“Who took my sticky boobs!!!!!” is a common accusation frequently shouted in my house. If you are not familiar with sticky boobs then you must not be the parent of a teenage daughter. If you do know what sticky boobs are because you actually wear them (without having to use duct tape), then you are too young for this blog. Sticky boobs resemble chicken cutlets that have an adhesive back which sticks to your boobs. Essentially, they do the job of a bra but allow you to wear strapless/backless/frontless shirts. I have bought many pairs of sticky boobs throughout the years and let me tell you they are not cheap. But like socks they inevitably disappear in my house. I am not sure where exactly they go but there always seems to be a shortage.
But it isn’t just sticky boobs that cause commotion in my house, my daughters fight over everything. Clothes, makeup, shoes…. I am not sure what I expected with three teenage daughters living under the same roof.
Inevitably the fight escalates to the point where they try to get me involved “Mom, she wore it before I even had a chance to”, “Mom, she used my makeup brush and now I am going to breakout” and “Mom, she keeps stealing my underwear because she hasn’t done her wash.” I try not to intervene or take sides because it is a lose-lose situation for me. So, I take the advice of my therapist (highly recommended for those with teenagers) and lock myself in my bathroom before I lose my shit. I try to “stay calm” and “remove myself from the situation” until the banging on the bathroom door begins. “Mom, are you in there? Do you know what she just said to me?” I consider jumping out the bathroom window. Would I die or just break a few bones? I weigh my options.
Look, I have read all the books and articles about how sibling fighting is normal and a healthy part of growing up. How it teaches kids to deal with conflict in the real world and learn how to negotiate and forgive. But honestly, it sounds like a war zone outside my bathroom door, and I am not sure this is normal or healthy.
There is a part of me that is really sad. When they were younger I thought how lucky they were to have one another.
My three little girls who I would dress in matching outfits with big bows. The ones who loved building snowmen together and sand castles on the beach. I assumed they would grow up to be close like my sister and me.
I did get a speck of hope the other day. My youngest who is about to begin high school is having some girl drama. 14 and 15-year old girls can be so mean. Her older sister got wind of it and was not happy. I heard her tell Maggie not to worry she would “take care of it.” Her plan was to confront the queen bee and tell her “I don’t want to ever hear my sister’s name come out of your mouth.” I tried not to laugh or look the least bit proud. I explained that this might not be the best approach (if you know Bella then you know she is capable of being pretty scary). Maggie told her she wanted to handle it herself, but I think knowing that her older sister had her back gave her confidence.
The peace didn’t last long and shortly after another fight began. One of the girl’s apparently got tanning cream on the other’s outfit. Maybe there is hope. Maybe one day when they are not living together they will be friends. But for now, I am heading to my bathroom with a glass of wine.