This was in a print magazine so unfortunately no link. Those who had horror kids may relate
Im sorry mum Marieke Hardy
Ive given my Mama absolute hell over the years. I don’t know why. I was a cloyingly well behaved child, and an eager to please tween. We were thick as thieves when we travelled overseas together, did tag team nudie runs down the hall to freak out the neighbours, were openly modern about boys and sex. I revered her and imitated her, showed her off to my friends and dressed up in her old clothes when she was not looking. In turn she introduced me to musical theatre, Lennon and Dorothy Parker. She was my hero and main source of comfort, she was witty and smart and she slayed people with her heart. She was my everything.
Then I turned 12 and thing started to go awry. Im not sure what chemical imbalance exists inside the brains of pubescent girls that makes them reach a certain age and turn –often violently and with no prior warning – against the women who painstakingly brought them into the world; suckled them and clothed them and crammed them full of bewitching genes. Relationships between mothers and daughters are traditionally fraught and for the most part tensions peak around the heady hormonal years of puberty. What is it about turning 13 that makes you call your mother- your mother- a complete bitch who you hope gets run over by a bus on her way home from a neighbourhood watch meeting? What kind of little psychopath are you anyway?
I was a horror teenager, the worst. But mum lived through the emotional tsunami of my adolescence and survived without hiring somebody called Big Tony to bump me off, a testament to her mighty inner zen warrior. I fought, I bit, I kicked literally. I railed against everything she stood for and called her a thousand abusive names. God knows why. Her rules were not overly strict. She allowed me my minor victories. In later years she would say ‘ I raised you to be independent- I just was not ready for how how early in your life you chose to do itâ€
