The Eyeliner Rebellion

There I was, standing in the ruins of what used to be a calm morning. My battlefield? The bathroom. My opponent? My teenage daughter, armed with eyeliner and a mood swing sharp enough to cut steel.

It started off as a typical Thursday. I knocked on the bathroom door, reminding her (for the umpteenth time) that the school bus wouldn’t wait for her latest makeup experiment. Mistake number one. The door swung open, and there she stood, one eye lined like a pro, the other looking like a shaky attempt at abstract art.

"Mom, I can't go to school like this!" she wailed. The clock was ticking, and so was my patience. So, I did what any well-meaning, totally clueless mom would do. I offered to help. Mistake number two.

Let’s just say, my eyeliner skills were a bit... rusty. Halfway through, she looked in the mirror and let out a shriek that could wake the dead. "You’ve ruined it!" she cried, as I stood there with the eyeliner, feeling more like a graffiti artist than a makeup guru.

The bus came and went. The bathroom became a blur of tears and makeup wipes. I retreated, leaving her to fix the damage I'd caused.

But as the day wore on, something amazing happened. She emerged from the bathroom, not just with perfect eyeliner, but with a peace offering – a cup of tea and a sheepish smile. "Sorry I freaked out, Mom. Thanks for trying to help," she said.

We ended up laughing about it over breakfast-for-lunch. It was the day I learned that the battle lines in teen parenting aren’t drawn with eyeliner, but with understanding, patience, and a good sense of humor.

Molly, Wisconsin