Conversations with my daughter

Today my daughter informed me that she would appreciate if if I don't go into her room.

In a moment I would prefer to forget, I became my mother. The words that came out of my lips were formerly said by one Pauline T. (that'd be me mammy), circa 1984-1991: "YOUR room is in MY house, therefore I have every right to enter."

Here's the thing though- I don't really believe that. It is her room, and I do respect that. I have been knocking at her closed door since she was a toddler. I respect her right to privacy, and her right to a space of her own.

I do, however, expect certain things of her. I expect that when I have spent 2 full days cleaning that room, that she should at least attempt to maintain it. I expect her laundry to be put away properly. I expect dirty clothes to be placed in the basket outside her room.

Do that, and there's no need for me to go into your room, other than to place clean laundry on the bed. That is not what Taylor does.

What Taylor does is throw the clean laundry off the bed and onto the floor, where it mingles and appears to breed with the dirty laundry. What she also does is leave dishes and food packaging from items that she is NOT allowed in her room for days on end. Another Taylor favourite is cutting up paper into little tiny pieces and leaving them on the floor. All this makes for a great big mess that makes an already grumpy mother downright unstable.

When I said to her that I know very well Marissa's mother goes into her room, she said "No she doesn't, she puts the laundry outside the door."

"Taylor." I say, "I know that Marissa's mother goes into her room."

And Taylor knows that Marissa's mother goes into her room because I was the one who told Taylor that Marissa's mother read her diary while in her room. And I was the one who said to my daughter "I will never, ever do that to you. What goes into your diary are your private thoughts. If you choose to share them with me that is your decision, and I would be thrilled. I would also think that if there is something big going on in your life, you would be comfortable enough to tell me."

So, yeah, I may enter your room, make your bed, and sort your dirty vs. clean laundry but I will never, ever read your diary.

Because I'm pretty freaking sure my mum read mine and I'm still tortured by the thought of what she may have discovered about me.