Loving While Annoying Your Teen

Kids say the darndest things, and teens just hit it out of the ballpark.
I have three lovely teenage daughters, whom I enjoy annoying no end.

What I mean by "lovely" is that they've hitherto successfully controlled the urge to strangle me.

You see, I get a real kick out of getting their goad. Driving them mental is just my way of encouraging them not to take life too seriously.

But I get a funny feeling it's having quite the opposite effect.

I'm currently nursing a leg injury, for which I don't expect any sympathy, much less a soothing massage from one of the girls I took great pains to deliver into the world.

Yesterday, I could not resist the invitation by my middle child, Kimberly, to go with her to a nearby hospital for a foot x-ray and diagnosis.

Having been a field hockey player on and off for six years prior, she'd sustained a foot injury which was now acting up.
Two x-rays in the previous two months showed no sign of broken bones or torn ligaments.

Yet, the pain persists.

Kimberly is tolerating the pain quite well (something I've prepared my children well for) - in fact when the two of us walk through the hospital doors, it is me the staff think need to see the doctor.

Kim gets through her x-ray in the first half hour, and a four hour wait to see a doctor follows.

The hospital waiting room is full, so I let the real patient sit, and the moment a seat becomes available, the patient asks me, "Mummy, do you want to sit there?" I tell her I should leave the seat for someone who's injured, and then go, "Oh wait, that's me!" Kim rolls her eyes in exasperation at my feeble attempt to make her laugh.
While we wait, I play musical chairs in the waiting room until I get a seat next to Kim.

We snack on cake and chocolate, and play games on our phones. It's the ultimate mother-daughter bonding experience.

The battery of my iPhone 4S with iOS7 dies before I want it to, and bored, I start bothering Kimberly while she's playing a puzzle game she's really good at on her phone. I'm intrigued at how adept she is at clearing the levels.

I marvel at the genius I'm dead certain I had some part in creating. Kim's holding her chocolate covered hedgehog slice with half a hand, and as I'm leaning over her, she asks "Mummy, do you want some of my hedgehog?" "Nah," I say. "C'mon, I see you looking at it!" she tells me.
Unable to deny my feelings, I say, "Alright, you got me.
I would love a bite." Kim has always given generously.

When she was three or four, her eyes would tear when she passed a homeless person or beggar or handicapped person selling knick-knacks.

I felt sure she was going to be the next Mother Teresa, or at least someone with a veritable, monetisable collection of knick-knacks.

Anyway, three hours into our wait at the hospital, I tell Kim, "Gosh, this is such a waste of life. Do they think we have nothing to do but sit around and wait for our names to be called?" And she says, "Mummy, I didn't ask you to come with me.
" "Oh, yes you did." "No, I asked if you would LIKE to come, out of courtesy. Frankly, I was hoping you'd say 'no'.

" "I really wanted to spend some quality time with you, Kim.

And to keep you company in your time of need." "Well, then stop complaining about the wait." So grabbing her hand and taking a bite out of her half-eaten hedgehog, I apologise and tell her I'm seriously enjoying her company.

I learn that Kim wants to study forensic psychiatry as it doesn't (shouldn't) involve blood.

She also wants to get a gross amphibious pet - which name I can't remember now because I so wanted to forget it - after her exams.

An Axolotl, I think it was.
I vaguely remember seeing it at a pet shop - this creature with gills and legs, resembling a tadpole raised next to a nuclear power plant, and fed a diet of steroids and peptides.
I reckon it's to keep me out of her room.

She is 18, and I realize I have to let her make her own decisions about the pets she wants to keep.
It could have been worse..

. no actually, it couldn't have been much worse. As we're going home, I tell Kim that the reason I annoy her and her two sisters is so that they'd feel my absence when I'm no longer around.

"Don't you think we might actually be relieved?" she states.

I say, "No.
You just wait.

The thing that annoys you most now will be the thing that you will miss most when it's gone.

" Kim tells me that's being a tad manipulative.
To which I answer, "Yes.
I call that 'Leaving a Legacy'.
" I love it when I make their eyes roll.