After the concert was over, I fooled around with my friends and just did whatever teenagers do when they're not really doing anything. I had come to the concert with a friend, and I was planning on getting a ride home from said friend. As I was galavanting around, I saw my mom standing there surrounded by little brothers and sisters, waiting for me. I don't remember exactly what was said, but something to the effect of "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you!" And me, being the selfish, self-centered teenager that I was (were you? Please tell me you were...) I didn't stop to think of how long they had been waiting there, or that they probably didn't know that I had already arranged for a ride home, and I snapped back with something rude and too loud. I didn't thank my mom for coming to my concert. (Did I ever thank her?) I didn't thank her and my cute little siblings for waiting around for me. I yelled at my mom because she yelled at me, and we started yelling and crying and the whole public spectacle ended with me running away while she called, "How are you going to get home?!"
By this point my ride had left. I, in my selfish, horrible pride, refused to go back and get a ride from my mother. I wandered around the Huntsman Center looking for anyone I knew who might be able to give me a ride home. I considered walking. In November with no coat late at night. (This was, unfortunately, in the days before cell phones. If I'd had a cell phone I would have called my little brother to come, or my boyfriend, or anyone. But I didn't have this option...) So fortunately, I came upon one of the band directors from another high school, someone I knew pretty well from a district orchestra I was in (Mr. Chatelain, for those of you who care). He asked me what on earth I was still doing there, wandering around alone. I, of course, burst into tears and blubbered something about missing my ride.
He offered to take me home, which I accepted, EXCEPT I didn't go home. I had him drop me off at my boyfriend's house. I refused to go home to my mother who I knew was mad at me, and that she hated me.
(2009 version--I refused to go home to my mother who was worried sick about me and probably cried her head off wondering where I was and what had EVER happened to her cute little girl. The one who used to never be able to sing "Mother I Love You" on Mother's Day because she loved her mommy so much that all she could do was stand there and cry while all the other children sang. The one who proudly wore all the dresses and jammies and double-knit polyester plaid pants that her mom made for her. The one she taught to sew, and read, and play the piano, and sing, and change diapers, and cuddle crying little brothers. THAT cute little girl.)
Eventually I had my boyfriend drive me home, because his parents wouldn't let us have sleepovers (can you EVEN believe it??) I would have stayed there and never told my mom where I was if his parents would have let us. Anyway, I went in the house and went straight to my room. I know my mom saw me come home, but I didn't speak to her. I was that kind of teenager.
Well, times have sure changed, haven't they?
***SIDE NOTE: For those of you with young children, I would like to share an important lesson I learned a few years ago. Here it is:
There comes a point in your children's lives where THEY DO NOT LIKE you talking about them to other people. They resent you telling their stories in Relief Society. They HATE it when they find out you've written about them on your blog. Even though the lessons they are learning are important and Mom wants to share what she is learning from it all, BE CAREFUL.
This is me being very, very careful....
Perhaps I'll wrap up this post by admitting that yesterday I drove away from one of my children. Kicked said child out of the car and drove away screaming to myself (out loud, mind you. Not in my head. Out VERY loud). Cried my head off. Tried to rip the steering wheel off the car (thank goodness I don't have super-human strength or I would be in the market for a new car today...) And my heart was broken.
Sigh...I feel like I'm at that place in the woods, you know, the one we all stopped by on a snowy evening? The two roads are diverging, and I know which way I need to go. But I'm so desperately tired, and I think that right now, just for a while, I'm going to sit down and not go anywhere. Just catch my breath and try to gather strength for the next storm that I know is coming.
Oh, and Mom? Thanks for coming to my concerts.