Et Tu, Daughter?

Betrayal is an ugly word, mostly because it describes an ugly action.  Some people consider betrayal the worst thing that can happen to a person. 

When it comes from your child, it’s even worse.

I don’t know when I lost my daughter.  I’m pretty sure she was mine for a while.  But is has happened.  Somewhere along the line she has turn-coated on me, and now she’s Daddy’s girl. 

It’s just a little bit hard.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they are so close, and really, it’s not like I’ve done much for her.  You know, besides bringing her into the world.  Sure, dad is a necessary factor in the whole conception thing, but a man’s role is, as usual, fairly superfulous when compared to what the mother has to do.  He just spreads his seed–kind of like a dandelion–then goes about his merry way.  Then the mother has to actually grow the child, carry the child, and of course let’s not forget actually have the child.  But you know, I guess compared to, I don’t know, making armpit fart noises, that’s not much.

Like I said, I’m not bitter.  After enduring the most miserable pregnancy in the history of womankind, I was plunged head first into my first-ever hospital experience, with IV’s and needles and surgery and all kinds of fun things.  I had enormous quantities of amniotic fluid (true fact: the doctor actually said, “Well, I’ve had woman pregnant with twins whose bellies were almost as big as yours.” Thanks, doc.) and so I looked like some sort of freakish mutant, because the rest of me was shrinking because I couldn’t eat anything because my digestive tract was somewhere in the neighborhood of my neck!  Oh, and I’m not even going to talk about how my body has never and will never recover from being stretched in such an odd shape.

Then of course there’s the teensie little things I did after she was born, like trying feverishly for three months to get her to eat, and then those few little trips just to here and there, you know, like Minnesota and Maryland and Philadelphia and Virginia.  No biggie.  We sometimes had to go to a few appointments around here, too, but not more than once or twice a week for three or four years.  Hardly even worth mentioning. 

And let’s not forget that I’m the one who packs her lunch, gets her clothes, gets her ready, gets her meals for her.  But really, who can even keep track of little things that?

Not that I’m bitter.

Just like that, she’s not mine anymore.  She’s always been pretty close to her dad, but now she’s officially gone over to the dark side.  Yesterday, she wouldn’t even come downstairs with me when she got up for school–he had to go up and get her.  He can brush her teeth without having to hold her down on the floor.  I try to get her to sit with me, and she’ll just frown and then go sit with her daddy.  Sweet, isn’t it?

I wonder if this is related somehow to that whole mother/daughter almost-a-teenager tension thing.  My daughter may not be a typical girl, but then again, maybe she’s more typical than I think.



Also, I blame my husband for at least part of it.  As the years have passed, I have become the heavy–the one who always handles the discipline.  Dad’s the fun one, Mom’s the one who gets on you for stuff.

The one consolation I have is that I’m pretty sure the boy is mine.  I have carefully timed my bribery to win him over to my side, and it seems to be working.  I had to try pretty hard, since, again, I really haven’t done all that much for him, either.

Not that I’m bitter.

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7 thoughts on “Et Tu, Daughter?

  1. I have three daughters. We are a blended family. My dna is with the 8 yr old, the 7 yr old and 15 yr old are biologically tied to my wife. We are like the Brady Bunch, the only steps are the ones that go upstairs.

    I write about the sort of thing you blogged, alot. When I my teenager, she had just turned 12. She liked me. We were buddies. By the time I married her mom, I was dad. She looked at me with the same disdain she had for her mother.

    The younger girls are moving into the dark, too. They don;t need me like they used to. Hugging and kissing in public is a “what the heck are you even thinking about?!” deal.

    It happens. You still love them. Plus, I live with all chicks. I do what im told.

    so glad I found your blog…i will be back

    • You are outnumbered my friend. Right now I’m looking across enemy lines at you–my husband is the one my daughter is so close to. PDA’s are already banned around here, even with my friend, the boy. It’s sad, because he’s naturally an affectionate person, but that’s not “cool.” Oh well. Like I said, I feel sure this is all tied in with karma somehow.

  2. Ah, yes; the pre-teen pull away. We’ve had it here as well. No worries; let them go. They come back. I promise.

    Hang on to the boy though. They’re the ones who meet a (hopefully) nice partner, fall in love, and move away. The girls always come home to their Mom. The boys? Let’s just say that when my son gets married, I’m sure he’ll love his wife.

    But I hate that bitch already. 😉

    • Hahahahahaha! I joke (?) about that sometimes–I always refer to the girl Ian is going to marry as “they hussy.” As in, I guess I could save some of this jewelry for the hussy some day. I’m just paying out in kind, since I’m sure this is how my mother-in-law refers to me, if not worse!

  3. Hopefully it will come full circle 😉 I’m way closer to my Mom now as an adult than I am my Dad. It was reversed when I was younger! Stopping by from Write on Edge!

  4. Oh sweetie, I feel you, I really do… My daughter has always been closer to me than to her father, even when Mommy is always the stricter one of her two parents. She has whispered to me several times that I’m her favorite person in the whole wide wold, and on several occasions had even defended me in front of her father in her own little ways.

    But, I know the day would come when I would have to share (or even lose) my little admirer to her father. I see the signs of it happening already. And I can’t help feeling neglected, unappreciated, used. I know this is almost like a ‘taboo’ thing for a mother to express… I mean, how could we be so possessive? But I totally understand how you’re feeling!

    Having said that, I know one sure thing. That at the end, our children will come back to us. Nothing beats a Mother, especially one who’s as loving and dedicated as you, Janice. Trust me. My parents were divorced when I was 3 years old, and my father had full custody of me until I was 8. I only saw my mother at most once a year until that time.

    But now, if you ask me, whom would I pick (if I must) out of the two, I’d say without the slightest doubt: my mother. I just love her to pieces. And the beauty with daughters especially, is that the older and more mature they get, the more they would be able to understand us, and hence, appreciate us.

    Sending you lots of hugs, sweet friend. Hang in there! 😉

    • Thanks–I guess you’re right. I should really be glad that they are close, and proud of my husband for being a great dad, but really what I’m thinking is “Damn it!”

      I hope you are doing well–I think about you a lot. It’s good to hear from you.

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