Neither one is my daughter but I feel compelled to mother them when I see either headed for charted territory fraught with danger. Neither responds well to my maternal advice, believing, like most adult-children, that they and only they know best.
It was an exhausting conversation as each argued her point until she was blue in the face. And I was just seconds shy of wringing both their scrawny necks. My emotions ran the gamut from frustration to anger to sheer disbelief that such intelligent young women could be so damn stupid. And stupid being the only word fitting for the ignorance they were so desperate for me to believe.
I have no patience for weakness in other women and probably because it holds a mirror to my own deficiencies. Their insecurities are particularly unattractive since both know better. Their collective experiences couldn’t fill a thimble and neither is interested in learning from women who’ve already been there and done that. Despite constant assurances from friends and family who love and support them, they don’t have an ounce of confidence in their talents and abilities.
The two are very different, one extremely high-maintenance and prissy, the other less so. Yet both have the same failings. They react before they rationalize and emotion overshadows common sense. To hear them tell it the War of the Roses defines both their future relationships and if you aren’t out to get them then you couldn’t possibly love or care about them. They cry victim and go on the defense at the drop of a hat and every conversation is like talking to a brick wall that only hears what it wants to hear.
I have butted heads with each of them many times before and I have no doubts that we will butt heads again because when I see them headed in the wrong direction, as a mother, I am compelled to point them down the right road.
And despite their best efforts to convince me otherwise, calling another man who you only met thirty minutes earlier in WallyWorld to come give you a ride to an undetermined location because you’re afraid your boyfriend is going to throw you and your children out at 3 AM has to be the dumbest damn thing I’ve ever heard. And putting your hands on your man to prove your point is NOT a good idea because slapping him and throwing his things around the room will either get your butt tossed in jail on a domestic charge or hurt if he ever decides to hit you back.
They are both determined to learn their lessons the hard way. And despite their best efforts, I’m not falling for the excuses they use to justify their bad behavior. Wrong is wrong and I have no problems telling them so.