In theory, I am too old for childish behavior.  In reality... yeah, I apparently still have my moments.
Yesterday I whined (whined!!) to my mother about my adult daughter.
Now, let's preface this by saying that there is no act that my daughter could visit upon me that I have not visited upon my mother tenfold.  As a teenager, I drank, I did some drugs, I snuck out of my bedroom window, I lied, I got into trouble.  My mother spent an afternoon or two in the principal's office discussing my "behavior".  I was rebellious.  And I was even worse in college!  That said, I believe that I had some legitimate provocation.  Extenuating circumstances, if you will.  I had a sociopathic father.  He was a narcissist and a bit of a sadist and I was, what's the word?  Miffed?  Yes, I was a wee bit peeved for a decade or so.  My demeanor was often garrulous, my nature tempestuous and my mother was caught in the proverbial cross-fire.  Yeah, mom dealt with a fair amount of shite that she did not have coming.
Okay, so now, fast-forward a couple of decades and you find me, petulant and brood-y (Buffy-speak) because my daughter selfishly (prepare yourself - this is horrific) does not pay enough attention to me.  Sure, she is a full time college student, carrying 18 credits this semester, which entails probably an additional forty plus hours a week in homework.  Sure, on top of that, she works a thankless job in the service industry, earning less than minimum wage, dependent on the generosity of strangers in a crippled economy.  But this little bitch (BITCH!) can't lavish a little of her spare time on her mother?  What a piece of work!  Fruit of my loins.  Milk of my... whatever.

Yeah, I know.  I suck.


Okay, but, in my defense, it wasn't simply her neglect that prompted my sniveling session with my madre yesterday.  You see, this child, with her inhuman level of narcissism and straight-up, broom-riding bitchery, had also directed a couple of mildly callous comments towards me at a family gathering.  This child of mine had rolled her eyes and accused me of pressuring her to have chilluns.  No, not chitlins, chilluns.  Offspring.  Like I was a stereo-typical parent of a grand-motherly age.  Me.
Uh... ICK.
Sidebar:  Did I mention this was perceived, not actual, pressure?  Saying "when you have kids" is no more an expectation that you start reproducing immediately than "when you are old and grey" is an expectation for you fast-forward through a few decades.  Just sayin'.  Uh, end sidebar.
But whether or not her argument had a single, itty, bitty granule of truth to it, the real point of the matter is, she accused me (at least in my head) of neediness.  Of mediocrity.  Of being the mother that has no life outside that of her children and subsequently, her children's children.  That I am an empty-nester that needs to live vicariously through my child's nest.  ME!
And so, because of our lack of quality time and the ensuing lack of quality in our time together, I reverted to a wounded five year old and cried to my mommy.  Oh, the cruelty, mummy!  Jae (code word for the little monster) was grumpy with me.  Jae accused me, in a roundabout way, of being typical and rather frumpy-minded, of having mundane expectations.  Oh, the sorrow!  Oh, the pain!  Kill her, mummy!  Eat her, mummy!  ...(but not really because I luff her).
So now, I feel shame.  Shame that my daughter thinks I am common.  Shame that I became so freakin' weird about NOTHING.  Shame that I was a ridiculous woman in front of my daughter.  Shame that I threw a temper-tantrum in front of my mother.  Shame that I do not know how to manipulate the time-space continuum and make this all NOT have happened.  Not at all ashamed that I am a sci-fi nerd who threw "time-space continuum" into the equation.  Shamed that I am still making a big, friggin' deal over this stupid ordeal.  And shame because I realize that said stupid ordeal does not seem significant enough to actually warrant time travel.  Abuse of time-space continuum.  Time-space continuum fuckery.
Abuse of grammar.  Over-use of potty mouth.  Sorry.
Shame (hanging head).