Three weeks ago, I posted On Being Annoying for the purpose of venting about the things my daughter does that drive me crazy.  I invited readers to chime in – and many of you did, in emails, on facebook, in the comments section of the blog and even, gasp, in person.

Discounting the incredibly annoying people who claimed there was NOTHING they found annoying about their teen daughters….well, there was actually only one such person, who is obviously either a saint or a liar…the comments seemed to arrange themselves in 3 categories:  the she is a slob category,  the she disses me category and the she doesn’t appreciate me category.  Pretty much everyone contributed their annoyances in the spirit I wrote about mine: with humor and forbearance, with exasperation, momentary desperation – and unconditional love.

In the she’s a slob category, there were a number of vivid tales involving overly ripe gym socks, cosmetic encrusted wash cloths, Doritos-ed bed sheets and post-snack kitchens that looked post-tornado. However, my absolute favorite story in this category – one that put in perspective my own daughter’s horribly annoying habit of blanketing her room with wet towels  – came from a mother who had to bug bomb her daughter’s room.  The girl chucked empty soda cans and paper plates into her bedroom waste basket (It goes without saying, doesn’t it, that she isn’t supposed to have food in her room.? It also goes without say, but I’m saying it anyway, that she never empties the waster basket.)  The room was overrun by ants…thus the aforementioned bug bomb.

The she disses me category included nonverbal disses like this one: “My daughter gives me what I call the “palms up and mouth ajar” reaction as a way to say ‘are you kidding me…you are so stupid mom!’  There were also a dozen more general  “she takes every opportunity to proclaim how clueless I am” entries.  One of my favorites – perhaps because I have experienced this often with my daughter – was this one: “Introducing a conversation topic and then getting supremely pissed off and stomping away while muttering ‘why do you have to know everything’ when I demonstrate my interest by asking a question.  Maybe that’s more in the get out of my life category?  There were a number of those too.

The final category speaks for itself, and it speaks loudly.  You take me for granted.  You don’t appreciate me. This one is not so much annoying as it is alternately galling and hurtful.  And, ultimately understandable.  I’m betting our own mothers would have said this about us at this age too.

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