why is it?
new orleans


(Rachael, Hannah, Me baking cookies 1999)
Scan20100 One of my girls has a friend I'm not particularly fond of. Actually, I don't like her. That's more honest. My daughter isn't all that fond of her either, yet Bertha (aka the friend) considers my daughter her BFF. (That's "best friend forever" for those of you who don't have adolescent daughters.)

Bertha is possessive, controlling, rude, and cruel. Although she likes one of my daughters, she's mean to the other two. I could write an extended essay on why I don't like Bertha, but that would belabor the point.

I can take a lot of abuse if it's directed toward me. But my mothering psyche is less regenerate. Tonight my kids, in a less-than-gentle way, drove that home. I only vaguely remember saying this horrible thing, so I can only guess that at the time I was mildly seething because Bertha had mistreated at least two, maybe three, of my daughters.

As the girls and I were baking cookies tonight, they were talking about Bertha and the things she says and does that so offend them. I tried to refocus them a couple times. This of course is hard for me because I am quite confident I dislike Bertha more than any of my girls. My efforts to refocus the conversation were futile, so I said, "You know girls, we shouldn't be so hard on Bertha...," blah, blah, blah.

Hannah reminded me of the phrase I'd forgotten. Accusingly she challenged, "Mom, you're the one who said she may be the anti-Christ."