Me: What did you eat for lunch today?

Daughter: A chicken wrap with salad and a chocolate cake with banana on the side, which was surprising, not in a good way because I didn’t expect to find it there, the banana, on the side of my plate, just there, it surprised me mum and I don’t like surprises…

I’d like to wish my teen goodnight so very, very, very tentatively I knock on the door of her fortress…

Daughter: What!!

Me: It’s me

Daughter: I know it’s you mum…it’s always you..

Me: Can I come in?

From my side of the door I hear a growl….She’s sitting cross-legged on a bed covered with school stuff, adding touches of paint to her art homework, headphones in her ears ….

Me: Just wanted to say ….

She’s rolling her eyes…

Me: Goodnight ….

She looks puzzled…

Me: And that I love you very much….

And now disturbed…

Me: And..

She’s had enough…

Daughter: Wrap it up……whatever it is …lace it with a ribbon….and move on mum….move on…

Me: I saw such a sad sight today…

Daughter: And you cried..

Me: A dead squirrel.

Daughter: Are you going to cry?

Me: It was lying on its back on Market Road..

Daughter: Here we go…

Me: It had this shocked expression on its tiny face as if it had been startled by its own death.

Daughter: Your lips are moving but I really have no idea what you’re saying..

Me: And there was no one to call…no next of kin to tell….

Daughter throws me a look that says ‘I really wish with every atom of my being that you and I were NOT related’ 

Me: Its claws were clutching the air…

Daughter: You’re really not well mum.

Me: And it had a nut in its mouth. That means the very last thing it saw was a nut…and he or she didn’t even get a chance to eat it.

Daughter: It could have been worse..

Me: The squirrel’s dead. How could it be any worse?

Daughter: Your face…could have been the last thing it saw…. Now that would have been tragic.

I am munching on a bag of rocket, watercress and spinach leaves….feeling positively salubrious….

Daughter:  That’s just wrong…

Undeterred by those who do not appreciate the glory of green I carry on munching …

Daughter: You haven’t even washed them…

She is of course right..but still…I feel a need to save face..

Me: They’re already washed…

A pregnant pause and I just know something absurd is on its way…

Daughter:  And your sins mother….have they been washed clean…

She’s tugging at my Nike sweatshirt, her expression angelic and innocent… …

Daughter: Might I take this opportunity to remind you of our clothes-share arrangement?

She strokes my arm as if caressing a cat…

Me: You can be as cute as you like, you’re still not getting this sweatshirt.

Important to be firm when discussing serious life matters with a teen…

Daughter: Please mum…

She’s about to go into mind numbing repetitive whining mode….

Daughter: Mum…mum….mum….mum…..mum..

Me: For godsakes !

A little later….

Daughter: Can I have it then?

Me: No …

The word ‘No’ when it comes from me is a foreign expression, an expletive even…

Daughter: Why not?

Me: Because I don’t actually have any clothes left…

Daughter: Yes you do or you’d be naked right now..

Me: My point is… you keep taking my things without asking…

Daughter: May I remind you again of our clothes-share arrangement…

Me: And why is it that this arrangement seems to be so one-sided?

She looks away sheepishly…then back at me…a mischievous glint in her eye..

Daughter: Not understanding what you’re saying..

Me: I’m saying that you never allow me to borrow your things…

Daughter: Still not understanding…

Me: OK… may I borrow your black lace top?

Daughter: No sorry….you’ve lost me…

In Sainsbury’s…savouring a rare and precious moment…me and her together somewhere, anywhere….

Me: What would you like for dinner?

Daughter: Sweets.

Me: No, really, what do you fancy?

Daughter: Sweets.

Me: Pasta and meatballs, homemade Lasagna, a stir fry…?

Daughter: Sweets.

Noting my displeasure she gives up on the idea….

Me: OK, if you don’t want me to cook anything how about….

I steer her over to the ready-made meal section…She screws up her face at the display of unappealing dishes…selects a Pasta Bake….and waves it in my face…

Daughter: This, mother, is what the losers get on Dinner Date…

Me: You’re not on Dinner Date.

Daughter: Why would I want to eat the food…of ‘The Unchosen’ ?

I’m feeling totally in the here and now…plaiting her hair and watching the motivational speaker Dr Wayne Dyer in his film ‘The Shift’…She’s plugged into an Indie rock song blaring from her headphones. Suddenly she looks up…zones in on my Mac screen…

Daughter: What the hell are you listening to?

Me: …It’s a film…about moving into the afternoon of our lives, recognising life changing moments, being fully present, living with awareness…

She stares at me long and hard, her eyebrows doing somersaults as she struggles to make sense of what I’m saying…She gives up and returns to the noise in her head…

Seconds later…she zones into my Mac screen again as Dr Wayne Dyer talks about the shift from ambition to meaning….

Daughter: He’s your leader isn’t he…

Me: You’ve lost me…

Daughter: That bald man is your leader…

Me: Again, you’ve lost me…

Daughter: Indeed I have mother..

She plays with a strand of hair while scrutinising Dr Dyer’s face…

Daughter: …Evidently to a cult of some kind….

My daughter preens herself in the hallway mirror before heading out to meet friends in Brixton…The dilapidated Converse trainers she’s had forever complete her bizarrely minimal outfit….

Me: Haven’t you forgotten something ?

She gives me a..’Why are you ALWAYS here?’ look…

Me: Shouldn’t you be wearing leggings ?

…and glances down at the pitiful excuse for a shirt barely covering her behind…then back at me..

Daughter: You are so cute mother…

…and grins…

Me: Shouldn’t you be wearing something with that shirt..?

Daughter: Cute!

She flings open the front door…

Daughter: So OLD! and so CUTE!

..and struts out of the house as if she owns the world..

Me: Estate Agents came today.

Daughter: What’s the verdict?

Me: More than we expected. They were really nice…warm and friendly…..

Daughter: Estate Agents don’t do warm and they don’t do friendly….

Me: Well, they both seemed….really nice…

Daughter: Two of them?

Me: Sarah, the sales manager…and John,  the branch manager…

She looks at me with a glint in her eye and I just know…… something strange is coming….

Daughter: Are they……?

Me: What?

Daughter: Sarah and John…are they..? You know..

She raises her perfectly threaded eyebrows…

Daughter: You know..

Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about…

Daughter: Bet they are.

She walks up the stairs, stops mid-way, turns to me, smiles…. and I just know something strange is coming…

Daughter: Sarah and John? Sleeping together. Trust me mum, I know.

I am plaiting her matted hair, grateful for the chance to get my hands on an unruly afro that is simply unacceptable…. even more grateful for the opportunity to spend a little one on one time with my daughter.

As I plait, she munches….and she munches….and munches…eating her way through a large bag of jellied sweets…

A few minutes later……. 

Daughter: I think I’m going to be sick…

I say nothing…

Daughter: All is not well….

I say nothing…

Daughter: I fear no good can come of this…

She looks at me pleadingly…..her eyes like huge ebony saucers…

Daughter: Oh mother..

I say nothing….

Daughter: Is this how it ends?