In which I am wrong again, naturally....

I am always wrong with  Beautiful Baby Daughter, my youngest child, no matter what I do or say, it's wrong. Everything I do annoys the bejaysus out of her. Especially breathing, and I do that a lot.


It's tiring. The being wrong, not the breathing, I can do that just fine, nae bother to yer auntie.
For the last little while, we have found a modus operandi, she comes home to sleep and shout at me. When I say shout, it's not usually full fat cross shouty shreikery but it's fairly hissy and unpleasant. I accept that I am her emotional punchbag and my husband leaves the room before he loses his ability to hold his tongue.


This week, I have been in trouble for


1 - Thinking I'm funny, it's one of my less endearing habits but I upset herself as when she was mid rant about her A level English language coursework (she has to watch "Celebrity Masterchef") I once again was showing off and remarked to my husband "Who says A levels are getting harder?" To which she went up like a rocket about how I think her choices of A level are too easy. AT NO POINT EVER - (in capitals for emphasis) have I ever complained about ANY of my 3's choices of A levels or degrees, I am never anything other than pleased that they are in school and not jail.


2 - The train being late - making her late for school. This is my fault because I moved to Alaska and I have not bought her a motorbike. She has no motorbike as the money I had for said bike was spent on her £900 plane ticket and spending money for her 3 week holiday with her boyfriend to his dad in America. To be fair, I only paid half,  her dad stumped up the rest but clearly I am channelling my inner BBD and the omnipresent "poor me, my life is poo"


3 - My failure to provide a full and efficient laundry service -  (she will be 18 next week, in the interests of clarity). I am presently working full time and am hindered by a north facing garden, the general weather and an innate distrust of not drying your washing outside, I have used my tumble drier about 6 times in a decade. I know, shoddy service, I'm just making excuses.


4 - My failure to provide more than 6 pairs of pants that fit properly - maybe that should be 3a, they were part of the laundry whine.




5 - Not paying enough attention when she speaks to me -  This is because when she arrived home, I was trying to find out where my kindle book had disappeared to after I had bought it, still haven't got it, I was being technologically challenged and I didn't provide her Majesty with the audience she required, I had the audacity to be too involved with my laptop.


6 - The fact that her laptop is broken - it has been broken for yonks, I have given her my laptop, the charger broke, I gave her money for a new charger - she refutes this, she insists the money was for a charger for her laptop and she bought that and it still didn't work, she uses my appalling memory of what I have handed cash over for as an absolute certainty that she is right.
 When I play my " I can't fund everything and you have had 2 holidays to the States plus spending money plus new clothes plus insurances plus visas plus toiletries plus new hair cuts etc etc etc she retorts with " well, if I'd have known it was a choice between something I needed for my education and a holiday, of course I would have chosen anew laptop.
AYE RIGHT - that should be imagined in as Glaswegian accent as you have ever heard. Also this morning when we had gone a few rounds of the laptop saga I eventually caved from my very reasonable, "I know you're stressed with school, exams and writing your personal statement and I know you're not specifically peed off with me but I am one of the few safe people you can offload to"  I eventually cracked and said " Lucy, we will get you a new sodding laptop" She exploded and told me to not to take that tone with her and flounced off, swearing at me as she left.


Some days it's hard to not feel nostalgic for my last baby, who was and is still so loved,  the snuggly toddler who loved me so much and the small girl who made me certificates saying I was the best Mummy in the world and all the little love letters she sent.


And the days where I was always right and didn't have to justify my choices every single day.