Book Credits

Here is an excerpt from that essay:

Home at last. I walked in the front door to the sound of rap music blasting from the back room. My younger daughter was in the bathroom working the flat iron and hair dryer to death. “Hi honey,” I greeted her. She spun around. Her eyes sent sparks of anger in my direction. “My hair looks awful today. I hate it. I hate my hair.” (She was on top of the world just yesterday because of her new haircut.) “Can I help?” I asked weakly. “No,” she snapped, and stormed past me, because apparently this was my fault.

I followed her upstairs and headed to my older daughter’s room to say hello,…My eldest sat in the middle of her room crying, surrounded by what seemed like every item of clothing she owned. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I have nothing to wear. I have no clothes. And I have no friends.”

What happened to all the friends she had yesterday? I wondered to myself. “What do you mean you have no friends?” I asked, mustering up as much sympathy as I could.

“There’s just no one,” she said hopelessly, pulling a stray shoe out from underneath her and flinging it at the wall. “Everyone is busy. Everyone has a boyfriend. I just can’t find anyone who I can connect with. And I hate my school.”

There were times when I could sit down and reason with her… But this was not one of those times. My coping skills were low, and I knew that if I tried to help, I would only make it worse…I might have even segued into how I’m feeling, how she’s not the only one with problems today.

Instead, I just turned and left the room. It was better that way. I passed my younger daughter, still fretting over her hair, and headed for my own room. And there we were. Three hormonal females in the same house – polarized by the intense, negative energy emanating from our awful beings.