I yelled at my 16 year old daughter yesterday.
Heavy sigh. There goes my mother of the year award. Again.
See, she had fallen, and inflicted a pretty nasty gash on her leg. And well....she wouldn't let me put a band aid on it. And that infuriated me. I know, I know, but let me explain.
I'm a mom. More importantly, I am her mom. And what is a mom's job? To fix things.
To kiss boo-boos and put on a band aid and to "make it all better."
But she is a 16 and half year old young woman now, and there is a whole lot I can't fix for her. I can't fix it when she likes a boy sooooooo much--and he doesn't like her back. I can't fix it when her friends leave her out, or hurt her feelings. I can't fix it when she struggles with her advanced classes in school. (believe me, I can't, especially math) I can't fix it when she feels uncomfortable in her own skin. I can't fix it when, in a house full of family, she feels lonely.
It hurts to know that my kisses can't mend her bruised heart, although I offer them anyway. It stings to realize that I don't have a band aid for the boo-boos to her spirit. I am her mother, and I can love her and pray for her and worry about her. I can ache for her and tell her that I understand. I can hold her when she'll let me. I can help her and comfort her and give her advice when she'll hear it. I can do all those things and yet, there is so much in her life right now that I cannot make "all better."
The opportunity to mother her that way doesn't come along as often as it used to, and frankly, I miss it. I miss being the mommy who can "make it all better" for her.
I guess that's what I was really yelling about.