I wish I was 16 again.
Not so I can go back to the horrible things that were fashionable, or the drama that at the time seemed so much bigger than it was.
I do wish I could go back to having all of my friends in close proximity and being carefree to stay up all night talking on the phone or watching videos on Night Traxx on channel 17.
I also wish I had the money I had when I was 16. How a kid has more money than a grown up working full time, I’ll never understand.
Maybe it was the fact Mama paid for all that good stuff like food, school, clothes, insurance, lights, phone, car.
That had to be it. A pretty sweet deal if you ask me. All I had to do was live at home and all of that stuff was taken care of.
At the time, I didn’t realize she took care of all of those things, even when I was a monster. I thought some money fairy swooped in and took care of it with the wave of a money wand.
But no. Sixteen is apparently the magical age where you know everything.
I remember it well. I knew everything in the whole stinkin’ universe. All of it.
I was like Vanilla Ice -- if there was a problem, I could solve it.
Because my irrational 16-year-old brain was exploding with all kinds of clairsentient omnipotent knowledge.
When I was 16, I thought my own mama had to be the world’s biggest doofus.
How could she possibly know anything?
She wasn’t hip or cool. Of course, I wasn’t either but still; I wasn’t a parent.
She didn’t have a clue what was going on in my world and couldn’t possibly understand.
She’d tell me which ‘friends’ were enemies, what to be cautious of, things to do -- all of her blah blah blah rules. I’d roll my eyes and slam the door to my room and turn up the music to drown her out. She was clueless.
Sixteen was magical.
It’s also one where if you are a parent. you may find you love your child, but you may not like them a whole lot.
How my mama didn’t lure me into the car with the premise of taking me to a new mall and then drop me off in some deserted area, I’ll never know. But she didn’t.
She says I was a horrible human being when I was a teenager but, with grace, she adds, “It’s not your fault. All teenagers are horrible people.”
She may be right.
I don’t know all teenagers. I only know one.
And those I knew when I was a horrible teenager myself but gosh, we were all perfect in every way. We may have used far too much hairspray and contributed significantly to the hole in the ozone but we were flawless.
So, I can’t share with her what I am going through now as a mother. I can’t get support from my own mother. Not even a smidge.
It’s karmic parenting, according to her. You only hope you live long enough to see your grandchildren evoke the same anger and fury --- and hurt -- that your own offspring did to you.
She has savored every minute of this.
There have been things said that have hurt and cut me to the quick.
As an adult with several degrees, certifications, and tons of work experience, I am very clearly an idiot.
I believe the word used was ‘delusional.’
I know absolutely nothing and it is a wonder I can breathe.
Now, I am not saying I do know everything because part of the adulting metamorphosis is learning you don’t know jack.
But, as my husband would say, ‘this ain’t my first rodeo.’
I’ve been around a few things and have gleaned some information that can maybe, just maybe be relevant, helpful and useful.
Unless you’re trying to help a 16-year-old.
Then it is a mere wonder I can add two plus two.
So, in the heat of the moment, I have been called delusional. Why, you may ask?
I was trying to explain something that the 16-year-old didn’t agree. Rather than trying to listen, I was talked over and talked down to.
I am just some stupid old delusional mother. What do I know?
There’s been hundreds of things I’ve been right about. Things I’ve seen, heard, and know, not as a mother but a grown up with some experience and cognition about how things go in this Big Picture.
But, I am 48, an age of irrefutable stupidity.
I am waiting for an apology. I won’t get one.
Just like my mama is probably waiting for hers, for numerous things.
The sad thing is, now that I am older, I do see how my mama is always right.
She’s just never gonna hear it from me.
Sudie Crouch is an award-winning humor columnist residing in the North Georgia Mountains among the bears, deer, and possibly Sasquatch. You can connect with her on Facebook at Mama Said: A Collection of Wit, Humor, and Deep-Fried Wisdom. Her recently published book, ‘Mama Said: A Collection of Wit, Wisdom, and Deep-Fried Humor’ is available in paperback and Kindle download on Amazon.