If Moms had Blogs

When I was a teenager (1970's) and got in a fight with my Mom, said something inappropriate -- I was backhanded and sent to my room and usually grounded. No television watching, no phone calls, no music.

"You just sit there and think about what you've done", she'd say. And I would. I'd lie on my bed like a good girl trying to be as repentant as I could, hoping she would notice my good behavior and reward me with a short sentence. Nope. I was out of sight and out of mind and spent many days and weeks grounded this way.

To my friends I just dropped off the planet. They'd call and hear I was grounded and couldn't talk to them, so they would stop calling. My mother was wise -- she rarely grounded me during the school year -- only in the summer. There was one entire summer that I lived life sitting by my open window listening to the sounds of others having fun -- neighborhood parties, kids splashing in the pool, convertibles driving by blasting the radio.

Fast forward a few years to my "baby" brother becoming a teen. At almost 6 feet tall, he'd get sent to his room and use a different tactic. He'd explode with anger. He would kick the walls, bang on his door, throw things -- my mother would come running up the stairs screaming obscenitites and then, "You stop banging my doors and damaging my house -- get the hell out -- RIGHT NOW." Off he'd go, practically skipping.

Was that all it would've taken? I learned, like many others, that it sucks being the first-born! You are the test run, the one who absorbs all the parental energy. Baby brother was smart -- he could see that things weren't working for me and changed it up a bit. The parents were tired, broken down, and he pretty much got away with murder. We laugh about it now -- how stupid I was to obey so blindly, but it was a lonely and depressing time being a teenager.

When my own teen daughter found web sites like Live Journal and My Space and started to vent her own teen angst, I was actually glad she had an outlet. She could post every insignificant happening of her day and what a b*tch her Mom was and she'd have posts from a dozen "friends" trying to console her. When she was angry and wanted to explode or depressed with no hope, I didn't have to worry she'd be so distraught as to want to end her life (as I had often done at her age). I could hear her banging away at keyboard in the next room and know that she had someone to talk to about it, someone to hear her pain.

When she broke our rules and had to deal with punishment, off she'd storm to pound out her side of the story, adding in exaggerated details and eliciting sympathy from cyber buddies for her terrible life. If they only knew, I'd think. It's so easy to create an online persona. You take a few edgy photos of yourself-- if you are chubby you just snap a pic off your blue eyes. Bad skin? Tilt your head and let those bangs fall over half your face. Purse your lips and make that rock and roll hand sign -- squish all your friends faces together, laugh and show what a good time you're having.

What if Moms like me had blogs? A place to go and vent about my daughter's evil behavior and how it sucks the life out of me every day as I try to be a good parent? Why can't I have a forum to spout about the days she screams how much she hates me and that I'm a f***ing b*tch that is trying to ruin her life? Well I can, and here it is.