anger

Our weekend in the woods was spent in the company of the most feared beast known to man:

The Angry Teenage Girl

You may be familiar with this creature. It snarls and snaps and whines when provoked. Common irritants include:

• Little brothers
• Big brothers
• Parents
• Inadequate access to Hannah Montana and Disney Channel movies
• Having to eat regular meals with the family. 
• Being seen in public with her family
• Shrimp from fancy restaurants that still have the tails on
• Going to the beach and getting splashed. She didn't wear a swimsuit. She's not going to wear a swimsuit. We're going to the beach. We should know better than to think she would wear a swimsuit. GOD! 
• Having to go on vacation in the woods with her family where she can't get a signal on her cell phone and her brother can but he won't let her text her friends. 
• Going four-wheeling and not getting muddy. That's why she didn't take a shower in the morning, because she was going to get muddy. Now she didn't get muddy and she is all gross and why didn't we tell her we weren't going to get muddy so she could have taken a shower? 
• Having her picture taken. 
• Not having her picture taken.
• Getting the chocolate waffle cone when she wanted the plain waffle cone, even though she ordered a chocolate waffle cone.
• Walking.

We tried everything we could to make her happy, and then we just gave up. It's hard when your hormones are bigger than you are, but there is a point where you are honestly trying to be miserable. Granted, going four-wheeling in the woods is not every girl's dream vacation but we also spent two days at the beach and we had satellite TV in our cabin. We also went to a very nice restaurant for dinner and had Dairy Queen every night for dessert. 

But I think back and I can remember being this angry harpy. I channeled my fury into feminism, before I really understood what feminism was. Before I understood what being female was. I read a lot of Russian literature and fueled my anger by writing passionate novellas that outlined the bleakness of the human existence.  So I can sympathize, not that she wants to hear it. Because nobody ever has felt the pain of human existence as acutely as she has. No one, not ever. And no one ever will. Only her friends. They understand. I'm an adult. I'm the enemy. 

I know she will grow out of this someday, but right now I'm struggling. I don't know how I can tolerate this attitude for the next four or five years, which is probably how long it will take before she's human again. 

Until then, I'm trying to come up with coping strategies. Think she'll notice if I start putting Midol in her food?