Friday, October 10, 2008

Tell me, what will the proctologist say?


Some days it's hard to come up with a funny story about raising teenage daughters.

Some days it's hard to maintain a positive outlook on life.

Let's face it. . . some days you just want to send you daughter away to have someone else parent her until she gives birth to your first grandchild.

For these are the days that your "mothering" has been reduced simply to driving the car - and no matter where you drive her, it seems some undercurrent of blame has preceded you . . .
  • like the day the dentist gently suggests that maybe you should buy her that $118 toothbrush she's been asking for because it will allow her to do a better job cleaning her teeth . . .

  • or the day she tells the rheumatologist that the reason she hasn't been taking her medicine was that her mother is too cheap to buy genuine thing and the generic has a bad aftertaste. . . .

  • that the eye doctor insists that perhaps you should let her leave her lens solution and containers on the bathroom vanity so she has a place to take her lenses out at night. . .

  • that the nutritionist says to a full-time working mother, we talked a little bit today about making dinner available to the family at an earlier hour. . .
Can you just imagine what a proctologist will say to me one day?

Well, I have a few protologist-related words I'd like to share with them, but I'll restrain myself right now.

Can't you see I'm doing the best I can here?

If this daughter would floss her teeth, stop treating the tiny bathroom vanity like it was her personal art studio, take her medicine when she's supposed to, and help out around the house once in a while, WE WOULDN'T HAVE THESE PROBLEMS!

I'm doing the best I can here.
Honest, I am.