Tough Love

Friday was ... TOUGH.

There was a knot in my stomach roughly the size of Texas. I knew it. I knew I was being lied to. I finished my shift with jetBlue and called my sweet Hubby. "Hon, I've got to bust her today. How should I do it?" This is never a good way to start a conversation, but it was unavoidable. I was seing red and was risking a full-fledged transformation into Psycho-Mom.

My sweet little new-driver's-license-holding-thinks-she's-so-much-smarter-than-mom of a daughter tried to pull the wool way, WAY down over my oh-so-wise-x-ray-vision-mother eyes and I just couldn't pretend to be that dumb, not for anyone. I've been trying really hard the last couple of weeks to - to loosen my grip a little and give her more freedom. She's sixteen after all and if I'm supposed to be able to let go, so to speak, when she's 18 and graduated ... it's reasonable to bend a little more here and there right now.

HOWEVER ... in light of all my recent efforts to give her those little, and sometimes not so little, bits of extra freedom, it hurt that much more when she took advantage in every way possible.

She really hurt me.

She broke my heart.

And now, I'm tagged the meanest mom on the block ... for what? For calling her on her lies? For expecting her to be where she says with whom she told me, obeying the very clearly stated driving restrictions quoted to us by very creepy man at DMV 4 times in the last 2 months?

Yeah. I know. I have huge expectations, don't I?