Parenting
By Jamie Miller
Updated: July 27, 2016
Originally Published: November 23, 2015
My daughter has a mean streak, but it’s mostly directed at me.
When it comes to my 10-year-old, she is typically a delightful, humorous, and affectionate child. She loves to snuggle up to me and often creates cards that say “Best Mom Ever,” decorated with hearts and stickers. She still proudly shows affection in front of her friends, and we enjoy various outdoor activities together. When I occasionally step out, she clings to me, begging, “Please don’t leave, Mommy!” I know that before long, she will begin to distance herself as she enters adolescence. For now, however, she seems to genuinely enjoy my company and still relies on me.
Yet recently, she has been quite unkind.
When I share a silly joke, she rolls her eyes as if I’m the most humorless person alive. Any observation I make is met with disdain—if I say the sky is blue, she dramatically corrects me, sighing, “Uh, I think you mean the sky has hints of aquamarine with a touch of periwinkle.” Sigh, eye roll, sigh.
The meals I prepare, which were once beloved, are now met with a disinterested “meh, I’ve had better.” If I drop her off late for school or stumble in my words, she becomes my most ruthless critic. Even simple requests, like clearing her plate, seem to evoke outrage, as if I’ve asked her to embark on a mythical quest. “How could you ask me to take my plate to the kitchen? How could you?” Making her bed feels akin to asking her to conquer a labyrinth with only a pillow and a comforter for weapons.
I understand that some of this behavior is likely hormonal, as her young body navigates the transition into a more complex emotional landscape. But why does she reserve this behavior solely for me?
She doesn’t treat anyone else in her life with such disrespect. As a single parent, I notice that she is kind and respectful towards her father, her grandparents, her teachers, and her friends. It seems I am the sole target of her frustrations. Each eye roll, sigh, and irritated expression feels like a guided missile aimed right at me—the one I affectionately refer to as the “Mommy Missile.” She has an endless supply of these emotional projectiles.
After discussing this with a friend, she offered a different perspective: “Take it as a compliment. She feels secure with you. You’re her emotional dumping ground.” Initially, I was taken aback. Why do I have to bear the brunt of her frustrations?
I’m already the strict parent who ensures her homework is completed, takes her for necessary medical appointments, and enforces the myriad of responsibilities that come with growing up—like brushing her teeth and tidying up after herself. I even occasionally make her tackle the daunting task of dusting the living room. Yes, the treacherous dragon known as housecleaning.
At first, being labeled the “Beloved Garbage Heap” didn’t feel like a compliment to me. However, upon reflection, I realized that my friend was absolutely right. My daughter knows that I will always be there for her, no matter how hurtful her words may be. She is not testing my limits; she is demonstrating her trust.
I am her constant support, the one who lifts her up when she stumbles, dances with her when she’s down, and guides her into the responsibilities of adulthood. I am the one she confides in, and I can handle her emotional debris.
I am her Beloved Garbage Heap, and I accept it all. Each discarded worry, every difficult emotion, and all the burdens of childhood—I can take them because I am beloved.
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In summary, while my daughter’s harsh comments can sting, they also reflect her trust in me, allowing her to express her feelings freely. It’s a reminder of my unwavering role as her emotional anchor.