing over what you would think was a broken leg or arm, but usually over who had the last of the salad. Salad has always been and will always be one of the most important things in my children’s lives. You can never have too much salad made. I learned this very early. Raising teenage daughters is a lot like a mix between being a lion tamer and tightrope walker. You crack your whip and train them to respond accordingly knowing at any given moment they could attack and tear your limb from limb or with all your might a balance you walk gingerly across the rope knowing you could plummet to your death. I love my children. I would and almost have laid down my life for them, but they are not easy. They are not the norm. They will make amazing adults, I have no doubt of that, but as teenagers they are in a league all their own. Teenage girls dress weird to me, the talk weird to me, they interpret things strangely, they listen to odd music, they keep everything that ever meant anything to them on the floor of their rooms and know exactly where it is so should you try to clean up or move it or step on it, it’s like you’ve set off a grenade. You pulled the pin and you didn’t even know it and at any moment, with any step you take it could explode right in your face. I have had my parents say that they would not be able to raise the teenager of today, I don’t blame them. It’s an endless game of mortal combat. It is not for the weak at heart. My girls would do anything for me, I know this cause I’ve experienced it. We have a bond that I only hope other mother’s get to experience, but if I weren’t their mother and if I didn’t know that they both came out of me and grew up in the same household as me from the minute they were born and if they didn’t look like me, I would ask for proof that they were mine. Cause sometimes I star at them in awe wondering when their real mother is going to come knocking on the door and tell me they were switched at birth. It happens you know. I joke. They are mine, all mine and I wouldn’t trade them for the world….most of the time. When in doubt they always know that we are the circle of three. And being we only vacation at being a circle of four and always end up staying a circle of three there are no two other people I’d want to complete that circle with me.

One thought on “Circus Act

  1. I can relate to this one! You hit the nail on the head when it comes to teenage girls! You practically grew up with we Velez’s and I am sure you witnessed some fights between the sisters. Your parents were good at keeping you and your sister in line… Maybe it was their faith in church and family… They are devout Catholics and raised you girls to live and abide by a certain standard. They did a great job as parents and laid out a good foundation for you.

    Liked by 1 person

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