Vixen Chronicles

My baby is 23 today. That is really, like, all grown up.   I remember the day she as born, me in that crazy birthing suite with my sister,   my close friend, and not one, but two doulas. I was trying to have natural child birth but also trying to have her father present. He had already taken a job in Texas, and we lived in Arizona, so the doctor decided to induce me right on my due date.   It was an interesting time. The night before a major tornado had torn through Jasper, Texas, a town not far from where we would eventually be moving to, and a whole neighborhood had disappeared. I had been fired 9 months before when I’d stupidly told my boss that I was pregnant. I sued and won.       Anyway, the doctor starting the induction at noon, and since I have crazy high pain tolerance, it took awhile for me to feel anything. It was close to 4 in the afternoon before the labor got going well. I got right up to the end and I started calling everyone motherfuc...

For a person with control issues (which I admit I am ), letting your child grow up and do things like...drive...is a hard thing. And for a person with control issues mixed with a bit of Helicopter Mom, it's even harder.  I realize that since I really have no control over her growing, I could spend a lot of energy trying to hold her back by figuratively wrapping myself around her leg and dragging behind her on the floor, or I can put on my big girl panties and go forth into the world alongside her. I did not want my MidiMe to drive. I don't know if it was because my father never let me drive while I lived at home, because I didn't want to pay the increased insurance premium, or because I knew in the back of my mind that if she had a car there's a pretty good chance that at several points during the day, I probably, most assuredly, won't know where she is and who she is with. But I have exhaled. Since I'm not raising MidiMe in New York City and her social cale...

Some days, Kids know how to make you scream. Or almost. They make you want to scream. Don't. Instead breathe in, then breathe out. Repeat. If I can get through mother-of-teendom doing this, it will work for you. My teen lost her wallet. That means, no school ID, no bus pass, no driving permit. Then, she followed that up by losing her glasses. Again. Breathe in, breath out. Repeat. I decided to go in to work late to get her a replacement permit. She shows up at my room, ready to go. or--(insert sound of screeching car here). Her mouth said she was ready to go to a place of business, but her clothing did not. She had on shorts that might have been panties, a shirt that bared her midriff, thigh high thick socks and  over the knee boots. Oh, an a hip length sweater over that. Did I mention it is winter? But the boots, they were slamming! Clearly, she got her shoe taste from her mama. I said, "Darling, we are going to two places of business, followed by lunch at my office. You ...