Paying For My Raising.

Have you ever heard that term? My mama & daddy has said to me many a time, "Girl, you're gonna pay for your raising." I didn't understand it until about 1:45 this morning. I was all tucked into bed, warm in pajamas, just about to turn out the light, when I hear the Hawaii Five-O theme song. (Text message ringtone.) I flip open my phone and I'm extremely tempted to just roll over and go to sleep because I don't recognize the number and I'm supposed to get up at 7:00 am to go for my 2 mile daily walk. Curiosity killed the cat however, along with my sleep.

It was this evil child. My minion, Connie. We started out calling her my mini-me, because she looks alot like me, except, well... smaller. She's a sweet kid for the most part, trying really hard to grow up too quickly. Me & mama look out for her because of her mother. The minion was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 4. Her mom split, and we just kinda picked up the slack.

So anyway, she's begging me to drive 14 miles to bring her gas money at 2:00 am. Why? Because she's a teenager and made a stupid mistake. I'm still ticked because she knows better than that. She wants to be an adult, but at the same time she doesn't want the actual responsibilities. (Wait. This is starting to bring back memories. Dang.) So I get down there and give her a hard time, because well, that's what a minion's leader is supposed to do. Right? You know, the what were you thinking, do you realize what time it is, some people have to get up early speech. And the whole time, there's a red alert going in the back of my brain - Oh no. Your mother is speaking every time you open your mouth! And she's sassing me just like I did my mama. We eventually got our stuff straight. Lots of raised voices and threats of, "I swear, I'm gonna beat your butt when we get home." (No minions were harmed in the making of this post.)

We make our way over to the gas station, I go in and pay and tell her I'm following her home and so help me, she'd better drive right. As I'm driving along behind her, I'm thinking. Wait a darn minute. I'm not supposed to be doing this. I don't have kids. My kids wouldn't act like this anyway. (Yeah, I know. I'm fooling myself.) I'm thinking, no fair, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm paying for my raising.

Mom? Dad? I'm sorry. Forgive me for giving you so much hell as a teenager. Thank you for being patient, kind, loving, tough, and all the other things parents with teenagers need. I have a feeling that I'm about to learn those things. No, I don't have a child. I have a minion, and something tells me that's gonna be just as bad.

Love to all,
Allie