Monday, October 03, 2005


It happened today. As Bush sought approval for nomination of crony Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court, I engaged in my own battle, a battle involving the words "I hate you" uttered by my four-year-old for the first time when I told her that she had to put on her shirt (long-sleeved with pink and blue and green hearts) and shoes (pink and purple) before I'd turn on the television--only so that she'd be ready when the carpool arrived to carry her to preschool. Evil, evil mother.

At first I was shocked. And then enraged. And then sad. And then I transported myself ahead 10 years to a 14-year-old girl, freshman in high shool, not preschool, standing in doorway with poorly applied makeup (because I do not wear it and have not taught her how to "appropriately" apply it), with a bad dye job (best case--a punkish blue or red, worst case brassy blonde with roots), and too short mini skirt, or "belt," as DE calls it. I say something like, "You're not leaving the house like that." And she says something like, "I can wear whatever I want to." A few more things are said, perhaps not delicately, and then she tells me that she hates me. There it is again. The hate. The hating of someone you love, obviously.

And to think that I think that it might be hard now. This is the easy part. And that's what makes hearing those words, today, easier. It's easy now. That's what I keep telling myself. It's easy. Now. Easy now. Love. Love. Love. Easy. Love.

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